#im crying like. so many different bugs had to happen at once for this to be possible

[normal-thoughts-official]

sometimes i straight up hope they don't fix this game's bugs

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #im crying like. so many different bugs had to happen at once for this to be possible #first voss had to not go to the taproom so i had to carry him #then instead of carrying he just started squirming on top of halsin #THEN I couldn't throw him or let him down #then halsin sat for some reason #and now he won't get back up and is just slidin' across the brothel #i am in fucking TEARS #not described #overflowing trashcan

[ax-y10]

promise

in which; wilbur comes home late and exhausted and brushes past his daughter

about; dad!bur au, so many different perspectives, angst to fluff, i wrote this in two hours very late at night so it's not the best, kisses, fighting, crying, wilbur being bad bad, wilbur ignoring your daughter, swearing, happy ending yayay, gender neutral, i think y/n is used once, anything along these lines

word count; 1.7k

taglist; @phxntomsdusk, @pheliiaa (ask to be added)

you heard the front door creak open, and you sent your daughter down to greet him. you stayed in her room, however, overthinking.

he was home late again from the studio, writing and figuring out songs for the new album. he was working hard, but was starting to forget about who lay at home, waiting for him.

you and your daughter made good use of time during the day when he wasn’t there. making little animals out of playdoh, making dinner for wilbur when he got home, or making silly stories with each other. however, it didn’t feel right.

it didn’t feel like when wilbur had promised to spend every waking moment with you and your daughter. he had promised that if it came to it, he would give up lovejoy, give up streaming, give up everything, to spend all of eternity with you both. but now, he wasn’t keeping the promise fulfilled.

you were cut off by the urgent footsteps of your daughter, and a very teary-eyed girl standing in the doorway. scooping her up, you cradle her against your chest and swing her back and forth, trying to cheer her up.

eventually, you had to break her walls and ask what was wrong.

“what happened? why’re you upset?”

“daddy…”

she was cut off by a loud sob erupting from her throat. she was just so heartbroken

“what did daddy do, sweetheart? do i need to go talk to him?”

it was a great effort trying to get a reason out in between her sobs and shaky breaths, but eventually, she got something out.

“daddy- he- he walked past me. i said hello and tried to hug him, but- but he- he didn’t say hello back. i offered the cupcakes and his- his dinner to him, but he just walked into his room. he just ‘hmphed’ and… ignored me.”

you were heartbroken by this point. he had left his daughter in tears, and his lover heartbroken, but you couldn’t keep sulking with your daughter.

cut to now. you were standing in your shared room with wilbur, arguing back and forth. stupid arguments spewed from his mouth, and sounds of disbelief spewed from yours. you were frustrated from his pure ignorance and bullshit excuses.

“i’m tired! do you not see that! you have to realise i don’t have all the time in the world to be with the people i love most! for fucks sake, you give no one a break, do you!”

each word spilled from his mouth shattered your heart. he didn’t understand.

“all you are worried about is me! all you are worried about is our daughter! all you are worried about is the little stupid things that do not need to have your mind occupied!”

he shouted more and more silly things, clearly not realising what he was saying.

“but that’s what we’re meant to be worried abou-“

“i don’t care! you need to stop! you need to calm the fuck down, sit the fuck down, and stop worrying. i get it, our daughter is very much upset, but im here, and im tired!”

why was he worried about himself?

“you quite simply ignored our daughter as soon as you opened that door! she offered everything her little mind could think of! the cupcakes we made today, the dinner we made for you, she said hello and tried to hug you and you walked past her, groaned, and ignored her! you’ve left her in tears in her bedroom, absolutely heartbroken, because of you! are you fucking brain dead, wilbur!”

he wasn’t going to deny that your words hurt him more than his hurt you. he was only just realising how much he was away from you and his daughter. how much time was spent without the smiling faces of the little love bugs that he leaves at home each day. he didn’t know what had gotten into hi-

“what happened to ‘i’ll give up everything. i’ll give up lovejoy, streaming, ill give up everything, to spend all of eternity with you’! you aren’t here anymore! you’re either not at home or you’re off with the fairies! what happened to us! are we not important! what happened to your family, wilbur! you must be fucking stupid, you bastard!”

that was the last thing he needed before he fell onto the bed and let the floodgates open. he hadn’t realised how much time he had spent away from you both. he was always worried about the release date of the next ep, or always occupied by something else. it must have been months since he truly recognised the warm smile of his daughter or the honey-sweet laugh of you. he didn’t realise that he was slipping down the same rabbit hole every one he knew was falling down. he needed to be present.

you were both fuming. you were pissed and he was frustrated.

it took him a good five minutes to register that you were gone. that you hadn’t offered him a hug, or a kiss, or even something as simple as a head rub. you had just walked off…

he immediately stood up and almost ran to his daughters room. he looked everywhere. you weren’t in there. you weren’t in the guest room, or the lounge room, or the bathroom, or even the kitchen. you were literally gone.

he was about to break down again, lose himself to panic, until the soft, wet laughs from his daughter reached his ears.

he found you both outside, your daughter laying in the grass, you tickling her. she had dried tear tracks on her face and red puffy eyes, you with the same. god she looked like you-

until the day he dies, he will never believe that your daughter looks like him. she has your hair, your eyes, your nose, your mouth. she has your beauty.

he sat down next to you after your daughter saw him and her smile dropped. he’d done so wrong-

“can i apologi-“

“wilbur go inside.”

“darling, plea-“

“wilbur.”

he stood once again and stepped inside. he grabbed his dinner and sat at the kitchen island. he let his eyes roam over every photo of you, of your daughter, of you and your daughter, of him and your daughter, of all of you-

he ate his dinner before it went cold, the small bowl of mac n’ cheese and mashed potato swallowed down before he trudged back to your shared room. he laid down and fell asleep almost instantly. he didn’t want the guilt to set in and ruin anything else.

meanwhile, you and your daughter were still laughing and rolling around in the grass. just before wilbur came out wanting to apologise, you had just calmed her down from her sobs and cries. she had voiced so many small sentences that were so incomprehensible, the sentence that you did catch was so heart-wrenching, you started crying again.

“do you and daddy still love me?”

you sobbed and endured shaky breaths but you got through it just for her.

“yes, of course, pumpkin. please don’t ever think we don’t love you.”

a shower and fresh set of pyjamas later, your daughter was asleep in her room, and you were pacing the lounge room, figuring out what to do.

do you sleep on the couch? do you sleep with wilbur? do you sleep in your daughters room? you simply didn’t know.

settling for your shared bedroom, you make your way to where wilbur was fast asleep, small breaths moving the curls on his head and the slight twitch in his arm from where you were absent.

you crawl under the sheets behind him, ignoring the slight hiccup in his sleep, and falling asleep with your head buried in his sleep shirt. the faint scent of cologne and rain luring you into sleep.

you woke to wilbur’s calloused fingers running across your face and through your hair, and finding rest on your shoulders. his slight bed head and tired face making him even prettier than usual. he’ll always dent that he looks pretty in the mornings, claiming that he looks weird with his messy hair or that his breath stinks, but everything is always brushed off with a wide smile from you and a kiss placed under his eye.

but as soon as the warm feeling came, it was pulled away as soon as he realised you had woken up. he thought that you were still angry at him, that you would get angry at him for being so close to you after last night. but he was surprised when he felt you move and pull his hand back to you face.

he continued his small gestures across your face, staring at your sleepy face maybe just a little longer than he should be, considering how horrible of a person he was last night. how absolutely self-centred he was, how he ignored your daughte-

“stop worrying, wil. i’m not angry.”

“i’m so sorry, for last nigh-”

“sweet, don’t apologise right now.”

“just let me, please?”

when he was met with a small nod, he continued.

“i’m so so so sorry about last night. i don’t know what had gotten in to me that made me ignore the two most beautiful things i call mine, but i feel absolutely horrible. i should not have said anything that i said. i shouldn’t have been so self-centred, i shouldn’t have ignored our daughter, i shouldn’t have argued with you. i’m sorry. i really am. and im sorry for not sticking by that promise. i promise that you and our daughter are going to be my number one priority from here on out. i love you.”

he finished his apology with a kiss to your forehead, to your nose, and finally to your lips. he threaded his hands back into your hair, and pulled off his shirt and gave it to you to keep you warm.

soon, your little ball of happiness walked into the room, laughing at the sight of you in wilbur’s shirt and him tickling you. you all calmed down eventually, and let your daughter climb into bed with both of you.

wilbur immediately smothered her in tight hugs and ticklish kisses pressed against her face. he apologised to her for ignoring her and made sure that she believed him before he dropped the subject.

you all spent the entire day doing things together. making playdoh animals, with wilbur. making dinner, with wilbur. making up silly stories, with wilbur. he was included in everything you did.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur #wilbur x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot angst #dadbur #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot fanfiction

[kaijurakunsobs]

Reactions from the Lords and Miranda. S/o has never laughed or smiled since the day she was with the Lords. NEVER. but one day it happens

this feels like a mood but also like unrelatable cuz I have a wheezy loud laughter

so let me think how this would play out

Mother Miranda

when she brought you with her, it was clear something horrible had happened to you, grief was clear in your face

even though you were hurting, your personality remained the same, but no smile ever appeared you face

happiness was expressed in small actions and low hums of songs you once heard

it's late, you are about to pass out and Miranda is quick to dismiss you, telling you to go to sleep

with a nod and a kiss, you make your way to your shared bedroom

the loud thud and what she thinks is you crying, make her bolt out of the room to find you completely hysterical, laughing loudly and attempting to talk between gasps for air

you tripped on the floorboard you said you would repair, for the last 2 months, cackling louder and louder and saying you are ok

she's not worried, Miranda is just happy to hear you laugh

Lady Dimitrescu

the favorite maid of the house, her perfect assistant who seems to know what Alcina needs before she even says it

you are beautiful in her eyes but sometimes she wishes she could see you smile, but your face is stern and cold, only your eyes tell what your face won't

that day you are helping her with her latest business with the Duke, passing her documents and lists for the next shipment of supplies she will need

the man noticed you eyeing a simple piece of porcelain, a ballerina posing with a serene expression on her face

Duke: I hope this doesn't offend you my Lady, but, would it be alright if I offer Y/N a small gift?

Lady D: I would usually refuse something like that, but coming from you Duke, I can only imagine what kind of treasure you will give her

he offers you the figurine revealing its a music box

with soft hands, you take it and smile coyly, turning the key in the base and listening to the tune

Alcina is amazed to see you smile oh so sweetly, slightly angered that it was the Duke who got you to do so, but overjoyed that she got to see it

Salvatore Moreau

3 times a week you visit him

sitting close to him and talking with a calm voice when you retell your latest adventures

he listens and nods, occasionally offering his opinion and sharing his thoughts

you said you hate your smile and that your siblings always made fun of your laughter, saying it was like heating a squealing pig

halfway through your talk, you see a varcolac running amok, doing harsh turns, the muddy terrain offer no traction, and the beast ends up tripping and falling in a mess of limbs and debris

it starts as a snort and develops into a loud howling that you try hard to keep down, Sal starts laughing with you, moved by the gleeful sound than the poor beast falling

he will make sure, to always remember this day

Donna Beneviento

you and Donna understand each other with actions more than words, a kiss can be "I love you" the same way a brush of your hands means "thank you"

for Angie is different, she's verbal and needs to hear your voice to know what you are thinking of everything

so she sets on a crusade to get the most reactions out of you, the hardest being, get you to laugh or smile

you are sitting in the kitchen, Donna is cooking and Angie is just there, starting at you

Angie: SAY, Y/N...do you know...why frogs love to eat bugs so much?

Y/N: well...im afraid I do not know Angie

Angie: It because bugs are CROAKchy!!

the pun is horrible and even Donna sighs at how bad it was

but Angie can see it, a small smile coming to your face followed by a series of giggles that leave both Donna and Angie perplexed

the doll laughs like a maniac and Donna smiles enjoying the sound

Karl Heisenberg

Karl is a patient man, if his years of planning a revolution are anything to go by

and it was that patience that made him with your heart, he courted you, showed you he would love you, your happiness appeared in other ways

in the way you blushed or grew flustered with his advances

he knows everyone is entitled to express themselves any way they see fit, which makes him the less bothered when never smile around him

that's why the first time hits him hard

you had told him many times to sleep well and stop pulling all-nighters to finish something, but he always promises to stop and keeps on doing it

that morning you are drinking coffee and waiting for him to come, the sound of his bare feet alert you that he finally woke up, a yawn can be heard at the end of the corridor

it's clear he's sleep-deprived with how sluggish he moves, he mumbles a good morning and does a quick turn to enter the kitchen, head butting the wall at full force

the hit is enough to wake him but your cackling is what really makes him aware of everything

your head is thrown back and your body is shaking hard with your kaughter

he loves the sound but he feels a bit offended that you are laughing at him

#karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #mother miranda #resident evil village #re8 #x reader

[strawberry-jammers]

child reader (Pt.4)

tommy x child!reader || whys he here??

someone comes to the tundra to fight the blade (also some cute fluff)

pt1 pt 2 pt3 pt4 pt5

masterlist

this took so long lmao, part 5 coming soon

This story will diverge from the cannon. Since i cant remember it well im just gonna do my own thing.

------

The three of them, techno tommy and little (y/n), lived together peacefully for a bit. Techno and tommy would occasionally spar and commit minor terrorism, while (y/n) got to play with tommy and uncle techno. 

(y/n) has grown a bit sense they had arrived there, being a happy kid like they should be.

On calm nights, techno would read to the little kid, stories of gods who ruled over the lands. Stories of himself in his times of adventure. They enjoyed all his stories, for they held a sort of unreachable curiosity that they loved oh so much.

“Im not reading you a story.” techno says. Sitting in his usual arm chair. He had come back from the nether not long before, just wanting to rest after a long day of fighting withers. He didnt expect the kid to want to hang out with him. “Pwease uncle tech!” they said. He shook his head. “I said no.” (y/n) huffed, getting off the arm of the chair, walking to the pile of books that stood in the coroner of the room. 

They looked through it, trying to find the one they wanted. Once they did, they let out a happy ‘aha!’ and stumbled to the grumpy piglin, book in hand. “This one this one! Pleaaaase!!” they said. Showing techno the book. He examined it, realizing that it was the story about himself that philza had given to him as a joke gift. His eyes widened. ‘Why would the brat wanna read about me?’ he pondered. He just sighed, gently grabbing the book from the small hands it was being held in. “Fine, fine, I'll read you the story.” 

(y/n) smiled, climbing up to sit on the piglins lap, wanting to try and read the book along with him. He huffed, not really agreeing to them sitting on him. None the less he opened the book, reading the unfinished tale to the child sitting before him.

“Once centuries ago, there was a young lad cursed to hear ungodly voices…”

Those were nights (y/n) enjoyed the most. They couldn't read, but having techno read to them was much better than reading a book all alone.

On most days Tommy would play with (y/n) outside. Neither of them got bored of the snow, being used to the sunny weather that was logstedshire. It was a nice change of pace that (y/n) enjoyed. 

The two of them usually had snow ball fights, or tried to build towers and mini houses out of the snow. Tommy would build them snowmen, ones that looked like the people they knew. Others were sometimes ones they hadn't seen before, that Tommy would tell stories of when they would go to bed.

“Papa look!” tommy turned to his kid, who was happily standing next to a snow version of himself. It was small and barely looked like himself, but he easily recognized it. He came up to the small child, picking them up happily. “That's me!? It's amazing little (f/i)! You did so well!!” he said, ruffling the young ones hair. They giggled at the action. 

“Wanna see mine?” (y/n) nodded. He walked over to the snowman he had built, showing them to his kid.

They looked familiar, (y/n) thought. These were the people in the storys (y/n) was told, the man with words of wisdom and guitar playing skills that calmed every citizen, who had tragically died in their last battle. The boy who was by papas side, who loved bees and everyone he knew. The young baker who had a kind heart and a smile that could put anyone at ease. Jack manifold.

Tommy spemnt a very long time creating this, purely so he could show (y/n) his old friends at least once. “Whos that one??” (y/n) asked, pointing to the the fox looking one, standing tall next to the leader, wilbur. “That's fundy. He didn't do much in the war, but he was an amazing fighter, and also a furry.`` Tommy replied, setting the child down. They ran up to the snowman. “Furry furry furry!!” they chanted, making the young boy laugh. “Yes furry!”

Most days now were spent with all three of them playing games inside till the late hours. After (y/n) had gotten sick from being outside so much, Tommy decided to just stay inside the warm cabin. They would bug techno alot, but he enjoyed the company some days. It was better than staying inside alone with an enderman who didn't really like him.

Today however, was different. For they had an unexpecting visitor who was very friendly. 

--

Techno was making breakfast, as usual. He had learned that if he didnt, neither of the innits would eat till dinner when their bodys couldn't handle it anymore. It wasn't good for a young baby like that. Not that techno cared tho.

He was putting the dirty pots and pans in the sink, knowing he'd try and force Tommy to do it later. He started to put the food onto plates when he heard shouting coming from outside. "TECHNOBLADE GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!!!" 

Techno stops for a second. No one could possibly have the balls to fight him, let alone twice. Technoblade put the stuff in his hands down, walking over to the window to try and see who was out there. As he thought, it was none other than Quackity trying to pick a fight with him once more. 

"I CAN SEE YOU PIGMAN! COME OUT HERE AND GET WHAT YOU DESERVE!!!" The duck man was actually prepared this time, with enchanted netherite armor and an axe to go with it. It seemed he upped his game sense last time. 

Techno chuckled, going upstairs to grab his things real fast. There's no way someone can try and beat technoblade like that. He came back down to see Quackity opening his door. "Heh!? Why are you inside my house!?" Quackity stood there, axe gripped tightly. Techno reached the floor, grabbing his sword. "Why can't I be in your house techno? Hiding something?" 

Ah shit he's onto us

Kill him

Haha he looks funny

Techno shook his head. "Just thought you'd play fair duck man. That's what you government people love to try and do." Quackity stepped forward. "Why would I play fair with the man whos supposed to be dead? This has been a long time coming," Quackity readied his axe, "get ready blade, cause i'm finally killing you." Techno readied his sword as well. "I'd like to see you try." 

Just as they said this, someone came up from the floorboards. "*yawn* techno are you done with breakfast yet- HOLY FUCK QUACKITY!?" a tired Tommy says, holding a nearly sleeping (y/n). The two men turn to Tommy, seeing him and his child. "Oh? So this is what you were hiding. Haven't seen you sense the exile!" Quackity says, getting closer. Tommy got up from the ladder, shrinking behind technoblade, trying to protect his kid. 

"What are you doing here big q?" Tommy says, hiding his kid. “I could ask you the same thing. What's that you've got there? Technos kid or something?” 

“Well no-” “quackity leave them alone.” techno cuts off tommy, moving more so in front of him. He cant let the baby die, he knows phil would pumble him if he does. “This is between you and me quackity. Leave them alone.” quackity shook his head, pointing his axe at tommy. “Anyone alined with you is an enemy of mine. Even if he's an old friend.” quackity lunged at techno, who blocked the attack swiftly. Quackity tried to get around the man, so he could grab the child from tommys arms. (y/n) was now awake however, and they weren't very happy.

“Papa?” they ask, realizing there was an axe lunging towards them. Quackity got around the blade, and was already trying to get to them. Tommy noticed the axe coming their way, completely ready to take the hit for his kid. 

Techno blocked the attack however. “Tommy get them to safety! I can handle this.” tommy nodded, running as quackity and techno dueld. Wuackity tried to run after tommy, but techno blocked him. “Not interesting enough for you q?” he smirks, swinging his sword at the duck man. Quackity blocks, scolding. “You're really full of yourself aren't you?”

Tommy ran outside, running to the only place he knew big q wouldn't find them, (y/n)s old hut. He ran and ran for so long, it had reached past mid day when he reached the small home he had made so many months prier. He sighed, closing the door behind him. (y/n) had long since woken up, and was very agitated. They had not eaten yet and it's been hours. “Shit shit sorry (y/n).'' Tommy says, laying the child in their old bed. He looked around the old home for anything he had left behind. He found some stuff, but he still had to go out to get food. 

When he was done, he quickly fed the crying child. “I'm sorry kiddo, I didn't think this would happen. I didn't think quackity would wanna harm you. Sh shhh im sorry.” he picks up the crying child, kinda like how they first met. A crying (y/n) and a terrified tommy. 

“Pappa- '' Tommy cuts them off, shushing them. “Just rest, Just rest…” the kid nodded, calming down slightly.

The two of them stayed like that till the sun rose the next day.

The next day Tommy got a message on his communicator by techno. Apparently quackity had won the fight, having threatened to chase after them and kill them. Techno begrudgingly went to get executed a second time. Thankfully he lived however, thanks to ranboo and tubbo stopping it. The two of them were currently at the blades house. 

Tommy didnt wanna deal with seeing tubbo, but he knew he couldn't stay out here for more than an hour. He sighed. “Hey (y/n), how would you like it if you might get to meet new friends?” (y/n) looked at him, smiling. “Yeah new friends!!” he smiled, picking up the excited child. “Let's go back to uncle technos!” “uncle techy!!!” Tommy and (y/n) laughed. Tommy got ready and left for the tundra.

Hopefully tubbo wouldn't be there when he got there.

#tommyinnit x child reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt x reader #tommyinnit #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x y/n #technoblade #technoblade x reader #dreamsmp x reader #x reader #child reader

[bots-basket]

Safety in numbers #3

The environment was sunny and peaceful as plenty of plants and few trees was all around the landscape.. if Rosie didn't know any better she would've thought she was outside.

But deep down she knew she wasn't.. despite all the cheerful undertones Rosie was still felt uneasy and generally uncomfortable about this whole situation. It's best to just keep on moving untill she can find a good enough place to rest.

But even as she thought that, Dark blue and yellow eyes watched over her as she made her way through the fields.

" So a Little visitor has wandered into my domain.. with not a single Tim or Balan in sight.. interesting."

Lance muttered as he observed the visitor. He knew that she's undoubtedly already met with Balan- it was practically impossible to enter the wonderworld otherwise. But what he didn't understand was how she was acting.

You would think after meeting such a saturated and annoyingly perky Clown like Balan she'd at least be in a SOMEWHAT better mood. But here she was, emotionally Guarded, Nervous and alone.. At least that's what Lance gathered from observing her.

" Guys..! Your awake!"

His train of thought was interrupted when the girl let out a gasp of relief as she fell to her knees with tears in her eyes. He couldn't see exactly what she was crying about so he decided to get a little closer, Being careful to not make his presence known yet.. Less the perfect opportunity to do so was to appear.

