#she kept going back to the $$$$ shit and getting outraged at the prices

[strohller27]

.

#so I stayed late after work and completely reorganised the back room #my boss was like ‘you can just go through one box at a time and write down everything in it on a piece of paper!’ #but like. the boxes were full of a whole bunch of different sweaters in a whole bunch of different colours #and nothing was folded. and we didn’t know what sizes we had #and we DON’T HAVE A FUCKING INVENTORY and it is driving me absolutely positively CRACKERS #so I put on some loud music and organised all the sweaters in the back room by brand style and colour #i basically went autism beast all over that damn back room #and I even got the down jackets out because they’re not on the stupid floor yet #because the back room was so full of shit before I got my little autistic paws all over it that we couldn’t even fucken MOVE in there #so now we can. and I hope my manager is happy with my work. #our boss could probably care less but she doesn’t realise how much she doesn’t deserve me #my coworker deserves me tho. she deserves the world. she should get everything she wants #anyways I had to rant about it. #I’ve been overwhelmed by the amount of shit in the back room for three days straight and I said FUCK that #and this was after a fucken weird day where there was this lady complaining about our pint glasses costing $25 #and I think she was trying to make me give her a deal on something because #she kept going back to the $$$$ shit and getting outraged at the prices #and after a few rounds of that she said jokingly ‘i might start spitting at you in a moment’ #and like. I know she was joking. but that pissed me the fuck off. do not joke that you’re gonna spit at me #if you do that you don’t get to buy anything you fucking asshole you get security called on you #anyways today was fucken bonkers how was your day?

[maniacmcgee]

Butch lesbian representation doesn’t exist.

I used to volunteer for a summer camp that taught kids music. Supposed to be feminist. The main focus was supposed to be teaching kids female rights and all that jazz, because music is so male dominated. I tried to be the representation I never saw or had. Because it’s alright to be a masculine woman, it’s normal and natural.

All of my other teachers and peers kept shoving the whole woke gendie ideologies down the kids throats. Pronoun pins and allowing men to speak for women. The whole ‘if you liked trucks instead of Barbie’s as a kid you might be a dude!’ BS. Individuals would derail any meaningful conversation into neoliberal garbage. Anyways.

They eventually made selfish decisions and wouldn’t take into account that me and my fiancé worked for a living (they all lived off of loans and were rich or god knows what) so we couldn’t continue assisting. They would assign us to things we couldn’t do due to working 40+ hours a week,yet would give remote tasks to those who worked far less than us, or didn’t work at all. So we left. We had no choice. We couldn’t afford it. There was no time.

But it was a non profit and it was corrupted as hell. The person in charge wanted to be the head of the ‘POC caucus’ on the basis that their grandpa was Italian when it wasn’t okay to be Italian (a white, rich business and property owning woman who got her businesses from her father as a gift.) There was only about five POC btw because this state is super white. What a joke. They actually kicked the chapters founder out for being too emotional (she was super shit with the funding also so she wasn’t innocent) but that’s a whole other story.

But all and all it got tainted. It wasn’t about feminism or music anymore. It was about l making money. We had grands supposed to go to inner metro children. It was spent on the richest kids who’s parents donate but didn’t want to pay the outrages price for the camp. The price was raised by 600 dollars just in a few years.

I grew up as a camper myself I mean. I looked up to these people, only to find that they were full of shit. It just makes me mad that something that was meant to be progressive for twisted into the same neo liberal greed fueled bullshit.

And back to my original point, any GNC that I taught with or was a peer of mine became trans or non binary. Because embracing womanhood or whatever wasn’t an option because they play into gender stereotypes. They started taking steroids to grow little specks of shitty facial hair or whatever. They cut off their tits. They venomously denied any identity attached to women. I saw the only GNC women that were involved distance themselves, just like I had if they didn’t troon out.

Sometimes i want to return because it was a big part of my life and I was proud of it. But it’s not the same as it was. And I feel bad for not being there sometimes. To maybe be the representation I got so little of as a kid for another growing soul. But things got so twisted. I couldn’t afford it anyways.

Now the only GNC representation those kids get is fuckin delusional women on steroids. Still absolutely playing into patriarchy. It’s just crazy how much shit can change in ten years.

#maniac rambling #im totally drunk ranting #sorry #gender criticism #radfem #gnc

[tezzbot]

can we ask what the rebellion au is about? :U im very curious abt it

u can have this smile

jk lol This is gonna be a long one and im just copy pasting it from a group chat so sorry if anything repeats or its clunky and messy in places :P

okay SO

evil queen celestia for this one, rules with an iron hoof, super corrupt and all that ponies in like the upper class mostly those who live in cities are clueless to this like ahhh our beloved majestic queen can do no wrong she is so loving and poggers<333 while regular on the street lower class ponies are struggling to live theyre being like run dry but no one really has any power at all to do anything about it. no one but princess luna. luna had spent her whole life looking up to her sister in the same way the upper class citizens have but one day her eyes were opened to the squalor and shit that ponies outside of those spheres had to endure and she was outraged. she tried to talk to celestia about it convince her to do something, to Change something! help the poor ponies who were suffering below! but celestia shut her down quickly. so luna, faced with no other choice, began to sneak out under the cover of her dark nights, get to know the common folk, and eventually begin to light the spark of rebellion within them. eventually gaining enough support cobbling together a sort of army of her own and with her at the head a war starts between celestia and luna

flash forward however many years maybe hundreds idk i haven't decided lol maybe like however many moons bc moons are ambiguous lol, but throughout equestria its become unsafe to just Live bc. uknow. theres a fuckin war on. the ponies that live in richer areas are safer, places like canterlot and manehattan are still under celestia's rule and are 'protected' and 'kept safe' under her while everywhere else is dangerous to be, these heavily fortified places are Rife with anti-luna propaganda, to the point where shes only known as nightmare moon and they believe The Princess Was Stolen From Us By A Curse Or Whatever That Turned Her Into A Beast!!! lol

celestia has made life miserable for towns and lower class areas, the places are patrolled by her soldiers and Anyone who shows even a glint of disliking the queen theyre punished or hauled off to jail so luna's ranks wont continue to grow

to combat this, hidden villages im calling 'forts' start popping up where ponies can go to hide and live in relative freedom, places where ponies can be recruited into luna's ranks, or sent back to if theyre wounded and unable to keep up the fight

the mane 6 (except twilight) live in the Sweet Apple Fort, founded by the apple family hidden just on the edge of the everfree forest, its set up right by where ponyville would be, applejack and big mac run the place, dash is the head of the guard, pinkie works under her as one of the scouts to keep eyes on perimeter, fluttershy and rarity work in the infirmary, rarity as a surgeon and fluttershy as a nurse, they take in anyone whos running from celestias forces (ive also for some reason got it in my head thats theres an illness running rampant and fluttershy along w the other nurses are overworked from having to take care of any ponies that catch it while also working for a cure, zecora is the head nurse of sweet apple) also trixie and flim and flam are wandering traders they all know the routes of where all the forts are, they trade goods and also information from place to place, for the right price of course..

twilight at the start of the au lives in fortified canterlot with her parents and spike, shes studying in the hopes to become a high ranking scholar under the queen, and celestia definitely keeps her eye on twilights work/progress

the main base of luna's operation is cloudsdale, a lot of the pegasi fled and left the place pretty much abandoned when the war began, but luna managed to take it over right from under her sisters nose and a lot of pegasi returned to help with the rebellion effort, parts of it have been magically altered to allow non winged ponies to get around the important areas up there (uknow like the runway on the race track in the time travel episode that spike was able to stand on its that lol) many pegasi stayed on the ground to keep supporting the forts that took them in though, hence why dash is still on the ground lol

the crystal empire has been completely cut off from the rest of equestria, the amount of refugees fleeing there to escape the war was getting too much for the kingdom to handle so empress cadence reluctantly was forced to shut it off (but dw her and shining do end up together in a side plot me and a friend hav just come up with >:])

because luna and celestia raise the sun and moon, luna has taken to using having the moon out as a sort of like? calling card i guess? that the rebellion is like on the rise like a We're Winning Kind Of!!! thing to let all of equestria know but celestia twists the meaning of it and uses it against her, like i said the cities are Full of anti-luna propaganda and because when luna is winning she makes it night/brings the moon out, celestia tells her citizens that luna wants to bring about an endless night, and thats sort of how the nightmare moon image comes about

the scenario in my head for the first "scene" i guess goes smth like twilight and spike are out late like at a market and theres a security breach, since canterlot is fortified any unauthorised entry causes the city to go into a tiered lockdown so say the exterior wall is breached, theres like 2 layers of walls and the castle that get shut down, and the market that twilights in is p much on the furthest exterior section so she ends up getting shut out and shes like !!!! UHHH!!! but just as shes like LET ME IN PLEASE PLEASE PLE and sees a form overhead, she sees wings, she sees a horn, what alicorn would need to be sneaking around.. oh shit. thats Nightmare Moon. they make Sudden eye contact and twilight and spike are like AAAAA and BOLT in the opposite direction Away from and out of canterlot

from there i think twilight thinks canterlot is under attack so shes like aw fuck i dont think we can go back there for now lets try and make our way to manehattan but they get completely turned around and end up in the everfree where theyre found by a sweet apple scout(pinkie) and brought back to the fort

if youve made it this far thank u sm have some image lol

twilights discovered in rhe everfree by pinkie, i think i might give her a necklace or smth that shows shes like. allied with the queen?? and pinkies like uhhhmmm okay come with me ^_^ and twilights taken to the fort and straight to rd and shes like i dont have Time for every random pony who wanders in pinkie! and pp is like mm. Looks at the sun thing and dash is like. oh. hm.. come with me... and takes her to aj and aj is like well hi what can i do ya for stranger :) and dash is like uhh boss... Looks at the sun thing and aj is like oh. and twilights like Can Somepony Please Tell Me Whats Going On Im Very Tired My Leg Is In Pain (she broke it lol) and Im Very Far Away From Home Please Please Pl and aj is like. Okay. (thank god she doesnt know what/where this is) UHHH Dash! can you take our guest to the infirmary get her leg looked at and give her and her. uh. lizard? a place to lay down for a while <:) n dash is like. for real? and aj whispers (just until i figure out what to do with her....) n dash is like okay Fine

twilights stuck at the fort for a while cus she broke her leg in the everfree like a dumbass and has to heal so she has to just sit there like haha im surrounded by nightmare moons forces Thats Fun but then realises that. none of these ponies r under an evil spell or anything theyre all just trying to survive.. :( and then she meets luna and shits it a bit until luna is like... wait i recognise you... and she apologises for scaring her and spike and getting her into this mess etc and twilights like oh. this is. shes just a pony and nightmare moon really is just a lie made up by big celestia lol

twi at first once that scene up top happens is like bro we Have to leave and spike is like. your leg is BROKEN we're staying here until its fixed and.. idk these ponies dont Seem to be under any spell... n eventually twilights like FINE fine but as Soon as my legs fixed we are getting directions to manehattan and fucking Right Off but then yeah eventually shes like oh okay being here is fine actually fuck celestia

aaanndd i Think thats all i have so far?

NO WAIT THE CMCS

because aj and big mac run the whole operation they probably go into protection overdrive over applebloom but since shes like entering her teen years its getting harder and harder to keep her safe bc she just wants more independence but they r so scared of losing her :( but she just thinks theyre treating her like a baby and that they dont trust her with anything so she keeps sneaking out and around to try and help out so she feels useful theres a whole big dramatic thing about it where her and aj are yelling at each other and its like "I AINT NO MORE IMPORTANT THAN ANYPONY ELSE IN THIS FORT!!" "WELL YA ARE TO US OKAY?" kinda soap opera bullshit uknow you knooow

anyway its on one of appleblooms little outings that she finds and brings in Scootaloo who was wandering all alone, once shes in the fort they found out she was actually really good at figuring out ways of fixing things so they let her be just a full mechanic around the place (applebloom is mad about it lol but theyre still besties <3) whenever scoot has downtime she goes and talks dash's ear off and in this au dash is kind of a hardass bc shes head of the guard in the fort n stuff but w enough chat annoyance eventually becomes endearment Eventually and they do become sister figures :]

dearest sweetie belle... shes kinda fucked in the head lmaoo, bc rarity is a surgeon and she doesnt like to leave her side she basically grew up surrounded by like. ponies that have been Through Shit and she just is around gruesome stuff All the time so shes a bit kooky but shes entertaining for the injured soldiers n stuff

this basically sums her up lol

also aj and dash are married Get mad about itt lol

if you read all that im Kissing you on the mouth thank you so much lol, im drawing more stuff for this au as we speak so, keep an eye out for that :P

#mlp #mlp au #rebellion au #mlp twilight sparkle #mlp applejack #mlp rainbow dash #mlp pinkie pie #mlp rarity #mlp fluttershy #mydoodles #prays that this post doesnt fuck up praaayys so hard and good

[nhlandotherimagines]

I Want -Matthew Tkachuk

@natbarzal @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @jonnytoews19 

I’m so sorry this is sooo late I’ve been super busy lately! I also feel like in an attempt to make this one really good for my boy Matty, I ended up totally overwriting it??

Anyway I hope it’s not too bad! Here we go with blurb number 9 of the Up All Night series! There is some strong language and some angst in here for sure, so fair warning!

Give you this, give you that, blow a kiss, take it back. If I looked inside your brain. I would find lots of things, clothes, shoes, diamond rings. Stuff that's driving me insane!

Matthew wasn’t one to use Instagram much. Sure he posted sometimes and kept up with his teammates and family, but he wasn’t one to read too much into what others posted. That is until he started dating you.

The two of you haven’t been together very long, and you are certainly far from Instagram official, so why was Matthew currently scrolling through your Instagram almost obsessively? Honestly, even he wasn’t sure. Though as he scrolls past each photo, slowly creeping farther into your past, he begins to notice a trend. Every photo staged to perfection, makeup done, hair done, and somewhere in each photo is at least one designer item. A handbag, watches, shoes, sunglasses, even one with a sports cars. Name any big brand, and Matthew is sure he could find it in a picture on your page.

Not a single photo was of you looking like the real you. None contained any of your family and friends. A couple photos included boys who evidently had money, who Matthew was left to assume were boyfriends. It was in that moment a switch flipped for him.

For the next few weeks Matthew chooses to say nothing about it, instead he watches you. Watches how different you are depending who is around. Nights in Matthews apartment included sweat pants, hoodies and takeout. Nights out with the teammates and their wives means hours of getting ready. Over the top outfits, heels that Matthew is sure will break your neck, and way too much makeup for his liking, but again Matthew says nothing and lets you do your thing.

Tonight though Matthew decided it was time the two of you went out on a date. Like actually go out. Until now he had wanted to keep things more private and intimate, so you wouldn’t be subjected to the media and fans. Tonight, is a big step for your relationship in Matthew’s mind.

You could be preoccupied, different date, every night, you just got to say the word.

“Wow! Matty this place is so fancy!” You gushed as he led you to the table, his big hand low on your back. Classical music was playing so softly you could hardly hear it over the voices and utensils clanging. A beautiful chandelier is hung just inside the entrance, the lights are dimmed slightly making the candles on each table that much more romantic. This place is perfect.

Matthew just smiles at you in agreement as he pulls out your chair for you. Your cheeks heat up slightly as you take your seat. Matthew takes the seat across from you, quietly thanking the hostess as she sets the menus in front of you both. You take a moment to once again admire your surroundings. “It’s beautiful!” You mutter breathlessly, more to yourself than anyone in particular.

“Yeah.” Matthew sighs in content. When you look back to him you realize he’s looking at you with a grin on his face. Embarrassed by his gaze, you drop your head and begin scanning the menu. Just as you expected, the prices are absolutely outrageous.

When the waiter comes, he looks at you expectantly, and politely asks you what you’d like to order. You order some chicken based dish you have never heard of, and the waiter jots it down. Matthew orders a bottle of your favourite wine, and a pasta dish for himself, handing over both menus to the waiter. As the waiter turns to leave he sends you a wink, informing you he’d be back momentarily with your wine.

Matthew chuckles at you as your cheeks heat up. “Can you believe this guy?” His smirk and teasing tone quickly giving away the action hadn’t affected him. “Hitting on my date, and he thinks I’m going to tip him for that?”

Matthew’s smirk widens into a smile at the laughter he manages to pull from you. You love how sure Matthew is of himself, not at all intimidate by the waiter’s ‘advances’. Most guys you have dated previously would feel insecure, and maybe even lash out. Not Matt though. Instead Matt jokes about not tipping, and though you haven’t known him long, you know he will tip. And he will tip well.

After a few moments of small talk about your respective weeks, the waiter is once again at your side. This time with your wine as he pours you and Matthew both a glass. The waiter’s eyes hardly leave your body while he asks if either of you need anything else. You are to preoccupied adjusting the bracelet on your wrist to even notice. The bracelet is a gift from Matthew, an expensive one at that.

As the waiter walks away, you pull out your cellphone and punch in the passcode. The smile Matthew had been sporting quickly falls. Matthew assumes you are texting, or maybe you are just bored, but either way it hurts.

“Could you take a picture of me for Instagram?” The smile on your face so sweet and innocent, Matthew almost thinks nothing of it. Almost. You want him to take a photo of you on your very first public date together to post on Instagram. Just of you.

Perhaps he is thinking too much into it, but it feels like a slap in the face to Matthew. The two of you dress up so he can take you out for the first time. Making you both ‘official’ to the world in Matthew’s eyes. He takes this huge step that to some seems like nothing, so he hoped that in return you may want to post it on your Instagram for all to see. This however, is not what he meant. Maybe a nice picture of you both. Maybe his arm around your waist holding you close, maybe his lips pressed to your temple as you beam your beautiful smile at the camera, or maybe even the both of you laughing at something stupid he said. Instead Matthew is behind the camera now, taking picture after picture of you. All perfectly staged. The wine bottle placed so that the label is on full display, your face resting gently in your hand ensuring the bracelet is in frame, and of course you look absolutely stunning.

But you're not into them at all, you just want materials. I should know because I've heard when girls say, I want, I want, I want, but that's crazy! I want, I want, I want, and that's not me! I want, I want, I want, to be loved by you

The date goes by painfully slow for Matthew. He feels trapped. After the realization that you are not as interested in him as a person as he once thought, the mood shifts. Somehow though, the awkwardness that surrounds the table completely eludes you as you eat your dinner.

———

“Everything okay Matt?” You ask, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. He’s barely spoken to you since you left the restaurant, and now he seems to be moping beside you on his couch as he scrolls through his phone. He rolls his eyes in response leaning his head against the back of the couch.

“Why are you here?” The question catches you completely off guard. You watch Matthew closely, as his gaze focuses on the ceiling above him, never once sparing you even a glance.

“W-well we went on a date and I just figured, but I can- I can go?” You manage to stumble out a response, as embarrassment courses through you.

“No honestly Y/n.” His voice is sharp. He’s mad, and you’ve never seen him like this. “Is it the money or the clout?” The annoyance is clear in his voice, but if it weren’t, the icy stare he shoots you next certainly gets that point across.

“What!?” You feel completely blindsided by his accusations. “Matthew why would you even think that?”

