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munson-blurbs · 1 day

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Apologies were in order when Eddie's true whereabouts were revealed, but would a rainy evening bring forgiveness or an even harsher storm? (4.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, anxiety, self-deprication, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, brief touching, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter eight: mind your own business

A simple conversation changed everything.

Admittedly, it was not your conversation, but one you had eavesdropped on.

You had turned in the final exam for your Experimental Psych class, ruminating over any possible wrong answers as soon as your paper touched the pile on your professor’s desk. Did you get an abnormal amount of Cs in the multiple-choice section? Were your short answers detailed enough?

And then you overheard two guys talking in the hall, one sounding like he’d just chain-smoked a carton of cigarettes.

“Dude, what the fuck happened to your voice?”

“Lost it at a concert the other night. Totally worth it, though.”

“What concert?”

“Death’s Echo.”

You froze, hoping your sudden stop didn’t draw any attention to you. Death’s Echo had a concert? Where was it? Is that where Eddie was on Monday night?

Potential exam mistakes forgotten, you strode over to the guys on a quest for information. “Excuse me.” Your lips curved into your best customer service smile. “Did you say you saw Death’s Echo?”

The hoarse-voiced one nodded. “Yeah, why? You like them?” His eyes narrowed in assessment; you clearly didn’t embody his expectations of a punk music fan. A fair enough judgment, because you certainly weren’t.

“Where did they play?” You pressed, ignoring his question.

“Webster Hall,” he coughed, and his buddy laughed at his apparent pain. “You listen to them?”

“Yup,” you lied easily, not wanting to stick around and have him find out why a “fan” didn’t even know about a local gig. “Um, feel better!” You hurried out of the building, head spinning with this newfound knowledge.

Webster Hall. It was just over an hour to get there, which meant that the concert must have started late; a practice not unheard of for more up-and-coming bands. The prime time slots went to the headliners who brought in the most money.

If Eddie had gone to the concert on Monday, why wouldn’t he tell you? Did he think you’d be angry? Disappointed?

Or maybe he just didn’t want you to know he was blowing off work for a concert, you reasoned, and your opinion beyond that is irrelevant.

Should you ask him about it tonight? Could you? He might hole himself up in his room, ignoring your knocks and only coming out after your shift.

Maybe that was for the best.

His harsh words from last night continued rattling around your brain, barely taking a reprieve during the test. Honestly, you were grateful you wrote down actual psychological terminology instead of I am a total hypocrite over and over until self-deprecation filled the pages.

Tomorrow was your last official day of your undergraduate career, your own personal deadline for confessing the truth to your parents, and yet you were no closer to being ready than you were when you first made that silent promise.

The problem spun a web woven from neurons and synapses, its delicate threads slowly taking over your mind and catching the most daunting tasks.

NYU Essay revisions Graduation The motel Eisen’s Eddie

Too much. It was all too much, but you couldn’t shake them from their entrapment. You wanted to squeeze your eyes shut and only open them once everything had been resolved.

You had a fleeting thought of boarding the bus and remaining seated as it rolled past the motel, leaving it all behind and reclaiming your sanity. Running away was always an option, in theory; realistically, you would be overwrought with guilt before the bus made it to the next stop.

What you’d once considered loyalty was now stained with splotches of cowardice.

Maybe one day, you would be able to see yourself the way you wanted to be seen: as a trailblazer, a go-getter, a woman in pursuit of her dreams.

Today was not that day.

Rain streamed down from the clouds in thick sheets as though compensating for the week’s idle threats of stormy weather. It pelted against the motel’s windows like a steady drumbeat that wouldn’t be drowned out by your clock radio cranked up to its maximum volume.

Darkness loomed in the night sky, heavier than usual. Wind accompanied the rain, jostling the power lines and making the lights flicker.

If the electricity went out tonight…

You couldn’t finish that thought, not when the front door swung open to reveal Eddie, drenched from head to toe. His curls clung to his forehead, his cheeks, the back and sides of his neck; his chest heaved beneath a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt that was saturated with rainwater.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, unmoving and catching his breath.

This was your chance to apologize. To admit what you know—what you might know. The timing of the Death’s Echo concert could have been a coincidence, but your intuition told you it wasn’t.

Another awkward smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a tentative “hey,” and he was trudging past you without attempting to stop.

Opportunity went as quickly as it came. Every word you had planned had been scrambled like a tornado swept through your brain and left gibberish-laden debris.

The version of you that had confidently confronted him about smoking pot a few weeks ago would have scoffed at the way you failed to utter a simple apology. But this was much more complex.

Eddie’s forgiveness—if he forgave you—was only half of the battle. His blatantly false accusations about your work ethic had cut too deep to ignore.