Rosie on the other hand for once in her life didn't care what others thought of her as she was sitting in the middle of the road crying.

" *Hic*.. I'm So Happy your all Okay..*Sniffle*"

Rosie breathed as she glanced down to the mindcores orbs in her arms, Now each giving off a steady pulse glow of color unique to each core. There was a green one, A light blue one, An orange one, and a purple one- each softly giving off their glow as she girl whispered their names in between her sobbing.

Now Lance was completely confused to what this little visitor was doing. He's seen humans talk to quite a few things, From Bugs to Cats- and sometimes even plants! But never in all his days has he seen a visitor become so emotional over little glowy balls... She even Named them apparently- not that he actually caught what the names were.

" Peculiar." Rosie's Head shot upwards when she thought she heard a voice nearby. Not wanting to risk anything since she just managed to awaken her cores- she dived into the bushes behind a tree to hide. Too bad this hiding place was already taken. !? She blinked as she was now sitting ontop of a mixed emotioned Lance- who just so happened to be a little embarrassed to be taken off guard so easily by a visitor. He was supposed to take others by surprise, not her. He gently tapped the ground with his fingers impatiently as she made no attempts of moving off him. "Ahem." " A-ahh im so so so sorrry!" Rosie stuttered out as she snapped outta her surprise and quickly got off from ontop of the negati master. Another performer?! she's just running into them one after the other huh? But wait a moment.. this place wasn't an ordinary theatre.. Perhaps the performers weren't ordinary either. She awkwardly stood there watching as Lance stood up and brushed the dust from off of him. He was tall with wavy black hair that held embroidery; and he was also wearing an outfit that looked kinda like the one Balan wore.. but at the same time very different. Come to think of it his whole aesthetic was completely different compared to Balan’s... and he definitely had a more Quiet and mysterious aura to him. " How did you come to be here?" Lance's query took her a little off guard as he looked down at her with his Dark blue and yellow piercing eyes. There wasn't anything that exactly stood out about her- with her Big Glasses and long braided black hair that she usually kept tucked away under her hoodie.. Not to mention she didn't have Balan currently helping her.. She shouldn't have been able to easily cross over into another's mindscape. " oh- i um..im sorry.. The door was open! and there were these... well.. and i just Uh.. kinda.. um.. IM SO SORRY FOR BOTHERING YOU I'LL GO RIGHT NOW IM SORRY!!" She stammered through her explanation and then blurted out an apology as she immediately felt guilty for bothering the poor performer; and then practically destroying their personal bubble. She would've been absolutely horrified if someone had done that to her! She should definably be ashamed for doing such a thing... Best to get outta this place and just find another place to hide! She's inconveniencing wayyy to many hard working people today.. Lance knew This visitor was anxious, but he wasn't expecting such a panicked response after being asked a simple question- and then feel the need to apologize.. Repeatedly for something she had no control over.. that didn't Sit well with him.. Nobody should have to apologize to someone like him anyday.. He gave a quiet huff before Carefully reaching out with one of his hair tentacles to the girl as he was going to lift her head from that unflattering bow she was giving.. " You don't-" ** BANG** The Sudden sound of the Gunshot made them both flinch as they Both turned around to see where the direction of the sound came from. From the looks of the purple smoke up behind them it was close by.. Rosie definitely wasn't going to stick around for this as she took the opportunity of Lance distracted to dart away from the scene, Leaving the Negati master to choose whether to follow after her or investigate the strange noise. Lance grunted as he created a few Negati to chase after the girl as he flew off to go see what was causing such a disturbing sound... A Bad Decision on his part.

#{ safety in numbers; balan wonderworld!verse } #{ shy but sweet; rosie } #{ daydreaming; drabble } #Lance #balan wonderworld #balan wonderland #(( *Rosie ran away* )) #(( *Again* )) #self insert

[artificialqueens]

Drabble Compilation (Trixya, Biadore) - Candy Cane

A/N: a bunch of drabbles ive written over on my side blog @sillylittlecandycane !! im accepting prompts over there if you are interested uwu here’s the list of everything in here: 1.) Trixya, half drag dance challenge 2.) Trixya, pregnant!Katya 3.) Biadore, “If I puke, will you hold my hair back?" 4.) Trixya, pregnant!Katya sequel 5.) Trixya, "You’ve been crying, I can tell." 6.) Biadore, Adore visiting Bianca in Palm Springs

1.) Trixya, half drag dance challenge For a split second there Katya was ecstatic about being Trixie’s partner for this challenge, then she remembered she has a huge fucking crush and is definitely going to wind up making a fool out of herself. Trixie’s clearly excited though, so Katya decides she’ll try to swallow down those feelings, and focus on keeping that smile on Trixie’s face.

Neither of them are really dancers, but Trixie definitely is a country girl, so she’s somewhat more familiar with it than Katya. The older is still nervous, she’s not used to this kind of thing, not by any stretch of the imagination. She’s done choreo before, any given drag queen has, she just hasn’t had to learn it in such a short amount of time before.

After learning what they could with the instructor and are back in the workroom to practice, Trixie turns to Katya and grabs her hands. Katya stares down at them with wide eyes, just now registering she’s been dancing with Trixie.

Cute, sexy, funny fucking Trixie.

“We have so got this,” Trixie says, all the confidence in the world embodied in that tone.

Katya looks into Trixie’s eyes and smiles back, “Okay, yeah. We’ve got this.”

It’s exhilarating to have so much confidence in herself, and then to have some in her partner as well. It’s so different from what she’s used to. They’ve still got work to do to make sure they nail this thing all the way to the core of the earth, it’s just not so terrifying anymore. It feels good, it really does.

2.) Trixya, pregnant!Katya Katya’s at the point where she is seriously regretting being pregnant. At the end of the day, it was her choice, but sometimes she thinks it was a bad one. Everything fucking hurts, she’s constantly hungry, she can’t sleep right anymore, and she is always horny. This is just the worst thing ever.

What doesn’t suck is how sweet and loving Trixie, her fucking wife, has been. Katya doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the fact that Trixie is her wife. It’s so surreal! She’s like the best wife ever. Always getting her whatever she wants or needs, even if it’s 2 am and she’s being absolutely ridiculous, Trixie is there to help her and make the best out of a sucky situation.

Katya cuddles closer to Trixie, listening to the soothing sound of the younger’s heartbeat. She’s going to have a baby with this girl. They’re growing their family and it’s just… it’s perfect.

Trixie gently tugs her fingers through Katy’s messy blonde hair as they watch some stupid Lifetime movie. The domesticity of it all is wonderfully stupid. But it’s still stupid. She feels restless, she’s unable to go out and at least dance, she wants to do something.

“I’m bored,” Katya says, frowning slightly.

Trixie giggles a little, and it’s so fucking cute it hurts, “Okay, what do you wanna do?”

“We should go bungee jumping,” Katya says, keeping a straight face.

“Yeah, and then we’ll eat live bugs,” Trixie replies with an eye roll.

Their eyes meet and they erupt into laughter, holding onto each other and enjoying the moment. Katya sighs, and lays her head back down to Trixie’s chest, frowning.

“I’m seven months preggers, there’s like nothing I can do,” Katya groans.

Trixie combs her fingers through Katya’s hair again, “That’s not true. We can still play like uh, board games? We can go back to thinking of baby names, too. Can’t do any worse than my parents.”

Katya looks up at Trixie, a content smile on her lips. At least Trixie is trying for her, which is so much better than she feels she could’ve ever hoped for. The Russian pushes herself up to kiss her wife deeply.

“Or we could…” Katya mumbles against her, a sly offer.

Trixie giggles again, like music to Katya’s ears, “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

3.) Biadore, "If I puke, will you hold my hair back?"

Adore has drunk herself stupid, or stupid-er, again. She needed a night of insane drinking, and boy did she get it. Everyone is looking at her like she should be at rehab, but she doesn’t fucking care. A broken heart can’t be mended with alcohol, but it can be forgotten, at least for a little while.

She downs another shot, and out of the corner of her eyes she sees Detox and Willam laughing at her, while Bianca looks incredibly exasperated. Adore groans and lays her head against the counter, she feels awful and it definitely isn’t just her broken heart.

“B…” she mumbles, lifting a heavy arm to poke her friend.

Bianca rolls her eyes but looks down at her anyways, “What?”

“I don’ feel so good…” she whines, her words slurred.

“Well that’s what happens when you drink more in three hours than Willam does in one night,” Bianca snaps back, the disapproval in her voice strong.

“I’d be offended but you make a good point,” Willam says, giggling.

Adore huffs and stares at her bright red wig and the way it’s sprawled out in front of her. It’s one of her favorites, but it was also her ex’s favorite… God, she misses him so much it hurts like a bitch. Maybe she should throw out the wig, if it’s going to hurt her so much. It’s still a favorite though, and she refuses to allow that dickhead to take more from her than necessary.

Adore realizes she’s been zoning out, and reaches her hand out for Bianca. Her hand finds Bianca’s, and she squeezes it tightly. Bianca’s eyes meet hers, and Adore is overwhelmed with how wonderful and amazing this person is. Bianca’s is basically the definition of perfect, and Adore knows she’s lucky to even be her friend. Though that doesn’t really stop her from pining after Bianca.

“Bia…” Adore whines again.

“What?” Bianca sighs.

“Can we leave?” she asks, quiet and sad.

Bianca looks down at her, and must take some kind of pity, “Yeah, we can go.”

Ten minutes later they’re climbing into the back of an Uber, and Adore is quick to lay her head down in Bianca’s lap. Bianca rubs the back of her neck, and it feels really good because she’s starting to feel really ill.

Adore moans pathetically, “Yanks…”

“Yeah?” Bianca answers her.

“If I puke will you hold my hair back?”

“Sure, but then I’ll beat you up for puking all over me and this fucking car.”

Adore giggles, feeling slightly better with their usual banter, “Love you, Bia.”

“Love you too,” Bianca smiles softly.

4.) Trixya, pregnant!Katya sequel

For almost a year now, Katya’s life has been totally changed. Deciding to actually go through with physically having a child was big enough, but when she was actually pregnant? Everything changed.

Every decision she made impacted the baby. What she ate, what she wore, what she did… Every little thing impacted not just her anymore, but her child too. And she wouldn’t give it up for anything, because sitting here, holding that child in her arms, she knows it was all worth it.

Sitting here in the hospital bed, Katya is mesmerized by her baby. Her eyes are so startling blue, like Trixie’s, and her smile is so vibrant, like Trixie. Katya thinks her baby will be just like Trixie in so many ways. Katya hopes her daughter gets all her good traits, and none of her bad ones. This child helped to save her from addiction, Katya doesn’t want her to fall into it.  

“What are you thinking about?” Trixie whispers, leaning over her shoulder to look into their baby’s eyes.

“How we still haven’t named her,” Katya says, cupping her pretty face.

Trixie rolls her eyes, “Well, we would’ve had that one figured out by now if-” “Really? In front of the baby?” Katya says, trying to play all serious at first, then bursts into laughter at Trxiei’s surprised expression.

“You bitch,” Trixie laughs, lightly slapping Katya’s shoulder.

“But seriously, the kid needs a name,” Katya frowns, “We can’t keep calling her ‘the baby’ forever.”

“It’s only been a day,” Trixie shrugs, “But you’re right.” “I should give her a really complicated Russian name you can’t pronounce,” Katya teases.

“Do you hate me? Is that it?” Trixie plays along.

Katya kisses her though, and the way Trixie turns bright red gets her all emotional all over again.

“I’ve been in love with you since we met,” Katya reminds her once they break apart.

“We should name her Barbara,” Trixie giggles.

“Nevermind, you’re right, I do hate you.”

Trixie cackles, and the baby starts to fuss in response. Both immediately try to calm her down, and luckily do so with minimal effort.

“Maybe… Cherry?” Trixie suggests.

Katya looks at her, then realizes she;s being serious, “Really? Cherry?”

“We could put down like, Cheryl or something on paper, but Cherry is like red, and sweet, and cute…” Trixie explains, blushing some.

Katya purses her lips, looks down at her baby, and grins widely.

“Cherry suits her.”

5.) Trixya, "You’ve been crying, I can tell." There’s tear tracks down Trixie’s cheeks, her eyes are bright red, and she’s even sniffling. It makes Katy’s heart hurt. She doesn’t like to see Trixie upset, that girl is the last person on this earth who should ever cry.

“Katya-” Trixie says, jerking back when she sees the older, clearly having thought she was alone.

“What happened?” Katya asks, stepping forward instinctively. She wants nothing more than to hug her.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Trixie says, unable to meet Katya’s eyes.

Katya frowns, “You’ve been crying, I can tell.”

Trixie looks shocked, but still persists, “I’m fine.”

“I’m never going to believe that,” Katya says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Trixie finally admits.

“Okay, that I can understand,” Katya says, reaching forward to take Trixie’s hand in her own, “But… that doesn’t mean you have to be alone. We don’t have to talk, but let me be here for you. Please?”

Trixie looks up at Katya’s kind, worried eyes, completely taken aback by how genuine her friend is being. Trixie nods, unable to actually form any words, and is almost instantly wrapped up in a strong hug.

The younger places her head in the crook of Katya’s neck, and starts to cry all over again. She doesn’t feel so empty and alone now, though. She feels like maybe if she just stays in Katya’s arms, listening to her reassurances and absorbing her love, for a little while longer then everything will be okay.

6.) Biadore, Adore visiting Bianca in Palm Springs

The sun is shining brightly, the palm trees surrounding the pool sway in the breeze, and Danny feels more relaxed than they have in many, many months. They’re on their back in the center of the pool, letting themself drift and be one with the water. Usually they prefer to go straight to the source, they are a mermaid after all, but there’s something to be said about getting to be alone in the water with their boyfriend.

There’s no one else around, just the two of them, alone and having sexy, fun, romance together. Said boyfriend pops up out of the water  next to Danny, and peers over them, a smirk on his lips. Danny sits up so they’re not on their back anymore, and presses a little closer to Roy.

“Hi,” Roy chuckles, leaning in close to Danny’s lips.

Danny grins, “Hello yourself.”

Roy laughs, but kisses Danny anyways. The kiss is chaste, but still full of love and joy. Danny wraps their arms around Roy’s neck and goes in for another kiss, this one full and sloppy. Roy pushes Danny forward as they soak each other in, until Roy had Danny pinned to the concrete edge, his large hands spanning across Danny’s, currently tiny, hips.

The younger is bad at the whole self-care thing during work, which is one of the many reasons he’s happy to have them here. Now he has an excuse to get real food into Danny, and help them relax.

The two pull away from each other, breathless and smiling, and it’s perfect. The sun on their skin, the clear water around them, and neither would have it any other way.

“We should go annoy the neighbors with your golf cart this afternoon,” Danny suggests, smiling and close to laughter.

“Yeah,” Roy says, close to laughing himself, “We should.”

#rpdr fanfiction #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #adore delano #bianca del rio #trixya #biadore #angst #fluff #romance #hurt/comfort #implied smut #pregnancy au #canon compliant #lesbian au #drabble compilation #candy cane #concrit welcome #tw vomit mention

[hongjoongpresent]

Hi, Dani. I would like to know how to properly write psychotics since the way the media portrays them is very ableist and I think psychotics deserve good representation.

Oh. Uhhhhhhhh ive never been asked for help or anything like this before?? Uhhhh man idk. Disclaimer: im stupid and dont know anything about writing. Also: i only have my own experiences with being psychotic and i obviously cant speak for every single psychotic person lol.

Ok uh. I would say try to avoid a split personality serial killer trope. Please PLEASE dont do what danganronpa did to toko thats all hah. Also try to avoid pulling a korekiyo? So basically. Try not to literally tell your viewer/reader that "this person is strange and different meaning this person is creepy and i dont wanna be around them" which i felt was sorta the goal with korekiyo (SORRY FOR USING DANGANRONPA EXAMPLES BUT ITS THE BEST I GOT OK)

Ummm ok *thinks* fun psychotic things TM definitely include (at least for me! Ntot everyone obvs):

Spiders or bugs under your skin. Im pretty sure this is basically universal for psychotics since ive seen MANY PEOPLE talk about this. But its a very common delusion where it feels or even sounds like there are bugs or spiders under your skin (yuh its terrifying XD)

That one hallucination dude that just kinda stands in the corner?? Idk he whispers a lot (like. Speak the fuck up or SHUT the fuck up real.) And he doesnt really have a face or anything he just kinda stands there and either comforts you or insults you (its like being in a toxic relationship but its literally in your head so you cant leave <3)

Hyperfixations on people. Of course many many MANY neurodivergent disorders include hyperfixations, but im talking PEOPLE. I have trust issues. But when i do truly trust someone OH BOY i be thinking about them CONSTANTLY

Intrusive thoughts. Many people can have them sure but ive never met a psychotic person who didnt have intrusive thoughts. Think of things like. Stabbing someone. Randomly pushing or punching someone. Hitting someone with a chair. Kissing or even having sex with someone. (Literally anyone. Ive. Literally had intrusive thoughts about having sex with teachers. Not even attractive teachers or anything just. Normal people.) HOWEVER keep in mind... we dont usually ACT on these. Its not like "o i had a thought about stabbing my brother im gonna dtab my brother now".

PROBLEMS SLEEPING!!!! Because of reasons like. Thinking about the future or an idealized version of the future, thinking about what the Real World would be like once i leave this fake world. Or because the walls are breathing (why do they do that lmao?) Or some random hallucination decides to talk to you out of nowhere. Stuff like that.

Nothing feeling real. Life is a simulation and nothing matters anyway. Everyone in this world is not even really a person. Theyre just computer generated to make me believe its the real world but i know its not. Everything revolves around me this world is built around me. Everything that happened before i was here is just made up and never actually happened. Or at least it didnt matter. Im the main character in this video game.

Auditory hallucinations!! Theyre the worst tbh. Screaming, random crying, mean laughter (why is it never anything fun ughhhh). Usually, i try to ignore auditory hallucinations by listening to music with my earplugs in.

Man sorry for making this post really long but. Im not good with advice?? These are purely my own experiences!! Just. Try to avoid making them the butt of the joke or the Weird Unlikable Character TM.

#actually psychotic #tw hallucinations #tw simulation #tw derealization #tw intrusive thoughts #tw spiders mention #tw bugs mention #ask #discowonderlandposts #I HOPE THIS IS OK?? #i made an attempt #long post #(sorta?) #tw sex mention

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Three, “The One Where It Happens”

*Gifs not mine*

Clickable Links:

- *NEW* Becky Magazine Cover from an O.C. Tag Challenge

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

Word Count: 12.3k words

Warnings: Sensitive topics

Music Inspo: Lay Down Beside You by Carl Storm (click to listen, this song is too perfect for this chapter)

                                         SNEAKYYYYY PEEK

I worry. I fear. I cry. I doubt. I struggle for breath. I grieve. I sob. I ache. Because I love. No, not loved. I love.

Love is what makes me want to go back to her, and cover her broken body with kisses. Love is what scares the living shit out of me, preventing me from doing that in this very second, because I’m afraid that I’ll break her all the more. Love is what sends the words tumbling off of my aching lips.

“‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . . B-But ‘m not alright.”

Life has many ways of testing a person’s will - either by having nothing happen at all, or by having everything happen at once.

- Paulo Coelho 

+

Today had seemed like a dream, and I was unsure of when I’d get used to that, or when I’d get used to all of this. If I never did, I’d be okay with that, because she just keeps amazing me with every step I take. I never want this dream to end, if it is one after all.  

Speak of an angel, and there she is, I think. The thought races to the front of my mind, pushing all of the others aside. She’s always managed to be very good at doing that, I recall. 

“I’m gonna get going then,” she announces, clasping her milky 

white hands together in front of her after walking back into my office. 

A sad smile finds its way to my lips as I admire her, wishing I could spend the rest of my days memorizing every detail of her. The little tan birthmark beneath her eye that she doesn’t cover up anymore, much to my happy findings. The sparkle in her eyes, the left one scattered with more indigo flecks. The always waves in her dark chocolate hair. Her braided silver ring that I’ve never seen her without, always playing with it mindlessly. 

“Harry?” she hums. I blink, focusing my eyes back on her. 

Becks. My lovely Becks. Maybe even . . my girlfriend? Impossible although it had seemed, my lips reach higher elevations on my cheeks at the thought. I don’t let it run away from me, although I’m itching to let the question leave my lips. 

There’s always tomorrow for that, I decide silently as I adore the invisible inquisition toying with her eyebrows. 

“Alright?” Becks asks, taking another step forward until she arrives at my desk. 

“Ya, ‘m great,” I confess softly, pushing at the lip of my desk to get to my feet. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she ponders nervously, a fire sparking in her cheeks as I near her figure dressed in a sleek black pantsuit. A cream chiffon blouse falls under the hollow of her neck modestly, adorned by the opal necklace I haven’t seen her take off since our first date. Yet another confirmation that that night was real, and so is all of this. My bloody God, I wonder when I’ll ever be able to believe it. 

“I dunno,” I giggle, my hands finding their way into the conversation with a shrug of their own. “Jus’ so happy lookin’ at you . . You make me happy, Becks . . Very.”

The dimple finds its place in her left cheek again, and I know then that I’m fucked all the more. A similar sound flows from her lips, and I wish it didn’t have to come to an end as my palm slips into hers. 

“You make me happy too, Harry, so happy,” she titters, peeking up at me with those goddamn blue eyes. The very blues that could send me whizzing off into another oblivion, and I’d feel honored for it. I’m given just enough time to catch the glint in her eye, wetness sitting there in the corner before she looks away again. “Today made me so happy.”

“Me too, bug. I can hardly believe I get t’ do this e’ry day . . with you,” I snicker happily, tugging on her hand until my arms are surrounding her shoulders. 

“Neither can I,” she concurs, the words tickling the skin peeking out from my hardly buttoned shirt. A second of wetness tickles the skin there when my hand comes to cup the back of her head, pressing a kiss below my thumb a moment later. 

“Call me when ya get home, will you? We should FaceTime and watch anotha episode, if yer not gettin’ too sick o’ me yet.”

“Never,” she sighs, nudging my chin towards the sky when she lifts her head. It falls now, to find her moist blue eyes searching for me. It plummets further until my lips catch the hint of a tear at the corner of her eye, kissing it away. “I could never get sick of you.”

“‘s gonna be quite a long time befo’ I get sick o’ you, bug,” I murmur against her cheek, the traces of orange blossoms marking her skin. I can almost taste it on my lips when I leave a kiss there. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, yanking my eyes to her grinning lips that I envelop with my own. A ‘good’ brushes against her pair between moments of adoring her top lip between mine. The tip of her nose leaves lazy circles drawn on my skin while I sketch my own onto her creamy skin. The moment couldn’t last long enough. I wish I could freeze it in time and enjoy it for longer before my lungs begin to burn for air. 