“Oh jeez! Hmm I don’t know! Let’s see shall we.” The sarcasm dripping from his words as he unlocks his phone tilting the screen towards you. As you look at it, you realize it’s your Instagram page. “The very first post we have here is? Oh would you look at that! A beautiful picture of you on OUR date, but who would possibly know that? All they see is a pretty girl, at an expensive restaurant with expensive wine and expensive jewelry. Okay and up next! Look at that! More fancy jewelry and clothes! Scrolling down a bit more, what’s this? A man? Must be your boyfriend right because you have one? Nope! It’s some guy who took you for a drive in his fancy car! Why would you possibly want to show off your boyfriend? Then rich men wouldn’t drive you around in their sports cars! How sad.” Matthew keeps scrolling, rambling on and on about every picture you’ve posted.

“Stop-“ you manage to choke out, eyes stinging with tears.

“Oh I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? Because fuck Y/n mine sure are! I thought you were different! I thought WE were different. Every girl just wants shit from me! It’s insane! I want to spoil you, but fuck if that’s all you want you’re in the wrong spot! I guess I’m just stupid for thinking a girl like you could love me.” The venom in his last sentence stings, and you repress the sob threatening to leave your throat.

“A girl like me?” You challenge, finding more confidence than you thought had in you. “You know what Matthew? Fuck. You.”

Pushing yourself from his couch, you grab your things quickly heading to the door. As you slide on your shoes, you turn back to him one more time. “For the record, I don’t need shit from you Matthew! And sure maybe I like to put on a show for Instagram, but that’s all it is. A show. So why don’t you grow a pair and learn to talk to women about shit that bothers you, because if you can’t do that no one will ever love you.”

The door slams behind you as you leave. You and Matthew both have a lot of learning to do in this life, and maybe your time together, though short, is a turning point for you both. Maybe someday he will see not everyone is out to get him, and that communication isn’t as scary as it seems. Maybe someday you’ll learn that looking good, or rich, doesn’t make you happy. Living in the moment with people who matter, that will make you happy. For now, the two of you are left alone, wounds from hurtful words on full display. Both of you left wanting to take it all back.

#Up All Night-series #matthew tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk imagine #Matthew Tkachuk fanfic #Matthew Tkachuk fanfiction #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey fan fiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

[metalheadcowboy]

Billy having tics as a child and Neil beating him serverly. One day neil got so angry he shoved billy down the stairs and cased him to have a seizure in front of max. Max keeps a small comfort kit in billys car in case he has a tic attack and one day when the Harrington’s are over for a work dinner billy is trying his best to keep it in and it’s super hard so he just yelling out gay shit and sexual things. Neil gets fed up and yells at him in front of them and Steve feels so bad

UEHKFW:EWHIVFEI 🥺😭

As a child, Billy’s tics were mild compared to how they progressed in his later teens. He didn’t even think much of them back then, just a head jerk here or a random tongue click there. His mom was the first one to notice something seemed a little off. She would ask him about it and he would just brush it off, she tried to talk to Neil about it and he told her she was being outrageous for thinking their son has some kind of neurological disorder.

One day while Neil was at work and ten year old Billy was happily playing outside she decided to take him to the doctors. She held his hand while they did blood work and scheduled an MRI for the following week to rule out any other cause of the irregular ticcing. Not a word about it was spoken to Neil until she got the results.

Billy had Tourette’s.

Neil was furious. He didn’t know what to be more mad about, the fact that his wife did this all behind his back or the fact that his son was in his words ‘fucked up’. Glasses were thrown along side fists, Billy’s mom being on the receiving end of a lot of them. There was blood, more blood than Billy’s ever seen in his life He tries to call 911 but before he can Neil rips the phone from his hand and pinned him up against the wall by the neck of his shirt warning him that i he told anyone he would be dead.

A week later his mom left for good, leaving him alone with his monster of a father. Or so he thought, it couldn't have been two months before Susan and Max were moving in and trying to play happy family. He wasn’t having it. Susan didn’t do anything about Neil hitting him because of his tics, Max was the only one who somewhat cared about him, but she was only five, couldn’t do much.

When he was twelve he had his first seizure. Remembered what the doctor said about people with Tourette’s having a higher chance of epilepsy. all it took was one push down the stairs from Neil to trigger the seizure. he could feel his body jerking but couldn’t do anything about it, like when your foot jerks as your trying to sleep but bigger. He didn’t remember much, just being super tired afterwards and even Neil seeming to be a little shocked to the core by it. Max kept her distance from him for weeks after that, like she was scared of him or something.

At night he would pray that his tics would go away, that they would get more mild with age like the doctor had said it probably would. He was just waiting for the day he would wake up and wouldn’t have tics anymore, when he wouldn't have to pay the price at his fathers hand for something he couldn't’ control.

Unfortunately that day never came. They got worse. Neil yelling at him particularly loud triggered his first tic attack at fifteen, two years after his first seizure. All his muscles felt tense, body writhing like it didn’t know what to do with itself. during he was more verbal than he ever had been before, spilling cuss words out of his mouth. After he was felt with bruises a few bruises from hitting the wall and a scratch splitting open his eyebrow leaving a scar.

He could remember going out to his car the next morning, thinking about going out for a drive, one of the only things that could calm his tics, and finding a little first-aid kit int he passengers seat. But it’s wasn’t exactly medical supplies he found in it. Instead he found padded mittens, a stuffed animal he recognized off of Max’s dresser, some Bengay for the soreness he complained of after the attack. It was small, but it made him grin.

About two years later there, the week after his seventeenth birthday was a sudden addition to the kit. It was an addition he could have only guessed related to the new ‘Bam!’ tic he developed where he would shout ‘Bam!’ and hit himself with a closed fist on the side of the head.

It was a black bicycle helmet in his backseat of his Camaro with a sticky note reading ‘For when you’re feeling punchy, don’t be stubborn just wear it bozo - MADMAX’

And, yeah, he’s had it hard, but he doesn’t think he’s experiences anything more embarrassing than when Steve and his parents came over for a work related dinner with Neil and the rest of his family.

Steve had warned them about Billy’s situation and they were a lot more understanding than his own father. They promised Steve that they wouldn’t give him weird looks or do anything to make him feel uncomfortable if something sporadic came out of his mouth.

And everything was fine at first, Billy tried to keep his tics as under control as possible. It wasn’t a bad tic day so he figured that if everything remained calm he would be okay. But about halfway into dinner the stress of started to weigh on him, he felt like his muscles were trying to jump out of his own skin and he slipped.

Mr. Harrington and his own father were speaking about a new plan they had to pitch to the company and-

“I think it’s finally time to reveal to them that-”

“You’re gay!” Billy blurted out, finger pointed at Steve’s dad as his eyes sis an odd blinking pattern, “I knew it!” The room kind of went silent after that, everyone staring at him and Billy’s face turning bright red. His tics did always love to blurt out their opinions. Thankfully Steve started a chain of polite laughter to hopefully draw attention away from Billy. He also held Billy’s hand under the table, watching it twitch on his thigh like it was thinking about hitting something.

It couldn’t have been two minutes before another tic hit him.

“Lesbians, I love lesbians,” followed by a sharp whistle. And by now Billy was pretty sure it was Steve causing all his gay tics to come out, this one being ingrained into his system because of Robin. This drew a genuine laugh out of Max, having to set down her fork as she giggled into her napkin.

By the time they got to “Ride that dick like a bicycle!” Neil had clearly had enough but was trying to hold in his anger, keep his composure for his guests. Who if anything found Billy’s tics charming and just as funny as Max.

They got for a few before Neil finally snapped:

‘Be gay do crimes’

‘*Obscene porn moan*’

‘Johnny Depp could hit this’

‘Nice tits *Squeezing motion*’

‘*Multiple exclamations of ‘cock!’

Finally when Billy blurted out, “Blow my back out!” Neil had had enough. He stood up and loomed across the table at his son.

“Get out!” he yelled and everyone went quiet again. Billy could already feel the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Wha-”

“Get out, you disgusting queer!” Billy sniffed, biting his bottom lip. His hand jerked in Steve’s own squeezing tightly while Steve held it in place. Suddenly loud hiccuping noises left Billy’s mouth, a breathing tic, one sign that he was going to have a tic attack.

“Hey, Bills, c’mon,” he directed, breaking through the ringing silence, getting up first to help Billy up from his chair and lead him into his room. Just as he got up and made it halfway around the table Neil tried to grab for his bicep.

“Touch me and I’ll made sure you never see the light of day again you nasty, horrible, sorry excuse for a man.” Steve grit, looking Neil in the eye from inches away. He swore he could see his mother sporting a half smile from across the room.

That night Billy ended up coming home with Steve by orders of Mr. and Mrs. Harrington.

Send me hc’s 💛💛

#Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Harringrove #Stranger things #Neil Hargrove #Max Mayfield

[ververa]

Unspoken Words

A/N: Alright, so first things first, story time. I had this idea... I wasn’t going to write it, because whenever I write for Ellie Staple I get carried away. If you know, you know (if you don’t, just read Asylum) Anyways I spent a whole night telling my best friend all about it. And in the end I had to write it for the sake of my own peace. And I did. I wrote it, but then I was resistant to post it, because I feel like it’s kinda dark. But again my best friend told me how proud she is of me for accomplishing it and other shit like that (yes, I’m a sucker for such things) and then @misssmephisto​ shared her opinion and they both convinced me to post it. So, many thanks to them both!!! It’s been a while since I wrote for my baby Ellie Staple and I almost forgot how much I like it.

As for you, petals, I hope you’ll enjoy it! Please, let me know what you think about this one <3 

Dr Ellie Staple x fem!reader

Word count: ~4000

Warnings: mention of death I guess

The day she thought everything ended was actually only the beginning. The very beginning of real struggle she wasn't prepared for. The struggle she didn't expect. The danger she wasn't aware of. Of course, she knew what kind of consequences the failure could bring. Yet she hadn’t considered failure an option. It had never happened before. The Organization never lost, not until the last mission. Her mission.

Ellie's hands were clenched on the steering wheel. She sighed looking at the files of documents on the passenger seat, before her gaze shifted to her reflection in the rearview mirror. She had been sitting in her car for over 30 minutes, doing nothing, but looking blankly at the passersby. How did it come to that? When did things go wrong? How could she not realize it earlier? How could she be so oblivious? So blind? So stupid? 

She was the one in charge. The boss, the coordinator of the operation. She was supposed to know it. She should have overseen it. Outsmart them. But she had not. She hadn’t, because she hadn’t been fully focused on her job. She had allowed herself to be distracted. She displayed a weakness and now was going to suffer the consequences. The damage was done. She knew the price. It was high. Too high at that point, yet it hadn’t occurred to her earlier. Not when she had gotten the offer to join the Organization, not when she signed the papers, not even when she had to give up on her own life. Until the very end she believed it was all worth it. But was it for real?

Ellie kept going over her papers, recalling everything she had done and replaying it in her mind. Every little detail. Minute by minute. Second by second. Over and over again. Trying to find the answers she needed so badly. Trying to figure out when she failed. When she made a mistake.

Each of her reports and research papers was impeccable. She remembered almost every word, the tiniest detail of each research, but it didn't mean a thing anymore. Not now, that the Organization was revealed. There was nothing left for her and as it turned out, she regretted only one thing. Just one. Her biggest regret - you. 

Ellie never knew the realization of loss could be so violent. But it was. And the fact she didn’t have enough time to fix it hurt even more.

She wanted to get everything right. And the great idea of saving the world, the way of thinking she subscribed to - it seemed right. Though as the mission failed nothing seemed right anymore. At first Ellie was outraged, but that feeling subsided very soon. Sooner than she would like it to. Her rage gradually faded, turning into fear. She was terrified, especially that she knew exactly what was going to happen. And that… that was something her studies hadn’t prepared her for. Nothing could have prepared her for that. Nothing and no one could make her ready for death. 

A part of her considered it a natural process, a natural course of events. After all no one could choose what would stay and what would fade away. But maybe she could? Not completely, but to some extent.

Her job had always been the priority. Ellie had always put it first. She always listened to her brain, never allowed herself to get carried away, never allowed her true feelings to display. Not until you. Her work might have been a priority, but you were everything in between. You were her thoughts. The space in her bed. Warm coffee in the morning. Quick kisses on the forehead. The warmth that she was coming back to every evening. The relief to her exhausted mind. The feeling she couldn't get enough off. The light of each day. You were her heart. But then you turned into her regret. Her biggest loss. The one mistake she wanted to fix. The only thing she needed to resolve before it was too late.

But what was she supposed to say? Ellie couldn’t find the answer to that question and she had less and less time. She needed some resolution. Some revelation. Someone to cure her from the grief. To bring her some relief. She desired just one more touch. One more taste of that heavenly, devouring rush. A vision of the start and the end. Just a little bit of you. That’s why she came, though she didn’t have enough courage to actually knock at your door. 

But there you were - watching. Observing her. As you did for the past week.

"If the mission fails, kill the target" that was the order. But how could you kill the woman you used to call yours. The one and only who got to your heart and owned it. The one you'd take the bullet for, rather than pulling the trigger.

She took your heart with her that day. The day you two parted. And ever since you felt dead again. Numb, deprived of feelings, unable to separate the good and the bad. The line between the two had always been rather thin and blurry for you. That’s how they made you. Everything you knew was manufactured, fake. Everything, but Ellie. Everything, but what the two of you used to have. That feeling. The sensation. The only real emotion you knew. The only good thing in your life. 

Everyone had always treated you as a monster, a heartless creature. Their perfect killing machine, programmed to destroy. To bring nothing, but chaos. The one to make peoples' biggest fears come out. Their perfect toy to play with anytime. Their weapon. Nothing more, nothing less. But not for Ellie.

Ellie was different. She might have worked with them, for them, but she wasn't like them. She was compassionate. She was good. Not flawless, but definitely not evil. Maybe lost. Maybe confused. But not evil. No, not her. She wasn't bad. Not your Ellie. 

But was she still yours? Could you still call her your Ellie? You weren't sure of it. At that point you weren't sure of anything. The only thing you knew was that you couldn't do it. No power could make you pull the trigger. Nothing and no one could force you to do it. And that, the inability of following your order made you think that maybe, just maybe there still was another way. An escape. A solution that was yet to be found. The chances were slim to none, but you were a fighter. You were strong, resilient. Brilliant. Incredibly intelligent and completely focused. That's why you were so efficient. But that was only half of what you really were. What made you truly dangerous was the fact you were fearless. How could you ever be scared, when you were what they called fear. You made people scared and they had a good reason for it. You realized it. You hated it.

~~~

"What kind of superhero are you?" she asked you once when you were in her office

Ellie observed you. Carefully, warily. She registered every move. As if trying to figure you out. After all, it wasn't usual that patients came to her willingly, seeking help. None of them was aware of the fact they needed it. Was it possible then that you actually were?

"I'm not" you answered after a long pause, your voice was calm, clear and loud, but calm

The redhead looked into your eyes. Her stare was piercing, but she couldn't find anything behind your big, wide open eyes. How could she ever find anything in them when all they filled you with was nothingness in the first place.

"Who are you then?"

"A nobody"

Her eyes squinted, as she tried to come up with the right words. You appeared to be the most complex case she had ever encountered. And yet she was far from being scared. Ellie had never got scared of the unknown. The only thing she felt was curiosity and the need to explore. And that's what she did.

~~~

It had been almost a year since your ways parted. Breaking up wasn't something questionable. You were prepared for it. You knew it would happen eventually. The only thing you hadn't expected was that you'd miss her. You weren't supposed to feel - the same as you weren't supposed to fall. But you did and nothing was the same anymore. You happened to find love where it wasn't supposed to be. You found love in her and there was no talking sense to you.

Now the only option you had was to stand and fight. To protect your heart. To protect her, in hope she'd still want you. In hope she'd open her arms for you the way she used to. You wanted her to choose you, again. But you wanted her to choose you willingly and not for fear. You wanted her to want you the way she had wanted you back then. Because even under those circumstances, she had a choice. She always did. You always allowed her to decide and it wasn't going to be any different this time.

~~~

The thing that made your relationship work was that none of you asked questions. It was an unspoken rule that the two of you had. You never asked about Ellie's work and she never asked about yours. The moment you crossed the threshold of the apartment your work stopped existing. Stepping in you were leaving everything else behind. Your work and problems stayed outside. There were only the two of you. No questions, no doubts, no explanations, no complications. Only you and Ellie living an ostensibly normal life. None of you ever had a problem with that. It seemed to be what you both needed - a hint of normality. Or rather the illusion of it.

That's how it was. And it was good. At least you thought so. You were both rather content with the way your relationship worked. Though even the strongest feelings, the greatest love couldn't be built on the cornerstone made of lies and understatements. You knew it. You ignored it. Was it easier that way? No. But it was safer. 

And so you didn't ask and neither did Ellie.

You didn't ask even when she was spending whole nights at her clinic. You didn't ask even when she disappeared for a few days. Work. That was the only answer and you got it. You understood it and accepted it, because it was the same with you.

Ellie didn't ask what had happened when you came back with a black eye. She didn't ask any questions even when your whole body was bruised, when you were all sore, when you hurt to the point you could barely move - because something on the way to accomplishing your order had gone wrong. She never asked. She knew she couldn't, because then you would ask too.

And so you both remained silent. Choosing oblivion over the truth. Opting for sweet, little lies. Deciding to live in your illusionary, safe world that the two of you built inside the walls of your apartment.

~~~

Ellie took a deep breath as she got out of the car. Finally making up her mind, gathering what was left of her courage to face you. She moved towards the entrance of the building. Slowly, cautiously, pressing her briefcase to her chest, looking over her shoulder every so often, as if waiting for something or someone. She looked tired. Tired and worried, petrified you would dare to say. Ellie never displayed that kind of feeling. She always held everything inside, just like you did. But at that point it wasn’t possible for her. She tried, she truly did, but you knew she was on the verge of breaking down. She knew what was going to happen and so did you. It was inevitable. She was aware of it and that was scaring her. She didn’t realize you were there. She couldn’t know it. The same as she couldn’t know it was inevitable for most, but not for her. Not until you were alive. Not until she was under your protection.

Ellie hoped to remain inconspicuous as she entered the hotel lobby. She knew it was your new home. She hoped to find you there and that’s what she was focused on at that moment. But it was until she noticed the man in a long, black coat following her. And then she noticed another man - dressed in a military green coat. He stood over the corner, trying to pretend he wasn’t watching her. But Ellie wasn’t stupid. She knew better. She was preparing to run, hoping she’d make it to you in time, when she felt a hand on her lower back.

Her eyes widened. There was only one person in the world, who would dare to hold her that way. Yet she didn’t  turn, in case she was wrong. 

“Stay cool” she heard you whisper into her ear, your warm breath tickling her cheek and just for a moment she allowed herself to close her eyes and enjoy a few seconds of comfort your touch provided. It was the relief she needed and you were there to grant it, as you always did. She never knew how you were doing this, you just seemed to know exactly when she needed you the most.

~~~

Even though Ellie loved her job and was completely dedicated to her patients, it wasn’t always easy. As a matter of fact, it never was. She often found herself getting mad over stupid, minor things only because something hadn’t gone as planned at the hospital. She was struggling. Her work started reminding a jungle rather than a specialized clinic. Her patients didn’t cooperate and began slipping out of control. She was tired and mad. She needed to be in control all the time, no matter what. 

“Good morning” you said, entering the kitchen. Ellie didn’t even look at you. She knew you said something, but was too lost in her thoughts, desperately trying to find the solution, to register and comprehend your words.

She stood at the window, observing a busy street. Her thoughts on the loop. It happened quite often - her losing the connection with reality, getting lost in her imaginary world. But that was her way of solving problems. By creating different scenarios in her head and replying them over and over again, until she found the one that worked out the way she wanted it to. You knew her habits. You knew her inside out, even the darkest corners of her mind, which she unintentionally reached pretty often. That’s when you stepped in. Somehow you just knew not only when you ought to do it, but also how to keep her grounded.

“Coffee?” you asked offering her a mug with the beverage and placing your other hand on her lower back

Ellie looked at you. She didn’t answer, just nodded and offered you a small smile. She took the mug from you and as you made sure she was holding it, you wanted to go away.

“Y/N” you stopped, when she called your name

“Yes?”

“Stay?” it came off more as a question. Ellie wasn’t the type to ask for affection or attention - you knew.

“Of course” you smiled sitting on the couch and opening your arms for her

Ellie put the coffee down on the table, before sitting in your lap. There was no place she’d rather be than in your arms.