Did he really think that little of you? Or was that his own defensiveness rearing its ugly head and taking over?

Then came a cry from down the hall.

“Of fuckin’ course!” Eddie boomed loud enough to be heard beyond his closed door. “Goddammit!”

You abandoned the desk, grabbing your essay papers and bolting to his room. He was at the window, violently pushing down on the pane, but it remained open. The shirt he’d been wearing earlier laid right next to the door as though he’d peeled it off as soon as he stepped into the room.

Your eyes landed on the dusting of hair that was now plastered to his pecs, another effect from the weather, the soft brown tendrils partially obscured by his demon head tattoo.

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him bare-chested. The night he had arrived, he answered your knock in only his Calvin Klein boxers. He was wearing Fruit of the Loom tonight, the elastic waistband exposed from the weight of his rain-sodden jeans.

Heat burned in your belly, a sensation you hadn’t experienced in a long while.

“Little help?” Eddie grunted impatiently, and you nodded, tossing the essay onto his nightstand among a sea of his own handwritten papers.

Had he caught you staring?

He moved over, bringing both of his hands to the right side so you could press both of yours to the left. The combined force was enough to smack it closed, the resulting burst of wind sending the papers airborne. They floated to the ground, paragraph-laden parachutes, but all you could focus on was the patch of carpet beneath you. It was completely soaked, visibly darker where the rain had seeped in, and it squelched under your sneakers.

“I’ll grab towels.” You started towards the door, pausing to scoop up a sheet of looseleaf that had landed near your feet. It was obviously Eddie’s; his was not as meticulously curated as yours, full of scratch-outs and barely legible, but the words you could make out were enough to pique your interest.

Want what I can’t have

She’s got me mixed fucked mixed up

You couldn’t read any more of it without him noticing, and you certainly did not want to get caught snooping after upsetting him, so you placed it on the bed as casually as you could.

There were extra towels stored in the supply closet, and you jogged back to the lobby, mentally calculating how many you’d need to sop up the mess. Taking as many as you could carry, you perched your chin atop the oversized pile and lumbered into Eddie’s room, dropping them to the ground.

To your dismay, he had put on a new shirt, but it did nothing to temper your thoughts of running your fingertips over his inked skin.

The air was now rife with the scent of burning tobacco, the cigarette between Eddie’s lips already smoked halfway to the filter.

“Thanks.” It was muffled and gruff, hardly an olive branch, but it was enough to tug the corners of your mouth in a tepid smile.

You wanted to stay, wanted to ask about what he had been writing, but Eddie snatched up your essay papers from where they’d scattered before you could ask. He shoved them towards you, leaving the edges creased where they crinkled under his grip.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t vandalize them,” he sneered. A gray cloud whorled from his lips as he spoke, but it didn’t hide his sarcastic grin.

You steeled your gaze and forced yourself to look just above the glowing ember and into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” You let your apology float downwards, watching for any indication of a softening expression, but he remained tense.

“You didn’t even bother asking where I was,” he spit.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, less abrasive this time. “I assumed...because you were so mean to Ben…” Any further explanation felt too much like an excuse, so you left the sentence unfinished.

Eddie’s chest deflated slightly, his bravado extinguished. He’d been expecting a fight, you realized.

You refused to give him one.

“Were you at Webster Hall?” Your voice deliberately turned up at the end, careful to pose it as a question rather than a declaration. Certainly not as an accusation.

Eddie flinched, his forefinger and thumb quickly pinching his cigarette to keep it from falling. “What?”

“Monday night,” you said. You pushed your right foot into the mound of towels, hit with a sudden bout of antsiness. “Was your errand seeing Death’s Echo play at Webster Hall?”

He said nothing, just looked at you. Really looked at you, assessing whether or not you deserved to know the truth.

The admission came out gradually, as if it was being met with resistance, pulled from a place so deep he had forgotten its existence.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Eddie took another drag from his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs until forced out with a cough. “Wanted to hear how they sounded with their new, ah, frontman.”

Lower lip tucked snugly beneath your front teeth, you nodded. “And how did they sound?”

“Great. Really fuckin’ great.” His wry smile held more sadness than amusement. “Better than when I was with them.”

Your heart lurched. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, giving it just a little squeeze before letting go. “I know that’s not true,” you said. “I heard you playing on Sunday, and you’re good, Eddie. Not just anyone could pull off playing Metallica without an amp, but you did.”

You wished he could see himself from your perspective, see the man whose talent was too vast for a dingy subway station, whose music deserved to be heard by sold-out crowds at The Garden.

Eddie didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree, either. His face remained neutral, and given the circumstances, you considered that a win.