“Drive safe,” I whisper against her mouth, saying goodbyes into her hair with the motions of my thumb. 

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll call you when I get home, it shouldn’t take me even fifteen minutes to get there.”

“‘Kay, ‘ll talk t’ you soon then,” I smile, touching my lips to her button nose. “Boops.” 

“Now, don’t stay here too long, boss. You’re going to turn into a workaholic or something, Harry,” Becks taunts with her flushed lips drawing me in. 

“‘ll try not t’, that’s all I can promise.”

A laugh joins her answering nod before she surprises me with one last kiss, making me want to take back all of the words I just said, and spend a few more moments kissing her. Minutes, maybe. 

“Night, Harry.”

“G’night, Becks. ‘ll talk t’ ya later . . my love,” I divulge, enjoying the pink that rises in her cheeks at the mention of the simple words. Simple, yet oh so true. 

“Bye, my Harry,” she echoes, squeezing my hand one last time on her way out the door. Her azul blue eyes meet mine over her shoulder when she pulls my door closed, decadent lips curled into a smile just for me. Lips that I already want to have touching my own again, dark chocolate waves I want to be losing my hands in, and that laugh I want to be pulling from her lips. 

It’s never long enough with her, but I get to do today all over again with her tomorrow. The day after that, and after that. Stolen kisses in the copier room, her head on my shoulder while watching FRIENDS at my desk, those pretty fingers dancing along my tense shoulders, and a closeness between us that I’ve longed to have for so long. Too long. 

A closeness with her that I never want to lose.

+

The very last unanswered email is whisked away with a whoosh. Finally, I have that done. With it, it drags my eyes to my wrist that vibrates with an alert. A premature smile graces my lips until it falls at the sight of a different name, not the one I was expecting. 

“What’s takin’ her so long?” I mutter as my eyes flit over Myles’ text, some joke about firing me if I keep staying past five o’clock. 

“Bastard,” I sigh with a shake of my head, pressing my palm to the screen as the time repeats in my head. 

5:26 passes. 

Then, 5:36 passes too as I wait for her to reply to my texts, or to call.

Reckon she should’ve been home by now, having left at 5, I wonder silently, aware of the thrumming of my heart. I’m sure she’s just making something to eat. 

Yeah, Harry, that’s it. 

Why am I worrying so much? 5 o’clock traffic is a bitch, anyways. It’s what made me late to our date the other night, so I should know. 

“She’ll call soon,” I mumble aloud, crafting a quick text to her, adding to the others I’ve already sent her tonight.

i think today may have been my favourite w/ u so far ;) xo

hurry up slowpoke

rebecca ann ur slow. im kiddin. drive safe bug xo

Sighing, I turn back to my iMac where I already have the next episode of FRIENDS queued up, waiting for her. 

A new bloop! sounds when an email arrives in my inbox. Clicking on it, I begin to absorb the words until my office phone interrupts with a loud bringggggg! 

“This ‘s Harry,” I say automatically, and am answered with an eerie silence. A darkness trickles into my chest at the little sounds accompanying it. The pangs of worry return, demanding to be felt amongst the mix of it all. “Hullo?” 

“H-Harry, this is Skye,” a shaky voice replies at last. 

“Hi, what’re you doin’ callin’ me main line?” I joke, hoping to add a lightness to the atmosphere that so direly requires one. The fear threatening at my edges gains strength when I make out the likeness of it in her voice. “If yer lookin’ fer Becks she left half an hour ago, reckon she’s home by now.”

“No, s-she’s not,” she says. I hear it, and I immediately wish that I hadn’t. Denying it with a shake of my head, it doesn’t disappear that easily, the crack in her voice. “She . . d-didn’t make it home, Harry.”

“What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout, Skye? I jus’ saw her half an hour ago,” I contend, rushing through my words as my back straightens to full attention. 

“I know . . I just talked to her on the phone f-fifteen minutes ago, but Harry . . ,” Skye continues, words wandering away from her. They’re kidnapped by the tears that I finally acknowledge in her voice, and now echoing on the line. “S-She was in . . an accident.”

“What . . What kinda accident? ‘s she alright? W-Who told you this? That can’t be right, I jus’ saw her,” I argue, losing my footing quite immediately. 

Rising to my feet, the words are too close for comfort and my knees threaten to give out on me. A hand races to my hair, carding heavy strokes through it that tug hairs loose, but I disregard the pain. Another form of it demands to be felt inside of me, next to my heart that climbs in speed with every moment absent of words. An absence of Becks being okay. 

“I don’t want it to be real either, Harry, b-but an officer just rang me. H-He said a car ran a light and h-hit her . . not long after I got off the phone with her. It was right behind the driver’s side and . . it doesn’t look very good,” she reveals, sobs growing thicker in her voice. My feet run rampant circles around my office as my fingers tug violently at my hair. 

“This ‘sn’t funny, Skye, if yer pullin’ me leg,” I begin with a forced amusement, but it doesn’t make it very far. I don’t make it that far until I fall onto the sofa, my words crashing into loud sobs that steal my breath away. “I jus’ got her back . . I can’t lose her ‘gain,” the confession comes, drenched in tears that shake my body. 

“I know,” she agrees with echoing devastation as tears paint the inside of my palm clung to my face. “She’s been my best friend for t-twenty-one years, Harry. I-I can’t imagine my life without her, and I know she’d never want to imagine a life without you.”

My head shakes rapidly from side to side as the tepid wetness paints stripes down my cheeks, escaping from my eyes that I press shut painfully. Whimpers flee from my lips, the very ones that were just kissing hers thirty minutes prior. 

This can’t be happening. No, I can’t lose my Becks when she just found her way back to me. 

“No, no . . no, no,” I sob, each utterance becoming more indiscernible with the emotions consuming them. “Not my Becks,” I mutter, air escaping my lungs with such force that leaves me dizzy in the head. 

“She’ll be okay, she’s strong, Harry. She’s made it through so much other shit. N-Not this sort, but . . . she broke her leg riding bike one time when we were eight, and she was fine. S-She cut her finger cooking once and drove herself to hospital all herself,” Skye reveals, the trembling words doing nothing to calm my heart that I’m afraid may bound from my chest at a moment’s notice. 

“Strongest person I know,” I concur, a hiccup rattling my voice that fights for composure. “W-What’d they tell you . . ‘bout Becks?”

“They’re taking her to uh, King’s Cross hospital. Reckon there’ll be a waiting room I can meet you at while s-she’s in . . surgery,” Skye explains, and my head rushes up and down with nods now. I shakily get to my feet and take a step towards my door, but once again, I don’t make it far. A wooziness falls over me, and I grab the arm of the sofa just in time to recover. “They said they stabilized her and she was breathing and everything, b-but surgery was in order. Car was totaled, though. That’s not good . . No, that’s not good,” she cries, words falling harder and harder the more she goes on. With every one that she speaks, my sobs thicken and louden against the confines of my palm. 

“Don’t say that . . D-Don’t, she’s gonna be okay. She has t’ be,” I defend, wishing more with every second that I believed my own words. If the words themselves could wish it into existence, I’d speak them over and over until it came true. 

“I’m sorry,” she confesses breathlessly. “I’ll uh, meet you there. C-Call me when you get there. It’s the . . hospital on the west side of town, not too far from you, I reckon. She’s probably . . already there,” Skye finishes before the dial tone drills into my ears, and I’m left listening to my unsteady breaths. 

The phone plummets from my hand to meet the floor with a crrrrrunching sound, but I don’t even care. There’s so little I care about in this moment, because my thoughts are consumed by her. They’re racing, demanding, and making me sick. My chest trembles with another intense sob as my palms press against my eyes. Strands of my hair are taut around my fingertips, my scalp searing with pain. 

She’s become all I’ve cared about in these last few weeks, and it’s been magnified within moments now.

“No,” I cry, salt water dripping over my lips and plummeting from my chin. “Becks, no.”

Sniffling, it’s suddenly impossible to ignore the rock sitting in my gut. Jumping to my feet, my hands fall as I cross the room and fall to my knees harshly. The cold, granite tiles dig into my boney limbs as I retch into the bin. Grouting in the tiles leaves marks on my skin when I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth moments later. 

Sweat beads on my forehead as the room spins around me. Tears press harshly at the back of my eyes when I envision her standing in front of me, kissing me goodbye just moments ago, it seemed. Shakes overwhelm my body within seconds, and my knees kiss the tiles once more. The coolness is welcomed by my flushed forehead as I curl into myself, her smiling face captivating every thought I have while my body convulses with a new sob. It takes the last ounces of strength I can find to pull myself up to a kneeling position, then to plant one foot against the floor, and another until I’m standing. 

“‘m comin’, Becks,” I mumble, voice breaking from the first word. Wiping under my eyes, I rip open the door. Feet pounding down the hallway, I sniffle as another warm stripe cascades down my cheeks. A second and third accompany it when I pass her office, and I yank my eyes away, knowing that I can’t look. I’ll collapse to the floor again if I see her name sitting there on the door, waiting for her to return tomorrow morning. 

Patting my pockets hastily, I yank my ring of keys from the fabric only to drop them. Cursing, I bend down to pick them up before rounding the corner. I’m almost knocked off my feet by Myles who skids to a halt. Unbeknownst to me, I didn’t think I could be hurting more until I found the look that dawns on his face. 

“Hare, what’s wrong?” he demands, grabbing my bicep. 

A sob revokes my words and a hand flies to my mouth. Eyebrows falling, tears interrupt my voice as the explanation plays on a loop between my ears. 

“Becks, s-she . . ,” I try to say, but a shake of my head places a gap in between my words. “Was inn’a accident. I have t’ go t’ her . . tha hospital. I wanna be there when she wakes up, and-,” now, I cut myself off abruptly. Tears blur my vision, and soon I’m seeing stripes. A feeling surrounds me, and I find that it’s his arms crushing me in a hug. His name drops from my lips in a choked sob. 

“You’re not driving anywhere like this. I’ll take ya, Hare,” he murmurs into my ear, out of place back rubbing following his words. “I’m so bloody sorry, mate. Fuck, I just saw her when she left.”

“So did I. H-How can it be real? I just . . . I jus’ got her back, My’. She jus’ came back t’ me and we jus’ started datin’ finally . . I can’t fookin’ lose her all over ‘gain, not fer real this time . . I don’t think I could live inn’a world that she’s not in, Myles,” I confess into his shoulder, clutching onto him. My chest expands and falls against his, convulsing with every worst case scenario that sends tears flying from my eyes. 

“It’ll be okay.”

“Don’t fookin’ say that, ‘coz what if it ‘s not? What if she’s not okay? What if she . . d-dies, My’? I can’t-,” the words run away from me, and for once, I’m thankful for it. They’re drenched by too much reality, more than I can stomach.

I don’t remember following him down to the parking garage, or getting into the car. The next thing I know, my head is tipped against the frosty glass window in his BMW, the lights of London cloudy from behind my eyes. 

“I jus’ bloody saw her, and I kissed her and hugged her,” I whisper, watching the words fog up the glass, if only for mere seconds. A warm tear dives from my chin, crashing onto the v of my chest. 

‘I knows’ answer me back, as well as squeezes to my arms when I least expect them. It all runs into a blur - the traffic, snow fluttering against the windows, and the pounds of tears I shed into the air. Most of all, the thoughts running rampant within me hardly make much sense by the time we’ve parked. The one thing that’s clear as day is how my heart swells with bittersweetness when her face swims inside of my skull, and the love that pours out from it for her. 

I already know that I love her, and it only makes me hurt a million times worse. 

“She’ll likely be in surgery for a good while, it’s a rather long affair, Hare,” Myles announces as the automatic sliding doors open for us, greeting us with a burst of hot air. 

“I know . . Skye said she’s in tha waitin’ room erm, on tha second floor,” I respond, reading from my phone. My eyes fill with more tears as I swipe a finger under the both of them, sniffling. 

“Here, I see a lift.”

Relief ironically escapes me when we finally find Skye bouncing her legs up and down in a chair, arms wrapped around herself as she stares at the floor. It takes her a moment to look up after saying her name, but with her disarray of colorful hair, I reckon she’s the best person I can relate to on this entire floor. 

“Hey,” I whisper when I embrace her, surprising myself at the same time. A shy ‘hi’ fills my ears as her thin frame greets mine. Her shaking arms squeeze me around the middle, and I linger there for a few seconds than necessary before pulling away. “Has anybody came t’ talk t’ you?”

“No, not yet. I just checked in with somebody when I came in, and they said to come up here. S-So, I did, and the nurse’s desk told me somebody would come when they have news. Whenever that is,” she sighs, flicking a thumb below her eye to catch a tear that strays from her waterline. 

“D-Did ya call Robbie and her dad?” 

“Yeah, just now. Robbie should be here soon, and Chuck was just about to leave . . I figure he won’t get here until she’s out of surgery, even though we don’t know how bloody long that’ll take. But, he’ll be here i-in a few hours,” she answers, her voice catching on the last of her words. 

“I’m gonna go and find us something to drink,” Myles interrupts, nodding his head down the hallway. I mirror his actions, grateful for the offer as I clear my scratchy throat. It dried up the second those very words rocked me to the core. 

Silence ensues as I fall onto the lumpy sofa beside her, a telly across the room murmuring softly in the background. Magazines lie open in front of us on the wooden table, chairs and more chairs surrounding us. 

“I wish somebody would just tell us something,” she groans beside me, wringing her hands in her lap. A sob stills in her throat and I watch her face collapse along with it. 

“I can go and ask, ‘m antsy too. Only been here a minute and already I am,” I suggest with a tough swallow. The lump in my throat greets me again as she shakes her head ‘no.’ 

Folding my hands together, they come to sit against my mouth as I now bounce my knee. Eyes flitting in every direction, I will a nurse or doctor littering the halls to wander over to us with their bloody clipboard and lab coat. 

“Find anythin’ else out tho’?” I pipe up, dropping a hand and letting it squeeze hers. I’ve only met this woman a handful of times, and yet, I know that she’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend here. She’s the only other person who could understand how I’m feeling right now, because she’s the only other person in this damn hospital who loves Becky too. At the same time, my actions are unprecedented and alien to me, this entire situation is. 

Tears arrive in my eyes as I wait for her voice to make a choppy return, “Just when I got here and checked in, s-so to speak, that she was in surgery. They didn’t say what for really, I suppose only the team working on- with her knows,” she explains, and now, I’m the one nodding. A long breath spills from my lips, and it does next to nothing to calm the thrashing of my heart, and the onslaught of my mind. 

The reality of the situation brings my head into my palms again where I spill silent tears, accentuated by the whimpers of my lips. My entire body shakes with every sob, every sob that yearns for my arms to return to her. My eyes to see hers again, those baby blues that now, I can’t stop imagining my babies having one day. That painful thought makes them come harder now while I struggle for air, lungs burning for other reasons now, like nonexistent children that I very well may never have with her now.

Fuck. 

I wish more than anything that I could be back in my office an hour ago, annoying her with kisses as she finished up an email. What I’d do to have my lungs burning in need of the air filling hers, and not for the air around me that may not even hold her life anymore. 

No, I can’t think like that. If I entertain that thought for a millisecond, there’s no going back. 

“You know, you’re her whole world and always have been. She couldn’t shut up about you lately, a-and all of your dates. When I spoke to her on the phone r-right before . . . she was saying how amazing of a day she had had . . with you. She couldn’t wait to do it all over again, she’s so mad about you, Harry. S-She even wrote you this letter once saying how she-,” Skye divulges, the words filling my ears. Instantaneously, they want nothing more than to spit them back out. 

“Don’t! Don’t say all o’ that. D-Don’t say it in past tense, or like she’s not . . g-gonna be able t’ tell me all ‘bout it. We can’t act that way . . She’s gonna be okay, she’s gotta be okay,” I insist into my hands, struggling for breaths. Lifting my head, I turn it away from her and towards the window, my lips squashed into a line. Briny tears drip over them as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, hiccups finding their way into the air. 

“I’m sorry, I-.”

“I c-can’t talk ‘bout her like she’s- like that. I can’t t-think ‘bout her like that . . her not bein’ here anymo’,” I exclaim, shooting to my feet in order to change directions. 

I thought I couldn’t believe my life earlier today and the direction it’d taken, and now, I can’t believe it one bit. I don’t want to, and I wish I didn’t have to. I thought that I was living a dream today, and now, I know that I’m living a nightmare. I didn’t want to wake up earlier, but I need to now, more than anything. 

I want to open my eyes and find her curled against my chest, snoring peacefully with her body warming mine. Like last night, a moment I could live in for forever. 

A vibrating in my pocket barges into my thoughts, and I’m unsure whether to welcome it as I reach for it. The same ringtone by The Cure sings from around my wrist, and my heart only falls deeper when I see the name claiming it. It sends a wave of relief throughout my body, but it only lasts a few seconds. The only name that could make it permanent is far from an option, and here I am, still wishing for it with my own two eyes. I wish that she wasn’t in an operating room somewhere in this same building, and instead her voice was singing from my phone. That’s how it was supposed to be, anyways. 

“Mum,” I answer softly, steps halting in the hallway. A sob freezes in my chest at the thought of having to speak truth into the nightmare I’m living. 

“Harry honey, what’s tha matta?” my mum responds, worry rocking her voice. 

“‘s Becks. She-,” I confess, but I can’t say it. I want nothing more than to say something else. When she asks if she’s alright, I want to say yes, and it sends wobbles down my legs knowing that I can’t say that. I can’t say it, because I don’t know it. 

“It’s okay, love, take a deep breath.”

“I can’t,” I weep, a wail escaping my lips, muffled by my palm. The tear stained skin flies to my hair that I tug at, ignoring the throb of my head hitting the wall of the hallway. “I can’t breathe, mum . . I can’t not knowin’ if she ‘s okay.”

“Oh, darlin’. What happened to her?”

“She w-was . . . inn’a car accident,” I admit breathlessly, sucking in lungfuls of air that don’t do a thing. A fire still lives deep down inside of my chest, and it was born the moment I heard Skye speak those words. “‘m at tha hospital now waitin’ t’ hear sumthin.’ Her best friend’s here with me, but, mum. ‘m so scared . . that ‘m gonna lose her fer real,” I whimper, swiping my tongue across my trembling lips wet with tears. 

“Oh, Harry,” she sighs, my sadness mirrored in her voice. “I’m so sorry, love. Do they know the extent of her injuries?” 

“I dunno, all they told her friend ‘s that she’s in surgery. We’re waitin’ fer sumbody t’ tell us mo’,” I answer, hiccups stealing my words away from me. “I hate sittin’ here not knowin’, I should go and ask . . but ‘m afraid t’. Mum . . ,” I trail off, weakness overwhelming my body that sags against the wall. I’m not even aware of the people walking past me and the hush of voices, but I couldn’t care less. 

“Breathe, honey, please. Everythin’ will be okay. I know it doesn’t seem that way right now, but it will.”

“Ya can’t say that! Ya dunno if ‘s true,” I exclaim, anger seeping through in my voice, but it’s misdirected. “I jus’ want this all t’ be a dream, I don’t want it t’ be real. I can’t think ‘bout it . . ‘bout her . . dyin’.”

“Shhhh, love. I’m sorry.”

“No, I am. But, God, mum . . I love her. I already know I do. I know it sounds bloody mad seein’ we’ve only been on two dates, but-,” I begin, but she interrupts me, reminding me of where I get my love of it from. 

“No, it doesn’t sound like that, honey. I know how you’ve felt ‘bout her these last few years, she’s been all you could talk ‘bout,” my mother says, and the only relief that I’ve seen is offered in her voice. 

“I love her, mum, and she m-might-,” I try to say, but I can’t spit those words out. I don’t think I ever could, and my desire to avoid them for the rest of eternity trumps all else. 

“Do you think she feels tha same way ‘bout you?” she asks calmly. A huff passes my lips, and I breathe in through my nose slowly. It doesn’t make a difference when a melancholy wave knocks me over. 

“Y-Ya . . I think I know she does now,” I whimper, my voice drowning in the tears. 

“And does she know how you feel ‘bout her, Harry?”

“Ya, reckon she does. I haven’t been able t’ stop lovin’ on her since our first date. And n-now . . I may neva get t’ kiss her ‘gain or hug her or . . ,” the sob leaves more trails of tepid tears on my cheeks. My thumbs press against my eyes, willing the tears to abate, but they don’t obey. Not one part of my body has obeyed my commands since I heard those nightmarish words. 

“Then it sounds like she has somethin’ to fight fer, love. It’s not tha ‘end all be all,’ but tha will to live is a powerful thing, son,” she tells me, the first licks of ice calming my feverish heart. 

“I hope yer right.”

“I’m your mum, I’m always right,” she quips, and the first hint of a laugh graces my lips. It’s gone as fast as it came, stolen away by another round of whimpers shaking from my lips. 

“Everythin’ will be okay, son.”

“And if they aren’t, and . . . she d-doesn’t make it, mum?” I sob, the words finding their exit between sobs that rip from my chest. Pain soars through the tear at the uttering of the words that I have to acknowledge, and wish that I never had to think. 

“Then mumma will be there att’a moment’s notice fer ya,” she replies, and I wish I didn’t hear the crack in her voice. It’s the very one that tore open the slit that the tears poured out through. This all started with the crack of a voice. “Lemme know if you want me to come, Harry.”

“B-But I jus’ got her back, mum. I can’t . . She can’t . . ,” I fail once again, and this time, I’m okay with it. I don’t want to ever have to say that word again, I’ve already uttered them one too many times. 

“You’ll never lose that love ya had, Harry. Trust me, I know ya can’t. I miss Robin every bloody day, but his passin’ didn’t take away our love or tha memories we made . . I know that your love with her only jus’ started, but ya had somethin’ special. I can already see that, darlin’, and you’ll never lose tha memories you made with her, and tha love that ya made together . . Think of those happy times ya had with her while you’re waitin’ for her to be outta surgery. After that, ya should get some rest, love. Sometimes surgeries can take long, and that’s okay, ‘cause you want tha doctors to be thorough and to do all that they can fer her. And they will do all that they can to save her, Harry . . It’s almost six o’clock, love, and even after her surgery is done, it takes a while to come outta anesthesia. It’ll be a long night. Try to get some rest, son, I’m sure she’d want you to,” she explains to me, and suddenly, I wish I could get a hug from my mum. 