~~~  

“C’mon, we need to go” you brought her back to the cruel reality “We’ll use the stairs instead of the elevator, for…” you hesitated, paused, trying to find the right word “...safety. Now, let’s go. Second floor. Room 46”

Ellie nodded, immediately complying to the order. You let her go first, making sure she was safe. You watched the men out of the corner of your eye. You knew the management’s decision. You knew that Ellie with all her knowledge and experience was now considered a threat. She couldn’t be controlled anymore and they had nothing to lose, so they decided to get rid of her. You knew all their motives, you knew more than they thought you did. You had expected they would send others for her, but you hadn’t really had the time to think it all over. You didn’t manage to come up with a good enough plan that would allow your both to stay safe. But you couldn’t think about it now. You had to keep going.

You locked the door, then quickly moved to curtain the windows. Ellie observed you. She still wasn’t aware of many things, but you knew she’d figure them out soon. You understood you didn’t have much time before Ellie would put two and two together. You kept moving nonetheless and Ellie kept watching you. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say or if she should say anything. You were moving fast. You opened the wardrobe, then took a white shirt and a pair of black jeans. You handed them to Ellie.

“Change!” you said, not even looking at her. You wanted to, but you couldn’t. You knew that if you do, you’d be both in even more trouble. There was no time for explanation.

Ellie looked at the white shirt, it was your favourite. She still remembered.

~~~

Ellie was sitting in the armchair. A glass of wine in one of her hands, a book in the other. Yet she paid no attention to it. She was watching you. A small smile forming on her face, as she observed your moves. You were ironing your shirt. You were doing it for the past 20 minutes. Repeating the action multiple times, because it being smoothed wasn’t enough. It had to be perfect. Perfectly smoothed. 

Ellie tilted her head to the side, so that she could have a better view of your face. You were so focused. So invested in the process as if your life depended on it. You were a perfectionist. Always so fastidious and precise. She shook her head and chuckled, as you were about to start all over again.

“Y/N, it’s the fifth time. It’s smoothed already. Leave it”

“It’s not good enough. It’s still wrinkled...”

“It’s not” Ellie put her book and the glass of wine down “Let me help you” she said stopping next to you, waiting for your permission

You looked at her, unsure of what to do. You didn’t like others touching your things. She knew it.

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s just a shirt”

“It’s my favourite” you admitted, shyly, as if you were ashamed

Ellie smiled. Her hand moved to your cheek and gently caressed it.

“I’ll be careful then” she said, kissing your forehead

~~~

As she stood there, now dressed in your clothes, taking in your scent - that she missed so much, it suddenly hit her that she had never tried to figure out why you were that way. She had never wondered where all your excessive habits came from. And she knew for a fact there had to be a good reason, a serious cause of them, but it wasn’t the right time to ask. There was no time to ask. And she wasn’t sure if she still had the right to demand any answers.

At that point you were both on the edge of basically everything. Though you couldn’t think of your past, not now, when your present was so screwed up. There was no time for questions and explanations. They wouldn’t change anything anyways.

Deep inside you both knew you’d have to talk about it. To have that kind of conversation you both dreaded of so much. The one full of questions to which you would have to provide answers, whether you liked it or not. Regardless of how ugly the truth was.  But it wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the right time and place. For now you and your wellbeing were hanging on mutual trust. The moment of truth would come in time. You knew it. You agreed on that the second your eyes met, as you both stood in the middle of the room. It was another unspoken agreement. Another deal you two made. But at that moment you didn’t need words to understand each other. There was only one thing on your mind - to make it through.

“You’ll be fine” you said, not sure if you were talking to Ellie or to yourself. She nodded.

“We’ll be fine” she said, carefully reaching for your hand. 

That was another feature of your relationship. You never spoke too much. You never truly allowed yourselves to be completely open with each other. You couldn’t. But you still were close. Granting each other comfort. A hint of understanding and sympathy. That’s why you always held each other - whether it was holding hands, resting your hand on her lower back or her placing her hand on your thigh. The simple gestures were your own way of communicating, of releasing unspoken words, of telling each other “I’m here” “I care” “You’re not alone”. It was as simple and complicated as that.

There was a lot happening at once. A lot to face. A lot to deal with. Though you knew for sure that as long as they didn’t separate you, you two would be fine. You knew you would manage to find a way. To resolve the situation. After all, it was only the beginning.

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange​, @natasha-danvers​, @stopkillinglilyrabe​, @welshdragonrawr​, @saucy-sapphic​, @yang12e​, @xixxiixx​

#dr. ellie staple #ellie staple x reader #dr ellie staple x reader #glass movie #ellie staple #sarah paulson #sarah paulson imagine #glass imagine #glass fanfiction

[tyrantlavellan]

A little Drabble I made for @lindsmorr because I owe her a lot. We miss our disaster sons.

(I know I promised no plot, but I had to think of somethingggggggg 🥺)

The bustling of the infamous Orlais market filled the air. Merchants crowded around the Inquisition company just for a glimpse of the Inquisitor.

Mahanon ignored them, waving his hand to his bodyguards. Inquisition soldiers shoved the crowd aside. He heard Taavi scoff as they made their way through the city, vast buildings with rich architecture and lavish gardens stretched out on either side of them. But Mahanon didn’t pay any attention. His mind was elsewhere.

Divine Victoria was trying everything in her power to lessen his grasp. Trying to change the ways of the Chantry was not going well for her, and with most of her own followers squabbling like over privileged children, she was not getting the support she needed. Her first few months as Divine was not going well. She wished to do what she believed was right, a noble deed Mahanon had to admit.

One that he was inclined to prevent from happening.

What she didn’t know was that he was the reason she was elected the new Divine in the first place. She would have lost her nomination to Leliana, had Mahanon not intervened. He gave himself a pat on the back for that one. The Chantry would have been a chaotic mess if Leliana was chosen.

He encouraged Cassandra to reinstate the Seekers to ensure the circle remained intact and well guarded. He definitely wasn’t taking any chances with the mages. He had seen the catastrophic damage they were capable of too many times.

The Divine might have successfully stripped him of his influence, were it not for the support of the Emperor, forever indebted to Mahanon for replacing Celene, and the majority of the noble houses supporting his title as Herald of Andraste. Mahanon smiled smugly to himself.

“This place reeks of dirty money, selling stuff that is not even worth half their price,” Taavi interrupted. A disgusted look wrinkled his face. “It’s like they dip their shit in gold and call it a fashion statement.”

Mahanon chuckled.

“This is Orlais, anything can be fashion if you’re rich enough, and have a lot of influence.”

“Whole place is a nightmare…” Taavi said, narrowly avoiding a group of chevaliers standing in the middle of the street. “The size of their egos definitely makes up for their lack of size down -”

Trumpets blasted cutting him off.

They made their way into the courtyard of the Chantry, where Divine Victoria awaited them atop a giant flight of stairs. Her rigid expression could make anyone tremble, but Mahanon knew better.

A crowd of Orlesians had amassed behind them and they cheered, singing chantry songs and praising the Herald of Andraste. Mahanon couldn’t help but smirk.

“Stop doing that,” Taavi smacked him.

“Ow! What was that for?” Mahanon shoved him back.

“You look like an idiot, smiling and waving to the crowd like you're some sort of idol.”

“In case you forgot, I did save the world from certain doom. And this is how they like to thank me,” Mahanon said, waving back at the crowd again.

“Oh that’s right. My bad, your highness,” Taavi mocked.

“Well now it’s sounds cringe when you say it,”

“Why did they have to build so many steps? And why is she so cross looking? What did you do to make her upset, we just got here,” Taavi grabbed onto Mahanon’s arm instinctively as they walked past the Seekers. He eyed them suspiciously.

“She is still upset about that whole Empris du Lion situation. Apparently the Chantry doesn’t condone blowing up Chevalier estates, despite blood mage cultists squatting inside,”

“That doesn’t seem very - ”

“I also may have slept with her a bunch and maybe kind of lied about a lot of things to convince her to become the Divine,” Mahanon said quietly, biting his lip.

“Oh, so now that makes more sense. Wait you slept with the Div - ”

“Welcome Inquisitor!” A clergyman yelled so the crowd could hear. “Our beloved Herald of Andraste has descended from his throne to grace us with his presence, may the Maker bless him always and continue to shine his light on all his children!”

The crowd cheered loudly. Mahanon waved, avoiding Taavi’s intensely disapproving gaze.

“Again with the waving, you look like a fool.”

“Why can’t you just have fun with me and let these peasants worship me,” Mahanon said, now blowing kisses to the courtiers.

“You are insufferable.” Taavi sneered under his breath.

“Enough with the attention seeking,” the Divine suddenly cut in, standing right beside them, arms crossed, still unimpressed. “Inside. Now.” She snapped, swiftly walking inside the giant looming doors of the cathedral.

“She seems nice,” said Taavi.

“Just let me do the talking,” Mahanon whispered back. “You just keep your eyes out for anything suspicious.”

Taavi rolled his eyes, but followed Mahanon inside the lavish building.

The Chantry spared no expense in their decorations. Images of Andraste, the Maker, and any other revered patron were scattered on every surface possible. Even the door handles had depictions of Andraste and her followers. The clergyman and the chantry sisters walked around, muttering chants and bowing as they passed.

Mahanon tried not to laugh at Taavi’s horrified expression.

“If I hear someone call me ‘your grace’ one more time…” Taavi hissed.

They entered the Divine’s council chamber. Every seemingly important person in Orlais was already waiting for them.

Josephine had arrived days before them, in an attempt to smooth things over with the council beforehand. She glared at them as they walked in.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mahanon called out, making sure the entirety of the room could hear. “I got lost in this giant labyrinth, so many unnecessary buildings.”

Josie stood in bewilderment as he stopped next to her.

“Inquisitor, glad you could finally make it,” she hissed through her teeth as she forced a smile.

“Glad to be here too, dear Josephine. I’m sure you entertained these people just fine. It is your job after all.” Mahanon said as he patted her head. She stiffened and took a very deep breath and muttered something in Antivan.

“I see things haven’t changed much.” Divine Victoria said, glaring in Mahanon’s direction as she took her seat.

“Hello, Cassandra,” Mahanon smiled at her. She gritted her teeth in disgust.

“She shall be addressed as Divine Victoria, Your Holiness, Most Holy, or the Holy Mother!” a Cleric snapped.

“My apologies,” Mahanon said, bowing out of mockery. “The name hasn’t really stuck so well. She wasn’t quite so ‘holy’ from what I remember.”

“You little -”

“Enough,” the Divine, raised her hand to silence them. “This is getting us nowhere.” She straightened her shoulders, making sure to appear taller, her outrageous hat towering above everyone.

“Inquisitor, despite your blatant lack of respect, we have called you here in an attempt to salvage the relationship between the Inquisition and the Chantry. There have been far too many disputes, and it is in your best interest to help us remain united.”

“I’m not quite sure I follow, Most Holy of Holiness.” He sneered, crossing his arms dramatically. “Last I looked, the Inquisition was doing very well working with the Chantry.”

“What he means to say, Your Excellence,” Josie cut in. “The Inquisition has been successful to maintain and utilize resources graciously donated by the Chantry, in the name of the Maker, of course.”

“I am aware, Ambassador.” Victoria said, nodding in her direction. “The Inquisition has been quick to dive into the Chantry vaults. But I disagree. Your Herald of Andraste has done terrible things, to both friends and enemies of the Inquisition. I cannot pretend you have the Chantry’s interests at heart when he seems to only take what he pleases.

“But what the Inquisitor fails to realize is, the title ‘Herald of Andraste’ can only go so far. Should the Chantry denounce the title of Herald, the Inquisition would not be entitled to anything regarding the Chantry.”

Mahanon snorted loudly.

“Let me see if I remember this correctly,” Mahanon said, clearing his throat. “But was it not one ‘Cassandra Pentaghast’ that insisted on defying Chantry order and encouraged the Inquisition’s inception in the first place?”

“The Chantry was leaderless,” she snapped, hands clenched into tight fists, making her knuckles white. “You cannot compare what happened then to this current situation.

“The Inquisition has done what it was meant to do, which was to stop the immediate threat of Corypheus. You have already done so. In continuing to expand the Inquisition and gain military prowess, you are going against everything that Andraste stood for.”

“So what would you consider the Templars and the Seekers, if not a military extension of the Chantry?” Mahanon argued. “The Inquisition is just more independent with how we function.”

“Not exactly true,” the Divine said coldly, challenging him. “The templars have one purpose, and that is to protect the Circle from threats both inside and out. The Seekers ensure the templars don’t fall out of line.

“The Inquisition has done neither of those things. And as of late it’s hard to say exactly what the purpose of the Inquisition is in its current state.”

Murmurs from the council members crept around the room. Mahanon could feel his face getting hot. But he still had some leverage.

“Perhaps we should ask our beloved Emperor Gaspard,” Mahanon said calmly. Gaspard squirmed in his seat as all eyes fell on him. “I’m sure he would have single handedly kept the country from being torn apart by the Civil War after Celene’s tragic death,” Mahanon eyed Gaspard. He could see the sweat dripping down his face even from where he stood.

“ And Ser Chaplain,” he continued, now staring at a retired Chevalier, one of his most generous donors. “His company would have totally been able to keep mercenaries and Venatori from overtaking his very financially successful mining operations in the Frostbacks.”

The Orlesian noble cleared his throat nervously.

“And of course,” Mahanon continued. “The general population of Thedas would definitely agree with denouncing the very force that saved them from the very demons of the Fade and the remains of the giant tear in the sky that would have ripped the world to pieces.” Mahanon stared the Divine in the eye.

“Because of course every single threat to Thedas died with Corypheus, and no city ever had to be rebuilt, no village ever faced a food shortage or threats from thieves or natural disasters.”

Nobody said a word.

“But I suppose the Inquisition doesn’t do any of those things either.” Mahanon looked across the room as the council whispered to each other.

The look on the Divine’s face was a mix of pure anger and defeat. Mahanon just smiled smugly. The council continued to whisper for several minutes.

“I feel like the council may lean in our favour,” Josie whispered.

“The Emperor and his bureaucrats owe us too much to not come to our defence.” Mahanon replied. “If the Divine thinks that her way is the only way, she’s going to be very disappointed.”

Finally the Divine raised her hand and the whispering cut off.

“We are calling a recess. We will return in an hour,” she said abruptly. Then she left the room just as quickly.

“Well then,” Josie sighed. “Time for some sightseeing?”

Mahanon turned to leave, but stopped short. Taavi was missing. He immediately became alert. He briskly walked out into the grand hallway, shoving a chantry brother out of the way. He could feel panic rising.

He opened doors, intent on searching the entire building until he heard laughing from a shadowy corner.

“You should see your face just now,” Taavi laughed as he casually walked out of his hiding spot. “Concern is such a cute look for you.”

Mahanon’s face went red. He crossed his arms as Taavi tried to pull him close.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, pushing Taavi away. “I didn’t think you’d ditch me like that.”

“I don’t consider the squabbles of the Chantry to be important, actually,” Taavi retorted. “But what I do find mildly entertaining,” he continued, slowly walking towards Mahanon with a sly look on his face. “Is you, pretending like you don’t care about me, when it’s very much obvious that you do,” Taavi lightly pushed Mahanon against the wall behind him. His towering frame kept him from going anywhere.

“Really, Taavi?” Mahanon said, looking around at the busy traffic going to and fro around the cathedral. “Right now doesn’t seem to be the best time or place for this,”

“Since when do you care about the when and where?” Taavi laughed. He gently turned Mahanon’s head to expose his neck, and kissed him softly, breathing heavily in his ear.

Mahanon felt his body get hot, and closed his eyes as Taavi gently grazed his ear with his teeth.

“I just…don’t…” Mahanon forgot what he was trying to say. “We are in a hallway….”

“You didn’t think I planned ahead? Where did you think I went off to?”

Suddenly Taavi lifted him up, wrapping Mahanon’s legs around his waist, their faces inches away from each other.

“I have you right where I wanted you,” Taavi said with a smirk as he kicked the door they were leaning against open.

He carried Mahanon into a small chapel, only furnished with a few wooden benches and a small altar table. He kicked the door shut behind them.

“Of all the rooms you could have chosen, you picked a closet?” Mahanon scoffed.

“I think it’s some sort of servants’ chapel, actually. Guess the rich don’t like mingling with commoners when it comes to chantry shit,” Taavi plopped Mahanon onto the tiny altar, knocking over Andraste paraphernalia, shattering them on the floor.

“And besides,” he continued. “Most of the servants are busy catering to all the snobby guests, don’t have time to come pray, or whatever they do in here.”

Taavi started kissing and sucking on Mahanon’s neck again, making sure to press their bodies together.

“You know,” Mahanon said quietly, now completely helpless as he could feel Taavis hands slowly unfastening his belt, lingering a bit before disappearing underneath the fabric. “They’re not going to be too pleased if I’m late again.” He bit his lip, trying to hold back a moan.

“Well I guess I better hurry then,” Taavi smirked, working his way down, throwing his own pants behind him.

Mahanon didn’t have time to object before Taavi pushed him onto his back, climbing on top of him. Taavi clasped his hand over Mahanon’s mouth, muffling the sound of him moaning in pleasure as Taavi fucked him.

Whether it was the sacrilegious nature of being absolutely pounded on top a sacred altar, or Taavi wrapping his fingers around Mahanon’s neck as his breath came out in ragged gasps, or more likely the combination of both those things, it did not take long for Taavi to make Mahanon finish.

Taavi squeezed his hand around Mahanon’s delicate neck as he trembled with pleasure, leaving a mess all over his own hands. A few more thrusts and Taavi joined him. Both now breathing heavy, they let the last of the pleasure flow through them. Eyes closed, they lay in silence, both smiling.

“You’re getting too good at that,” Mahanon chuckled, stroking Taavi’s hair.

“What can I say, I’m a natural,” Taavi replied, taking Mahanon’s hand and kissing it gently.

Mahanon sighed, looking around the tiny space. He didn’t think they’d make such a mess in their brief moment, but he laughed as Taavi fished their pants from the other side of the room.

“Better get going, before Divine Victoria decides to go searching for us herself,” Mahanon grumbled, trying to clasp his belt properly. Taavi shook his head.

“I’m getting a headache just thinking about going back to that council disaster,” Taavi rubbed his temples dramatically. “I’m gonna go outside for some fresh air.”

Mahanon just rolled his eyes.

“You’re going to miss all the fun,” he replied. “But if you insist. Perhaps we can go for round two later,” he placed a kiss on Taavis lips.

“Perhaps…” Taavi said quietly. “If you don’t take forever…”

“I’ll show you what I can do later, I just need silk, some candles, and a couple of apples”

“What are the apples for?” Taavi asked, confused.