“I can work tonight. Hang the new wallpaper.” A lightning-speed subject change, but you were becoming accustomed to seamlessly shifting tracks to follow his train of thought. “I’ll be back out as soon as I finish this.” He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and you nodded, closing the door behind you.

Part of you expected him not to return. If his brain worked like yours, he would overthink the conversation, replaying it over and over until he’d wrung out all the positives and left it saturated with the negatives. He’d opt to stay in his room and smoke out his pack, leaving the wallpaper job unfinished. But you heard the door hinge creak and his footsteps pattering into the lobby.

One thousand words flooded your brain to form myriad sentences, from a joking long time, no see to a much more serious who were you writing about?

Ben thought Eddie had feelings for you, ones that stretched past the platonic confines. But he’d only met him once, briefly. He didn’t really know him.

Want what I can’t have She’s got me mixed up

Did you really know him?

Eddie had an endless list of things he couldn’t have, which often was the case for people facing poverty. As for the girl who had him mixed up, you couldn’t narrow that down, either. The only women you’d seen him interact with were Phyllis (an unlikely muse, but it wouldn’t be the most bizarre case of unrequited love you’d ever heard of), your mom (again, not likely), and you.

There was no doubt you had him mixed up. Maybe even fucked up, as he’d written and crossed out. But had you had enough of an effect on him to warrant poetry or song lyrics–

Song lyrics.

It all clicked into place: The band; more specifically, the drummer who happened to be his ex-girlfriend. He’d gone to see them play. He could have spoken to her, and maybe realized that a spark was still present. A real spark, not whatever pathetic flicker you might have felt that night when he’d held your hand as you removed wallpaper, or when you’d exchanged gentle touches after his unfortunate wasp’s nest encounter, or when he’d loomed over you in the subway car and a delicate dip in your belly made itself known.

You decided that this explanation, the one in which you had little to no involvement, held the most logic. His inspiration was his past love–potentially his current love–and your argument was a mere distraction from a much more complicated situation.

A natural silence fell over the lobby, a healing balm over the wound you’d taken turns picking at and reopening. It was the perfect setting to finish editing your essay, and yet you found the task impossible. Any threatening grammatical errors paled in comparison to the slight movements of Eddie’s back muscles, visible through his white cotton shirt as he smoothed down the wallpaper panels.

The pronounced flex of his tricep as he drove the paper cutter above the moldings with utter precision.

The soft grunt that escaped his lips as he pressed on his thighs to stand up and admire his handiwork.

You didn’t know how long you’d been staring at him before the slamming front door snapped you out of it.

“L-Looks good,” you managed, throat suddenly bone-dry.

Eddie crossed his arms, took a small step back, and nodded. Wide brown eyes scoured the wall for any uneven edges or unglued seams, his lips pursed in concentration. “Not my best work but, uh, it’ll do.” He smirked at you, then jutted his chin to your left.

A middle-age man stood beside the desk, rainwater dripping off of the slope of his nose. He held an umbrella, turned inside out and rendered useless by the wind.

“Sign out front says ‘vacancy.’” He grumbled and swiped at his bushy eyebrows, revealing a sliver of beer gut when he raised his arm. “Just need a room for the night.”

“Mhm, of course.” You found your footing with a polite smile and collected the stranger’s money, just as you always had, just as you were supposed to. Because you were at work, and that was your job–not watching Eddie hang wallpaper.

As you scanned the wall behind you for a key, a warm whisper tickled your ear, breath tinged with a smoky aroma. A shiver reflexively wiggled down your spine as Eddie spoke, your body unused to this level of proximity.

“Put him away from my room. He looks like a snorer.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter. Eddie was right; you weren’t quite sure what it was about the man, but he did look like he snored. Loudly.

You meant to look over your paper after your shift, but sleep was too seductive to resist. Just one more day, one more final exam, and then you were done. At least until August.

Summer stretched before you, and though you would still be spending nights behind the desk, your days were wide open.

Days that might be spent alongside Eddie.

There was no formal apology from him last night, a fact that nagged at you throughout the bus ride to school and prevented you from looking past the first page of your essay. That, and the burdens of shame both you and Eddie carried: yours from the blatantly wrong accusation, his from…what, exactly? Why was he embarrassed to tell you where he’d been?

The wound was still too raw last night to press on it, to ask further questions; instead, you kept the conversation light and airy. The only foray into dangerous territory came from Eddie himself when he asked about the vandalism at Eisen’s. You couldn’t answer fast enough before clumsily pivoting the discussion to the warming weather.

And maybe it was your inner people pleaser that craved reconciliation, needed it to unfurl and bloom like a budding rose, that lowered your guard and bade you to talk with him. But people-pleasing didn’t explain the warmth that crept through your body, lazily winding through your veins, when he laughed at your jokes.