The thought propels me into others, wishing I could hide in the arms of another. She’s always been my very favorite hiding place, and another wave rocks through me at the thought of never getting to escape to her arms again. Her smell sends my heart spinning as I drop my phone back into my pocket, aching to have her hair tickle my nose with the scent. Placing my palms against my eyes slick from crying, I hiccup in between tears. Uneven breaths pour in and out of me, and for a second, I can remember the traces of her weight in my arms. The smell of her orange blossom shampoo, the taste of her cherry carmex chapstick, and the strokes of black and gray ink along her wrist. 

“Becks, please be okay,” I mutter underneath my breath. My scalp sings with pain when my fingernails dig into the skin, making me realize this is all real. It’s not a dream that I can wake myself up from, because my life became a dream and then fell away into a nightmare. 

“Harry!” somebody calls my name. I don’t know how much time has passed, standing there in the corner of the hallway pouring my eyes out into my hands. 

It takes a few moments for my eyes to focus ahead of me, and for a fleeting second, her face appears in front of them. Blinking hard, I rub a knuckle against my eye, and she’s gone in a flash. Instead, I find Skye waving me back over to the chairs where a tall man in navy blue scrubs stands in front of her. 

“Coming,” I answer, clearing my throat as my feet remember how to work. The tingles that had settled into my sleeping limbs disperse as I take long, hurried steps until I’m at her side again, trying to forget the words she had said earlier. 

“Is this everybody?” the man says, tanned arms crossed over his chest. 

“No, wait!” another voice pipes up, and I spin around to find Robbie rushing towards us. “I-I’m her brother,” he continues, voice shaky with emotions. His eyes briefly meet mine before he stops at my side, engulfed by a hug of Skye’s. 

“Hey,” I mumble when he pulls away with a nod, his fist brushing along one of his cheeks. The greeting is difficult as my eyes are met with pain and striking similarity. Her very same baby blue eyes sit before me, as well as the wavy dark hair, and a distorted version of her lovely facial features. 

“Hey, Harry,” he returns, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat after his words. 

When his wet eyes meet mine, more unspoken words pass between us including ‘thank you’s and silent understandings. My squeezing grip is met by his taut arm when I watch the shiny tears fill his eyes. He nods back at me, quivering lips absent of words while another tear breaks free from his Holte Blue Eyes. Those goddamned eyes tear another rip into my heart at the mere sight, drudging up the wishes they conjured within my mind just last night. 

Styles babies with Holte Blue eyes. 

Please, God. Please let that still be a truth. 

“Now that we’re all here, I’m Jack. I’m sorry for the circumstances we’re meeting on, but I’m a nurse on your uh, family member’s team. Rebecca was in a serious accident, and we’re doing all that we can. She went into surgery around ten minutes ago, as soon as she got here,” the towering man explains, achieving the closest thing to quieting my mind. I’m just afraid that when he stops talking, my skull will be vibrating with more thoughts, and far worse ones. “She suffered some fractured ribs that unfortunately pierced her spleen, causing internal bleeding. That is the most urgent of her injuries, but rib fractures are incredibly painful. They can make it hard to breathe deeply or to cough properly, sometimes leading to chest infections. In the accident, she also fractured her ankle, but we’re not entirely sure of the extent of it. Due to the impact of the other car hitting her and the location of it, her right arm was broken and . . Grade 2 concussion . . amnesia,” a cloud passes over my ears then, and I turn away, soon falling into a nearby chair. 

Worst case scenarios bloom within the attic of my body, spewing tears onto my cheeks. Waterfalls cascade down them, fueled by the replaying of the man’s words between my ears. Fractured ribs. Internal bleeding. Chest infections. Amnesia. Broken ankle. Concussion. Broken arm. The tears come harder at the realization of every word, and how they laden my heart with further darkness. It falls into the recesses of my chest with each passing moment, the obscenities that left his mouth acting as the anchor that yank it down, further and further. 

I don’t hear my name the first few times, or register the hand on my shoulder. Swarms of possibilities that I can’t welcome lift me from my seat and down the hall once again until I repeat the past, and ram shoulders with Myles. My eyes fly to his surprised face, but it’s ephemeral before he’s pulling me against his front, and his hand is pressed against the back of my head. 

“She’s gotta be okay,” I plead into his shoulder, finding fistfuls of his blazer in my hands. “B-But internal bleedin’ . . amnesia . . broken bones . . a concussion . . infections. My’, I can’t do this,” the revelation feels prickly on my tongue as I fight to flight. 

“You can do this, Hare. You have to. Becky, she- she needs you to, mate,” he insists, hands waving stripes against my back. I shake my head back and forth into him, refusing to believe any of this. 

“No, this can’t be real. It can’t. I jus’ saw her, I jus’ kissed her and hugged her,” I weep, repetitive begging pouring from my tongue. My hands let go and I push at his chest for escape. He only holds me tighter within his steely arms, and I make out the first of his tears. “I shoulda told her that I loved her, I dunno if she knew. I shoulda told her,” I relent, my body becoming pliant against his. 

“She knew, Harry. I think she knew, mate . . You showed it to her in so many bloody ways, you didn’t have to say it. She knew it, she saw it. You’ll get to tell her, and hear her say it back,” he tells me, but my head hasn’t stopped shaking in denial. “Her friend over there is almost smiling, I think. The nurse is too, it looks like maybe it’s not so meek after all, Hare. It looks like she might be okay.” 

“This ‘sn’t funny, Myles, I swear t’-,” I wail, breaths filling my lungs and refusing to remain. A ‘no’ fills my ears, and I’m forced to turn around when he pulls away at the sound of my name. Yet, he’s not the one saying it. 

“Harry!” Skye calls, and her hurried steps follow her voice. Smearing the tears from my eyes, I gulp and find the bravery to look up. Becky’s best friend in the whole entire world stops in front of me, eyes rimmed with red. “They sound hopeful,” she reveals, the smallest spark of a smile sitting at the edge of her lips. Robbie stops a step behind her, shoving hands into his pockets while a tear falls from the slope of his chin. 

“Really?” I croak, stepping away from Myles until his arms fall from me. She answers with a nod and a rosy smile blooms on her lips before my eyes. 

“Yeah, they said her vitals are becoming more stable which is good. They’re amazed that her injuries weren’t worse, they said that she got lucky,” she explains, and it sounds like music to my ears. The first good thing I’ve heard tonight, albeit this whole affair only taking up the last hour of my life. It’s felt like days on end, not mere minutes. “I’m gonna go and call Chuck to tell him.”

My nod answers her words and Myles leaves with a pat to my back, “I’m gonna go and check on coffees again, maybe food later when you’re feeling like eating,” he announces. My hand finds its way to my curls once again, surely free of snarls now after the number I did on them. 

“It’s good to see you here. Well, not good given the reason why, but you know what I mean.”

Looking up, I find Robbie’s bleary blues pointed at me. I do all that I can, and that’s a nod. 

“You too,” I manage at the last moment, patting his arm awkwardly. His feet wander back over to a line of chairs, and I follow him. Falling into the one left of him, a hushed silence surrounds us. 

“Did she ever tell you that she has ‘feelings’ about things?” Robbie mutters, a sniffle interrupting his question at times. 

“Ya,” I sigh, my bottom lip numb from my teeth pressing into it from all directions. “Good and bad feelings.”

“Yeah . . I got one that I couldn’t shake tonight,” he reveals. His eyes flooded with glassy tears surprise me again, and I almost see her sitting in front of me. A memory from one of our times at the hospital threatens to break loose from the confines of my mind, but I hold it back. “So I rang her, she was just leaving work . . with you. She sounded so happy, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d gotten it. Now, I know . . ,” he finishes, an ironically melancholy laugh bringing his revelation to an end. “Twin intuition, I guess.”

“Ya,” I mutter again, unsure of what else to say. I can’t figure out what to think sitting here in my puddle of tears, let alone something something to fucking say. 

“I hated hearing that bloke say those things, detailing all of the shit that happened to her,” Robbie notes aloud, and I find that I can’t tear my eyes away from my hands when I hear the unmistakable sound of tears letting loose. “But I mean . . it helped, and I think I have a feeling she’ll be alright.”

Conflicting tears run races down the slopes of my cheeks, drenching my eyelashes with liquid sadness. It does little to calm the hammering inside of my chest, but the mannerisms of hers I hear in his voice magnify it just slightly. The brash taste of iron spills across my tongue, and I release my bottom lip from its grasp, but it’s too late because the blood is flowing. My hands blur beneath my eyes, the shocks of baby pink and pastel purple burning in my eyes. The very fingers that she held between her own so delicately just last night, swiping the nail polish brush over their naked canvases. Every other is a different pastel wash of color, and I can still picture the bright yellow and teal that I had painted on hers. 

The warm metallic taste concentrates on my taste buds when my lips press together harshly, few salty tears finding their way into my mouth with my new sob. 

“Yer sista, she- I-,” I stop quickly, not even sure of what I’m saying. I could tell a thousand stories, but I can’t decide which one is right. 

“I know, believe me,” Robbie insists, and at last, I glance over to him. Her dark chocolate locks fall over his forehead, longer than from the first and only time I met him at my firm years ago. The fringe tickles at his eyes, and he pushes it out of his face. “You have something else, you two. I’ve only been telling her to jump your bones for the last two or so years,” he divulges, and a laugh so out of the ordinary adorns my lips. It sputters to a stop, feeling wildly inappropriate, but it comes back to life when a similar one echos from beside me. 

His eyes meet mine briefly, and hold me there looking into her blue eyes as we chuckle together. It doesn’t necessarily feel right, because it feels oh so very wrong. When that thought worms its way into my attic, the sound floats away from the both of us quickly. 

“I heard it all, you know. Your story’s out,” he tells me matter of factly, but the sarcasm can’t find a place in his voice. It falls away, forgotten. “I told her it was about goddamn time you two started dating. She should’ve listened to me sooner, but no, she’s too fucking stubborn.”

“Yer tellin’ me,” I hum, running the pad of my thumb over the glossy nail polish. If I focus hard enough, blocking out the ringing of the phones and Skye’s hushed voice, I can hear her laugh in the recesses of my mind. Laughing about messing up my pink thumb last night, alarm raised in her honey-like voice. “‘m not much betta, ‘m afraid. I didn’t even get t’ ask her on tha first date, she beat me t’ it.”

“I heard . . That sounds like her, always gotta be in control. She had to do everything first when we were little. Talk first, walk first, ride a bike without stabilisers, or graduate bloody uni first,” Robbie remarks, dragging the sole of his Old Skool mustard Vans along the edge of his leftie. “I dunno how she’s gonna fair having her dominant arm in a cast, she’ll throw a fit.” 

“Oh, I know. They betta make it purple,” I comment, and he snickers beside me, the tears still falling although silently. 

“She’ll make them do it all over again if they didn’t do it right the first time. It better look all perfect for Ree.”

His tears drill into my ears, yanking at my heart, but a small relief accompanies them. He’s not using past tense, and although hardly noticeable, it makes this bearable. I’ve spoken to the bloke only once in my life, and she was there beside me then, but I find it easier with every second. Save for the moments I peek at him and see traces of her painted all over him. They aren’t bleeding twins for nothing, I admit quietly, even noticing them wearing the same brand of shoes. A pang attacks my heart when I see him spinning the braided silver ring around his middle finger, and too quickly, I could picture it being hers. 

“D’ya think she’ll . . ,” I begin, but it feels wrong from the start, and I wish it’d never begun. With a shake of my head, I pick off a piece of purple nail polish from my pinkie. The action ricochets around in my chest, and I blink hard at the searing action. No, I can’t, because there’s a chance that she won’t be there to fix it. 

“It sounds rubbish, but our feelings are always right, Ree and I. With our dad, her with you, and me knowing something was going to happen tonight. Now, I think it’ll be okay. Stupid, I know, but I just do. I-I can’t . . . can’t think about her not being okay, she’s my . . . twin sister. I don’t want to think about it,” he confesses in between scattered tears, words growing thick and indistinct. 

“Neitha can I,” I admit, my chest falling at the end when more tears break loose from their gates. “She can’t leave, n-not this early. There’s so much I want with her still. She’s made a damn good lawyer already, and I know she’d make a betta mum and-.”

“She will, there’s nothing she’s not good at,” Robbie concurs with a sad smile adorning his face. I blink, and it’s gone as soon as it had come. “She always got back up after she fell too, on our bikes, ice skating, or even with leaving uni and then going back. Working at your firm too, you could even say. I just- I really want to believe that she’ll get back up from this too.”

“Me too . . mo’ than anythin’,” I agree aloud, shuffling my gray rose ring up and down the length of my finger as I picture the flower that adorns her wrist. “I need Becks t’ be okay.”

+

Phoebe and Joey flit across the screen in front of me, laughs and smiles shared on their faces. My head falls at the realization that those are the furthest things I could feel right now, or do. Licking my chapped lips, another tear graces my tongue. They’re fewer now, however long it’s been that I’ve been sitting in this chair. Asher waits with wandering eyes a few seats over now, and somehow, I’ve only said two words to him. It sends crashing pain through my insides to look at Robbie, her literal twin, but when I look at Asher, avalanches of grief fall inside of me. 

The images in front of me spark memory after bittersweet memory, and they try to whisk me away to a time where I was sitting in a chair like this and she was at my side laughing. Shaking my head, I find it in my hands once again, their three voices murmuring off to the side while devouring subs with Myles. 

Somehow, it’s already late. The sky is pitch black outside, and the stars twinkling somewhere that I can’t find. My eyes droop and yawns leave me occasionally, but sleep couldn’t be further away. If it was knocking at my door, I’d ignore it then too. There were few updates, and each one sounded more hopeful, but I’m afraid to get my hopes up. I’ve done that far too many times concerning her, and nine times out of ten, it left me broken. I hope that I can curb that if maybe I don’t get excited, and yet, saying goodbye to the hope fuels the fire killing me off on the inside. 

I want to turn it off, but I can’t find the remote. I wish I could turn all of this off, but I don’t know how. I can’t let myself fall asleep. No, not until she wakes up, and they just left minutes ago saying she was done in the OR after a successful surgery. I was surprised by how little it had phased me, seeing how Skye jumped to her feet and Robbie was all smiles. Myself though, I couldn’t seem to find one anywhere. I can’t find him. Me. I felt Myles watching me, and worrying. I knew she would be doing the same thing if this was all different, and I couldn’t count how many times I had wished for that truth by now. 

I wished that this could all be different, and alas, here I am too scared to believe it could be. The fear debilitates me with every waking second to believe that things could be okay. I’m so afraid to believe that she’ll be alright, because this all seems so sick and that it changes with every corner I turn. 

The rest of the episode passed before my absent eyes, and then Skye was coming back from seeing her in Recovery. Tears plastered her cheeks now, more than before, and they didn’t shy away from mine either. 

“You should go and see her,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be honest, i-it’s awful seeing her like that, b-but . . . it’s her. She’s okay.”

Words flee from my lips, replaced with an adamant shake of my head. I can’t even meet her eyes, because the only ones I can see are Becky’s. Now, I try to push them out of my head as I stare at my feet, the splashes of pink and purple begging for my attention. The color I so deeply crave is only within her eyes, and with a whimper, I try to will the image back to me. I fail, and the tears fall harder down my cheeks, making me wish I could be peppering kisses along hers. 

I’m on my feet before I know what I’m doing, or where I’m going. The instructing words from before repeat between my ears, pulling my feet around a corner and then another. They take me left, and then right. A long hall appears in front of me, and then I’m searching the walls. Numbers climb and climb until I find the very ones I’m looking for. A sob splashes against my palm when it comes to my lips, pressing hard against my mouth. 

208, it reads but that’s not what I see. 

February 8th is what I see staring back at me. The day of our first date, only three days ago. How in the hell has it only been three days since? How in the living fuck has it only been three hours since all of this has happened? 

My feet freeze in their path, and I ignore the nurses and doctors passing me, zig zagging from room to bloody room. Beeping wanders into my ears, and I painfully wonder which one is hers. Which one of those beeps is from her heart? Will it come to an abrupt stop and bring people rushing to her? Can she even hear it? No, she probably can’t, she’s still ‘asleep,’ or so they said. 

I don’t think I’m ready. No, I can’t be. How in the bleeding world could I be ready to see what I’m about to witness? I couldn’t ever be ready for this, and I never wanted to be. I never wanted to be having these thoughts living in my head, more than mere doubts and nightmares planted there randomly. Alas, I know why they’re there, and not for the reason I think first. No. 

I worry.

I fear.

I cry.

I doubt.

I struggle for breath.

I grieve.

I sob.

I ache. 

Because I love. 

No, not loved.

I love. 

All of these emotions and signs of pain course through me, one after the other, because I love that girl lying in that bed just behind those curtains. I love her, and I’ve known it all along. It’s what brought me here, in every way possible. It’s what propels me forward when the nurse at the computer nods, sliding open the gray curtain. It’s what pulls my eyes to the bed, and to the false sounds of breathing. Love is what wrenches the sobs from my chest at the appearance of wires, tubes, and machines hooked up to her. Love is the force that spins me around and makes me shoot down the hall, crumpling to the floor once I reach the corner by the vending machine. Love is what fills my tears that carry images of her lying in that bed fighting for her life. Love fights within myself as my entire body is racked with sobs while I curl into a ball, wishing that seeing wasn’t believing. 

Love is what makes me want to go back to her, and cover her broken body with kisses. Love is what scares the living shit out of me, preventing me from doing that in this very second, because I’m afraid that I’ll break her all the more. Love is what sends the words tumbling off of my aching lips. 

“‘m alright if yer alright, Becks . . . B-But ‘m not alright.”

+

My eyes continue to play tricks on me, but once I blink back the swarm of tears drowning in them, I find that this actually can get worse. Far worse. Their familiar glances shoot over to me and I don’t return them, ignoring the tears staining my skin. They disperse, but he remains there in the center of the waiting room, eyes on me. When I meet those sad blues at last, the newest sob is welcomed by my lips. In a blur, his arms welcome me and I let them. 

“It’s okay,” he croons against my ear, but my head shakes ‘no’s’ again and again into his unfamiliar shoulder. 

“But ‘s not. She’s not okay . . doesn’t even look like her in there. There’s so many wires and tubes and-,” my ragged breaths cut me off in time as his large hands clap against my back. 

“She’ll be okay. She’s a fighter, Harry, always has been. She’s already fighting hard, I see.”

“I wanted so fookin’ badly t’ think that this was all a dream, b-but then I saw her and . . . ‘s not,” I whimper, a new smell surrounding me as I clutch onto the back of his cold windbreaker. 

“Boops has been a fighter ever since she was born, Harry. Did she ever tell you that?” 

“No . . tell me what?” I return, my heart crashing around wildly inside my ribs, about to break free at a moment’s notice. 

“Her and Robbie had to stay in the hospital for a week after they were born,” Chuck narrates, his large palms pressed to my trembling back. “Not Ree, though, she was in and out. It only took her four days to figure everything out - how to breathe properly, eat, and even shit. But Robbie, he took a week. She was smaller too, but somehow she beat all the odds. They say that there’s typically a smaller twin who doesn’t get as much nutrition and the like while in the womb. They don’t have as good of chances thriving outside of the womb, but lookie there. Ree amazed us all, and she’s continued to do so ever since, Harry. I don’t think she’ll disappoint us today either, son,” he finishes, pulling away to cup my face with his palm. The Holte Blues stare back at me, and I catch her features mirrored in his. He nods at me with lips pressed into a flat line, and I see the tears welling in front of the blue as he pats my cheek. 

“Yer daughter, Chuck, I-.”

“I know you do, that’s why you’re here . .That’s why you’re so scared, and I’m rather damn positive she does too,” he returns, ending his words with a wink. 

I love her . . more than there are stars in the sky, and more than there are beats of my heart.

+

I had lost track of how many episodes I had watched of The Office on the telly, but it was wasted, because the images cut in and out in front of my absent eyes. The voices of those around me trickled through when I wasn’t battling with myself. I had long since ignored the gurgling of my stomach, and the buzzing of my phone. The only thing that finally woke me from my drowning senses was when Skye rushed into the room, jittery from the four coffees she'd downed. 

“She passed her vent test to come off it and is breathing on her own!” she exclaims, rather close to jumping for joy. Robbie soon finds himself caught in her embrace, and during my escape, I whiz past them and down the hall. 

“Becks,” I mumble under my breath, scratching at my cheek as the first new tears in the last half hour arrive in my tired eyes. I ignore their trailing voices, and the new sounds I’ve been drowning out. 

I rush past people and their stares, prying and not. Their eyes question me, and I don’t stop, craving the eyes that I’ve been without for far too long. Her blues. But I don’t find them when I delve into that room for the second time in three hours. Yet, I’m met with something miraculous all of the same. 

Most of the wires have disappeared from her body, and the tubes previously hidden in her throat are as well. The first hints of relief wash over me when I take another step, and then another until she’s within reach. It’s not the same and not how I pictured it, but there she is, just a step away. I’m so fucking glad it’s not like one of the ways I had thought of. Her skin is warm underneath my lips, singing praises behind my eyes. The splashes of blues and reds painting her face pull thick streams of tears onto my cheeks as I press kisses to hers. Steady breaths of hers tickle my skin, sprouting the first smile in hours on my lips. 

It’s my Becks. 

It’s her, my girl. 

Prickly stitches smatter her skin in places, but I avoid them as I run my fingers through her hair, brushing it off of her angelic face. A whimper escapes from my lips for a second, silenced by my hand as her face grows hazy from interrupting tears. My tears fall onto her ghost like skin, the remnants of orange blossoms speckled here and there. 

“‘m here, and yer alright. Everythin’s gonna be alright, my Becks,” I murmur against her forehead, peppering kisses to the freckles hidden amongst her skin. “‘m not goin’ anywhere, bug,” I finish, voice catching on the last word when I’m reminded of her saying the very same thing to me earlier today. “And neitha are you. Y-Ya keep yer promises too . . dontcha, Rebecca Ann? . .  An episode o’ FRIENDS came on earlier in tha waitin’ room . . it was our favourite one, ‘Tha One at tha Beach.’ I didn’t wanna watch it without you . . it hurt too much t’, b-but I shoulda known it was a sign that you’d be okay. And now, here ya are, me li’l fighta.” 

“I think . . I think I love you, Becks . . I dunno when I even decided that, seems ‘s been that way fer a while,” I confess into her hair, finalizing my words with another peck to her dark chocolate waves. “Please wake up so I can tell you, li’l one . . ‘ll be waitin’ here ‘til ya do.”