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” Mahanon teased, pushing the door open and disappearing down the hall with a bit of a spring in his step.

#dragon age #mahanon lavellan #Taavi Lavellan #I’m sorry it’s so long #hope you enjoy it tho #<3

[caffeinated-whump]

adding shadows to the walls of the cave

“adding shadows to the walls of the cave”

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: “Made a lab rat”

Fandom: The Bright Sessions

Whumpee: Joan Bright

Warnings: Substance abuse, addiction, sedation, medical experimentation, major character death.

Notes: Title is from “Sedated” by Hozier.  Originally uploaded to AO3... several months ago and forgot to post here.

Joan wakes up strapped to a table. No matter how many times she wakes that way, it never gets less disorienting. She hates waking up unable to move. Her arms, legs, torso, and even her neck are strapped down, there’s a gag in her mouth, and all she can see above her is the blinding fluorescent lights of the lab. She winces a little, squeezing her eyes shut and praying she’ll be able and allowed to fall back asleep, given that she woke up naturally and there doesn’t seem to be anyone around.

 She’s not sure why or how long she’s been here, and she’s honestly not sure she wants to find out. No, she’ll just go back to sleep— or at the very least pretend to, and pray that they’ll put her under before whatever experiment they’re doing today.

  That would be nice. A few hours in a nice, comfortable, sedative-induced nap. And then she would wake back up in her comfortable-enough cell and be able to get back to reading one of the books she’d annoyed Ellie into letting her have.   As pathetic as it sounds, Joan had moved past the point of escape attempts a long time ago. She’d passed the point of trying to plead with Ellie or any of the scientists or guards. She’d passed the point of ever hoping to get out of here.   It had been a reasonable decision at the time. She had her cell. It wasn’t too warm or comfortable, but she had a decent cot and an extra blanket, and a pillow that was, well… not entirely awful.   She had her books to keep her from getting bored. Mostly textbooks and research material, because God forbid Ellie Wadsworth not have the most intellectual conversation partner possible when she stood outside Joan’s cell and tried to (metaphorically, thankfully) pick her brain for a half hour or so every few days. It wasn’t that she doesn’t enjoy those just fine, but given her circumstances, she had always felt a little pang of delight every time something fiction ended up getting tossed her way. Fiction meant a brief escape from reality.   Then again, it hasn’t been a very effective escape as of late.   Most importantly, though, she had Mark. They let her see him once a week. They brought them both to an observation room and let them sit at a table. They got to talk, and she relished it, even if there wasn’t much to talk about. They got to hug when their hour of visiting was up and it had been the only thing in Joan’s life that mattered much at all. It was why she brought herself to wake up every day, what kept her from snapping and punching Ellie in the face every time she tried to talk to her. It’s what she thinks about every time she’s in pain.   Any pain was worth the chance to hug her brother.   The pain had been worth it.   And it looks as though she’s going to be reminded of the price she’d paid soon, because the scientists who have just entered the room are chattering loudly, though she can unfortunately barely make out anything about the experiment.   She hates to admit that she likes when Ellie is in the room. Ellie always tells her what they’re doing to her. She talks to Joan about what’s happening to her own body like she’s a patient whose file they’re reading together. It outrages her, but it’s better than having no clue what’s going on.   Ellie isn’t here right now, though. At least, she can’t hear her. And so, no one explains to her what the nodes they’re attaching to her are for. She almost entertains the notion of trying to thrash around on the table. Being non-cooperative enough that they’ll have to sedate her to proceed with whatever they’re doing today.   Normally, she’d be afraid of that sort of thing happening. Afraid of being unconscious and having her body left under the control of people who certainly don’t have her best interest at heart. But she’s come to terms with the fact that nothing she could do would be able to stop them. She can’t save herself. And if she can’t stop them from doing whatever it is they’re going to do to her, she might as well not have to suffer through it.   She’d also normally be terrified of the dependence she’s coming to have on sedation, but if it’s an addiction, it’s not like her life could be made much worse for it. No, for now, all that whatever it is they give her does is allow her a sleep that comes swiftly and is lacking in nightmares. If it causes her mind and body to slowly deteriorate, then what does it matter? All that can really mean is a tough break for the people experimenting on her. If it suckers her in, preying on the addictive tendencies she knows run in her family, then so what? It’s not like she has much of a life to be taken over anymore.   At some point, your life gets to be so pointless, monotonous, and bad that that which is harmful can no longer harm you more than your surroundings already have. It’s not a circumstance she enjoys being in, but she was never exactly given the choice. She might as well take pleasure where she can find it, given her newly found lack of consequence.   She starts to kick at her restraints, failing miserably at much actual movement, but making up for it by continuing to thrash the rest of her body as much as possible. The hands that grab hold of her trying to still her make her skin crawl, and so she tries as best she can to force them off of her.   She’s done with the pain that these experiments always bring. Done with having to sit silently through being poked and prodded and monitored as they use her for God knows what. Observing the physical and mental effects on her of the abilities of the patients they bring in, trying to observe her brain’s reactions to things like pain compared to that of an atypical, testing new additions to Ellie’s long-incomplete attempt at immunity. She tries to thrash her body as much as she can. She squirms so much that the strain of her limbs and neck against the straps hurts. She doesn’t care. When her limbs grow tired and they’re capable of holding her in place more successfully, she tries to scream around the cloth in her mouth.   It comes out muffled, but between that and her weakened yet persistent attempts at movement, it appears she’s starting to get on their nerves, because all of a sudden, one of them is walking towards her, syringe in hand.   She feels the unpleasant prick of the needle in her neck, and though it isn't taking effect yet, she immediately quiets down. She relaxes her muscles on her own before they begin to relax involuntarily. Her vision is starting to fade as she feels them start to hook her up to more machines. As she closes her eyes and tries to distract herself from the unpleasant and intrusive feeling, she briefly wonders what the experiment is.   She’s barely able to think of a possibility before she feels herself start to slip away.   She wakes back in her cell, and, upon sitting up, is greeted by a rather unfortunate sight.   “Hello, Joan.” She grunts and falls back down onto her cot.   “I heard about your little stunt during the experiment today.” Ellie continues talking, apparently unfazed by Joan’s lack of interest. “I really wish you would learn to cooperate.” Despite having years of experience telling her otherwise, Joan hopes that Ellie won’t continue on the conversation if she’s the only one talking.   Her assumption is right, and her hopes are swiftly crushed. Though she barely registers the feeling of disappointment anymore.   “You used to behave so well. What happened?”   While she may be too numb to feel disappointed, irritation and anger still has the ability to pervasively creep its way into her gut.   “What happened?” she spits through gritted teeth.   “I understand you’re upset about Mark, but you need to understand that accidents happe--”   “Oh, so tell me,” she responds, “was it an accident that you kidnapped him and locked him up down here? Was it an accident that you tortured him with all your sick experiments? Tell me, Ellie, was it a fucking accident that you forced him into an experiment with that poor girl, gave her an untested and unsafe serum, and killed her?”   “Some of those things were accidental, yes--” Joan sits up fully this time, nearly feeling sick as she stares into the eyes of a person she used to care about, used to love. “I know that accidents happen, Ellie. But shit like what happened to Mark doesn’t happen without a series of unforgivable and reprehensible shit happening beforehand. And now because of that reprehensible shit--” she pauses what has turned into shouting to wipe the tears that have begun to flow from her eyes. “...Because of you I might never be able to see him again. So yes, I’m still fucking upset.”   Ellie doesn’t respond to that, and Joan wishes she could savor the smugness she would feel about leaving her speechless under any other circumstance. Instead of thinking of a comeback, Ellie shifts her weight almost awkwardly and changes the subject. “Your dependence on sedatives is really starting to concern me, Joan.” And Joan hates that she does sound it, concerned. After all she’s done, she still thinks she has the right to feel concerned for her favorite lab rat.   “Go to hell.”   Wadsworth sighs. “You know, I really was hoping we could have a civil conv--” “Go. To. Hell.”   Joan watches as the director of the facility takes a second, brushes off her blazer, and plasters an almost sickening smile across her face. “You don’t know the meaning of hell, Joan. Not yet.”   With that, she walks away.   Joan can’t help but snort. Ellie and her fucking fear tactics.   ‘You don’t know the meaning of hell.’   Bullshit.   The next time she finds herself strapped down, it doesn’t take her by surprise.   No, they go about it her least favorite way. By opening the door to her cell, grabbing her by the hands and marching her down to the room where she supposes they’ll be conducting today’s experiment.   They take her to a lab. That and the fact that there doesn’t seem to be an atypical present is what tips her off to the fact that this is probably a drug trial of some sort. Maybe Ellie’s taken another crack at immunity. They strap her down quite easily. She’s five feet tall, malnourished, and outnumbered. Even what little resistance she could attempt likely wouldn’t have had much effect. Thankfully, she isn’t gagged. The reason for which is revealed when the door on the other side of the room opens only seconds later, and in walks Wadsworth.   “Joan!” she greets her eagerly, as though she’s waving to a friend across the street, not staring down at a human test subject strapped to a table. “Today’s experiment is a big one.” She can tell that by the grin on Ellie’s face. She doesn’t know that she’s ever seen her this excited about an experiment. As Ellie attempts to make conversation, she watches scientists crowd around her, once again hooking her up to machines and monitors.   “Wonderful,” she replies deadpan.   “Come on, Joan. I think you’ll be very excited if this goes as planned.”   “I seriously doubt that.”   “Haven’t you ever wondered if you could do it too?”   “What?”   “The things your brother can do. It’s biological, Joan. It’s a gene. It has to be. Haven’t you ever wondered if you had it too?”   That makes her go quiet a bit. “I... Yes. I’ve wondered.” She’s too taken aback to not answer honestly, besides, that’s probably the answer Ellie would have tried to prod out of her eventually. “But I’m well past the age at which atypical abilities typically present. It’s definitely possible, though entirely unlikely, and I really doubt--”   “Exactly, Joan. It’s possible. And it might be even more possible after today.” If she had been told that that was a possibility a year ago, she’d be so curious, fascinated, excited. But now there’s an uneasy feeling settling over her. She’s scared. “How?”   “Well, obviously the end game here would be to be able to give abilities to a person with no atypical genes. But for now, this would be a major step in the right direction. The plan is to attempt to activate your atypical gene, with…”   Joan tries to move her head enough to watch as Ellie disappears briefly out of her line of sight. She returns with a vial in hand.   “... this experimental serum.”   The gears in her head are turning. This is a thing they’d talked about before, in theory. Things she’d read papers and hypotheses on, but the full idea had never been developed enough to pose an actual experiment. She knows how they’ve speculated at making this work. “How did you make it? What’s-- What’s in the serum?”   Ellie seems to notice the sheer anger beginning to spread across Joan’s face. “Joan, you have to understand. We have a very unique opportunity with you two here.” “You used his DNA.” “Yes. We did.”   “How dare you. ” “Really, Joan, you know that this is hardly one of the most invasive experiments we’ve--”   “No! I don’t care! You tortured him without end, took away whatever semblance of a life he had left and now you’re still fucking using him. God, he can’t even escape from you people and your sick games by being unconscious.”   “You need to calm down.”   “I need to calm down? No! Fuck you! Fuck you!”   Ellie doesn’t respond to Joan’s shouting, only sighs and turns towards someone who she can’t see. “Dr. Carlton? Yes, can you hand me the-- thank you.”   She watches as Ellie is handed the dreaded piece of cloth that is usually stuffed in her mouth during experiments as she continues to shout obscenities at her. She’s in the middle of forming another angry insult as she feels it being crammed into her mouth, making what she was about to yell be cut off and morphed into a muffled cry. Her head is pushed up a bit and she feels the cloth tied tightly around it.   Then, Ellie picks up a syringe. She tries to put up a fight but Ellie grabs her arm and holds it in place as she injects her with the serum.   The injection itself stings a bit, but the prick of a needle is a discomfort Joan has grown incredibly used to. The real pain comes seconds later. It feels like fire in her veins. Like something toxic is running through her, sending jolts through every nerve, making her want to scream.   She tries to. It comes out muffled.   The pain continues to shoot through her, causing her to squirm and shout as the people around her all rush to observe and murmur about whatever is happening on the monitors. Her screams grow louder, as, with time, the pain only continues to get worse.   She feels tears start to run down her face and before she knows it she’s writhing half of it being her body’s response to the pain and half of it being desperation. A call for attention. Maybe someone will see that she’s hurting and try to figure out what was going wrong, try to make it stop, or better yet just put her under.   And thankfully, it looks like someone is on their way to do just that. A person in a lab coat is approaching her with another syringe and a concerned expression. Then, a voice comes from behind her. “No, don’t sedate her. She needs to learn to cooperate.”   Just the sound of Ellie’s voice causes her to be overcome with anger as yet another wave of pain rolls through her. This time, it’s excruciating. She feels like every nerve in her body has been set on fire and stabbed with a thousand needles, then an intense throbbing feeling grows in her head.   She screams as loud as her lungs will allow her, twisting her body at every angle possible as she tries to writhe against her restraints. The headache dissipates and as it does, she realizes that the burning is gone too. All that’s left is a faint buzzing. An energy running through her that leaves just a bit of a sting.   She keeps thrashing.   She’s angry, and she’s scared, and she’s been in so much pain for so long that it’s finally catching up to her, and the jolt of energy she’s still feeling is demanding she do something with it.   She must be getting on Ellie’s nerves enough by now, because soon enough, she’s being unhooked. Several guards are rushing into the room and Ellie is demanding they ‘take her back to her cell till she calms down’. She’s grabbed by the arms and practically carried from the room as Ellie cuts through ahead of the guards and down the hallway.   There’s still a burning rage in her gut, so much so that her skin is practically itching with the need to make her pay. Then, all of a sudden her thrashing gets more violent. She pushes back at the guards, resisting their attempts to gain control of her as she fights to break free of their grasp, and before she knows it she’s charging down the hall after the woman who ruined her life.   Wadsworth doesn’t want to sedate her, to let this fucking misery stop. That’s fine. She’ll change her mind.   She tackles Ellie to the ground with a surprising force, but just as she raises a fist, she feels herself being pulled back. She resists again, taking a swing at the guard closest to her, then another, then another. Soon, even more guards are surrounding her, attempting to take her down as she attacks them desperately. She hits, bites, punches, kicks. She can barely keep track of her own movements as she attempts to fend off one after the other.   Only one guard really piques her interest. The one carrying her relief in a small syringe.   She tackles another guard to the ground desperately and sure enough, the other comes rushing over, sticking the needle into her neck the second she leaves herself exposed.   She feels dizzy for a second. And then she feels another rush of energy. She throws a punch and sees a spurt of blood as her fist connects with the nose of the guard beneath her.   The sedative isn’t kicking in yet and the rushing of adrenaline through her veins remains more intense than anything she’s ever felt, as though there’s something vicious and violent inside of her that needs to make itself known.   Why isn’t she losing consciousness yet? Why is she still angry, and fighting, and in pain? What the hell was in that serum? What did they do to her?   She feels another syringe and another set of hands trying to pull her back, and again, the world spins for only a minute before the surge of energy returns. Before she knows it, she’s being pinned against the wall. Several people are holding her down as she’s injected with sedative after sedative, none of them stopping her from kicking and shouting, only weakening her slightly.   She can hear Ellie shouting at them to stop, telling them that that’s enough, warning them that they were going to hurt her. But every time they allowed Joan to even so much as regain her strength from a brief bout of drug-induced dizziness, she lunged at them with all her might and they had to struggle just to get her back up against the wall.   They’re not listening to Wadsworth anymore. They’re doing they’re best to stay unscathed as Joan rages against them, tranquilizing her and watching her grow dizzy and get over it over and over again, hoping that eventually something will take.   And then, just as she’s growing fatigued, just as the thrum of energy is starting to slow down, just as she feels herself begin to weaken, she’s stuck with another needle.   This time, her muscles start to relax. Within seconds, she goes limp, being held up on her feet only by the arms of the guards still pinning her to the wall.   Only, it doesn’t feel as peaceful as it had before. Something feels wrong. Something is starting to hurt, everything is starting to hurt. It feels like she’s being hit by everything they’d given her at once, which, she’s starting to realize through the intense dizziness and stupor, she probably is.   She feels herself start to shake as the room starts to spin.   She can’t breathe.   Ellie is yelling. Ellie is yelling a lot, and she can barely make out most of it. She can make out her name, though. Why is Ellie calling for her? What’s happening? Where is she? Why can’t she breathe.   She feels herself hit the floor as her vision starts to spot with black and she struggles, taking all her strength just to try and take a breath.   She feels someone gripping her shoulders and she thinks she can make out Ellie yelling something, though her vision is fully fading to black now and there’s a faint humming in her head drowning out most sound.   Then, the burning pressure in her lungs releases, giving way not to air, but to calm.   Her vision seems to come back, not in the sense that she can see anything but black, but in the sense that she feels what she’s seeing is right.   There is no energy coursing through her. There’s no energy, no anger, no fear, no pain. She feels light. Calm.   She feels happy.   The sound of her ears ringing is beginning to fade, and now, over it, she swears she can hear her brother’s voice.

#the bright sessions #joan bright #ellie wadsworth #whump writing #whump #whump community #whump fic #bad things happen bingo

[dcnatural]

Is There Somewhere

Word Count: 2392

Pairing: Harley Quinn x Poison Ivy

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn meet to finish unfinished business, and Ivy recalls a magical night the duo had shared.

Unless you knew what you were looking for, the Gotham Garden Motel was hard to spot. Squeezed between two warehouses on the road leading to Arkham Island, the building seemed abandoned: the glass of the windows was covered in dust, making it impossible to see anything in the other side; the sign which announced the name of the establishment was missing some letters and the neon lights had long stopped working; the roof was missing a couple of tiles and the white paint was peeling off the outside walls, which were covered by cracks. It was a miracle the place was still standing.

Despite the decrepit state of the motel, its driveway was often filled with cars and people were seen going in and out at a regular basis. If one dared to open the rotten wooden door, they would find themselves inside a shockingly well illuminated reception. It even had a waiting area, which included a tube television and a coffee machine. An employee in a cheap cotton uniform sat behind the large desk, alternating between watching a soap opera and scribbling something on the notebook open in front of them. A door reading “Employees Only” leads into the office, a separated area with two large window panes that could be used to spy on the reception. 

They didn’t ask for IDs and only accepted upfront payments made in cash, the registration was as simple as writing whichever name you wanted in the book and leaving the money. You would then be given a key to your room. This discretion was the main reason behind the motel's popularity. Whether you were a cheating husband, a drug dealer or a high tier super criminal, if you wanted to have a clandestine meeting, this was the place to come. Everyone who visited the motel was involved in some shady business. The whole premise of the place was that you could come, do your shit and leave, no questions asked.

That's why the clerk didn’t bat an eye when Poison Ivy came striding in through the front entrance, placed a wad of cash in the front desk, signed the visitor’s log, took the key for room 93 and headed to the staircase without saying a word. Nor did the clerk find it unusual when, fifteen minutes later, Harley Quinn burst in and raced upstairs, not even bothering to close the door after her.

Room 93 was located on the fourth floor. Unlike most hotels, which the room’s number indicated their respective floor, the Gotham Garden didn’t use this rationale. Instead, the numbers had been randomly assigned; a brilliant idea that occured to the first owner after getting wasted in a bar downtown. Therefore, there was no intuitive way of finding your room, and the guests were required to carefully read the maps plastered to the walls of the staircase.