The only response I receive is the steady beating of the monitors sitting at her side. I watch them, sniffling, entranced by the numbers that vary only a few. A calmness washes over me as I lace my fingers with those of her left hand, careful of the wires, while watching the steady numbers. My eyes flit back to her, hidden underneath plain white blankets, and the pain makes a return to me once again. I know it’s all masked under there, the multitudes of stitches, casts, gauze, and brokenness. Injuries that I can’t fathom, no more than when that nurse breathed life into them in the waiting room.

“Ya said yest’day at me house that it was scary t’ admit how ya felt ‘bout me, and bloody hell, ‘s this scary t’ admit t’ you . . Last night I was thinkin’ ‘bout what our kids would look like. ‘m gettin’ ahead o’ meself, I know, only been on two dates so far,” I laugh ever so softly, thumbing at my ticklish nose while the whispers drop from my lips. Circles and curly mazes are left on her hand where my thumb draws them gently, even her name left there in invisible ink. “I hope mo’ than anythin’ they’d have yer gorgeous blue eyes, and prolly some perfect combo o’ our brown hair . . I hope they’d have yer cute li’l dimple, and yer beautiful laugh. Bet they’d be smart like you too, bug, and have yer drive t’ neva give up on sumthin’ . . I dunno if we’d be here if ya hadn’t given up on me . . and I promise you ‘m not ever gonna give up on you, Becks. Never . . ‘ll tell ya ‘bout all tha rest when ya wake up in tha mornin’. Sweet dreams, sleepyhead,” I announce, swallowing against my throat akin to a dessert.

Antiseptic and unfamiliarity greets my nose when I lay one last kiss on her forehead, careful of the nasal cannula across her cheeks. The feet of the metal chair squeal when I pull the chair closer to the bed, her hand limp in mine. Shocks of teal and yellow prick at my eyes, bringing the smallest of smiles to my face with a harsh gulp.

Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, my eyes scan over her obsessively, and lovingly. Underneath the strange blue gown, her chest rises and falls while her fingers remain warm in mine. I settle into the chair, adjusting it until I can lay my arm on the empty patch of bed at her side like a ninety degree angle. There, I lay my head, lulled into a quick sleep by her slow breathing, finally assured that she’s alright.

Only because of that, am I alright too.

+

My dreams had whisked me away, but it wasn’t for nearly long enough. I couldn’t know how long it had been. At the same time, it was too long and yet, not long enough. I didn’t know that I’d be grateful for waking up, and yet at the same time, the bittersweetness would make me yearn for my ignorant dream world once again. 

I’m woken by the feeling of something touching me, and as I slowly come to, I find it’s somebody playing with my hair. As sleep begins to drip off the edges of my subconscious, I can only wonder who that could be, until I suddenly know. My eyes fly open and flit to the face peering down at me. Her’s, and yet, it’s not. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she murmurs in a scratchy voice, propelling my body upwards within a second. 

“B-Becks!” I stammer, blinking hard in between rubbing at my eyes quickly, trying to decide if what I’m seeing is real. I find it hard to figure out what I want to be real, glimpsing again the bruises and cuts brandishing her face. 

“Hi,” she whispers, trying to smile, but I see that she doesn’t have it in her. 

“Becks,” I croak, tears tugging at every breath of the word as my arms go around her, and my face dives into her hair. 

“Ouch, careful,” she protests, and profuse apologies fill the air around us. “It’s okay,” she insists, the wires getting caught between us and my body surrounding hers. 

I back up instantly at the sound of her painful words, but it’s the very last thing I want to do. Touching her and wrapping her up in my arms has been the only thing I’ve wanted to do this entire time, ever since I got the call. Reality blanketing me sends thick sobs from me, and into her hair that doesn’t even smell like her anymore. The smell of orange blossom and vanilla is absent, and it continues to make this entire thing worse. It makes it too surreal, more real than I can handle. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she hums gently, a crackly sound to her labored voice. Her hands although dainty before, leave ghostlike trails on my back, adding another tally to the surrealness board. 

“D’ya rememba w-who I am?” I ask hurriedly, pulling away to find her exhausted eyes searching for mine. A corner of her chapped lips just barely curls into her cheek, the always present pink color fleeting in the moment. 

“Of course, you’re . . my Harry,” she mumbles with a long, tired blink. The mere five words pull thicker sobs from my lips. I just glimpse the beginnings of tears in her eyes when I return to her arms that beckon for me. 

“‘m so glad yer okay, Becks, so glad. I was bloody terrified ya wouldn’t be,” I confess into the warm crook of her neck, finding a trace of her fruity-vanilla scent tucked away there. 

“Me too, Harry,” she comments a few seconds too late, marked by a clearing of her throat. Although I’m not much better, I hear the evident struggle in her voice like she’s woken up after sleeping, but I know that the raspiness clouding her voice isn’t from that. It’s from the tube that was shoved down her throat to breathe for her, and probably caused the worst sore throat in existence. 

She hardly feels the same, body marked by wires and tubes, a scratchy gown, and an abrasive cast all along her right arm. Prickly threads dot her body in places where the glass left cuts too deep to leave, and the antiseptic smell of a hospital sticks to her all over. I want to hold her against me, to squeeze her all over until I know that she’s real and that this isn’t just a dream. The kiss I press to the top of her head is marred by the smell of iron, and the crusty feeling of blood hidden among her hair. The next one I leave on her forehead is better, and the warmth of her skin under my touch scores a point for reality, although a harsh one. 

“D’ya rememba . . what happened?” I wonder aloud, painfully. My heart, too shocked from the last several hours, doesn’t even budge when the sight of her again astonishes me. Her swollen left eye is surrounded by blue and purple bruises that paint her face in places. 

She nods her head up and down, until her face creases with presumed pain and she stops. My hand covers her entire cheek that I rub with the pad of my thumb, back and forth, back and forth. 

“I don’t know. . I only remember saying goodbye to you, and then . .  talking to the nurse now. I’m glad that’s the last thing . . I remember,” she replies slowly, the words fleeing her lips at times. 

“Y-yer amazin’, y’know that?” I sigh, the tears ever so present, and I’m unsure of when they’ll ever make their departure. A laugh tries to sound from her lips, but not even within a few seconds, her face is overcome with anguish. “Hey, are ya okay?”

“It hurts, but she gave me something.”

“Where’s it hurt, bug?” I question, eyes dancing across her body mostly covered by the thick hospital blankets. 

“Everywhere,” she exhales, sounding short of breath. My lips stray to her forehead once more to leave a peck there, unsure of what more I could do. “Mostly my head . . arm, and tummy.”

“Ya, that’s . . . where they cut ya open t’ fix ya up. And . . ya got a pretty nasty concussion, and a broken arm. It was a good thing ya were wearin’ yer seatbelt, love,” I tell her, struggling to resist covering her in kisses. If only that were the antidote for fixing all of this, for fixing her. I would do it in a heartbeat if it made all of this go away, as if it never happened. 

“Always,” she almost smiles, making my heart flutter. A smile tugs at my lips as I admire her, sure I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life, or bittersweet. She adjusts the nasal cannula feeding her additional oxygen, and I just hope it’s enough. I hope that this is all enough, and that so am I. 

Her heavy eyes drift closed, but the second they do, they flutter open again. They wander back to me and a stronger smile pulls at her lips, mimicking the same motion on the strings of my heart. 

“Don’t fight it, baby, get some rest,” I coo, stroking my fingers through her hair to move it away from her face, careful in doing so. 

“I’m okay . . I want to stay with you, Harry,” Becks admits gently, licking her dry lips. A sound of disbelief leaves mine. 

“Always so selfless, you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she yawns, wincing again at another wave of pain, making me step forward. If I try to again, there aren’t any more that I can take, regardless of the wishful thought that I have to slip into bed with her. “I can’t imagine how . . upset and scared you’ve been,” she apologizes, reaching a hand out to find mine, and it causes my heart to seize with a dose of happiness. 

“No, don’t you apologize. None o’ this ‘s yer fault, ‘s tha asshole who hit you whose fault it ‘s. Yer doin’ so good, Becks, ‘m . . . so fookin’ happy ya came back t’ me . . so proud. My Becks,” I say, smiling through the tears washing out my words. I see the smallest hint of the dimple in her left cheek when they round out from the tiniest of smiles. 

“I’ll always . . come back to you, Harry,” she smiles, and I give in, dipping to press my lips to hers. She may smell different, feel different, and even taste different, but the kiss makes me sure that this is my same Becks, and that this isn’t all a dream. Regardless of the fact that I wish it all was just a made-up dream that I could wake up from, I’m okay with the fact that it isn’t, as long as my girl is okay. 

Finally, she’s my girl. 

And finally, she’s okay. 

My Becks.

+

A/N: Hello, lovely people! Okay.... I am SO sorry for that, but thanks for sticking through it.. I promise Becks will be okay, I would never break up Hecky like that. I apologize for no real content warnings, I didn’t know how to do that without ruining the chapter... Also, please cut me some slack if I get any medical things wrong or they’re unrealistic, I’m not a doctor and I’m doing my best with what Google can give me and from personal experience in hospitals. Thanks SO much for reading all this way into the story, I mean it when I say I’m excited for you to see what’s going to happen! Feel free to visit my askbox if you want to talk after this rollercoaster of a chapter, I feel you. I’d LOVE to talk to anybody about Hecky anytime, or if you want a sneak peek of next week’s chapter lemme know! Make sure to check out the Hecky playlist - although it’s long, I think it has some great tunes on there that remind me of our fav couple! I admittedly had it playing the whole time I was making pasta the other day :P Have a great day, ily c:

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles wattpad #lawyer!harry #ceo!harry #boss!harry #office romance #lawyer romance #power couple #the assistant #pa harry #chaptered fic #new chapter #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #becky holte #narrymccartney writes #young adult #fiction

[watchmegetobsessed]

Enchanted - Adam Sackler (pt. 3)

OMG it feels like it took me forever to write this part and im so sorry for that but i’ve been so busy with school and just life in general, i barely get time at the end of the day to even start my computer and do anything. but i finally finished this part and im so excited for the story to continue!! as always, feedback is welcomed!

ps: im so exhausted, i didn’t have time to revise it so it probably has a bunch of mistakes, pls forgive me!

series summary: You are casted as Giselle in the Broadway adaptation of Enchanted with Adam as Robert.

word count: 3.9k

Part 1 - Part 2

masterlist

Chapter title: Princess

First rehearsal on the stage is thrilling for you, because even without an audience, the place has a special energy that hits you right at the moment you walk out. There’s no real set just yet, only a few props to signal where things will be placed once the designers are done.

Today’s walkover is about the date scene with Clyde aka prince Edward and you are excited to put your dancing shoes aside for just a little while, even though you know once this rehearsal is over you’ll have one with Matt and Adam for the ball scene, your absolute favorite. Trevor explains how he envisioned the scene to go, with the moving and changing set to make the audience feel like the two of you are walking through the city.

Working with Clyde has been the easiest so far. He is a genuinely nice and caring person, who obviously tries to put one hundred percent into everything he does, making it a real pleasure to work together with him. He definitely has the looks to play a prince, tall, tanned with a charming smile and luscious curls that bounce with every movement he makes with his head. You keep thinking about how he is basically what you would say to be your type, inside and out and you are actually surprised you haven’t fallen for him the moment his hand touched your waist. You like to think you’ve grown enough to contain your emotions.

“Have you had any costume fitting?” he asks as the two of you stand on the stage, scripts in hands while Trevor is discussing something with his assistant.

“No, but Misha has sent me a few previews. Have you?”

“Yeah, I had one yesterday. Can’t wait to step on stage in tights,” he grins making you chuckle.

“There’s no prince without tights.”

“Definitely,” he nods. “Anyway, your vocals are extremely on point.”

“How do you know?” you ask narrowing your eyes at him. You haven’t had any vocal lessons together, just solo ones.

“Cynthia showed me a recording last time, I was trying to learn the harmonizing and it helped to hear you too.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Well thank you, I’m sure you sing just as well too.”

“I’m trying, but no doubt you’ll be the star,” he smirks and you feel a blush warming your cheeks.

Rehearsing with Clyde feels like when you and Lora used to hang out in high school, just goofing around while trying to get your homework done. It’s productive, because you do what you are supposed to do, but you also keep making each other laugh with the constant joking and messing around.

After rehearsals you decide to check out the canteen for a late lunch together and it’s a suitable choice since your dance rehearsal with Adam starts in an hour so you have to stay around to be there in time.

“You can’t be serious,” you gasp, watching him dip his pickle into mayo.

“It’s a delicacy,” he chuckles before taking a bite and you actually feel yourself shiver.

“Oh my God, you are a psychopath!” you laugh shaking your head at him.

“Nah, I just have a sister who ate some really weird shit when she was pregnant, and I tried some out. This one turned out to be pretty good.”

“My statement still stands. Psycho,” you joke.

When a familiar tall figure appears you spot him right away even from just the corner of your eyes. It doesn’t take long for Adam to spot the two of you since the canteen is not big enough to make it hard for anyone to see who’s really there.

“What a coincidence!” Adam cheerfully greets you standing at the table. Clyde hops to his feet as their palms meet and they do that typical half-hug thing men always do. Then his eyes wander over to you and you let a smile take over your lips.

“Hi Adam, ready to dance?” you ask as he snatches a chair from the table next to yours and he sits down.

“I was born ready! Hope your feet don’t break easily,” he jokes and you just shake your head chuckling.

“It’s not fair you two get the pretty dance while I’ll be in the background in tights,” Clyde sighs, but you know he is just furthering the joke.

“Clyde is not too excited about wearing tights, as you can see,” you explain to Adam who understandingly nods.

“I’m just saying, that out of the three of us,” he says gesturing around the table, “I’m definitely not the right one to wear tights on stage.”

“You’re right, I have nice thighs,” Adam nods and you can’t help but start laughing loudly. Somehow the image of him wearing tights is just so absurd you’d really love to see it.

Clyde sticks around for a little longer, the three of you having a nice conversation, a normal one which is surprising given the fact that Adam is present, but maybe this is the proof that he can be normal sometimes too. Then Clyde needs to leave and once he is out of the canteen Adam turns to you.

“Clyde wants to fuck you,” he simply says and you almost choke on your apple juice.

“Excuse me?” you manage to get out between coughs.

“What? Did you not notice how hard he was trying?”

“He wasn’t trying, he was just being a nice, normal person. You could try it,” you grimace at him. So much for being normal for once.

“Oh come on! I bet he’ll nut tonight thinking about you.”

“Would you stop unloading your dirty fantasies on me? Not everyone is as kinky as you. Most people don’t make a whole film about their relationship filled with all the sexual details.”

“Holy fuck, you watched the whole film!” he gasps happily and you immediately regret opening your mouth. You really should have thought about what you say. “How did you like it?”

“Honestly, I have no idea how you got away with making it, if I was your ex I wouldn’t have let you make it.”

“She saw it.”

“I bet she loved it.”

“She loved it when it happened in real life and I didn’t lie in the film,” he shrugs and the blush is back on your cheeks as you think about everything you saw in that film. The most intimate moments of a quite passionate relationship were revealed right in front of you and if you are being honest, you felt like part of it by the end, no matter how disturbing it was to see Adam in such scenes.

“I’m actually surprised you watched it.”

“Why? You were nonstop bugging me to watch it.”

“Yeah, but I thought you wouldn’t.”

“Well, I did and the trauma can’t be undone now,” you give him a look and checking the time you see that if you don’t leave now you’ll be late and Matt will be furious at the both of you.

You manage to dodge any further questions about the film as the two of you head for rehearsal, though you can tell he is curious about what you really think. It was definitely not a good idea to bring it up right before rehearsal, because now you have to get through 90 minutes pressed up against him, dancing to an incredibly romantic song, staring dreamily into each other’s eyes. Not ideal.

The song is critical. Not because it’s that bad, but because you are a real sucker for the kind of music in movies that could make you cry because they are so perfect for the scene. You’ve seen the movie way too many times and dreamed about dancing with that one person, but you never thought you’d actually dance to this song with someone and that person is now Adam.

It’s all fun and games when you are just learning the basics, not even touching, just standing in a line with Matt in front of the mirror and dancing like you have an imaginary partner. You keep peeking at Adam in the mirror and he is not that bad, in fact, he is doing great so far, you don’t know why he said he is not a good dancer.

“Okay, ready to combine?” Matt claps his hands, wiggling his eyebrows as he takes a step back, giving the two of you space to get close.

You hesitantly turn to Adam who closes the distance with one long step, standing right in front of you. Looking up at him you remember Lora’s comment on his height when it will be like to kiss him and you quickly furrow your eyebrows trying to get rid of the thought.

“What’s the look for?” Adam smirks down at you, tilting his head to the side gently.

“Nothing,” you purse your lips.

Matt helps you find the right position, Adam’s palm feels warm on your back and you suddenly wish your shirt was a bit thicker, covering you better. You feel his defined muscles under your palm on his shoulder and your eyes linger a little longer at the way your hand gets lost in his hold.

You first try it without the music, mostly both of you staring down at your feet to make sure you are doing the steps right and Matt gives you time to adjust, but you can’t keep your head down forever.

“Alright, let’s make a try and this time try to look into each other’s eyes at least half the time,” Matt requests and you bite into your bottom lip, trying to control your nerves. This is just dancing with Adam, the weird guy who made a kinky film about his past relationship, remember? He is weird!

But he is so tall and his eyes are so dreamy and his hands are…

“Okay, five, six, seven, eight!” Matt’s clapping interrupts your thoughts as you start the choreography again.

You have to watch your feet at first so you know you’re heading in the right direction, but a few steps later you force yourself to bring your gaze up and your eyes meet his.

It just hits different. Being so close to him, feeling his touch on your back and palm, you suddenly feel a strong urge to run your fingers through his hair and you almost do it before you tell yourself to behave. There is just something in him that makes your whole mind stop working properly even though you have a pretty strong opinion about him and the kind of man that he is.

For a spare second you even forget to breathe as you are staring into his eyes and there’s a feeling in your guts that you just can’t identify and before you could get further in this sensation Matt’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Amazing, this will look fantastic!”

You force a small smile to your face as you look at the choreographer and he brought you back to reality just in time.

You try to lock this feeling up in the remaining time so you don’t embarrass yourself with something. The last thing you need is to say something that gives away the conflict you are having in you.

“You’re always so fast to leave!”

Adam’s voice stops you when you are already out in the hallways, ready to leave and stay unnoticed, but that last part apparently did not work. Wrapping your hands around the strap of your bag you turn around and see him heading in your way with long steps, his hair flowing with him.

“Why should I be here without getting paid for my time?” you tilt your head with a half-smile and your comment makes him laugh.

“Good point. Do you have to be somewhere?” he asks catching up with you and now you are walking towards the exit side by side.

“Apart from my bed? Not really.”

“Great, then let’s get a beer or something.”

“It’s not a suggestion or an invitation, he states it like you’ve agreed on it weeks ago and you find yourself being quite okay with it.

Settling in a nearby place you order yourself the beer that’s been talked about, but Adam just sticks with iced tea and you give him a puzzled look for his choice.

“You said we are getting a beer.”

“Yeah, for you. I don’t drink.”

“What?”

“I’m a recovered alcoholic, I don’t drink,” he explains and now you have another piece of information about him that you put into your little Adam Sackler file in your head.

“So you are trying to get me drunk?”

“I’m not saying I don’t hope to have you spill something juicy about yourself, but I’m not forcing you to drink either.”

There’s a boyish smile playing on his lips and you roll your eyes at him as the drinks soon land on your table.

You find it amusing how fast he can make you forget about everything you’ve been thinking about when you thought about him, and make you see him just as this funny, carefree person who is sitting right across you at the table. He really is funny and it’s not just the beer that’s telling you this, he has a great sense of humor, he is especially talented in saying the funniest things with the straightest face, just staring at you like he is meaning every single word that leaves his mouth when you both know it’s all just bullshit.

“I’m honestly having a hard time figuring you out,” you sigh leaning back in your chair, fingers fidgeting with your second beer on the table. You’re definitely not drunk, just loose in the best kind of way.

“What’s so hard about it?” he tilts his head, genuinely interested in your answer.

“I don’t know, you are just… It’s like you have these different personalities and I can never know which is the real one.”

“What personalities?” he chuckles at your theory.

“One is this funny, normal guy,” you start gesturing towards him. “Then there is the kinky bastard who spanks girls and then there is this mysterious, serious side that I always see in rehearsals.”

“Kinky bastard?” he chuckles, clearly enjoying the discussion. “You’ll never let go of the spanking, right?”

“It just doesn’t fit into the picture,” you explain.

“That’s because we never had sex and we haven’t spent that much time together outside of rehearsals. I’m working there, of course I’m being serious! That’s just how adults act in serious scenarios. But the rest is just simply me, a mixture of the things you just said.

“So you are just a funny, normal guy with a hint of kinky?”

“Probably more than a hint, but yeah,” he nods smirking.

Spending time outside of rehearsal really helps you see Adam as a whole, the mixture of the sides you’ve experienced from him and you feel like it has brought him closer to you as a person, a colleague and maybe as a friend. You find him an amazing company actually, a great partner to discuss different kind of things. He has a somehow different view of the world than you, but you also agree on many things and this creates the perfect base for an actually interesting and enjoyable conversation.

“Stop!” You gasp laughing as you try to get Adam off a pole on your way home after he decided he is strong enough to hold himself up horizontally on it, but he is just probably getting close to knocking it straight out of the ground.

“They should make these more massive!” he grunts jumping back to the ground.

“You are massive,” you snort as the two of you leave the poor pole and continue walking towards your building.

“I am. In all means,” he smirks at you and you imitate gagging. His dirty comments stopped bothering you, he kept sneaking in something inappropriate into the conversation throughout the night and you just kind of got used to it. This is how he is, a kinky bastard, but at least a funny one.

“You know, we should hang out more often,” he suggests galloping ahead of you and turning to face you he does a funny dance move that makes you laugh.

“Oh yeah? So I should spend my little free time outside of rehearsals with the same person I’m with all day?”

“We are not together all day,” he protest and you just chuckle, knowing well he is right, you just felt like exaggerating. “You didn’t have fun tonight?” he asks as he returns next to you, walking side by side.

“I did.”

“Great. Then we will spend more time together,” he nods and it’s not a suggestion anymore, he is stating it like the most certain fact ever.

You don’t protest.

 Sometimes rehearsals are like one big chaos, especially when everyone is present on the stage, all dancers and actors with the production staff, but there’s no other way to rehears the big dancing scenes.

Today it’s the park scene again, you are wearing another flowy dress Misha gave you, that resembles to the one you’ll be actually wearing, Adam is dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt, nothing extra, and he seems to be enjoying that everyone around him is doing their absolute best while he has to do that one lifting and nothing else, just follow you around the stage.

Clyde is at the back, he has only a little stage time as the prince is looking for Giselle in the park, so beside Adam he is the other person who doesn’t have much to do.

“How do you know he loves you?” you sing with a bright smile and big gestures, grabbing Adam’s wrist as you pull from one place to another, dancers following around, the scene constantly changing around you to make it look like you are on the move. “How do you know he’s yours?”

You catch Adam smirking and you already know he is thinking about something dirty, as per usual. You do the lifting and you feel his hand smacking your ass when he puts you down, no one notices, but you shoot him a glare to which he just smirks again.

“Okay, amazing. Take ten, we’ll see the final part a few more times!” Trevor instructs when the music stops and people starts flowing off the stage.

“Stop touching my butt,” you tell Adam, the two of you walking towards the edge of the stage.

“I can’t, it’s just always in the way,” he holds up two hands innocently and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Hey, do you guys have any plans for tonight?” Clyde walks up with a bright smile as he joins the two of you, fingers fidgeting with the water bottle in his hands.

“I’m babysitting my niece,” Adam answers running a hand through his hair.

“You have a niece?” you turn to him surprised.

“I do,” he simply nods and it doesn’t seem like he is about to share any more details so you turn back to Clyde.

“I’m free.” “Wanna go for a drink maybe or something? I’m so done sitting at home when I’m not here.”

“Sure,” you nod and watch Clyde walk away smiling back at you.

“He is still trying hard to get into your pants,” Adam scoffs and you turn to him with a grimace.

“He is not.”

“Oh he surely is. I’m pretty sure he thinks this is a date or something like that.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Tell that to him, because the dude is keen on fucking you, princess.”

You eventually give up trying to convince Adam about your truth, and you also realize you don’t owe him a word. You know what this really is and that’s all that matters. Adam can think whatever he wants, that still doesn’t make it real.

“So you’re really going out with him, huh?” Adam comes up to you once rehearsal is over. You glance up at him nodding while you’re packing your stuff up.

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m telling you, he thinks this is more than just casual drinking.”

“So then what?” you sigh, confused about why he is so worked up by the thought of you and Clyde having a few drinks. “I’m single, he is a nice guy, maybe I also think of it as more. Is that not an option?”

He genuinely seems surprised by your answer and it tells you he clearly didn’t think of this version. Frowning a bit he tilts his head.

“So that’s your type?”

“Stop using that tone, please,” you sigh zipping your bag and heading to the door, Adam following you right behind.

“Okay, I’m sorry, but still, that’s not how I imagined your type to be.”

“You often think about what my type is?”

“I did a few times, yes.”

“Then stop,” you sigh stopping and looking at him. “It’s not like you have a word in it or something. If you hate the idea of me and Clyde going out so much, just come. He invited you as well.”

“I told you, I’m babysitting my niece. My sister would lose her shit if I cancelled.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do for you. Just stop thinking about it,” you shrug, clearly over it, but Adam is not on the same page.

“Cancel on him.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask with a puzzled chuckle.

“Because…” he is searching eagerly for the right words, his hands anxiously tapping on his thighs. This is a waste of time, you think to yourself.

“See you at the next rehearsal, Adam,” you sigh walking away.

 Clyde is awesome. Clyde is exactly the person you imagined for yourself a little while ago, he is nice, funny and just overall a good person. You enjoy spending time with Clyde and you find him attractive, but…

But something is just off and you can’t tell what it is.

Sitting in a bar with him that evening you can’t stop thinking about that one thing that’s making you not fall for him even though you know you should be. Adam’s words keep repeating in your mind about how he is not what he thought your type would be.

Of course he is my type! You basically tell yourself defiantly, cursing Adam out for planting such thoughts into your mind. Stupid Adam!

By the time you and Clyde part your ways you are pretty sure this wasn’t a date which is a relief, but it still got you thinking why you are so against dating Clyde. On your way home you catch yourself pulling your phone out of your bag to text Adam and tell him you were right when you stop in your way in the middle of the street.

“Are you stupid?” some random guy growls at you who almost bumps into you. Looking up you mumble a short sorry before looking back down at your phone.

Adam was all you thought about all evening, you saw him in everything Clyde said and now he is your first thought and the person you want to talk to. He sneaked his way into all of your thoughts and this is starting to feel concerning.

Adam is not your type. He just can’t be.

Clyde should be.

Not Adam.

Right?

Right?!

-

general/forever taglist for Adam Driver

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Adam taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Adam fics!

@superdriver​ @siren-queen03​ @holacherrycola90​ @spencer-is-amazing​ @unusual-kindred-spirits @hailthemightywoecloud @holy-kylo-stars​ @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog​ @hurricanesunset​ @writerandee​ @luxury-0pps​ @prncess91​ @malefoygal​ @zaahidahhh​ @filternotincluded @fire-in-her-veinz​ @emily-strange @ktellmeastory​ @grouchosgirl​ @tapismyforte​ @unusual-driver-paterson​ @beeblisss​ @septicvic97​ @cackleifyou​ @gotiashley​

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

#adam #sackler #driver #adam sackler #adam driver #adam sackler imagine #adam sackler au #adam sackler fanfiction #adam sackler imagines #adam sackler fanfic #adam sackler fiction #adam sackler x you #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler x y/n #hbo girls

[nightmaretyrantvantas]

The Journey for Mew part 1: The horrifying beginning

Well here we go! The start of a fic series for my recently posted sander sides pokemon au, which was inspired by @sugarglider9603‘s pokemon au

This is gonna start angsty, turn to a slightly thrilling adventurous hurt and comfort, and will have a happy ending I promise! 

A trigger warning for the begining: Theres cursing, fighting(pokemon battling counts in this category right?) and slight mentions of blood, and injuries.

This is also going to be my first full series with a planned ending so I hope its good!

Also to establish this now each of the boys specialize in different pokemon types

Thomas: Normal/water(plus his team is all eeveelutions) Roman: Fire Patton: Fairy/some psychic Logan: Psychic/steel Virgil: ghost/dark Deceit: Bug/ ground Remus: Dark/poison

Now lets get started shall we? ( this one is long to buckle in)

It all started that one fated, horrible winter night. Of course the night itself hadnt started horrible.

It had been a quiet night on the Sander Sanctuary grounds when Virgil slipped out of the shared farm house and started walking towards the east side of the property, and towards the darkened office building a little ways from the house. He took in a deep breath of the crisp night air, smiling as he watched his breath’s smoke dissipate while he walked. Virgil didnt have any job duties or training sessions the next day so he decided he’d stay up that night to spend time with the sanctuary’s dark and ghost pokemon. As he walked through the grass, eyes adjusting to the dim moonlight and scattered lanterns that dotted the property and its pathways, he couldnt help but smile more. Sitting on his shoulders chittering happily was his trusted partner Banette, the doll pokemon’s zipper grin wide and cheerful. Sally had always been a brave cheerful pokemon, a contrast to her trainer’s shyer, anxious nature. 

“ You excited to play with all your friends Sally?”Sally, affectionately named after a character in one of his favorite movies, nodded her head and waved her arms in her excitement. Virgil chuckled and tried to dodge getting smacked. 

“ Ghas?” “ Gastly!!” He paused as three young Gastly floated around him happily, cheering at his presence. As they did Sally hopped to the ground and was immediately swarmed by a group of shuppets, giggling as she was nuzzled and blepped. Virgil’s smile widened and he patted one of the Gastly as he was also nudged and avoided their playful licks.

“ hehe h-hey guys im happy to see you all to-aaaaaaah!” He flailed his arms as he fell back when A large Gengar popped up in front of his with its arms up, being caught mid fall by strong rough hands. He leaned his head back and let out an exasperated sigh at the sight of a familiar grinning Trevenant, it’s laugh echoing out of its mouth soon joined by the Gengar’s giggling. He stood back up and regained his balance, hands on his hips at the two pranksters.

“ Ha ha ha. Very funny you two, you got me.” Then he ruffled Gengar’s fur and patted Trevenant’s head. 

Gengar was one of the older ghost pokemon, one of the eldest to live at the Sanctuary if Virgil remembered correctly. He’d been a Haunter when Thomas had been bequeathed the property from his grandfather and he and thomas had moved onto it and started cleaning it up and he’d been there with them through everything, playing harmless pranks and helping out. Virgil had befriended and grown close to the pokemon, even as it stayed happily wild in the east woods of the property with its best friend Trevenant, who he had helped nurse back to health from a Phantump. The two followed at his side as he kept walking, more ghost and dark pokemon gathering and happily playing around him perfectly at ease with the ghost trainer’s presence. Some even welcomed it as younger pokemon poked and tugged at his pants and jacket to get him to chase them and play tag. He indulged the kids, making them squeal and him laugh. A few feet away from the back of the office building he could see a light shining in a back room, signifying Logan was still awake and working despite it nearing midnight. He could also see pokemon peering into the window curiously, watching the older trainer work. He sighed and started crossing the distance to the building, deciding he’d try to urge Logan to go to bed. Unlike himself Logan had other work in the morning, and he didnt need to be an insomniac too. As he walked his Espeon caught up and trotted beside him contently with a yawn. He reached down and ruffled his fur. “You could’ve stayed in bed you weirdo.” His Espeon gave him an incredulous look and Virgil shrugged. Things were peaceful, and happy.

If only that could’ve last...

He felt the shift in the air, everything suddenly feeling tenser or charged. At first he thought it was simply his paranoia rearing its head, and he looked up towards the looming shadow of Geolite mountain up towards the top of the valley, and the way the moon seemed to touch the summit, almost cradled by it. There was a branch snap and his head whipped towards the fence, and the darkness beyond it. With narrowed eyes Virgil started approaching, hearing something like whispering.

“ Houndoom use shadow ball!” His eyes widened and he scrambled back as a shadow ball hit the fence and destroyed a good chunk of it with a loud boom. He had to cover his ears and he heard the pokemon start scattering or hiding behind him. When his ears stopped ringing he looked towards the smoked mangled fence in horror, stomach twisting into knots. THen he looked beyond it and he felt cold.

Shadowed sillouettes with almost glowing red R’s blazened on their chests were approaching with pokemon, streetlights flickering.

Team Rocket. 

Virgil had always feared this might happen, that word of their pokemon haven would reach people like Giovanni and they’d be attacked for rare pokemon. With kids unknowingly spreading rumors and legends of legendaries visiting and living at the sanctuary, it was a terrifying possibility. But Virgil didnt have time to think about it, or to think of anything really.

“ Houndoom flamethrower!” 

Because the next thing he knew there was a large unrelenting spray of flames rushing straight for him and the pokemon behind him uncaring. Virgil didnt think, instead his body move and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to block as many pokemon as he could, as if his body and his body alone would completely shield them from any harm. In a single moment in the distance he thought he heard a wailing cry fainting pierce the night.

There were legends in the Floria region that they lived in that if you heard Giratina’s cry while you were out at night, it was a signal that you or someone else was about to die. It was a legend Logan loved debating and it was one Virgil had always taken with a grain of salt before.

It was Giratina’s enraged cry that pierced the air that night.

As the cry faded Virgil realized he wasnt burning to a crisp but it was still bright he opened his eyes and looked up.

And he was horrified.

Before him, blocking the name fading flames was a small pink pokemon floating in the air as a protective bubble of pink finished shattering around it. Mew’s body was covered in burns and tears started burning in his eyes as it then wobbled and fluttered towards the ground, virgil just barely managing the catch the injuried pokemon. He cradled the legendary in his arms in a panic, watching the poor thing’s shallow breathing as it keened softly, eyes barely open.

“ No no no no nonononononononoo.....” At once Mew’s tail touched his forehead and imaged flashed through his mind.

The mountain

The heart of the mountain

A natural spring of gentle glowing water in a cavern of light bouncing crystals 

Placing Mew in the spring

Healing. A place to heal Mew.

“ Aha the rumors are true! There are legendaries here! Mr. Giovanni is going to be thrilled! Grab the Mew and any other pokemon you can and get rid of the stupid trainer if he gets in the way!” He glared at the grunts as they started approaching closer, holding Mew closer as it shut its eyes tiredly. In front of him his Espeon and Sally stood defensively, both growling. But they were out numbered by a long shot. Lights were turning on in the house but it would be too late if he didnt do something. But if he got too close they’d take Mew and he’d never get it back to the mountain. But if he ran the pokemon would be raided and captured and hurt. 

“ Sally Shadow ball! Anxie used Psybeam!! Keep them away!” Both pokemon attacked and suddenly there was a barage of shadow balls and other attacks that knocked a bunch of the intruders back. Ghost and dark pokemon, including his own, charged forward in a rage, engaging the intruder’s pokemon in battle and trying to push them back and away from Virgil. He saw his two trusted buddies and the gengar that trusted him surrounded, and felt his vision go red when he saw grunts eyeing them and appraoching with nets and collars. They were going to take his friends. They were NOT taking his friends and they were not hurting the pokemon. He stood shakily and heard yelling. He could see Deceit rushing towards him from the house and Logan rushing out of the office confused and horrified. But Team Rocket was coming back onto the property, eyes locked on the pokemon in his arms. He had to do something quick before they all got hurt. Both of the others saw his mouth move with words unheard before he wrapped mew in his thick jacket and he rushed forward, tossing the jacket bundle to Deceit and charged forward recklessly. He let out his own angry cry as he sprinted, and the grunt the was about to lunge for his precious Sally looked up.

Just in time to see the black gloved fist that slammed into his face seconds later. He fell back and wasnt able to see the boot covered foot swing up and kick him away from the chest. He caught the humans around him by surprise and his body was illuminated by the nearby streetlight as he lunged and yanked one of their houndooms back as it readied another flamethrower towards his friends and winced as it grazed his arm. But adrenaline was flowing and he barely noticed as he shoved it back and fought back against the other grunts that started ganging up on him. 

Virgil fought back with everything he had, and he was winning too. The light flickered again. There was another yell.

Then he felt the taser rod before he saw it.

In that moment the world seemed to slow, his scream of pain as his vision flashed white seemed to cut the air in half. His vision started going dark and he felt weightless even as he crumpled to the ground, and the last things he heard was Giratina’s louder, enraged cry, and the wail of multiple pokemon, almost as if they were crying

Or it was a war cry.

“ VIRGIL!!!!!!!” Logan almost screamed when he saw his friend drop to the floor like a ragdoll into a heap under the spotlight. He started running forward as more booms and ground tremors almost knocked him over. The once dark night was now morbidly lighting up with fire coming from the west side past the house, and he could hear more yelling of his housemates over the sound of angry and panicking pokemon. He didnt want to believe he heard the impossible sound of Giratina’s cry but there was no time to think about that.

His eyes were on virgil as he screamed his name and tried to run through battles. But before he could even get close his body was grabbed by psychic forces and yanked back. He yelped and struggled against his Alazakam’s power. 

“ Alakazam! What are you doing?! Let me go! I have to help Virgil!” The pokemon shook its head and held him close. It was then he felt the ground begin shaking under his feet. In the sparking, flickering streetlight the grunt that had taken Virgil down stumbled back in fear. Beneath Virgil’s unmoving form a shadow was growing and swirling around him, growing more and more and anger radiating from it. For a brief moment Logan thought he saw bright teal eyes flash in that inky darkness as a low growl sounded. 

In that moment Logan had the realization that perhaps the silly urban legends and rumors the kids in town whispered, myths that anyone who messes with or hurts the sanctuary and those who work in it invoke the wrath of the legendary pokemon, had more stock in them then he ever gave them credit for.

And then hell broke loose with one last, almost ear ringingly close enraged wail filled the air and the ground shook with some kind of impact.

A shadow ball whizzed past his ear and he was yanked back as his metagross got in front of his protectively and casted a protect around them. 

Within that moment four major things happened at once.

The woods bursted with furious and battle ready ghost and dark pokemon as they charged towards the grunts that attacked Virgil, Sally leading the charge with an war cry and tears in her pinkish red eyes. 

On the west side of the house there was screaming and yelling as Roman and Patton both fought and tried to protect the pokemon and put out the fires as well as fighting off another wave of intruders, Roman’s ranger styler lit up and active as he tried to keep grunts away from the more vulnerable grass pokemon being attacked. 

Near the woods he caught a brief glimpse of Deceit cradling the jacket bundle in his arms, barely catching his face before he suddenly disappeared into thin air and a furious Dusknior was in his place before charging into battle itself.

And there was screaming and angry yelling from near the front and he caught glances of thomas and his team of eeveelutions defending the nursery part of the house and keeping grunts back, and glimpses of a bloodied Remus full out charging and attacking grunts, knocking them down with his fists and feet with a wild look on his face. Everything was chaotic and Logan struggled more, pleading with his protective pokemon to let him go, let him out and go help his loved ones. But then he took a chance to calm down, take a shaky breath, and stood up straight.

“ Lets go.” 

Things blurred for Logan after that. He could remember being freed. Could remember running along side the battling pokemon with Lucario at his side.

He remembered the yelling and wailing and pokemon cries and running through battles.

He remembered stumbling through the thick darkness towards Virgil’s form and cradling the lanky boy in his arms. 

He vaguely remembered Team Rocket being forced back more and more and soon after retreating and being run off by Remus and a barage of pissed off pokemon. 

He remembered crying and yells of his name as he tried to wake him up. 

He also remembered long wails of despair and the gagging reek of smoke and the darkness around him and Virgil slipping away and rising, a dark clawed hand reaching towards his face placatingly.

‘ He will live, but now, you both must sleep....’

And then there was darkness as Logan slumped forward into Darkrai’s embrace, everything fading away  as his eyes fell shut......

The same kind of darkness Deceit was surrounded by as he crashed into the ground and found himself far from his endangered home with mew tucked in his arms looking up the looming mountain he stood at the base of....

And thats the end of part 1! I warned you guys it would be angsty! dont worry itll get better....eventually...

Regardless I hope you guys like part 1 and look forward to part 2!!!

taglist

@phantommoonpeople

@sweetsweetemo

@leesacrakon

@amazable01

@starbucks-remy

@jemthebookworm

@max-is-tired

@seriously-a-dragon

@sugarglider9603

#my writing #sander sides #sander sides au #sander sides writing #sander sides fanfiction #pokemon au #sander sides pokemon au #sander sides angst #thomas sanders #character thomas #roman sanders #virgil sanders #virgil angst #patton sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders

[crowkingwrites]

Something Awful

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader // Words: 4697 // Ao3 Link // Masterlist

Author’s Notes: SO THIS HAS TO BE THE LONGEST ONE SHOT I EVER WROTE and it really got away from me lol. 

I actually have an entire series that is based on this request? For those of you who know Vicious, it’s similar to this request. (You can start reading it here.) However! This one-shot is going to take a very different turn. Enjoy!

You felt your heart breaking when you met Talisa. The muscles in your chest pulled apart string by string which made it all feel so much better to see her pregnant body on the ground bleeding. The last thing you saw inside the Twins was Robb crawling to the girl he loved more. Robb deserved his fate, you thought.

Roose Bolton took you away from the whole thing. You were never meant to be at the Red Wedding, so when Roose saw your face he secretly told his men t not touch you. You were grateful to him while you both rode towards Winterfell.

“I am sorry to have put you through that. You were supposed to be with—

“I know,” you told Roose. You looked down and away from Roose. He bluntly gave you a reminder.

“You would never have been happy with the Young Wolf. He loved someone else much more than you. He already had his family planned with her. You deserve someone with much more loyalty and respect. Don’t cry over a dead man who would have been happy to see you gone.”

Lord Roose Bolton was right. As much as you wanted to follow his advice, it was difficult to harden your heart. Your brown eyes and black hair gave away that you were truly your father’s daughter. Robert told you stories of Lyanna Stark, and it reminded you of how you spoke of Robb Stark.

You desired Robb more than anything. You remembered Sansa’s smile and how her eyes were filled with delight in wanting your brother. You supposed both of you felt differently now. You knew your mother to be a hateful woman towards everyone else except for you and your siblings. You never thought she would go as far as to destroy houses and families to not have you marry a Stark.

Winterfell was in ruins when you arrived. The direwolves were all smashed in. The Stark banners shared a similar fate as Robb; in the ground, covered in shame and almost forgotten. Roose had shared news of your safety with your mother, but you decided to stay north. You weren’t ready to go back home yet.

You didn’t want to face your hateful mother who took Robb away from you. You couldn’t possibly face Sansa who was to be your sister. You figured that what you had with her was now gone. You wouldn’t be surprised if she wished you dead.

You mostly kept to yourself at Winterfell for the first week. Most servants cursed you, and other Northerners had plans to hurt you. Roose had noted that and called you to a meeting to discuss your security here at Winterfell. With power and money and a new lordship in his pocket, Roose had set his sights on a new goal: the Iron Throne.

Keeping you, the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, safe and sound and happy in his home was in his best interest.

“I’m sure you are aware of the several people who have made threats to you,” Roose explained in front of his other men and you. You sat with your hands folded at a table of men who have betrayed House Stark. A fire crackled behind you.

“I’m aware. I believe my last chambermaid tried to poison me,” you confessed. “It may be time for to return home.”

“I would advise you against that,” Roose said. A map of Westeros sat in front of you. Roose pointed towards the Twins. “The knights of the Vale have boldly positioned themselves near the Twins. It wouldn’t be safe for you to return now with the Riverlands and the North this tense. If I can guarantee your safety here, would you like to stay longer?”

“Guarantee my safety? How?” you laughed at the Lord. It was impossible. You were a lion alone with direwolves and those loyal to them. Even if you attempted to go outside the walls of Winterfell, you were scared of any man or woman who saw your birthmark. Well, at least that’s what Cersei told you.

A large burn mark on your face reminded you how awful your father was. King Robert, the one who liberated the Seven Kingdoms, put your face near a fire as a babe because you were a girl. Cersei couldn’t face him much after that. How could a King hurt his daughter like that? What kind of man was that? Still, no one could know that the King hurt his daughter. Not after he took the throne from the Mad King.

The burn mark went from the corner of your mouth and stretched itself across your left cheek. Joffery always teased you about it. He claimed you and the Hound would make a lovely couple together. He also claimed you would never find any real love unless it was inside a brothel. Of course, you never really searched for any kind of love. You always thought Robb Stark would be your husband.

That is, until you saw Talisa.

Until you saw the way Robb looked at her.

Until you saw Robb crawling on the floor towards her, reaching her. Even in death, he still did not want you.

You could mourn over dead men and their dead lovers or you study at the young man in front of you. He had dark curls, hungry eyes, and a mouth that smiled at you like you were made of gold. His hands were folded in front of him. His emblem was the Bolton cross. Not one thing about him looked off to you.