While the reception gave the impression of belonging to a decent place, the rest of the hotel matched the state of the outside. The red carpet covering the floor had a thick cover of dust and mold, the lamps in the ceiling were either burned out or flickered inconsistently. Cockroaches crawled around, and one could hear the screeches made by the rats inhabiting the wall. Each door had been painted with a different color, but now the ink was faded and everything looked like a lifeless gray.

Harley verified if the hallway was clear before tapping on the dark-blue door. Dressed in a black hat with a wide brim, overly large star-shaped pink sunglasses and an old trench coat, she looked like the most comical spy in the world.

The knock caused Ivy to jump from her chair, and she stumbled to reach the door. She gave a quick glance at the bathroom mirror to ensure that her vivid red hair was well combed and her shirt was in place. Her heartbeat was frantic and she took a deep breath to calm herself, inhaling the lavender scent of her perfume.

Ivy sighed as she contemplated the girl before her. “Didn’t I tell you to be discreet?”, she complained as Harley skipped inside.

“This is discreet, Pams. No one can recognize me with these glasses. Betcha you wouldn’t have known it was me if I hadn’t told you I was coming disguised”, she replied as she removed the sunglasses and tossed them aside. They skittered through the floor before stopping underneath the wardrobe. 

She then took off her hat, letting her blonde locks cascade down her back. The colorful streaks had been washed off, with only ghostly remnants of pink and blue to evidence the product of Harley’s latest post-break-up-hair-makeover. It only made sense that now that she was back with the Joker she would try to erase any change she had made during their time apart.

The darkened windows didn’t allow much light to pass through and, despite being early afternoon, Ivy had turned on the twin lamp shades that decorated the nightstands, their floral pattern casting shadows in the threadbare arabic rug that covered the floor underneath the bed.

Harley sat in the far end of the bed, back propped against the wall and legs stretched over the mattress. “So, what’d you wanted to talk about, uh?”

Ivy paced around the room, she couldn’t bring herself to look at Harley. “How could you go back to him?”, the words left her mouth in an urgent whisper. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision and she felt the urge to brush them away. Tears were a sign of weakness and weaknesses weren't a luxury she could afford. In fact, the last time she had cried was back when she still was Pamela Isley, on that fateful day that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her last tears had been shred when she laid on the floor, dying only to be reborn as Poison Ivy.

Harley idly played with her hair, curling it around her well manicured fingers. She didn’t know how to reply to that. Why did she return to the Joker every time? Why did she still love him when all he did was hurt her? She knew it was an abusive relationship, she hadn't spent years training as a shrink for nothing, but she couldn't find the strength in herself to cut him out of her life. For better or for worse, he had shaped her into who she was now. She feared that without his influence in her life, she would go back into being Dr. Harleen Quinzel, and honestly, the prospect of normalcy terrified her.

But she couldn't tell Ivy all of that, so she did what she knew best and created a diversion. "You know, your hair’s fantastic today. Are you using a new shampoo?"

As if moving by their own accord, Ivy's lips curled into a smile. She cursed herself. She should be angry, sad, outraged. But there was something about Harley that always made her let her guard down. Harley had the gift of bringing happiness into Ivy's loneliness. And perhaps that was the reason why that betrayal had hurt so much.

Ivy collapsed into the bed, careful not to get too close to Harley. She wasn't sure if she could deal with so much proximity right now. Not in this bed, at least. She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wonder. To travel back to a week ago, before the Joker sweeped in again and took Harley with him. Back to when it had been just the two of them, hiding in this same room while they counted their loot and laughed about the stupidity of the guards of the jewelry story they had just robbed.

That day had awakened something in Ivy, and she had thought that her friend felt the same. But clearly she had been wrong. 

In her mind she relieved it all, every single detail of that fateful day, from the smell of the strawberry bubblegum Harley had been chewing to the sound of gold clittering against gold.

* * *

The first thing Harley had done once they were secured inside the room was to remove her jester suit, the sweaty outfit was sticking to her skin and making her itchy. Stripped to her underwear and tube socks, she had then proceeded to catalogue every single item they had stolen, listing the retail price in a chart. 

Ivy had offered to help, but Harley had her own system and every time the redhead tried to do something she only mixed it all up. So she had given up and was texting her usual fence to ask when they could meet.

"I love this song", Harley shouted when the radio began to play a slow pop ballad. She seemed like a completely different person from the concentrated woman she was seconds ago. Climbing off the bed, she began to dance, with a grace that only the ones who had trained for years were able to do. She moved like air, arms swaying to the rhythm of the music and hips rocking back and forth in matching pace. The whiteness of her skin was a stark contrast to the black and red socks she wore, and Ivy’s gaze lingered on those long and slender legs. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to have those legs tangled around her own body, to have those hands caressing her skin. 

“Come dance with me”, Harley asked, tugging Ivy’s arm and trying to pull her to her feet.

Ivy shook her head. “I don’t dance.”

Harley rolled her eyes and pouted. “Pretty please, for me! It’s boring to dance alone.”

Faced with the other girl’s plea, Ivy couldn’t find in her the strength to say ‘no’ and so she relented, allowing Harley to pull her up. Ivy’s movements were awkward, her body rigid whereas Harley’s was fluid. She misteped and tripped, but Harley was always there to catch her before she fell.

The song ended and another began, and they kept swirling around the room. The soft melody brought them closer, Harley’s arms embracing Ivy’s waist, chests pressed together and faces inches apart. Harley suppressed a yawn, eyelids fluttering shut as exhaustion began to take over. She nestled her head on Ivy’s shoulder, taking advantage of her friend’s taller stature. 

The rest of the world faded away, all that Ivy could think of was the intoxicating feeling of Harley’s lips brushing against her bare skin. Outside, a car passed by, the headlamp shining even through the dirt glass, creating a brief spotlight for the two girls.

A false move caused Harley to trip, and they stumbled, Ivy’s back landing on the saggy mattress with Harley on top of her. For a moment, time stood still. They laid over the white sheets, not moving and barely breathing. A tension hung in the air between them, an unvoiced desire that previously neither had felt. 

Then, before Ivy knew what was happening, Harley leaned down and brought her mouth to Ivy’s, hovering like that for an instant before closing the remaining distance. At first, the touch was light as a feather, barely there. Then, with renewed passion, Harley pressed harder, Ivy’s lips welcoming her. Ivy didn’t protest as Harley slid the strapless leotard out of her body, the garment falling to the floor near where Harley’s own jumpsuit laid.

When Harley pulled away, it was only so she could lay a trail of wet kisses. She sucked, licked and bit every inch of exposed skin, venturing further down with each second. She stopped at Ivy’s navel, looking up in search for permission, and Ivy remembered how to move for just long enough to nod, before collapsing back onto the bed. 

Every nerve in Ivy’s body was on fire. Her mind was numb. She felt nothing but Harley. Harley’s mouth. Harley’s fingers. Harley’s skin. Harley. Harley. Harley. The name echoed in Ivy’s mind with every beat of her heart. Ivy clutched tightly at Harley’s arms, the firmness of the muscles underneath her fingers ensuring her that this wasn’t just part of her imagination. Ivy felt herself coming undone under her friend’s touch. She couldn’t think she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t breath. All her worries and fears that clouded her brain faded away until only Harley was left.

* * *

“Pammy?”

Harley’s voice pulled Ivy back to the present and she snapped her eyes open. “I thought we had something.”

“We did. We do. You are my best friend. I love you. I really do”, there was a note of sadness in Harley's voice as she spoke.

Tears spilled out of the corners of Ivy’s eyes. “But you love him more.”

Harley nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”

“No”, Ivy interrupted, sliding out of the bed. “It’s fine. I was foolish to believe you would actually leave him for real. I just wish I could let this go, forget it ever happened.”

She realized now how stupid this had been. Nothing she did could ever change Harley’s mind. She needed to get out of that room, she needed fresh air.

“Ives, come on”, Harley pleaded, rushing to grab Ivy’s arm before she could leave.

Ivy twisted out of her friend’s hold and opened the door. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”

The door closed shut behind Ivy and Harley allowed her body to fall to the floor, back against the scrapped dark blue paint. A sob escaped her lips and she buried her face in her knees, shielding herself from the world. She felt alone. Her best friend had abandoned her. And perhaps I deserve that, Harley thought. She didn’t know which was her worst mistake: falling in love with the Joker or with Ivy.

Outside, Ivy inhaled the fresh afternoon air and began the long walk back to the Botanical Garden. She hadn’t meant to fall in love that night, but now it was done and there’s no way of fixing it. She wished Harley could leave the Joker, not just out of jealousy but because she knew her friend deserved better. I could offer her better.

The dusk had settled over Gotham when a figure wearing a trench coat and hat left the Gotham Garden Motel. She opened the door to a green car and, with the motor rumbling, she took off into the darkness.

#poison ivy #harley/ivy #Harley Quinn #poison ivy x harley quinn #poison ivy/harley quinn #harleen quinzel #harlivy #dc #one shot

[loominggaia]

Why did Abigail marry one of Evans childhood bullies, knowing he tormented her disabled little brother for fun for so many years? Also seems like such a massive betrayal for Evan to see his older sister who swore to protect him run off and marry one of his bullies.

It is a messed up situation, huh? Evan (and even his father) felt massively betrayed by Abigail when she did this. In "Monster by Moonlight", it mentions this was one of the few things they were able to bond over: their anger towards Abigail. Foster hated Edmund Galanis as much as Evan did because Edmund and his brothers would steal Foster's tools, tip their cows, and just generally torment the whole Atlas family.

I forgot what story it was, but Evan did mention that while Edmund's family was wealthy, his parents were drunks and probably cheating on eachother or something. I think Edmund's home life was probably way more messed up than he let on, hence why he's always been such an asshole.

That said, Abigail's reasoning was explained in the story "Lost and Found". She admits that she doesn't love Edmund and never did, but she knew his family was wealthy and he had a crush on her, so she married him purely for money.

In that same story, I think it was Isaac or Lukas who finds Zareenite antibiotics in Evan's childhood bedroom. These are illegal in Evangeline Kingdom and must be bought from the black market at an outrageous price. Abigail also mentions that Evan's medical conditions were very expensive and put their family deep in debt, and it's implied that they were seeking illegal Zareenite procedures to keep Evan alive. Evan wasn't aware of any of this until Abigail told him. His family kept it a secret because they didn't want him to feel like a burden.

Abigail didn't want to marry Edmund, and she did express remorse about it, but she explains that she saw no other options. She needed a way to get her family out of debt and pay for Evan's treatments. It was mentioned that she bought him a new wheelchair shortly after she married, which allowed him to roll around outdoors (and ironically allowed him to get lycanthropy). Evan never thanked her because at the time, he didn't understand the sacrifice she was making. He thought she just got a crush on Edmund and betrayed the whole family to be with him. In reality, she was sucking the dude for every coin he was worth and sending it back to her parents, so that they could take care of Evan's needs.

Honestly I feel really bad for Abigail. She was in a tough spot, and she essentially threw her whole life away and had a child with a man she hates just to keep her baby brother alive, all while her family shits on her for it...and then her baby brother contracts lycanthropy, kills their father, and disappears for like 20 years anyway. Meanwhile Abigail's still stuck with this shitty Galanis man, and Connor mentions a few times that she secretly drinks a lot at night. The poor woman is miserable.

And yet, even after all that, she never stopped looking for Evan and even forgave him when he turned up. She and Evan are actually very similar personality-wise. They're both loving and self-sacrificing, they both have a temper, they both get dramatic and drink too much when things don't go their way, they're both a little overbearing to those they love, and ultimately they both just want to do the right thing and make sure everyone's taken care of.

If their roles were switched and Abigail was the sick one, I think Evan would have done the exact same thing for her.

#ask #askevan #askabigail

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 14

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 14 - Fortress

The chiming of the grandfather clock roused Gold from his bitter reverie, and in a single motion he crumpled the single sheet of paper still on the desk beside his hand, and rose to his feet to take it to the fireplace in the lounge. He hadn’t meant to light a fire until morning, but after the message he just received from Jefferson, he knew he would be getting little sleep, and so it would be good to be warm. Two birds, one stone.

He used the sheet of crumpled paper to light the kindling, onto which he built his fire. He knew he should answer Jefferson, but he wasn’t going to do anything until he was certain of his own safety. Storybrooke had been his haven, a shelter from the threat of unfinished business, and he wasn’t about to put that in jeopardy. Not for any reason.

If they found him, it was only a step of logical thought for them to find Bae, and he was not going to let that happen.

Moving slowly, leaning heavily on his cane, he made his way to the bookcase in the corner of the room, and reaching to the top shelf took down his copy of Selected Poems of Robert Burns and flipped the book open to the back cover, and ran his fingertips along the edge, where the cover met the spine. He quickly found the roughened area where glue had replaced the stitching and with his fingernail, began to chip away at the glue as he walked with the book toward the kitchen.

It was much easier to open the space within the spine of the book where the small, silver key was hidden with the aid of a sharp knife. Still he was careful.  He didn’t want to damage the book any more than was necessary to access the key. Once it was in his hand, he set the book down on the kitchen table, and grabbing the flashlight from the small shelf beside the back door, headed out into the yard, and to the basement.

He was careful as he descended the steps, feeling for the edge of each with his cane even while looking at the steps barely illuminated in the dim light given off by the flashlight, and for perhaps the hundredth time reminded himself that he really should rewire the switch to the light so that it was at the top of the steps, and not on a pull cord at the bottom. Still, he reached the floor of the basement without incident and turned on the overhead light.

As he always did when he came down to the basement, he let his eyes settle over the spinning wheel he kept in the corner, beside the small loom. Neither were unused. In fact, he took a strange kind of pride in spinning his own yarn for the crafts he pursued, and the fabric he made on the loom. Some, he sold in the shop, others he used to augment the furnishings in the properties he owned. It was, and he sighed, a legacy of the time he sought to escape - his only means of escape - when the melancholy took him.

He shook it off. He had to. Almost ten years since he’d had any contact with Jefferson Milnor, and he didn’t imagine that after all that time the FBI Agent was contacting him on a whim. It could only mean that the man was in serious trouble.

He edged his way past the wheel, careful not to disturb it, to the door set in the far wall, and pushed the tiny key into the padlock that secured it shut. He stopped then. Why the hell should it matter to him what kind of trouble the man was in…?

”Really…?” the woman others would have called their mother but who, for him, could never be further from the maternal figure she named herself, swaggered in, hips swaying beneath her crisp black suit. The fascinator perched on the side of her head swayed as she came to a halt, dark feathers waving as though in an imperceptible breeze. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out what you were planning?”

He stilled in the thrall of a terrible memory. The memory of his debt.

She stalked toward him, then around, finger trailing around him as she circled him. Her heels made a regular beat against the concrete floor of the hanger.

“I don’t ask for much,” she said. “You know that. Have you enjoyed privilege so long that you’ve forgotten what loyalty means?”

“Loyalty?” he scoffed. Privilege? Us takin’ the risks while you sit around playin’ God? Never a care for what the likes of us must dae to keep ye—”

“If you’re going to argue with me, at least have the decency not to sound so beastly!” she snapped. “But, no…” She appeared to be having a conversation with herself. “You know what I expect, and the cost of failing me.” She barely turned her head to instruct, over her shoulder, “Bring the boy.”

“No!” his voice rang out but once, before he fell to stammering, “You… y-y- ye can’t.  Please, not ma boy… he didn’t ever do anything wrong. Never crossed you.  That… that was me - would-a-been-me.  Please…”

“Oh, please… please don’t… he can’t…” she mocked him. “It’s different, isn’t it, when it’s one of your own?”

“Please… don’t… don’t hurt him,” he continued, heedless of her sarcasm.

She snapped her fingers and the green clad woman stepped up along side two other men who half dragged, half carried the struggling Baethan between them.

“Papa…!” Bae implored.

“It… It’ll be all right, Son,” he said, but Fiona interrupted him again.

“No… no I rather think not. You see, Baethan, your father’s not the man I thought he was, and unfortunately, that means you are the one that has to pain the price.”

Gold almost physically shook himself to break the replay before it could go further. Night after night he woke to the nightmare of his son’s pain, and the deep explosive sound of the gunshots that saved him… saved them both.

As if in sympathy, a burst of pain spread upwards from his ankle and into his calf, and he leaned heavily on the doorway he had been about to unlock.  No… he could not deny that he owed Jefferson his life, and more than that, the chance of life for his son.

With a flick of his wrist, and before he could second guess himself again, Gold released and removed the padlock, and pulled open the door to the room beyond. He reached around the doorway, his fingers brushing cobwebs as he flicked on the light, and then stepped within.

Allowing himself only the further delay of a deep breath, he moved toward a bank of electronic equipment, and flipped the switch to turn it on, watching as one by one lights blinked to life and the muted whir of cooling fans filled the air. As the blinking of lights became steady, he pulled out the sliding shelf on which a keyboard rested, and reached to turn on the screen to the computer, to enter the code, rendered in the same cypher as the one used by Agent Milnor in his message, that would activate the security system.

Never. Again!

**

“Jesus, Gold, you look like crap!”

“Good morning to you too, Sheriff Swan,” he replied to her greeting as he grounded his cane between his legs in front of him, both hands folded over the ornate handle.

“Yeah,” she huffed, “that too.” Standing from behind her desk, she snatched the bunch of keys from the top of it and began to move toward the two cells, one of which - as usual - was occupied by Leroy. It seemed to Gold like he was either the town drunk, or the town trouble maker. “Come to offer your services to our friend here?”  She nodded toward where the man in question sat with his head in his hands, evidently nursing the mother of all hangovers.

“Hardly,” Gold said dryly. “I doubt Mister Maren could afford my services, and even if he could, unless he’s committed a greater crime than drinking himself into a stupor…?”

He trailed off, affording the sheriff the opportunity to fill him in on the details, if there were any to be had. Instead it was Leroy that answered.

“Oh, go to hell, Gold,” he moaned and winced as he raised his head from his hands, squinting at the light as he did so, and then moaned again as the sheriff - deliberately, as far as Gold could tell - rattled the keys against the cell door as she unlocked it. “What would you know about drinking yourself into oblivion.”

You’d be surprised, Gold thought, as the sheriff admonished the drunk to keep his nose clean and not to end up in her cells again for at least another month. Small chance of that, Gold decided as the sheriff turned back to him.

“So, if you’re not here for Leroy, what are you here for,” she asked. “Doesn’t seem like you to be making a social call.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he assured her with a viper smile. No reason he couldn’t kill two birds with one stone, and it might provide him with a better chance to do as he came for. “Simply to remind you that Miss Blanchard instructed me to call upon you for this month’s rent.”

“Ah, shit!” she answered, mumbling to herself afterwards, “I knew there was something I meant to do yesterday.”  Then to Gold, she added, “Take a check?”

“I prefer cash,” he said smoothly.

“Of course you do,” she muttered.

“The bank is open,” he suggested, staring down at the pocket watch he had drawn from his waistcoat.

“Can’t leave the station unmanned,” she said.

“I’m certain I could answer any phone calls that might occur during your brief absence,” he said.

“I just—” she began, but he interrupted her.

“After today, I’m afraid I’ll have to impose a ten percent late fee.”

“Ten perc—” she spluttered. “That’s outrageous!”

He spread his hands. “And yet, if you’d care to examine the terms of the lease, which you signed, I think you’ll find it’s quite clear.”