“This is my bastard son,” Roose introduced you. “Ramsay took Winterfell from the Greyjoys and saw that their rebellion was paid their own blood. I trust him to protect you at all costs.” Ramsay took your hand and kissed the top of it. His hand pulled you up to his level.

“I never thought I would ever protect a future queen, much less meet one,” Ramsay told you. You felt color rush to your cheeks and you couldn’t meet his eyes much longer. Not many men gave you affectionate attention. Cersei would never leave you with a man alone for long, so you didn’t have much experience.

Now, you were going to spend a lot of time with a bastard named Ramsay.

--- 

“Who is your mother?” you asked the bastard one day. He sat next to you eating another apple. He used his flaying knife to cut off bit by bit.

“She was a miller’s wife.”

“Did your father—

“No,” Ramsay cut you off. “He didn’t love her. He had his way with her while her new husband hung above them. Did you parents love each other?”

“No, they did not. I hoped things were different up here,” you confessed to him. “According to you, things are more of the same. Maybe worse.”

“Worse? I am to be Lord and Warden of the North one day. You are to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I don’t see much drawback from this.” A guard came into the room before you could go further in the conversation.

“We found another one,” he said. “Caught ‘im trying to send a letter out.”

“Well, what does the letter say?” Ramsay narrowed his eyes.

“Says where she sleeps. How to get past the guards.” Ramsay stopped the guard with his hand. He heard enough. He left his spot next to you by the fire.

“Milady, I expect this threat will take some time to take care of. I’m afraid I won’t see you until tomorrow.” You cocked and eyebrow. “Why does it matter if I won’t see you until tomorrow?”

Ramsay started to close the door behind him. “I was starting to like you. Don’t ruin it with silly questions.”

---

Ramsay had slain anyone who plotted to hurt you. He had displayed their skins and corpses and parts in the courtyard of Winterfell to remind everyone who House Bolton should be loyal to. Ramsay stood next to you spinning a yarn about the unfortunate soul in front of you. You felt something turning in your stomach.

It could the gruesome sight in front of you. The young woman’s toes were caked in her own blood. Her mouth was agape, and you could see bugs enter and exit her mouth. As if the small critters used her body for warmth and food.

Or it could be Ramsay. As handsome as he was, he was also terribly something awful. His smile when describing how she held strong until the end. He loved what he did to people. He was good at it. Still, something turned your stomach.

“Milady!” The maester came rushing to you. “There’s something you need to see.” His frown and worry concerned you. You followed the maester with Ramsay right behind you. Ramsay followed you wherever you went not because he felt obligated to, but he enjoyed your companionship.

Every morning, you helped take the hounds out for walks. Ramsay and you would share meals together. More recently, your new favorite hobby was mending Ramsay’s clothes. He liked the flaying man you embroidered for him.

The maester handed you the letter from King’s Landing. It was written in your mother’s hand. You read the words, but you couldn’t register them. It wasn’t real. You felt too much all at once. You did the improper thing and started to cry and curse out loud.

“Fuck! Fuck! No, this isn’t—I—No! Fuck this!”

“What? What is it?” Ramsay grabbed the letter from you. He read the words. “Your brother was poisoned by his enemies. The King is dead. Come home.”

---

You sat in your room alone. It had been a week since your King Brother was laid to rest in the Sept. Myrcella was in Dorne. You were in the North. Your youngest brother held the crown now. You knew gentle, loving Tommen. His grave was already dug. You needed to go home.

You spun a yarn in between your fingers, trying to focus on something, anything. The world around you became a blur of noise and shapes. You didn’t understand how this happened. All you knew was you wanted to destroy who did this to your family. Who put Myrcella in Dorne? Who married Sansa? Who wanted your brother dead? “You need to eat,” you heard behind you.

“I’m not hungry,” you answered back watching Ramsay roll his eyes. He pulled up a chair next to you.

“You mourn them too much,” Ramsay picked at the bread on your tray. “You want to cry and cry and cry. Go on. The world won’t stop for you.”

“That’s mean. My brother just died.”

“And you’re going to sit here and cry about it?”

“What else can I do?” you cried out in frustration. Ramsay laughed at you.

“You are the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and you believe there’s nothing you can do?” Ramsay shook his head at you. “Do I what I would do.”

“I don’t torture people.”

“No, but you can end them. You could end them all,” Ramsay put the idea in your head. “You told me your uncle did it. So, let’s kill him.”

“He’s being put to trial first. We have processes. It’s only fair.”

“Fair? You want to be fair with a man who has hurt your family more than once? Tyrion has been a stain in your family line since the day he crawled out of your grandmother’s stomach. You know that.”

“With what resources then? I don’t have spies to do this work for me. I know no assassins. My family is a month’s ride away from me. Do you expect me to kill my uncle myself?”

Ramsay shook his head and left the comfort of his seat. He offered you his hand and guided you to a window.

“Look outside. What do you see?”

You did not like this game. You sighed and played along for him. “Snow. Land. Peasants.”

“The North,” Ramsay corrected you. “Five hundred miles that way, you’re still in the North. Another four hundred miles another way and you’re still in the North.”

“Your point?”

“This all belongs to me, but mostly it belongs to you, would you agree?” Ramsay placed his hands on your arms. They slid up to your shoulders.

“I agree. I still don’t see your point.”

“My father has proved his loyalty to your grandfather with what he accomplished at the Red Wedding. Tywin and Joffery made him a lord. Because of your grandfather, I have power, money, and land. I wonder, if I kill your enemies and hurt those who have hurt you, what will you make me?” Ramsay whispered the words into your ear.

You didn’t need spies. You didn’t need the same resources they had in King’s Landing. You had Ramsay Bolton, the flaying bastard.

---

Ramsay and you arrived in King’s Landing in complete secret. Ramsay didn’t bring an army with him, only twenty good men. You roamed the empty, abandoned brothels that Petyr Baelish left behind. You heard Ramsay exchange words with one of your mother’s spies. He left in haste, leaving you and Ramsay alone.

“Your mother knows you’re here. Along with someone named the Spider?” Ramsay asked, pulling at his shirt. You studied the young man. You noted the sweat on his brow.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying the warmer weather,” you smiled.

“I hate it. Why is it so hot? Isn’t it supposed to be nearing winter? This is ridiculous.” He looked around in disgust. His face made you giggle. Ramsay shot a look at you. “What?”

“You’re so miserable about the weather. It’s funny.” You smiled at him. You watched color rush to his face.

“I’m not funny.” He responded, turning away from you. You grabbed his arm and rested your head on his shoulder. Ramsay often let you do this, but you were never sure why. You’ve known Ramsay to have his girls. He slept with some on the way here, yet all of them had dark, long hair like yours. No, you were being silly. You were awful to look at. Your burn mark made sure of that.

Still, the tension between you was noted whenever a man looked at you wrong or when your fingers touched his sleeve. You wanted to say something was there. You wanted to ask, but your brother’s cruel words echoed in your mind.

“No one could ever stomach to look at that face every morning. The only love you’ll ever find will be in a dark brothel.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you. It wasn’t my intent. I was only teasing,” you said quietly between both of you. Ramsay placed a soft kiss on your head.

“I know, sweetling. We have to leave here. I don’t think your mother would want to find her daughter in a brothel with a bastard.”

---

Tywin welcomed you back to King’s Landing with open arms. He was more than delighted to see one of his granddaughters. You would claim your grandfather to dote on you, but he was a disciplined, conservative man. He noted how close Ramsay Bolton and you became.

“What happened in the North?” Tywin asked you.

“What do you mean?” you sat drinking wine with your grandfather. You finally wore your favorite summer dresses. It was a purple dress embellished with gold details. Golden flowers, golden stags, golden lions all delicately decorated your new gown. It felt light and pretty, nothing like the heavy layers you had to wear in the North.

“You experienced what happened at the Twins and you chose to stay in the North, why?” Tywin always questioned you like was trying to teach you another lesson.

“I was promised over and over to a young wolf. In one night, he was taken away from me by my family. The same family who told me I would be marrying him. Don’t you think a little distrust would form after that?”

“You don’t trust your family?”

“I needed time. The Boltons have been incredible hosts to me, and they reminded me why the Starks are traitors.”

“Roose Bolton reminded you? Or did his son remind you?”

“If you’re implying something, I suggest you get to the point,” you said in a cross manner. Tywin blinked and smiled.

“If you were a boy, you would have made a better king than your brother.”

“And I can’t be a queen? I’m in line for throne. Remember?” you said to Tywin. Tywin cleared his throat. His eyes followed a figure that entered the room. The first thing you saw were the rich red sleeves and collar. You suspected they hid armor underneath. The next thing you saw was a black tunic with the flaying man sewn into the fabric. A black belt held it together along with his sword and two daggers.

“Am I interrupting?” Ramsay spoke to Tywin. Tywin shook his head.

“Not at all. Is the South treating you better?”

Ramsay narrowed his eyes. “Why do all of you waste time with your small talk?” You quickly stood up from your seat and walked over to Ramsay.

“Forgive him, grandfather,” you smiled. “He wasn’t raised in castles like you and me. He doesn’t know how to be a lord.”

“Because he’s a legitimized bastard. There seems to be a lot of you in the North.” Ramsay’s hand went to his dagger, but you held onto his hand. You guided him away from murdering Tywin and towards the gardens.

“Do not anger my grandfather unless you wish to die,” you warned him.

“Tywin is as weak as his age. I doubt he could hurt me. Tyrion is in the dungeons. I plan to kill him tonight,” Ramsay said.

“Tonight? So soon? Don’t you think we need to wait and pla—

“There’s already a plan. I told you, I only need twenty good men. Do you want your uncle Tyrion to face justice or do you want him to escape?”

“Escape? What are yo—

“Your mother told me her whispers. The Spider has plans to help Tyrion escape justice tonight.”

“No, Tyrion will be put to the sword. There was a trial by combat. He dies tomorrow.” You assured him.

“No, he dies tonight. If you don’t let me do things my way, that throne will never belong to you.” Ramsay pulled you away from the public eye of the gardens. Behind tall bushes, Ramsay grabbed your hand again. “Must I remind you why I followed you here?”

“For the throne? You want power.” You said.

“As true as that sounds, I’m not an idiot. I was never raised in a castle. You were.”

‘Is this another game?” you asked. Ramsay pulled you closer to him.

“No, this is a reminder,” Ramsay brushed away the hair in front of your burn mark. He place his lips on yours and sent you into a trance. You didn’t realize your first kiss would be so wonderful. Ramsay wrapped his arms around you and deepened the kiss. You broke it apart when you felt dizzy in his arms.

“Ram—

“I never thought I would care for a southern girl, yet here I am. Our place is here. I’ll kill every single one of your family that betrays us to get you on that throne.” Ramsay kissed you once more. Leaving you almost breathless and filled with silly thoughts again.

Late in the night, you heard the bells go off. Those were alarm bells. You rushed to your door and locked it. It wasn’t much, but you had hoped you would be safe there. You waited and waited until you heard three sharp knocks.

Ramsay.

You opened the door slightly to see the roughed up young lord with a monstrous smile on his face. Five of his men were behind him now. Each of them were a bit bloodied up, but Ramsay had a lovely sword cut on his face. The blood dripped down his cheek.

“My lady, I have some wonderful news to share.”

---

Ramsay and his men had slaughtered Tyrion who attempted to escape his fate. Tyrion’s mistake was murdering his own whore lover and Tywin. Ramsay was revered as a hero by your younger brother, King Tommen. Ramsay stood before his king, smiling as Tommen stroked his ego.

“You have done Westeros a favor. You and your family have served the realm well. Whatever you ask that is in my power, it is yours,” Tommen smiled to Ramsay. Nearly everyone inside the court that day wore black. Ramsay’s black outfit was outfitted with gold and red details. Your family’s colors and his.

“You honor me, my King. I come to you as a young lord. I come to you humble and grateful, but if I were to ask for one thing,” Ramsay glanced at you for a moment and then met the King’s eyes. “I would ask you for your sister’s hand. I’ve grown quite fond of her. I’d like to make her mine.”

You smiled from ear to ear. You guessed your late brother was right. You did find love in a brothel.

---

While Tommen tried to be a pure king, you had already consummated with Ramsay several times before your own wedding night. Ramsay’s favorite part of you was your neck and your chest. He left his own marks all over you, so that your mother would know that you belonged to him now.

“You’re covering them up, aren’t you?” Cersei said. “His little love marks.”

“How did you kn—

“Have you forgotten that I know everything?” Cersei smiled at you. You’ve always felt your mother’s warmth. That never changed. She pushed your hair back to see both your burn mark and the marks Ramsay left on you. “I was once your age too. I hid mine better. Try wearing your hair down more.”

“You’re not angry with me?” you asked her.

“No,” Cersei took your hand and lead you with it. The day had begun to cool. You kept your mother close to you. She continued. “I’m not angry with you. I want you to be happy. Are you happy with him?”

“Yes,” you confessed. “I am. He makes me happy.”

“Good,” Cersei held you close. “But the minute he doesn’t make you happy anymore, tell me. And he will be ashes before you could shed a tear. Do you understand?” As you nodded towards your mother, a guard burst into your private moment. The Mountain glared at him with his bright red eyes.

“My queen, my lady,” the guard greeted. “The Sparrows have invaded the Red Keep. We need to get you to safety now.” Locked away in Cersei’s room, both you and she were protected by the Mountain. You heard yelling and fighting on the other side of Cersei’s door. You sucked in all of your breath and held onto her before you heard a familiar voice enter the room.

“Those religious fuckers,” Ramsay laughed. You eyed his armored body and cut arms. “Does your son take criticism? Or do I need to convince him how bad this is?”

---

You did not need to convince Tommen. He stood there raging, fuming mad at the poor figure of his mother. How little she was. How hurt she was. Tommen no longer hid, he roared.

You see, you only knew Joffery and yourself to have a temper. Myrcella and Tommen both were entirely too gentle to hurt anyone or anything. When Tommen saw the condition of Cersei when she returned from her walk of shame, he looked at your betrothed, Ramsay Bolton, and spoke to him.

“How many men do you need? How many to take down the Sparrows?”

You wished your king’s rage continued. You hoped Tommen would see how terrible the Sparrows were. Once you saw both Queen Margaery and King Tommen join hands with the High Sparrow, you knew it was over.

---

You clearly remembered that morning. You wore all black just like your mother and your betrothed. Chains hung from Ramsay’s chest and arms. A brand new, obsidian sword was his to touch. You wore your hair down, not to hide Ramsay’s love marks, but to hide the bruise on your neck. Something you earned last night when you challenged your lover to hurt you.

Ramsay’s fingers brushed against yours. You both quietly held hands and watched the sept. Everything had been so quiet. You didn’t realize how quiet King’s Landing could be until you heard the explosion. A bright green colored your vision as smoke filled the air. It was astonishing and awful. Your mother had managed to defeat both threats at once. The Sparrows and Tyrell House were gone.

Ramsay wore the biggest smile on his face. He looked on the spectacle in awe. If your mother could do that, what kind of damage could you do? He started to get ideas in his head. How could he get away with killing the king? How far would he go to put you on the throne? How far could he go to put himself there?

Being a king meant that you had access to power like this. You could do whatever you wanted. Ramsay found himself daydreaming of both of you on the throne. He sat on the iron throne while you stood by, holding a small bundle. Now, he wanted it. He was so close.

Ramsay didn’t realize how easy it was.

You were frozen to the spot when Qyburn came to tell you the news. Cersei had followed Qyburn to his lab while you stood there trying to digest what you had heard.

“Tommen killed himself.” You said quietly. “After everything my family has been through. Joffery was murdered at his wedding. Myrcella was cold before she touched land again, and now Tommen kills himself?” You felt the anger warp you into something awful.

“Y/N. Sweetling,” Ramsay called out to you. He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Focus.”

“My family is dying around me,” the words came out cold. They cut Ramsay’s face and he delivered the same cold truth to you.

“I told you. You spend too much time mourning the dead. Do you realize who you are now? Who we are? What power we have together?” Ramsay kissed you and you felt the world melt away again. Before you could deepen the kiss, he broke apart from you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. Ramsay held your face in his hands.

“Nothing,” he shook his head. For the first time, you saw his genuine happiness. His face softened and gazed down at you with something more than what your mother gave you. His fingers combed through your hair. He saw nothing else in the world but you. “This world is ours. Yours and mine.”

---

Your coronation was held only hours after the incident. Ramsay watched you walk in complete awe. You had never looked more beautiful in your life. A crown of stag antlers was placed on your head. The Seven Kingdoms was now yours to have and control. You looked sad for the occasion, but when you were alone with the man who helped put you there you smiled.

“My king,” you teased him. Ramsay kissed you deeply once more.

“My queen,” he tenderly said back. The pair of you walked together to a small council meeting to discuss immediate issues. The Sept needed to be handled. Your brother’s funeral was to be planned. The people of the city needed to be addressed.

When Ramsay’s lips touched yours in front of the people of Westeros, he became King Ramsay Bolton, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Both of you had everything you ever wanted now. A crown adorned his head like a halo. Ramsay felt like a god among his new subjects.

While you rested inside taking in the new feeling of being so very much loved, Ramsay pulled Varys and Littlefinger aside. The small council chambers were empty with the exception of the three men. Everyone enjoyed the wedding estivates outside. Ramsay twirled his flaying knife between his fingers.

“Varys, Littlefinger,” King Ramsay began. “Tell me about this girl and her dragons across the sea.”

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#something awful #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #ramsay bolton imagine #imagine ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton x you #ramsay bolton/reader #got #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #got fanfic

[mclennonlover]

IS IT TRUE LOVE?

CHAPTER 1

A/N: omg i’m so proud to show you my creation what i call ‘is it true love’! i really have to thank @39-badgers for giving me the idea of doing this after all! have fun reading this!

pairing: john lennon x fem!timetravel!reader

words: 1,2k+

summary: after a conflict with her parents, YN falls asleep in her room and awakes in 1962. throughout her journey through time, she meets young john lennon and his band ‘the beatles’. for all the years that will come, she’ll have to ask herself one question.

yln - your last name

YN`s POV

Another boring day at college. As usual. But this time, it was different. Not better, but worse. I got detention for nothing, well…because I got distracted.  And I couldn`t even argue with the teacher. Oh well, all I had to do was to write down some rules on how to behave during class. I`d better listen to one of my most favorite bands…The Beatles.

Back at home, Mom and Dad were already angry. „Do you have any idea why you got detention?“, my mother spoke up first. „Because the teacher is an idiot and he said that `I got distracted`!“, I replied harshly and a big argument between me and my parents rose up. „ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS THESE STUPID BUGS!“, my father snapped at me. „Your dad is right, YN! You’re 21 years old already! You should really think about your future!“, Mom supported my dad. I got so angry at them, I snapped. „WHY SHOULD YOU CARE?! SURE, I’M 21 AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT! I DON’T CARE ABOUT STUPID COLLEGE! AND DAD, HOW MANY TIMES I HAVE TOLD YOU, THEY’RE CALLED `THE BEATLES´!“, after I said these words, I stomped all the way to my room and slammed the door shut.

My room. It is decorated with all kinds of Beatles stuff. From posters to drawings of their years working together. Sgt. Pepper’s, Revolver…Magical Mystery Tour…and so on. I fell on my bed and…I sobbed. I started to cry and I kept crying and crying….and I did not know why. After a while, I felt pretty heard and I could swear I have heard a sweet and a bit raspy voice telling me „You need some rest…“ which most likely made my drift off to a peaceful slumber..

______________________

YN`s POV

Something around me feels oddly…familiar. I could hear screams which mostly felt like a crowd of fans screaming. At any moment I could be deaf..whatever. But there I catched it. Out from somewhere, I had heard music playing, a pretty nice and catchy tune. But where have I heard it before? Why does it feel so familiar?

`She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah

She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah

She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…..`

Why can’t I remember this song? What even is this feeling?! And right then and there, I had heard a faint voice calling my name. „YN…? YN. YN!!!“, the voice keeps screaming for my name. Another voice greeted my ears, but I could not immediately recognize it. „Mr. Lennon!“, the other voice said and then…five gunshots were heard. They were so loud, they could have definitely rip my eardrums. And so, I finally got what was happening. I could only scream. Scream as loud as I could. „JOHN!!!“ This name came out of my mouth right after the gunshots.

My eyes opened with such speed, they could not process yet what was to come. My body sat up on the bed, with my eyes slowly adapting to the situation. I realized this was not my room. My eyes studied the walls, which had a red, white and yellow stripe pattern while to the right of the bed stood a bedside drawer and on top of it were standing a small radio box and a bright yellow telephone with a rotary dial, it seemed it`s something out of the 1960’s. „Well, this seems pretty interesting..“, I have thought to myself. As I finally encouraged myself to turn on the radio, a voice blasted through it. „Good morning, Liverpool!Today is 22nd August, 1962! We are currently at 8:30 a.m., so here is our morning programme.“ I decide not to give much attention to the radio, but when I have heard that the year is 1962, I have fallen out of the bed. „1962?! H-How is that possible?This has to be a dream…wait. 22nd August? Liverpool? Today, The Beatles should be performing tonight at the Cavern Club! I have to be there!“, as I said that aloud to myself, I got up properly and decided to get ready for the day. The concert at the Cavern was only at 8 p.m. So, there I am. A 21-year old girl who somehow, under some ‘magical circumstances‘ travelled back in time, to the 1960’s.

__________________________

John’s POV

22nd August 1962.

Dear Diary,

one of the bigger days has finally come. We’re playin‘ at the Cavern. ‘S nuthin‘ new, actually, but it’s live for sum Granada television or somethin‘.  Also, the new guy, his name’s Richard..he not too bad for a drummer. Not the same as Pete, but we’ll see how this lad’ll do. He keeps wearing rings. Maybe I should call ‘im Ringo, eh? Richard ‘Ringo‘ …Starkey? ‘S not right, innit? Maybe call ‘im „Starr“? Jus‘ imagine. Ringo Starr. Sounds nice. …yeh’re the only one I can talk to..about some things..Mimi won’t get me anyway and me mam’s dead and I don’t want to worry the lads, I jus‘ want for them to stay as tha „bad boy“.  He he. Well, Paul’s callin‘ meh to rehearse for the show tonight. Talk to yeh later.                                       ��                                                                                                                                                                                  -John.

Paul’s POV

John often gets stuck in his own world called ‘his diary‘. Just always wearing those thick-framed Buddy Holly styled glasses. As long somebody sees him wearing them, he immediately takes them off. „I’m not wearing them in public, feeling too embarrassed..“, that’s what he would always say. Let’s see how you’ll feel embarrassed if you would see someone charming in the audience..