He fixed her with a level stare, until eventually, she threw up her hands.

“Fine!” she said in a tone that told him it was anything but fine. “Don’t touch anything. She told him as she pulled her red leather jacket from the back of her chair and shrugged into it as she walked toward the door, calling back, “Except the phone. You can touch that… but only if it rings.”

“What do you take me for, Sheriff Swan?” he asked with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.

“You don’t want me to answer that.” Her voice drifted in from the hall beyond the glass divide.

As soon as she was out of sight, Gold moved around to take the chair behind the sheriff’s desk and pulled the keyboard closer to him. He knew he wouldn’t have much time to do as he needed to, so quickly using a workaround for the not-so-secure Town of Storybrooke municipal server, and then logged himself in through remote access to his own VPN, he accessed the portal to the wider law enforcement networks.

What seemed like centuries ago now, he had created a ghost login with a high security clearance in the event that he had to do something like this; hoping that he never had to.

As soon as he was connected, he ran a search for disturbances and BOLOs in Boston and the surrounding areas.

A shiver of ice stiffened his spine when he read of the multi-agency raid on an estate on the western edge of the Greater Boston area believed to be the center of a human trafficking organization, and a hotbed of drug use and supply. He swallowed hard, recognizing the modus operandi of his mother’s nest of vipers and villains from which he’d managed to make his costly escape. Jefferson had been a young agent undercover then. Was he still?

The raid appeared to have gone badly, with many agents injured, several dead, and he found himself hoping, strangely it felt to him, that Agent Milnor was not among them, but no. The man was like a cat with at least eight of his lives remaining. He knew eight because he had been the one responsible for the loss of the ninth.

Listening for the telltale footfalls that would signal the sheriff’s return, he continued searching, making the assumption that Jefferson had escaped - but where would he go? He heard the squeak of the door - thank the gods for the town’s lack of maintenance - just as he spotted it: the report of an officer involved shooting, well, two officers to be exact and they appeared to have been on the receiving end of said shots, at a disused shopping district several miles outside of Boston. There was an associated BOLO for a stolen Ford Taurus, an agency car, and a warning that the perpetrator was armed and dangerous, and appeared to have a hostage in tow.

It had to be Milnor, but who the hell did he have with him?

Out of time, he quickly emailed the information to himself, shut down his access and switched logins to guest where he pulled up a game of Solitaire and made a few, deliberately careless moves, and was just making a concentrated effort to make a few more when Sheriff Swan walked into the room.

“Gold!” she snapped, and he looked up at her with a sardonic smile. “I told you not to touch anything.”

“You expected me to stand the whole time on this leg?” he tapped his ruined ankle with the end of his cane before looking back up at her with his head tilted to the side.

“And the computer?” she folded her arms across her chest.

“Bored,” he said, then added, “Rent?”

Sheriff Swan came around the side of her desk just as he pushed himself to his feet. She huffed. “Wouldn’t have taken you for a Solitaire kind of guy.” He simply raised an eyebrow, and she fished a stuffed envelope out from her pocket and thrust it in his direction. “It’s all there.”

“I don’t doubt it, Sheriff,” he said as he took it and then moved around her, wound as tight as a spring, but trying to appear as confident as always. He made it all the way to the door before he turned back to her and said, “I’m not.”

“Hmm?” she asked.

“I much prefer the game where you have to work out where all the bombs are hidden.” He wrinkled his nose in a little sneer as he said, “I love the sound they make when they go off.” Then with barely a pause added, “Good day, Miss Swan.”

#rumbelle #graphic violence #character death #angst #hurt/comfort #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #implied drug use #implied noncon #disparate pathways #i will always write jefferson

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (5/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 4,255

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, unwanted flirting, anxiety attack

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

“You can’t be serious.”

Rolling your eyes, you put one hand on your hip as it cocked to the side.  “What makes you think I’m not, Sam?” You asked as you glared daggers at the two men in front of you.

Bucky just smirked as he watched the two of you going at it.  He wasn’t about to get into the middle of the two of you, even though he was also wearing a blue and orange jersey just like his best friend.  His favorite team had left New York ages ago and taken up residency in Los Angeles.  It was a sad, sad day when he’d found out that the Brooklyn Dodgers were no more.

Sam gestured to you, waving his hands all over the place.  “You’re… You’re wearing a Cardinals jersey!”

“And?  It’s a Cardinals game, dumb ass.”

“It’s a Mets game!  And we live in New York!  We’re supposed to support the home team!”

You raised your eyebrows.  “I am.  My dad was from the Midwest—St. Louis, specifically—so this is my home team.”

He sputtered, staring at you in disbelief.  “You don’t even remember St. Louis!”

“And?”

He narrowed his eyes at you as he crossed his arms over his chest.  Sam was quickly realizing that he couldn’t win this fight.  He couldn’t even force you into the Mets jersey he had been planning on letting you borrow until he found you in a red and white jersey with a fucking bird on it.  “Bucky’s sitting in the middle at the stadium,” he said before turning on his heel and marching towards the garage.

“Shall we?” Bucky asked as he held out his arm for you to take.  There was a soft smile still lingering on his lips.

“Depends,” you said, even though you looped your arm with his anyway.  “Are you going to give me shit for my jersey choices, too?”

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head.  “My team left Brooklyn in 1958 and I didn’t find out about it until I came out of my programming.  I only took this jersey because Sam threw it at me.”

“I’m sorry it’s not the Dodgers,” you said quietly, gnawing on your bottom lip absentmindedly.  You had heard that the super soldier was a baseball fan before the war, and when you found out that the Major League Baseball was starting up again, you’d immediately bought tickets for the first game in New York City.  It was also a little weird, to have a season starting in mid-June, but whatever.  The MLB had resigned itself to a super short season this year.  Anything to get up and going again.  You’d had to pull a few strings to get good tickets—aka, using the Avengers card—since it seemed like everyone was dying to see a game.  

They didn’t call it America’s Favorite Pastime for nothing.

It had actually been a coincidence that they were playing the Cardinals, but you hadn’t hesitated to order a jersey once you saw it. It was a little thing to connect you to your parents, even though you didn’t remember them.

“Hey,” Bucky said, nudging you so you’d look up at him. “I don’t care if it’s the Dodgers or not.  I haven’t been to a game since before I got drafted.”  He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting it linger for what was a little longer than necessary.  “This means the world to me, sugar.”

You closed your eyes as you felt his soft lips against your skin, relishing in the contact before he pulled away.  “I’m sorry that I invited bird brain,” you said with a giggle. “I didn’t know he’d get so upset over me wearing a jersey.”

“We’ll just have to spend the entire game annoying him then, won’t we?”

“I heard that!” Sam shouted from where he stood beside the driver’s side of one of Tony’s cars.  Your and Bucky’s laughter bounced around the huge garage as you headed for him.  “You two are gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

The drive to Citi Field somehow didn’t end in a murder. You had dozed off in the backseat about fifteen minutes in, due to the late night before.  Morgan had been having nightmares and you’d stayed up with her even after she fell asleep.  Pepper had been losing sleep over her little girl and since she’d been going back to being the CEO—and now owner—of Stark Industries, she needed all the sleep she could get.

“She stay up with Mo again last night?” Sam asked, glancing up at you in the rearview mirror.  Your cheek was smashed against the window, your phone hanging loosely from your fingers.

Bucky’s sea blue eyes were already on you, and he was feeling rather warm as he watched the way your shoulders gently rose and fell with each breath.  “She was still awake when I went to check on her at three.”

The other man smirked as he watched the road.  “You check on her, huh?”

He already knew where this was going, and he fought off an eye roll.  “Don’t even go there.”

“I’m not going anywhere.  I just think that it’s a little strange for a friend to—”

“Y/N checks in on Pepper all the time,” Buck retorted, staring out his side window.  He could ignore Sam and also watch you in the mirror.  A win-win all around.

“That’s because she’s a good person.”

The super soldier reached over and shoved him, though not hard enough to make him swerve.  He might’ve if they were alone, but there was precious cargo in the backseat, and he wasn’t risking it.  “Are you saying I’m not?”

Sam shrugged, glancing over at his friend. The city was coming into view up ahead. “I’m just saying that you check on her because you’re in love with her.  She checks on Pepper because she wants to make sure that she’s taking care of herself and sleeping.  Same reason she stays up with Morgan and doesn’t let her wake up her mom.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Bucky said as he stared at the upcoming skyline.  “When you got her angry.  She’s gotten a little better the past few days.”  He paused, nose scrunching.  “Well, I don’t know if ‘better’ is the right word.  But she’s not as numb anymore.”

“When my mom died, I didn’t even cry at the funeral,” he said tentatively.  His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, making sure you were still asleep.  “I didn’t cry for four months.  Then, I dropped her favorite coffee mug one morning and it shattered.  And I just… I broke down.  Everything I’d been ignoring and pushing away came to the surface.” He sighed, his knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel.  “I know it was unconventional, but anything is better than being numb and ignoring what’s going on.  Anything.”

The game ended up being packed, completely sold out. Any other day, the crowds would be cranky.  The parking was awful—cars still had to be towed from where they’d been dumped after the Snap—and the lines were outrageous.  The food and drinks were still over-priced and Bucky says something that starts with, “Back in my day,” but no one cares.

Because for the first time in five years, there’s a baseball game.  There’s a baseball game and everyone is just so grateful that they get to experience it.

The three of you end up in the first row behind the Mets dugout, right along the aisle.  Sam was still adamant that Bucky sits in the middle, but you didn’t really mind. His hand was resting on his leg as he was turned, talking to Sam about something you didn’t care to know.

I wonder what it’d be like to hold his hand, you thought.  Your cheeks flooded with color as you shook your head, immediately dismissing the thought. What the hell was that?

“Hey, aren’t you one of the Avengers?”

You blinked slowly, coming back to the present before turning to see one of the baseball players staring up at you.  He was one of the older ones, probably around thirty.  The number seventeen was printed on his jersey.  You didn’t recognize him, but that was to be expected.  You weren’t exactly a big fan of baseball before or after the Snap.  “What?”

He grinned, and it struck you that it was a little flirtier than a normal smile.  “They had that press conference for you years ago.  You were—what?  Twenty?”

“Eighteen,” you said, thinking back to that first press conference when it’d been announced that you were officially an Avenger.  It’d only been three months after Natasha had recruited you, getting you out of the grasp of the Red Room and HYDRA.

The baseball player whistled, shaking his head. “Eighteen.  I was still playing college ball back then.”  He shot you a wink that made your skin crawl.  “You were cute.  Still are.”

You were vaguely aware that the conversation between Bucky and Sam had stopped, that the super soldier beside you had tensed up.  The hand that you had just been thinking about holding was clenched into a tight fist.  “Uh, thank you.”

“Pity you’re a Cards fan,” he said with a nod towards your shirt.  He clearly wasn’t getting the signals that said that you absolutely did not want to talk.

And it wasn’t even that he wasn’t attractive. He was actually kind of alright looking. It was just that you were there to spend time with Bucky and Sam, not get hit on.

“Oh, uh…”  You looked down at the red and white fabric, grabbing it for a moment.  You weren’t exactly sure how to respond so you just shrugged.  “My dad’s from St. Louis.”

“Maybe I can convert you.”

You must’ve suddenly turned into a guppy, because your mouth kept opening and closing like a fish as you tried to think of something to say that would tell him—very clearly—that you weren’t interested.  But he had a stupid smirk on his lips that made your skin crawl and you knew that there were cameras somewhere on you and—

“Sugar, is he bothering you?” Bucky asked, glaring daggers at the guy.  He protectively wrapped his left arm around you, pulling you a little closer.  The metal digits of his hand stroked your shoulder protectively over the thick fabric of your jersey.

Seventeen’s eyes widened as he took in the man beside you. He’d clearly been so enamored with you that he hadn’t noticed the two other Avengers sitting in the next two seats. “Uh—”

Sam was sitting on the edge of his seat as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.  “If I were you, I’d turn around and pay attention to the game.  Maybe then you wouldn’t be losing.”

The man’s eyes flickered between all three of you, clearly trying to decide whether it was worth it.  After a moment of hesitation, he turned away and made his way deeper into the dugout.  He was clearly pouting, but you really didn’t care.

“Thank you,” you breathed as you felt the tension in your shoulders dissipate.  You didn’t move from Bucky’s embrace, though, choosing instead to curl up closer against him in case the man came back.  Plus, the metal arm was a nice respite to the late June heat.

“Of course,” he breathed, though his eyes stayed locked on the game.  He was sure that if he turned to look at you, he wouldn’t be able to stop.  He’d spend way too long gazing at you, memorizing your features even more than he already had.  But it was so rare for him to be able to look at you this closely.  If he just turned his head slightly, he’d be able to count your eyelashes, see the little flecks in your e/c eyes.

He could feel the way your eyes kept flicking back over to him as you curled further into his side.  It hadn’t hit you just how truly touch-starved you were until this moment.  Sure, you’d held Morgan and things like that, but nothing like this.  It was… nice.  “I wasn’t sure how to tell him no,” you said with a faint laugh, trying to play it off even though you’d been pretty uncomfortable.  “I know that the press would have a field day if they got a story about an Avenger turning down a baseball player.  They’d take it out of context and make it seem like I’m a heartless bitch.”

“Well, fuck them,” he said, his jaw clenching. It pissed him the fuck off that you were scared to tell a man no because of how the media would portray you.  “Right?  Fuck the press.  You have every right to turn him down.  Avenger or not.”

Sam suddenly came into your field of vision as he leaned over, a playful grin on his lips.  “I can kick his ass for you if you want.”

“No, that’s—”

You were suddenly caught off by the large screen lighting up, bright red letters saying ‘Kiss Cam!’ flashing on it as a bunch of hearts floated around it.  Your eyes were locked on the couples that flashed across the screen, a soft grin on your face.  It was nice to know that love was still a thing that existed.  It kind of reminded you of that picture from the end of World War II, with the sailor dipping a girl and kissing her in the middle of Times Square.

But you didn’t notice the camera crew that had crouched in front of you and Bucky until you saw yourself on the screen, his metal arm still wrapped around you as your head rested on his shoulder.  It looked so coupley that it made sense that the camera crew would’ve chosen you.  You were Avengers who appeared to be dating.  The heroes of the century.  Of course they’d want you on their big screen.

Your heart pounded against your rib cage as you sat up in your seat.  His arm fell off you as waves of panic began to radiate from your body.  What could you do?  You were going to have to kiss him.  You were going to have to kiss Bucky, and even though that wasn’t a repulsive, your mind immediately went to Steve.  You knew that you shouldn’t be worried about what he’d think, that you shouldn’t worry that you’d be betraying him, but you couldn’t help it.

The crowd was beginning to chant, clearly getting impatient.  All the noise around you was just adding to your anxiety.  The man behind you clapped a hand on your shoulder and pushed you towards the super soldier harshly.

The man beside you whirled around, opening his mouth to chew out the man, but before he could say anything, Sam—who was in the shot—dragged him over to him and smacked a big kiss on his cheek.  The crowd didn’t seem very happy, but the camera crew moved on after they realized that they weren’t going to get a smooch between you and Buck.

Sam said, “You’re welcome,” even though you didn’t hear it.  You could hear the blood pounding in your ears.  Everything felt like it was closing in, which was ridiculous because you were in an open air stadium.  The former assassin beside you was currently turned around, sharing sharp words with the man who had pushed you, but you didn’t hear any of it.  Your hands trembled where they rested on your lap.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, doll?”

You stared up at the ceiling of the shitty motel room, your lip worn from being bitten so much.  Your hands were fiddling with the stiff white sheet covering the two of you.  “Have you ever thought about our future?”

The super soldier rolled onto his side, so he was facing you, his brows furrowed. The look on his face was serious—but then again, it always was.  You honestly couldn’t remember the last time your boyfriend of two years had laughed, though you’re sure it was before you went on the run.  “Where’s this coming from?” He asked.

You moved to face him, close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your face.  “I don’t know.  I just…” Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.  You knew that this was reaching into territory that he didn’t like.  “I miss the rest of our family.”

“Y/N—”

“And I know,” you said, sitting up suddenly, “that you and Tony aren’t… good. And you know that I agree with you on the Accords.”  You were growing flustered as you ran your fingers through your hair.  Steve’s t-shirt hung off your shoulders as your hands moved with your words.  “Signing them would mean that we would’ve become nothing more than brainless pawns.”  He watched quietly as you deflated, picking at the bedsheet underneath you.  A sign of just how anxious you were.  “I miss them.”

Steve sat up, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face.  “I miss them, too, doll,” he said, his voice cracking.

You were shocked to find tears rimming his eyes.  Your hand reached up to cover his where it rested on your cheek. “I want to go home,” you croaked. A laugh wrenched itself from your throat as his forehead leaned against yours.  For a moment, it was just you two.  Nothing else outside mattered, and you could pretend that you were just young lovers spending the night in a foreign country.  You could pretend that you weren’t considered criminals.  “We’re a mess,” you giggled as he wiped at your tears.

“But I’m your mess,” he said teasingly, his fingers reaching out to grab at your sides.  All seriousness was lost as he tickled you, straddling you so that you couldn’t get away.  His laughter bounced around the hotel room, and it was so warm and so good that you didn’t even mind that he still hadn’t given up on tickling you.

When he finally stopped, collapsing beside you, the two of you just laid there. Your heavy breathing was the only sound in the otherwise silent room.  Turning on your side, you were surprised to find him already frowning again.  “Hey, hey now,” you said as you moved to curl up into his side.  “We’re having a good time, don’t go all Mister Serious on me now.”

A small smile cracked across his face.  “Mister Serious.”

Your finger traced small shapes on his bare chest.  The feeling of his steady breathing always helped to ground you. It had gotten so bad that you weren’t able to sleep without the sound of him beside you.  “I haven’t heard you laugh in a long time,” you murmured, barely audible.

“I wish I could give you more than this.”

“What?”

His baby blue eyes were locked on the ceiling, a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before.  “You deserve someone who can give you a future.”  His hand reached up to grab yours, squeezing you softly.  “I’m always in the past, trying to catch up on everything I’ve missed.  Trying to find where I belong.”

“I don’t mind,” you said timidly, trying to gauge exactly where he was going with this.  If this was an attempt to break up with him, you might have to have words with him on leaving his girlfriend right after fucking her while they’re on the run because she became a criminal for him.  His eyes slid over to you and you intertwined your fingers with his.  “I was never one for a white picket fence, you know.  The idea of being a soccer mom with a minivan isn’t very appealing.”

You’re rewarded with a snort as the hand that isn’t in yours gently runs through your hair.  You can’t help but wince as he catches a few knots, but he doesn’t seem to notice.  “Sometimes I think I never should’ve been Captain America,” he said, and you felt the rumble of his voice in his chest more than you heard it.

“Why’s that?”

“I still feel like I don’t belong in the twenty-first century,” he admitted. There was a lump in his throat that he was fighting to speak around.  “Sure, times were rough back then and it really sucked being sick all the time, but at least I understood the world around me.  Here…”  You had gone completely silent, letting him get all of it out and wondering how long he’d felt like this.  “I always feel out of place.  Like I’m a step behind everyone else and I’ll never catch up.”  The weight of his hand in yours disappeared as he wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to—”  He sat up, rubbing both of his eyes as he tried to hide from you, curling in on himself. “I don’t want to make you think that I don’t love you, because I do.  But sometimes—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said as you tenderly wrapped your arms around him.  Resting your head on his shoulder blade, you gently began to rock him back and forth.  “You’re okay.  We’re okay.  I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“Bucky,” Sam said as he watched you.  He could see the panic that still resided in you, even though it’d calmed considerably when he’d kissed him.