_______________________

YN’s POV

Once I got outside after closing the door to apparently my own house now, I started to think about if it’s all real or just a big dream. „Why would I scream for John? Why was he screaming my name? Did he know me? Why did that song feel so familiar yet so strange?“, so many questions were running through my head, I wasn’t even noticing where I was walking and so I suddenly have stopped walking as I fell on my bottom. I have realized I bumped into somebody. „O-Oh, I’m very s-sorry!“, I had said quickly, not even looking at the person. „‘S alrigh‘, luv. I can get used to it sometimes.“, the person next to me replied with a sweet and raspy voice. I swear I know it, which also made think to myself: „John..i-it’s you! You’re so young…“ As he got up, he lends a hand. „Need help? Ye won’t look god if you’ll stay like this.“, he asks politely. I took his offer and he helped me getting up. Hes’s actually known for being the „bad guy“ in his youth, but I have never ever seen or heard about him being so kind. „I-I…suppose you’re John, right?“, I asked shyly as I wiped off the dust and dirt from my clothes.

„Well, yeh’re right, luv. And who’re yeh?“, he had asked me in his scouse accent. „I’m..YN. YN YLN.“, I reply. Before our conversation could really start, a voice called for John. „JOHN! Where are yeh, yeh liverpudlian bastard?!“, I could definitely recognize it was Paul’s voice.  „Well, I have to go now. Or else somebody’ll have me head. Goodbye, YN!“, and with that, John rushed off in Paul’s direction. „Bye, John…“, that was the last thing I could say before John was gone. He’s probably thinking I don’t know him. Oh god…what have I gotten myself into? I just talked to John Lennon himself.

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#is it true love #fanfic #john lennon x reader #the beatles

[noroger]

We can work it out

John Lennon x Reader x Roger Taylor

Summary: Both John and the reader finally confess the loving feelings they have for Roger.

You and John had been married for 2 years now. However only the close family and friends to John knew who you were. He didn’t want the press to start bugging you or hateful comments to be said to you. He didn’t want to ruin your life in that way so you both agreed to keep it quiet.

John made sure to make out to the world that he was some sort of laddies man, a rockstar who always had one night stands or short flings. He had to make it seem like he would never be the one you’d expect to see settling down with a woman anytime soon.

It did bother you at first when you’d seen news aricles claming John was seen with a new one night stand but as time went on you trusted John, you knew he loved you that’s why he married you, that’s why he wants to keep you safe.

You and John were invited to a small party Freddie had thrown, he only invited a few people. John had asked who was invited and concluded that it was safe for you to join him there.

That’s when you guys met Roger.

John had disappeared to the balcony outside to have a smoke, he saw Roger sitting down on one of the couple of seats outside and greeted him.

John didn’t ever have suspicions that he was gay or bisexual. He never felt attracted sexually or romantically to another man, that’s why he happily married his wife.

But when he saw Roger for the first time his heart throbbed with adoration, like the first him he had seen his wife. He felt so wrong for feeling the same way for someone who wasn’t you. He felt so confused and he wanted to hate it but he liked it at the same time so he let the feeling absorb him.

Roger felt the exact same way, not having any suspicions he liked the same gender. He didn’t really know what it was like to even feel such a deep connection to someone as he was also known as a man of many one night stand and flings but the only difference between John and Roger was that John didn’t actually live in that imagine and Roger did.

Roger almost jumped off the balcony right there and then when he saw you step out. His heart was doing the same thing as when he had first seen John.

“Hi Roger” your soft voice called out to him and John pulled you down into his lap.

Roger stole glances at the two of you as you spoke to one another. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or something but he felt lust cloud over him as he saw you on Johns lap.

The tight dress you wore that showed your cleavage and your short dress ridding up past you thigh as you sat on Johns knee. Johns half unbutton shirt exposing his chest and his messy hair.

Roger felt his pants tighten at the thought of you guys. He felt so wrong for it. You guys were a married couple.

Nothing happened that night. You and John left the party feeling buzzed off the alcohol and Roger stayed the night at Freddie’s.

However the encounters kept happening amongst you three, being at the same studio, small parties Freddie had or sometimes in private restaurants.

You guys got so close you even invited him over for dinners between the three of you which you cooked for him.

You all felt so confused and hurt at the same time. It was so wrong.

You felt feelings towards another man when you had a husband who you loved deeply. Sometimes when John was out at the studio you would cry. You knew you had to talk to John about it but you didn’t know what would happen to your relationship.

That night John came home to your crying and immediately was by your side, you couldn’t hold it in anymore and told of your feelings towards Roger.

You felt his heart sink and he let go of your hand as he couldn’t make eye contact with you.

“John!” you cried out as you knew he was going to get up at leave, ask for a divorce and tell you that you were disgusting for liking another man but he didn’t.

He let out a laugh of disbelief “Fuck” he shook his head as he kept a small sarcastic smile on face.

“I’m so sorry John”

He shook his head again and turned to face you “I feel the same way towards him” he looked into your eyes.

“Fuck indeed” you spoke which made him chuckle as he rubbed his temple.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at us, it’s the same way we look at each other” John spoke but paused to imagine the look on Rogers face. “That first night on the balcony it was lust, at the studio it was love, i know he feels the same way”

“What do we do?” you softly spoke “we are a married couple who both share the same feelings for the same man-“ you cut yourself off from talking as a confused though pulled at you face.

“Your gay?” you whispered with wide eyes at John which made him instantly whip his head around to look at you.

He furiously shook his head “No my love, i love you so much... i think im bisexual” he rushed out not wanting you to think that he had been lying to you for the past 5 years. “I would never lead you on like that baby”

“This is so fucked up” you groaned as you placed you head in your hands.

“We can work it out, no matter what happens i will not loose you!, your the love of my life” John sternly spoke as he placed a comforting hand on your back as he too felt tears in his eyes. “i love you”

“I love you too John” you kissed his lips softly.

You both sat in silence as you both layed down on the couch, your head on Johns chest as he lightly stroked your hair. Both of you in deep thought.

You guys spoke back and fourth about your opinions and finally concluded what you would do.

“Should we call him then?” you whispered hesitantly.

“I suppose we should” he hummed as you looked up at him.

You both stood up and slowly made you way over to the red receiver on your wall, Johns hands shook as he entered his number. Both of your hearts racing at the deep rings shouted out.

“Hello?” his voice sounded through the phone, John looked at you with eyes that gave a look of need conformation which you softly nodded.

“Roger, it’s John”

“Is everything okay?” his confused voice spoke as he wondered why you were calling.

“I think we need to have a chat, come over” Roger felt his heart drop into his ass, and he swallowed at Johns stern voice.

“Okay!” he nodded as slammed the phone back into its place and grabbing his car keys.

He felt anxiety rise in his body as he thought of the worst, maybe John had caught on about Rogers feelings towards his wife and wanted to put him in his place. Maybe John had caught on to Rogers feelings about him and wanted to tell him how disgusting he was.

He pulled up into the drive through of the familiar house and took a deep breath as he made his was up to the door.

He softly tapped the door with his knuckles and it opened immediately, there stood both you and John with worried expressions on your faces.

Once Roger was settled on the couch sitting opposite the both of yours.

“Roger i’ve noticed the way you look at my wife and i” Roger almost past out at the soft but stern look on Johns face, his gaze flickered from yours to Johns, trying to figure out if you guys were just messing with him.

“Well i-i” Roger didn’t even know what to say.

“I’m sorry!, i... well i um, i guess i do feel a strong feeling for the both of you guys, i know it’s so wrong and it’s so confusing.” he furrowed his eyebrows together. “i understand if you guys don’t want me around anymore but when i’m around you guys my heart just goes wild and i have butterfly’s in my stomach-“

“Roger it’s okay” you softly laughed as you reched over to soothingly grab his hand.

“We both feel the same way” John said which made Rogers breath hitch in this throughly from shock and disbelief.

“What?”

“We spoke about it earlier, we both like you too, it’s so weird because we are a married couple, i never thought i ever liked men but when i saw you it all changed” John spoke as Roger nodded.

“We thought that if you wanted to try... well we know your not into relationships or anything but we’d love it if your try with us” You softly spoke to Rogers shocked eyes.

“All three of us?, in a relationship?” he breathed out as he looked from you to John quickly.

You both nodded, both of you had soft loving smiles on you face which made Rogers heart fill with hope.

“I would love to but i don’t want to introduce on your marriage” he sadly said as he pouted.

“We’ve never been so sure in our lives, we want you to become apart of his marriage with us” you reached your hand to softly touch his face which he leaned into.

“I’ve never been in a committed relationship before” he confessed looking down shamefully.

“It’s okay, we can help, we will take it slow” you spoke taking his hand in yours which he brought up to his lips to kiss.

“Okay” he smiled at John which he returned.

Roger leaned over and brought his lips to Johns which made both boys sigh in relief as they finally let the loving gesture absorb the both of them making you grin out in happiness.

You let them enjoy this moment together as this was the first kiss they had ever shared with the same gender that they didn’t even know they liked until a couple months ago.

Now Roger was finally both yours the only tough part now was continuing to keep you a secret from the press with both of them being famous and keeping Roger and Johns side of the relationship out of the press too.

Roger and John pulled away and Roger leaned in to kiss you too, it felt amazing, finally not being forced to hold back your feelings anymore.

John pulled you guys into his arms for a hug, kissing both of your heads, “We can work it out” he sighed as he breathed the feeling of you guys in.

#queen x reader #roger taylor x reader #queen imagines #the beatles imagine #the beatles x reader #john lennon imagine #john lennon x reader

[fisherfurbearer]

jobs are never worth your entire well being :( please take care of yourself and leave and tell someone how you’re feeling. fuck walmart.

its just...it hurts so much man. i really LIKE my job as awful as it can be sometimes. i was so PROUD of myself this month, too, i went 20 days without having to use my accommodation (only had to leave early ONCE from a break down regarding the changing my availability disaster) and i even made it working 6 days in a row with weird leave-at-8:30 pm-come-in-7 am shifts...i made so many people happy, i prevented SO Much stupid theft, literally HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS just this month, i was doing SO SO GOOD, thenn i just...really crashed after seeing how poorly Jessie’s Oma is doing and how much it breaks my heart to see his Opa so...so worn down and i just. got a lot of really dark sad thoughts and it really drained on me and then i had a trigger that happened sunday when i already wasnt doing too great and i ended up Crashing and staying home, figured I’d just tstay home, feel better, go to work the next day, but then i did that stupid thing and was so awful i LITERALLY COULDNT LEAVE BED, i almost passed out, but i still tried my best to go in today and fix everything and it was SO GOOD but then i.....i fumble ONCE. i cry a LITTLE BIT and then its apparantly the end of the world. ii hate it so much. she doesnt respect the ADA, she doesnt respect anyone with disabilities, and she treats me like shit. not “are you ok?” but “dont come in if you’re going to be stressed” after IGNORING ME ALL DAY and giving me my lunch SEVERAL HOURS LATE and getting me LOCKED OUT and then BLAMING ME when i break down after not getting my last break at all and being put on register (which they NOW is hard for me!!) and dd literally all the other CSMS know, we have a little rule set up, that i can go and get someone, cool down, and go back on register because they KNOW all i need is like 2-5 minutes to cool down and im FINE, Im one of the BEST People up front, i do succh a great jjob, im so proud of myyselff

and then to be told i shouldnt even come in, to be berated for CRYING over the immense stress ive been through these past few years (being disowned, not seeing my brother for 4 years, not being able to go back to college, the housefire, the car accident, losing mr jinx, general mental garbage, nearly killing myself a couple tijmes...) afterr getting throguh all of that and doing a LOT better this month...to crash ONCE and be toldd...all of that??

man i just. i dont know. i shouldnt have to quit over one shitty person. especially when all the CSMS **THAT ACTUALLY DO THEIR JOB AND FUCKING MATTER** know whats up adn give a shit about me and know how hard i work but...shes the Bigger Boss and ill have to see her every day and i cant deal with this treatment i cant fucking do it

but now i wont be able to make Money and i jjst..i dont koww...i really want to tell somoene i told CSM P about it before i left,, she knows now, but i doubt anythings going to hapen. i have off the next two days so i cant talk to anyone until friday. i can try going in on thursday maybe in the afternoon adn try to talk to someone but im worried. what do i say. what do i do if they berate me. shouldd i just quit? i dontt know. im scared and i dont know what to do.

i just wanted to get to next year so i could start raising more bugs (black soldier fly! honeybees!! wood roaches!!) and redo our gardens and maybe do some fishing and start my Big Plans (i have such big plans, its incredible, its going to change so much and ill be able to make a little difference and make people happy and get started doing my Big Plans...) and i thoguht id be able to make money doing that and i jjst. instead now im just. lost and everything hurts and im still crying and my eyes hurt and i dont. know. what. to. do. and with my kind of anxiety/mania all i can think about is how bad it is, and i need it fixed NOW but now my christmas is ruined because of UNSHAKEABLE ANXIETY and it feels like my heart is bieng CRUSHED and its just. not ok. its really just not ok.

[qween-of-air-and-darkness]

Im having serious baby carstairs feelings right now and I can't help thinking about all her extended family and how the react to her and her twin.

Like theres mum and dad, who worship her. Jem never thought he would live to the point of getting married and then once he became a silent brother he lost all hope he had left and now he has this little girl who is very much a daddys girl and she is a real blessing to him and he spoils her so much. And Tessa is equally as in awe of her but has to be the slightly sterner parent because otherwise she could get away with anything.

Kits obsessed with her, in the beginning he was unsure but now shes the little sister hes always wanted and he spoils her and takes her to mundane things like carnivals and stuff. Hes so gentle with her when shes a baby and is so overprotective but hes also the cool older brother (he thinks). She loves him and often wakes up crying for him. Jessa loves how well they get along and how ready Kit always is to drop everything to do something for her.

Will's ghost is there constantly. I headcannon that she doesnt cry much because she always can sense Will there comforting her and singing her whelsh lullabies help

And Jessa tell her bedtime stories about James and Lucie and Cordelia and all their adventures. And about Will and all their time together. Sometimes she likes to imagine what it would be like if James and Lucie were alive and her older brother and sister now.

Emma rocks up at random times sometimes with Julian and sometimes without and plays with the baby. She calls herself aunty emma to the baby and buys her lots of toy weapons. Emmas really impatient for the days when she can help train the baby. Baby is used to Kits sense of humor and finds Emma harious. Julian is really good with kids so of course she loves him but she just calls him Jules. When baby called Emma "enty memma" for the firs time she cried.

Jace is still confused with his relation to the baby i know there isnt really one shut up but he also pops around at random times to see how Kits training is going and play with the baby. Jessa are prepared for him though because Clary calls to let them know and goes with them. Shes a bit awkward around them but baby loves pulling at her red curls and when shes a bit older Clary loves sitting with her while she draws.

Magnus and Alec stop by regularly with Max and Rafe and often Tavvy for playdates. Magnus, Jem and Tessa gossip and reminisce over old times while Alec listens and watches the kids. Uncle Magnus always creates blue sparks and shapes to entertain her and she loves it and keeps giggling and saying more. Uncle Alec has had to pry his bow out of her hands on many occasions and she likes sitting on his lap and listening to shadowhunter stories.

Izzy and Simon came with clary and jace once to be polite and see wgat all the fuss was about. Simon mostly geeked out with Kit and watched from afar but Izzy. She doesnt consider herself one to melt around babies except maybe her nephews but baby carstairs runs straight up to her and takes an instant liking to her. Which is weird for izzy because thats never really happened. So of course Izzy has no choice but to give in and let her sit and watch her necklace in awe. Seriously baby carstairs is obsessed with watching the red necklace especially on the few occasions that it glows.

The only Blackthorns who really visit besides Emma and Jules are Tavvy who comes to play and Ty who comes to see Kit sometimes theyre gonna make up ok . Baby Carstairs took an interest in Ty especially as she got a bit older and he would show her different bugs and tell her about them while Kit watched and smiled.

Catarina came over sometimes when Tessa was pregnant just to sit with her and talk. It ended up becoming a routine which continued even after baby was born. Speaking of, Baby loves Catarina. Shes kinda like an aunt or godmother figure and baby carstairs loves watching her use magic and her blue skin which reminds her of max. Sometimes Catarina just comes to tell her stories about idiotic shadowhunters shes put up with.

When Baby begins her training its a full out custody battle between Emma, Jace and Alec even though Jem is the main one training her. Alec teaches her to use a bow and jace and Emma work together to familiarise her with shadowhunter weaons. Izzy comes with Alec sometimes and shows her how to use a whip. Shes mostly good with a sword but she loves using Jems old staff. She likes to run her fingers over the letters W.H and imagine hes there. Tessa helps her embrace whatever power she gets from her and how to use it. Magnus and Catarina are there often to help. Clary and Julian help her with the more artistic stuff, deciding that theres already ebough people training her. Kit enjoys being a more mundane older brother and hes still learning everything himself so he trains with her when he needs to train and helps her out but otherwise he avoids it. Too painful.

Jessa decide that they want to raise her to be able to fight demons if she needs to but not to be a shadowhunter so much. They try keep her and themselves out of all the drama of the clave but it can be hard. When Emma and Julian get married Emma becomes a Blackthorn and althoguh jem assures her she could keep the sword because she is still a Carstairs at heart, she decidea instead to pass it down to Baby carstairs. She loves the sword and it becomes her main weapon although often changed out for Jem's staff which he gives her once shes a bit older and hes retired from shadowhunting he would want to give it all up and just live his life as a normal person with his beautiful wife and kids fight me on this.

So if anyone hurst her theyll have her, whos been trained by some of the most famour shadowhunters and warlocks and who is 1/4 demon+her protective older brother+her immortal half demon mum and her 150 year old shadowhunter dad+the whole carstairs family+half the lightwoods+half a dozen warlocks+a handful of herondales+some blackthorns to answer too.

#tsc #im sorry this is so long i just kept going and thinking of more #baby carstairs #hcs #idk

[weaponsspecialist-blog1]

Journal #1

I use to be that girl, that girl that people talked behind her back. I tried to commit suicide back in Junior High. I knew the perfect way to go, i had seen it on anime, I was sure that I would get the reaction that I wanted. Standing there in front of my mom, between the kitchen doors. A knife in my hand. Tears pooling down my cheeks, Brave and courage surging through me. I pressed hard enough that a regular steak knife, actually did a cut. Blood seeping out, I wanted my mom to feel my pain. But she didnt, she looked at me, and walked around me, as if i didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything to her,as if her daughter she raised so hard to be good at something wasn't trying to hurt herself. She continued to cook, and pretend i wasn't there. She told my brother, and he called to scream at me, only one who cared was my dad. He came home so fast, and only one who could calm me down. Only one who cared.After that, I tried so many times..Suicide always on my mind. Suicide on the verge. Arguments and fights always bringing me back to that moment. No matter, what happened, No matter, how many times they tried to make me happy, Suicide was in the back of my mind. Always there. Always foreshadowing me. It followed me, kids at school learned I had tried to commit suicide...My eyes could not look up, but my hearing was really good. I heard their words...weak. Coward.I smiled every day. I laughed every day. Put on a fake smile, Put on fake face. Leave the people guessing. I graduated High school, Falling in love with someone who would not love me back. I was Raped in High school...I was broken. But that wasn't an excuse was it..no one wants to be friends with the freak. I was part of groups of people, who said they were my friends...invited me to groups. But I was alone. I could watch my life through my eyes, and not a single person, really knew me. Really spoke to me. I was just another person.I've tried to kill myself so many times.. always grabbing knives and pressing them to my throat. Enough to feel the pain and watch blood pool. I've cut myself, I've hurt myself. Pain, since I was a child...all the way since third grade...was cutting herself..hurting herself. I was alone...and no matter how many times I tried to be a different person, I came back to the same solution. Wouldn't it be better without me? Wouldn't life be the same? I've wanted to die so many times. I want to leave, just wake up one day and leave, no one will ever find me. No one will ever care. They wont find me. They cant.How derange do you have to be, to drive around, and see how many times you kill yourself? Crash into that pole? Crash into a Lake? How fast can I go to kill myself on impact? Suffocate myself? Cut my wrists and watch the blood pool? Hurt myself enough to not care. Hurt myself to let it all vanish. I just want to disappear. No matter how much I laugh. No matter how Much I smile, No matter how much I talk about my future?...Suicide never leaves you. Its there with you every day. It's like Air, It's always around you, and sometimes, it's so bad, that I have, to walk to the kitchen, and grab that knife, and Just press hard enough to my throat..Let me tell you a secret..When he sleeps, there's times I sneak into the kitchen and press their knives to my throat. I still do it. I will always do it. Theres days I am dreaming. Im giving my heart to someone, Someone who could break it, and Im giving it freely. Why is it that only Depressed kids know true friendship? ...There's days I cry for silly things...bugs, Friends making fun of me...siblings scolding me. Not talking to my boyfriend for a day. Or when i remember about the dark past of my life. What I did back then, What I tried to do, how hard i TRIED to love someone, and only to be left in the dark.I lied...I lied. I told my friends, it takes a lot to make me cry. Its not true, i cry a lot. For small reasons. Back in high school, I never cried. i was just empty. A shell. Even when i laid in my own pool of blood, no crying for me..just thoughts about how can I hurt myself if I do survive?Everyone thinks I am a selfish lazy person, who doesn't do anything, who can't work, who screams at bugs, and who just fails at everything. I get threaten by small things, I see things that shouldnt be, and in the end, I only think to myself...God, How much i wanna die. I talk about suicide like its nothing, Like its a Joke But its not Joke. I beg God every night, don't let me wake up. I hate my life. Suicide is something that never leaves your side, Death is always beckoning. I just don't want to be alive, its that simple. I don't care for hugs, for kisses, for love. I don't care for sweet words, i don't WANT anything..I smile today, and say, hey maybe for once, Just once, I can be selfish. After all, I am just Dying to see the other side of this life.No matter how many support, how many friends..how many family. Suicide is there. and I am a coward because I don't want to be alive. Everyone jokes...they joke about killing themselves. How many can you say, your serious? Would you leave your love ones to go jump off a bridge right now? I would. Find me a bridge high enough, that will kill me. I'd do it. No one could stop me. Not one soul. Not even Him. Depressed kids all around the world, they will be your best friends, they will smile the brightest. But they all will always be thinking the same thing.Suicide. No more depression. Just Suicide. No more Pain. Suicide. So tell me, when was the last time, you tried to commit suicide? Let me help you. I'll join you.

#Suicide #Journal #Depression #Rape #Tiredoflife #Dontalktome