“—dare you touch her like that.”

“Bucky.”

“I have half a mind to—”

“BUCKY!”

The man in question finally turned, his eyes narrowed darkly as he stared at Sam.  “What?” He snapped.  He clearly wasn’t done chewing out the older gentleman.

“We need to get her home,” he said, nodding at you.

You were still staring into space, your chest heaving with the shallow breaths you were taking.  It was too much.  Too much. The cameras on you, the chanting of the crowd.  The feeling of unfamiliar hands shoving you.

Bucky reached for you, gently getting you to stand. “Come on, sugar,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper.  All the anger that had been in his eyes just moments before was gone.  “Come on.  Let’s go home.”

When you got back to the compound, you were still shaken, though you were starting to come out of it.  Your heart wasn’t about to beat out of your chest, at least.  The car ride home had been completely silent other than the soft whirring of the air conditioner.

Someone—Wanda, maybe—guided you to the couch and pressed a mug of chamomile tea into your hands, but you couldn’t be sure. Everything still felt a little fuzzy.

When everything came to, you found Bucky sitting on the other side of the couch.  He had his nose buried in a book and was completely entranced.  “James?” You said.  The sound that came out of your throat was raspy and choked, as though you’d been gargling gravel.

His eyes went to you immediately and he dropped the book, scooting a little closer to you.  He was more than a little surprised that you used his actual name, but he didn’t mind.  Rather, he enjoyed it.  He liked the way that it rolled off your tongue like the sweetest honey.  “Hey, sugar.  How are you feeling?”

You knew that he was trying to give you space, clearly unsure how close you were comfortable with him being.  So you took it upon yourself and tucked yourself into his side.  “I’m sorry.”

“What on earth are you sorry for?”  He tugged you closer so that you were half-sitting on his lap, his arms wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“We were supposed to have a good day, and then we left before the bottom of the fourth because of me,” you said, your lower lip quivering.

“Hey, we still had a good time,” he reassured you as he rested his chin on your forehead.  “It’s not your fault that there were a bunch of douche bags there.”

“Still, I—”

He squeezed you a little tighter, rocking you a bit. “No, no, no.  ‘Still’ nothing.  It’s not your fault.”  He kissed a forehead.  And he could admit that he wanted to kiss you.  He wanted to kiss you more than anything in the world—and probably had since your days in the Red Room—but that wasn’t the right moment.  You were still grieving the loss of your relationship, for one, and he wasn’t about to have your first kiss be broadcast to thousands of people.

Even though you still felt like a bit of a disaster, it wasn’t so bad knowing that your friends weren’t angry with you.  Hell, you’d spent over half the car ride back convinced that they were going to be pissed that you all had left before the game was half over just because you couldn’t get a handle on your emotions.  You giggled softly, burrowing into his chest.  “Did you really say ‘douche bags?’”

And Bucky grinned as his fingers flew to your sides, tickling you mercilessly.  “And so what if I did, huh?  What if I did?”

You burst into laughter, squirming as you tried to get away.  “J-James! Stop it!”

And it felt like a little bit of déjà vu, but you didn’t care.  Because there was a feeling in your chest that told you that the brunet with startling blue eyes was here to stay.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine

[laceymorganwrites]

Where do we go when we go?

Word Count: 3,356

Pairing: Law x reader

Song: Where do we go when we go? - Neck Deep

Warnings: cursing, suicidal themes

A/N: so i went a bit overboard with this… but I think I got a better understanding for Law´s character after writing this, after all those songfics for me are just a way to improve my writing and the understanding of certain characters.

GIF NOT MINE

Pain, pain go away,

Law was always in pain. Whether it was physically or mentally, a part of him always ached. Ached with anger, with misery, damage, ached with the desperate want of release. There was no denying he deserved it, he knew himself too well, maybe he was a bit of a masochist in the sense that he enjoyed it in some twisted way. It was the universe telling him how much of an asshole he was, how many bad things he did, how many innocent people he harmed. And the bad thing was that he wouldn´t stop. He´d rather suck up all the pain and not change his ways. He had to do this alone, as he did with the rest of his life. Solitude was the only way for Law. Come back another day,

But he didn´t want to feel like shit today. Fuck, not today. Not if there were any consequences for his behavior for once, not when there was actually something on the line. That being the first impression he would give to you. And he didn´t want to fuck that up like everything else in his life. Normally he´d say screw it, what did he think what some random stranger thought of him? They´d never understand him anyway, so fuck them. But Robin told him he´d never experience happiness if he just kept pushing people away. How could he say they´d never understand if he didn´t let them? And maybe she was right, which Law didn´t like to admit. If she was right, it wouldn´t be good for his ego. If she was right, everything in his life up until now would´ve been a lie. I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me.

He lived his life out of spite. Quite literally. Spite was the fuel that kept him going. Just the pure knowledge that people out there were outraged by him merely existing, it was just too pleasurable for the sadistic bastard. If others didn´t want him to live and do the things he did, that just spurred him on even more. His whole life was one big risk, one big fuck you to the world. And so far it´s paid him off with solitude. Which was good for him, it meant no people bugging him. Nobody could tell him what to do, he was free. And if the price of freedom was loneliness, he´d endure it. Because loneliness was all he´s ever known, he couldn´t know any better. And who the fuck would care if some pirate scum like him croaked because of his own stupidity, nobody would mourn him. I guess we'll never know, If when we´re gone there's a place to go.

Law thought about death too often, no doubt about it. He had everything planned out in his life, his goals, the solitude, that he´d never make any alliances and that he would never open himself up to another person and fall in love. Well, despite the fact that he somehow managed to break every single one of his stupid rules spoke volumes about the doctor. Maybe that was the reason why he suddenly was scared of dying and what would happen after his death. Before he just winged everything, taking all the risks he could. Yes, he might´ve had some plans, he always did and still does, but that doesn´t mean they are safe. In fact before his alliance with the Strawhats all of them were doomed. All of his plans were risky and ended up with him dying. But none of that mattered to him, why should it? It was his own fate, it didn´t affect anyone and nobody else had a say in his life, it was his decision. Or if we don't see anything at all,

Ever since he joined up with Strawhat, he couldn´t say that he saw his path as clearly anymore. Actually he didn´t see a fucking thing anymore. All the plans he made, all that he stood for, everything that happened in his life up until now, all of it was in vain. Just because of some fucking people who called themselves his friends. He didn´t need friends. And they were lying anyway, nobody could befriend him, Law was too much of an asshole on purpose for that. He was meant to be a loner, not a friend. He wasn´t meant to be protected by people, he wasn´t meant to be cared about. He didn´t want to be protected and cared for. He just wanted to be alone. Needless to say he didn´t believe any of the Strawhats when they proclaimed him their friend. Is that what we´re supposed to call faith?

But after he adjusted to the new circumstance, Law did manage to relax and open up a little. It was the survival of the fittest in the New World, one could only get by by adapting to one´s environment. And that´s just what he did. He had friends now, huh? He got especially close to Robin and Zoro, he felt as if he could be himself around them without being judged. They shared a lot of things, had a lot of things in common. They laughed about the same things and always knew what the other felt and needed in that moment. Law didn´t know what to think of that, it was weird. Why would anyone go out of their way to make friends that are that close to each other? To him getting close to someone meant betraying them and using the information they gave him against them. But with the Strawhats he felt like he could trust them oddly enough. He never trusted anyone in his life, not even himself. Hell, himself in the very least. But who knew, maybe his life wouldn´t be so miserable now that he found friends. Well if that is that, and it all just fades to black,

And then there was you. Law didn´t see you as a friend and he didn´t want you to see him as such. He didn´t want to be your friend. He wanted to be someone special to you, he wanted you to see him the way he saw you, as an angel. He didn´t want you to smile at him as you smiled at all the others, he wanted you to smile at him sweetly, a special smile reserved for him. Every time he saw you, his heart jumped. And every time he almost had a heart attack because that´s what he thought this strange feeling was. But after an analysis of all the other symptoms and a thorough talk with Robin, he finally acknowledged that he was in love. Another thing he swore he´d never be. Love was weakness, it was useless and only hurt. Maybe that´s why he was drawn to you. He wanted you to be his savior, bring out the best in him and then prove him right in betraying him. He wanted to make you love him as he loved you only to prove to himself that it wasn´t possible, nobody would ever love him, it only would be a lie. Love was just a camouflage for betrayal and sadism. That thought made him smirk. And we don't see anything at all, We don't see anything, What are you waiting for?

Maybe love wasn´t so bad after all. Maybe it was just faking to be misunderstood like he was. Maybe love too was pretending to have changed into something better when in reality it was laughing at everyone who believed in the petty lie. Nothing could change Law. Or that´s what he told himself. He knew better of course, but he didn´t want to admit it. Why would he? So everyone knew he was wrong? Hell no. Nevertheless he couldn´t get you out of his head, you disturbed his mind in the most inconvenient moments and he really couldn´t use this right now. Pain, pain go away, Come back another day, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. And I can't put my faith in a fallacy, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. The world is a funny place,

Law was never a person to crack jokes or laugh at them, jokes were a waste of time, something only desperate people tended to. He amused himself at his and others misery, their pain and agony, his own. He never was a person to be deemed funny, well, he did share the same dark humor with Robin, but overall he wasn´t really a funny person. That´s why you irritated him to no end, you who laughed at the things he said in an uncharacteristic try of humor. You giggled at his bitter comments and then gave him a shy smile, looking at him with all the hope in the world. Every time you smiled, or showed any other sign of affection, Law felt his heart sink into his chest and subconsciously smiled back, or he tried. The closest he ever got to a real smile was his usual sadistic smirk. It kicks you when you're down

And yet he couldn´t talk to you. Why was that? Why was it that whenever there was an opportunity he not only wasted it, but he screwed it up over and over again, making a complete fool out of him. Robin actually got so sick and tired of it that she almost called him out in front of the whole crew. But in a moment of better judgment she sought Law out in private to scold him. She was the one who set this whole date thing up today. Well, she forced Law to have night watch with you, snickering wickedly to herself. She clearly was more sadistic than the doctor could ever hope to be. And knocks you out when you get up again.

So there he was, in the cold of a winter island, standing guard and watching over the ship with you. You were very suspect of this whole ordeal, you just hoped Robin didn´t tell Law about that moment you accidentally let it slip how attractive and funny you thought he was. To tell the truth, you also became quite intrigued with the doctor ever since he joined up with you for the alliance. How could you not? Everyone was curious, it was only natural. And what would one do if someone like Law, a wandering book with seven seals, came along if not try to break every single one of them. But you quickly learned that you shouldn´t ever try to break them. Getting inside his head and trying to get personal information out of him was near impossible. Instead of telling you small, funny anecdotes, people that inspired him in his life, his goals and dreams, he only listed off all the gruesome things he´s done, all of his innocent victims, he went into extreme detail how much pain he has caused. I don't think it's worth suffering through.

Needless to see the rest of the night was quiet and uncomfortable. It left you wishing you never asked Law about himself, it made you wish you never even talked to him or did so much as glance at him. You hated being gloomy over silly things like that, he´d be gone if the whole plan was a success, or if it wasn´t. Maybe it wasn´t necessarily heartache you felt, maybe it was just the sheer disappointment of you trying to be nice to him and actually make an effort in trying to converse with him, yet it was all for naught. And quite honestly you were pissed at that. At least you told yourself it was disappointment instead of heartache, but you´d never admit to having such a stupid thing as a heartache, because that would mean you´d also admit to liking Law. But on the other hand, There's a world full of possibilities

Yes, it was childish. But so was Law´s behavior. As soon as you asked one little question about him, something trivial and unimportant, he closed up again and pushed you away. It was what he always did, something he couldn´t let go no matter how hard he tried. He felt so sorry after the things he said to you, the way he scared you off and yet he never actually apologized to you, he was just too embarrassed. And honestly Law wasn´t one to be good at formulating words. Sure, it was his charm, the way he could go from smug to dork in a matter of seconds, it was a personality trait that really warmed your heart and never failed to make you smile. And a million other people just like you

Then again Law wasn´t the only attractive man on the planet. There were others who exposed the same charming traits of him, but none of the bad ones. But did you really want to meet them? Did that really make them better than him? To you the bad things belonged to Law as much as his good ones. The only thing that really bugged you about him was how much he let himself be guided by his bad side, how much he defined himself over it as if he didn´t have a good one too. Who've all been through what you've been through,

All you wanted to do was to tell him he wasn´t alone. You wanted to figure out what made him the way he was, but he wouldn´t let you, you understood him too well. Everybody had secrets too dark to share, it was normal. So why did you want to rip off the band aid brutally and make Law´s wound bleed again? Maybe you were sadistic just like him. They were singing… Pain, pain go away, Come back another day, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. And I can't put my faith in a fallacy, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. I saw it all flash and pass by

There went his chance with you, Law thought. He wasn´t surprised at all at how much he fucked up again, it was the only thing he was half decent at. Yet it didn´t fill him with satisfaction like it usually would, instead the void inside of him only grew. When he told Robin about his struggles, she frowned at first before she started giggling. You also ranted about Law to her. Robin gave you the tip to be patient, Law would come around, he didn´t mean what he said and he didn´t know how to voice his affection towards others, let alone figure out he actually held those affections. With bright lights

You thanked her before leaving her with a smile. Patience, huh? You weren´t really a patient person, but you got it, you didn´t want to jump onto Law, getting all personal. It was stupid, the more you thought about it. You would´ve reacted the same way if someone asked you about your deepest, darkest secrets for the first time you talked. Well, maybe not exactly the same way, you´d turn to other measures than tell that person in detail how many people you killed and that their screams haunted you every night and you still didn´t regret it. Perhaps he was a lost cause, but perhaps he was also just a broken man, maybe he was both. Maybe the sadistic asshole stuff was only a facade of it all. But then again, probably not. And right before my eyes was the Exit sign.

Law has been lost so many times in his life, not even metaphorically speaking, he was just shit at orientation and never really knew where he was. So he was more than glad to be on a crew that had a great navigator, it just gave him a sense of security he needed in his life. He never had any sort of security or reassurance, his life was always hanging on a thread, not because of his sickness, well, not entirely because of it anyway. It was more like he kept fucking things up, real bad too. Law has always lived his life with death hanging at his back, death was always present in his life, whether he was awake or not. Sometimes it felt like the sweetest release on earth, sometimes it annoyed him to no end. I saw it all flash and pass by

Today was one of those days. He finally had some sort of false sense of security and happiness, he met people that genuinely cared about him, made friends, fell in love, yet he still felt death´s cold glare at his back, as if it was saying: “You´re next”. But he didn´t want to be. Not this time. For the first time in his life he actually took some care of himself, he watched out for any risks that could harm him or his friends. And asked why I wasted precious time,

It all made sense to him now, the way he lived his life before didn´t count as living, it was mere survival with a pinch or making others suffer and betrayal both of his side and behalf. Now it was different, he could open up to Robin and Zoro, they shared everything with each other, it felt secure. And without them he would´ve never reflected upon his actions and the words he said, the way he said them, the way he meant them and the way you understood them. And most importantly they gave him the guts to actually apologize to you, explain himself, at least a little. But that was a start, it was something. It just passed me by. It just passed me by.

In turn you did something he wasn´t used to, you forgave him. But you also apologized for asking such a personal and intimate question. “It´s fine, I guess that´s how you show that you care… if you do that is” he stumbled over his words again. But how could he not with you being so close to him? He could feel the way you breathed, your nervous ticks, the shy way you looked at him and the slight frown, the hurt in your eyes. “Of course I care… how could I not?” you whispered to prevent your voice from shaking from all the nervousness you experienced right now. We are just passing by. (Just passing by.) Just passing by. Oh, we are just passing by. (Just passing by.) Just passing by.

“Trust me, there are more reasons to not care about me than there are reasons to actually like me” Law bitterly commented and you pouted, making him smirk. It made him want to hug you and hold you close. But the way he knew himself, he´d tease you about it until you grew sick and tired of him and left. “Those are your reasons though, not mine. And frankly speaking, I don´t care about your reasons. I trust my heart and what it tells me” you crossed your arms, you looked like a mother scolding her child. Law´s smirk grew wider with every second he looked at you. “You know hearts can´t speak, right?” he remarked teasingly and watched your face go from disbelief, to disappointment, to the corners of your lips twitching to you bursting out into full on laughter.

And damn, if Law could make you laugh like that, he was doing something right in his pitiful life. A certain pride filled him when he saw you fighting for air and when you looked at him again, you started laughing again. “You´re an idiot” you giggled, finally breathing normally again. “I know” Law smirked awkwardly. Pain, pain go away, Come back another day, I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me. I can't put my faith in a fallacy, I don't wanna wait for that goodbye to see what could've been. And I just wanna get one up on life before it kills me.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece oneshot #one piece law #one piece songfic #law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #op #op imagine #op oneshot #op songfic #op law #songfic #songfic sunday

[madamebaggio]

FATE CAN SUCK IT - Kingsman Fanfiction

Summary: Agatha didn't have an easy life: ran away from home at 15, became a prostitute, met her soulmate at 17...

Harry Hart was everything she had dreamed as little girl, but life destroyed that little girl. She had no use for him and she knew he would never want her, so she left.

10 years later she works for an agency that loves trouble and Harry is back.

Fate is such a pain in the ass.

***

Notes: This work is unfinished, but can be found here. Also, this is a Kingsman soulmate AU with a whole cast of OC.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

***

Chapter 1

Nikki was not a complaining person. Well, teenager, to be more honest. She’d had her rebel phase, thinking that she was smarter than everyone else around her and that her parents were stupid tyrants.

Running away with her good-for-nothing boyfriend of the time seemed like a great idea. She had been a very stupid 15-year-old.

Nikki was now 17 and the street had made her cold and cynical. Most days, she felt like she was 90. That’s what being a teenager prostitute did to you. She should not have been surprised.

Good-for-nothing boyfriend left her alone in the middle of London with no money, a fondness for LSD and too scared – and ashamed – to call her parents.

Nikki had always been too pretty and looked older than she actually was. The street was cruel to stupid young girls and turning tricks had been the only answer for her, even if it ate at her faster than the drugs. She was way too skinny now, but at least she was alive and had a roof over her head.

She had been lucky, honestly. Some of the girls had felt sorry for the lost 15-year-old and took her in. She had cried on her first night, until Foxy – one of the older girls – slapped her and told her to grow up and deal with it.

Six months after that, Nikki didn’t give a shit anymore. She felt dead inside and was just waiting for her body to catch up on that.

She wished now that she could look into the eyes of her 15-year-old self and tell her she was a stupid little bitch. She wished for a lot of things.

Right now, she wished she had a jacket.

The asshole of the night had put her in a car and drove her to some fancy neighborhood, then stopped in front of a house and demanded a blow job. Apparently it was his ex-wife’s house. Everybody had weird kinks and ideas; she could not care less about his.

What she did care a lot about was the fact that the bloody bastard refused to pay her for it, then slapped her – hard – in the face, before throwing her out of the car. So now she was in the middle of a posh neighborhood with no idea how to get back home.

It was after one, so there was no living soul on the street and even if there was, she could hardly see one of those blokes wanting to help a hooker. She would be lucky if she didn’t get into even more trouble.

Nikki hugged herself, hoping for a bit more of warmth. She had split lip, her shoulder hurt from where the arsehole had pushed her against the door, before he managed to open it and throw her out of the car. That lovely action left her with skinned hands and knees. The worst part was that she ripped her damn stockings, and they were bloody new!

She sighed and saw her breath in the air. Well, great. Just fucking peachy. She would freeze to death out here. Although… If she thought about the headlines of the next day (“Young hooker found frozen in a respectable neighborhood!”) she could even smile a bit.

She had to get fun from the very few places where she could.

She turned into another street – they all looked the same – and saw a man walking in her direction. He was wearing an honest-to-God suit at this time of night and carrying an umbrella on his arm. He looked like a fucking lord coming down the street.

When he saw her, he stopped for a second to access her – there was no other word for it – before coming in her direction.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked, a small frown on his too pretty face.

He was older, she could see it now. His hair was perfectly styled, his glasses probably were of some fancy brand and his accent was as posh as it got. But he called her “miss” and Nikki had to laugh at that.

“Miss, darling?” She huffed in a laugh. “Need stronger glasses?”

He arched a brow. “Are you lost?” He insisted.

“That obvious, huh?” She scoffed. “Just need some directions.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Very observant of you.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, darling, either you point me to a direction or…” She looked him up and down. “Ask me the price.”

His lips thinned in obvious reprove. Then it was like he had thought of something. “Alright. What is your price?” He asked politely, like he was asking her what time it was.

Well, she was not expecting that. At all. But she did not trust this guy for a second. He was way too good looking and proper to want a hooker like her. If he wanted one, he could get way better, but she could play the game.

“Depends on what you want, sugar.” She put her hand on her hip and cocked it.

“I want you to come home with me so I can take a look at your bruises, then ask a taxi to take you home.” He said with a simplicity that left Nikki feeling actually shocked.

“You wanna play doctor?” She asked flatly.

This time he rolled his eyes. “Yes.” It was amazing how much sarcasm a person could inflict on one single word. “So?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. What was the worst he could do to her? Kill her?

She walked a bit behind him, but they didn’t have a long way to go before he walked into a street that had a very charming house. It figured.

He opened the door and made a gesture for her to walk in first. She chuckled again at that, being treated as a lady by one of those guys.

He told her to sit on the couch and went to get something. Nikki started regretting a bit not having a knife hidden in her boots like some of the girls did. Maybe she had been a bit too harsh.

She was considering getting up and leaving when the man came back, carrying a small first aid kit.

“Let me see this lip.” He said, sitting by her.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” She was looking at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, because there was no way this man was this nice for absolutely no reason. “I’m not letting you fuck me for free, just cuz you’re being nice.” She warned him deadly serious.

The man looked at her like she had just said the stupidest thing ever. He had this curious look about him, a cross between outrage –at what she said -and disappointment –that she really thought that.

“This is not why I helped you.” He said firmly.

“Why was that again, sugar?”

“I do have a name.” He told her with exaggerated patience.

“OK. Do you want me to ask you what it is?” She made a face of such extreme innocence, that she knew he would see right through it. “I can even pretend to care about the answer.”

The man sighed – once more – and fixed his eyes on her. “Why so hard on the world?” He asked gently. “Why such tall walls?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” She snapped. “I’m a junkie and a whore, you don’t even know me. Why do you care?” She demanded of him. Yes, she was pushing, because she wasn’t exactly a junkie, but she wanted to make him cringe.

She was so pissed at him! Angry that he dared to make her care, that he scared and pressured her. Mad that he made her feel anything at all.

“Because we already live too harsh lives to be unkind to other people for no reason.” He replied honestly, his eyes looking at her like he could actually see her, the real her, not just this empty shell. “Because someone – anyone – ought to care about another human life.”

Oh Lord, this man couldn’t possibly be serious. How could anyone believe in something so cliché and naïve? How could a man at his age – she was guessing late 30’s to early 40’s – even think that the world was anything but a terrible place?

“You’re delusional.” She informed him, her voice shaking a bit.

“Maybe a little bit.” He had this grin on his face. “I’m also Harry Hart. Nice to meet you.”

He offered her his hand, but Nikki was not seeing it. The name kept playing over and over in her head.

“Harry Galahad Hart?” She asked, her voice now really trembling.

His face became shocked, then suspicious in a second. His eyes fell to her chest, not to ogle, but she knew what he was looking for.

Nikki had been born with the name “Harry Galahad Hart” on her chest, right over her heart, in the curve of her breast, the name of her soulmate, the one person in the world that was meant for her. She spent years trying to figure out who that person was, imagining thousand ways in which they could meet.

Then good-for-nothing- boyfriend came along and reminded her that Harry had her name too and was probably older – since she was already born with his name – and he had not come looking for her. Harry might not want her.

Maybe, if she hadn’t been in such a bad place back then, she wouldn't have listened to him so easily, but she was desperate to leave, so she pretended she didn’t care about Harry Hart anymore.

Nowadays, she just knew she had nothing to offer and with her luck Harry would either be a drug dealer or a pimp.

She never thought, in a million years, that she would really meet him, or that he would be so… This.

Harry was frowning now, because there was nothing on her chest. Clients didn’t appreciate seeing soulmates names on their hookers – maybe it reminded them that they were likely cheating – so most girls covered theirs.

Nikki licked her index finger and passed over her chest, revealing some of the letters, enough to read “Galah”.

“So…” He cleared his throat. “You are Aga…”

“I go by Nikki, it’s more whorish.” She had no illusions that this man would want her, so she might as well destroy this now.

“God, you’re 17!” He seemed beyond shocked now. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then his eyes started going from one direction to another, never looking at her.

“I’m also not interested.” She declared getting up; she had to leave this place. This was all she could never have, not now, not ever. Harry might even be a decent man, but he would never be able to handle this.

Even if he thought he was, one day they would fight and what would he say to her? She could hear him calling her a whore already.

“Look.” He got up too, “It’s not that you…”

“Spare me.” She threw her hair back, the picture of nonchalant. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“Nikki, my life is complicated…” He tried again, but she had enough.

“I don’t care.” She told him with finality. “Because I know where this is heading and I lived 17 years of my life without you in it. I can sure as fuck live the rest of it.”

She walked to the door. “Let me call you a cab.” He asked politely, but also nervous.

“I can walk, darling.” She called over her shoulder before stepping once again into the cold night.

She started walking fast, but Nikki only realized she was crying when the first drop hit her arm. Yes, it still hurt, even knowing she could not have it. It would get better, then again, it was not like it could get any worse.

#madame baggio #fanfiction #posted on ao3 #Kingsman #soulmate AU #harry hart #merlin #eggsy unwin #Roxy Morton #OC #gifs not mine

[jinjojess]

DR Kirigiri Vol. 5 Summary Part IX

As promised!

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

Chapter 1 The Mania of Existence: Bar GOODBYE - Mizuiyama Sachi

I’m going to level with you--unless you really care a lot about how these cases are being carried out and/or about a couple of minor characters, this isn’t going to be the most thrilling of chapters.

As such, I will try to get out another one asap, though it may have to wait until the end of next week when I’m visiting the States and up at like 4 a.m. at my parents’ house.

Anyway, this chapter starts on January 11th, at 11:11. Mizuiyama looks at the time on her phone, noting how beautiful it is and lamenting how it’s not November to make the symmetry really great.

(Coincidentally, the day I’m posting this is Jan. 20th, 2020, which in Japanese-style dating is 20/1/20.)

Mizuiyama’s hanging out in the general vicinity of Bar GOODBYE, when she sees someone round the corner up ahead: it’s Yaki!

He asks what she’s doing there, and Mizuiyama answers that she’s coming to check in, since she’s already solved her case. Yaki is surprised/impressed, and asks her if she’s seen a kid who looks like they’re on their way to a piano recital. Despite that Mizuiyama suspects she knows exactly who Yaki’s talking about, says that no, she hasn’t.

Catching his breath, Yaki relays all the information from earlier about his case, and Mizuiyama nods along.

When he finishes, she notes that Arai is clearly the culprit, then proceeds to explain the trick of the case to an astounded Yaki.

Besides the fact that Arai is a Scorpio and this case’s weapons included scorpion venom, charybdotoxin, it’s obvious if you look at the larger picture. 

Yaki has apparently forgotten about the toxin already, having assumed the man in the bar was stabbed to death. No, Mizuiyama tells him, this case required the victim to die at a very specific moment, which is incredibly difficult to finagle, and it required poison to work effectively. 

You see, all that junk on the counter in front of the body had a purpose: the phone was set to call Arai’s cellphone as long as someone hit the CALL button; the pen was there so that the bound man could pick it up in his mouth to hit the CALL button; and the matchbook was there to let the victim know where he was being kept and lure the detective there.

Mizuiyama goes on to explain that the victim died right as they all arrived on the scene. Yaki can’t believe this, since there was no way the culprit could do the stabbing and get out without getting caught, and Arai never even set foot inside the bar--he just waited at the door.

“I suppose that means that you must be the culprit then,” Mizuiyama says, pointing out that she’s being sarcastic when Yaki reacts with outrage.

She continues, leading Yaki down a narrow alleyway and exposing the trick of the case: the knife was coated in deadly charybdotoxin (Yaki notes that it would have been a close shave for him if a scorpion was just loose in the bar), then hung above the victim. The culprit used the handle to balance the knife across two parallel ropes. One end of one of the ropes was then tied to the top of the front door. That way, Arai could still leave the bar by only opening the door just enough to slip out, but if it were opened fully, one rope would be pulled away and the knife would fall into the victim’s back.

Yaki is distressed to hear that him barging in through the door resulted in the victim’s death, but Mizuiyama assures him that she doubts a knife falling from one meter up would be fatal, so the culpability still lies with Arai, who put the poison on the blade.

How did Yaki not notice the ropes if they were only a few feet above them? Well, first of all, Mizuiyama tells him, who would think to look up? Secondly, the bar’s power had been cut in order to keep it too dark to see them unless you were really looking for them. (Or if you were Kirigiri, Mizuiyama privately thinks, the low price tag on this case acting as a deterrent to keep her from choosing to investigate it herself.)

Being a pretty good sport about this, Yaki says that Mizuiyama is damn good at homicide stuff for someone who doesn’t specialize in it, to which she says it’s just professional interest. Besides, this case was super easy.

“I dunno if I’d call it easy...”

“More importantly, is it okay to leave things this way?”

“Whatd’ya mean?”

“Right now, the culprit is collecting the rope used for the trick, no?”

“Ah, shit! He should still be at the scene of the crime! I’m gonna go catch him!”

Yaki turned around and moved as if to run off.

Seeing an opportunity, Mizuiyama took the iron pipe from her thigh holster.

“You can tag along, if you want,” Yaki said, looking over his shoulder.

Mizuiyama quickly hid the pipe behind her back.

“Oh, sure.”

“Awesome! It’s time to rock!”

Yaki turned again to dash off, but Mizuiyama swung the pipe and caved in the back of his skull. He let out a croak and fell to the ground, face down. Since Mizuiyama could still feel a pulse, she brought the pipe down on him once more, ensuring Yaki would never draw another breath.

In no time at all, she was able to gather information on two separate cases. She felt rather satisfied with her own progress.

There was no point in recklessly setting a trap to stop Samidare Yui. She was already several steps ahead and had claimed the high ground. That was the usual way to win.

Well then. Time for the main event.

I’m curious as to whether or not this is actually Mizuiyama, or someone disguised as her. You never know in this series.

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

#DR Kirigiri #DR Kirigiri spoilers #DRK5 summary #DRK5 spoilers #translations #long post #DRK5 #[insert obligatory Revenge of the Sith quotes]

[erikismybitch]

Waiting In Vain: Chapter 9

Long Distance

The bar was extremely packed this night . Marley had finally cashed out her drawer and collected all of her tips. Becky , who kept checking up on Marley every five minutes was worried. She knew about everything, even the police raid . Becky insisted that Marley come and stay with her and her husband but she declined.

“You can save more money that way , I’ve already talked to Pedro about it , he’s fine” Becky rubbed Marley’s lower back and forced her into an odd hug.

“I won’t be in this hotel too much longer , I got some places in the works” she blinked hard , lying .

“Fine!” Becky was outraged by Marley’s stubbornness, she cursed some things in Spanish and started stocking the empty bar .

“I’ll call you in the morning, let’s get brunch” Marley started to make her way out of the bar , knowing that food always pleased Becky.

“You better!”

She clocked her surroundings on the journey to her car . Last night Hakeem had popped up and scared her nearly half to death . After she cursed him out, he left her alone . Besides him, she never knew what other creeps roamed out there, especially after midnight .

Marley locked her doors and blasted the car heater when she got inside . She drove off to the hotel that she had been calling home for three weeks . It was an okay place. It had a kitchen , a bedroom that was closed off and the maids made her bed every day . The pricing was around six hundred a week, so she needed to find an apartment sooner than later .

She entered inside of the hotel lobby, and said hi to Chadwick. The concierge that knew her by her name , helped her bring up groceries and told corny jokes that she laughed at only because he was nice. Marley went into her room, took a much needed shower and put some left over soul food in the microwave. The TV channels at the hotel could be better , so instead she used her laptop . She sat on the bed , ate and caught up with some vloggers she’d been behind on. She thought about vlogging her horrible life , but those never got views . She had to be some semi rich girl , living in the city who went on makeup company sponsored trips. Like Tiana. Marley rolled her eyes at the thought of her cousin. Who at last she heard had landed her an NBA baller boyfriend and was living in his mansion.

Marley sucked on the bone of her smothered pork chop and let out a loud burp . She was full and satisfied . After placing the plate on the night stand, she rested back into the pillows .

Just as she thought she’d would be falling asleep , her phone rang. It was a number she had never seen , an area code she didn’t recognize either . At first she wasn’t going to answer it , it was really late and it was probably a robo call . But whatever.

“Hello?” She pretended to sound tired and unamused.

“Aye” A male baritone spoke through the other line . He didn’t have to say another word, Marley knew it was Erik. “I can’t get you the fuck off my mind”

“That a bad thing ?” Marley sat up, fully alert now.

“I’m tryna’ figure that out” his voice full of contemplation. It was low, the two of them said nothing for a while . The small break had Marley flustered, she put the phone on speaker and laid back down. “You still there?” He asked . Absolutely

“I’m here, where are you ?”

“You know...Around” he seemed amused at his response.

“Not with this scammer ass area code you called me from”

He laughed at her joke, she had never really heard him laugh before . It was low pitched and short . She found herself liking the sound of it . Almost as much as the sound of his actual voice .

“I’m no scammer , baby girl”

“Yeah, okay”

Marley got up, she placed the phone under her chin and grabbed her glass and plate to wash. Erik could hear the clinking of dishes over the line .

“You eating huh?” He asked . Marley cut the sink off , expecting him to hit her with one of his classic jokes .

“Yes , cause I’m fat” Marley was full of sarcasm. figuring she’d beat him to the punch , that way he would maybe back off.

“You not even fat , you not skinny either you just straight”

“So all the jokes about me eating...” She asked for clarity , she didn’t know exactly what he meant.

“ Compared to me, you small. I just like getting under your skin”

“Why though ?” Marley maneuvered herself towards the living room couch, she sprawled her body across the arm .

“I don’t know, to see how much you could take” Erik didn’t laugh after his statement, the way Marley thought he should have.

“So now you’ve seen how much I can take?”

“Trust me, I don’t know any girl who can take all of me”

Marley cleared her throat , unprepared for the sexual innuendos. She thought it may have just been her mind hearing dirty things until Erik laughed again.

“Well...Your dreads are ugly , is it a fade or not ?” She took a jab back at him, hoping to battle it out .

“You know you like them , come harder than that” Eriks arrogance, encouraged her.

“You have weirdly chubby hands”

“I knowww you ain’t talking about chubby!”

“Fuck you!” Marley shouted and released all the bottled anxiety she had pent inside . She laughed , she didn’t know why but she laughed hard . And it felt good . “Oh my god” she took a deep breath and came back down .

“See you can take a joke” .

“You sound like you’re trying to train me” Her feet stretched against the wall , while her body laid against the couch . The phone sat on her chest , still on speaker . Her body positions moved in different ways , similar to the flow of their conversation.

“I’m training you for me”

“Boy please” Marley let out a shocking blow of spit and sat upright now.

“You know you wanna be on my team”

“You called me, sounds to me like you wanna be on mine”

He groaned at her sassiness , that was something he liked about her . If he pushed her enough, she’d bite.

“Marley” He spoke almost too soft , then let out a pause . She eyed the phone . Just watching the phone time add up by the second. She had been on the phone for almost fifteen minutes with Erik. Her face was getting hot from just anticipating what he might say next . The way he said her name , like he needed to get something off his chest . “Nevermind” he said almost too quickly.

She frowned and changed the energy with a new topic . “So..” she settled back into the bedroom. “Our little strip club stunt got me kicked out of my apartment”

“Good” he replied

“Good ?” Marley repeated as if she made a mistake.

“She kept talking about how she didn’t want you there anyway , you needed to get out of there”

“Oh yeah , what else she say ?” Marley was curious to know . She pulled back her comforter and sheets and got into her bed . With a click of her night stand lamp, the room was pitch black.

“We not here to talk about her , fuck her”

“She called you her boyfriend , you know”

Erik sucked his teeth loudly and let out a groan, Marley’s smile was like a Cheshire Cat now. “Tiana has never even seen me in the daylight ”

“Really?” Marley said in disbelief, she had this perception of the two of them totally wrong. Marley told him about what had happened. Erik has no idea on account of the fact that there were no traces of him online. He went into a whole debacle about how social media was dumb and unnecessary. He even suggested Marley deleted hers. She told him she was considering a break anyway.

“You moved into your own spot ?” He asked .

“I’m in a hotel right now , still looking but it’s hard” Marley didn’t even hesitate to tell him she lived in a hotel. She had come to a point where she was shameless.

“Finding a spot is Hard ?”

“My credit is shot from student loans” she admitted.

“Didn’t your mama teach you about credit?” Erik joked

“She passed when I was twelve ,so no”

“Let me teach you then”

“Teach me”

“Credit is everything” Erik said, then stopped talking as if he was finished .

“Is that it?”

“Yep”

“I hate you” she laughed hard again and kept smiling even after the funny was gone.

“Where do you want to live ?” He asked her .

She thought about the question. Where did she want to live in the future, or right now . In the future, she wanted to live an island life in some other country. Costa Rica, maybe Belize and grow old on the beach. Her thought process was taking a little to long so he asked her the question again, louder.

“There’s this small vintage apartment complex near my sports bar job. It’s so cute, with a little garden in the front and a fountain. A lot of old people live there so they take care of it . They had a vacancy, I put in my application a week ago”

“You work at a bar . I thought you did nerdy computer shit”

Marley wondered exactly what else Tiana told him about her. “Both , and what I do is not nerdy computer shit . What do you do ?”

“Nerdy computer shit” Erik couldn’t finish his statement before he let out a laugh . He looked at his phone screen, realizing that he had been on the phone for almost an hour with Marley. “Marley”

He did the thing again, where he said her name as if he wanted to get something off his chest. So she waited again for him to speak .

“Yes?”

“Pick up when I call , aight”

“Okay”

He hung up the phone , with his peculiar way of saying goodbye. Tiana may have had a new baller boyfriend, but the one she was crying over was in Marleys world.

(Sorry for typos)

#its about to go down