That laugh–the gentle nose scrunch it evoked, the lightheartedness it exuded, how it chiseled away at the remaining iciness between you. It was all you thought about that night, your heart relaxing as the friendship was no longer in limbo.

But when you got to class and flipped through your essay one last time, that newfound homeostasis meant nothing. Yes, there were ten pages present and ready to be stapled, but unless your conclusion focused on angsty song lyrics, you were missing the final page.

Dread’s chill pricked at you, followed by an overbearing wash of heat. The granola bar you’d scarfed down threatened to make a reappearance.

Stupid. How could I have been so careless? All I had to do was check before I left home, but I was too busy thinking about Eddie to do the bare minimum.

It was a bad dream; you’d wake up and find yourself in bed with your full essay safely stored in your bag. All you had to do was wake up and page ten would be a continuation of psychological development in infancy.

Your eyes opened hopefully, but you were still in the classroom, and the page still beared Eddie’s sloppy scrawl:

I’m the castle She’s the queen Can’t be a king I’m too obscene

The lyrics a few lines down stopped mid-sentence:

Crushed beneath a broken dream Failed to launch now I

You were wasting precious time. If you left now, you could probably make it home and back before the professor left. You’d have to fork over the money for a dollar cab and forgo your afternoon coffee, but it was a sacrifice you needed to make.

Stupid stupid stupid—

Your name being called drew you from your pit of self-loathing. It wasn’t Nora; the voice was too masculine and too far away for it to come from beside you.

It was someone with the same name. Just a coincidence.

And then you heard it again. Loud enough so it echoed down the hall, but not frantic. And yet your heart fluttered in your chest.

Eddie.

There was no way; he couldn’t be—

You squeezed past Nora and thundered towards the door, trying to quell your hopes before they rose too high.

But there he stood, sweat pasting his hair to his forehead. His chest heaved beneath a white cotton undershirt that was tight around the biceps. Deep brown eyes lit up when he spotted you in the doorway, his lips curving in a triumphant smile.

“I have your paper!” Sure enough, your conclusion paragraph was clenched in his calloused hand.

You could have cried with relief. Fueled by gratefulness and residual adrenaline, you flung your arms around him. Your hands found his back muscles; at first tensed, almost reflexively, but quickly relaxed. The paper crinkling between your torsos jarred you out of the moment, and you took a step back before he could return the gesture—if he even would have.

“Sorry, I…” Words suddenly evaded you, eviscerated by the musky scent of his deodorant. He didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, all soft doe eyes and lazy grins from his unlikely heroism, but…still. Your relationship now teetered between employee and friend, and you couldn’t afford to knock it off-balance. “How did you get here so fast? And how did you find me?”

Eddie exhaled a chuckle. “Took a cab. And when I got here, I asked every other person where the psychology classes were.”

“You walked from where the dollar cab dropped you off?” How many blocks was that? No wonder he was sweating.

His cheeks, already flushed from exertion, tinged a deeper shade of pink. “N-No, I, um…it was a regular cab.”

Sheer disbelief widened your eyes. He must have dipped into his meager savings to shell out the money for an actual cab, putting him even farther behind in his journey home.

“I…” There were one thousand ways to finish your sentence.

I can pay you back.

I can’t believe you did this for me.

I am so sorry I ever doubted your character.

I wish we’d hugged just a moment longer.

You finally settled on a string of words that required no courage at all, just a genuine thankful smile. “I have your lyrics. Let me turn in my paper and I’ll grab them for you.”

Eddie’s timid expression shifted into one of amusement. “Shit, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Was wondering where those went.”

Opportunity splayed out in front of you, tempting you to ask him about the woman who had him mixed up. Every cell in your body ached to know if she was the same queen he’d placed on a royal pedestal, unattainable despite his valiant efforts.

Was it fear or politeness that held your tongue? You weren’t supposed to see the lyrics in the first place; how could you justify your questions? Sorry I read your innermost thoughts without permission, but could I pick your brain about them?

Any doubts about your intentions were confirmed when he took the page from you, cocked his head, and asked: “What’d you think?”

There it was. Your opening. You could see it, practically touch it, your fingertips brushing the chance to admit that the songs’ mysterious inspiration gnawed at you—

But then he might ask why you wanted to know. And, quite honestly, you lacked the energy to figure it out for yourself. The desire was too strong to be nosiness, too personal to be gossip.

Not to mention the inexplicable sourness that burned your esophagus when you’d considered the high probability that he’d written them about his ex-girlfriend.

“Really good,” you managed. “I can’t wait for the finished product.”

Coward.

“Me, too,” he agreed with a laugh. “I’m sure the folks at the train station are dying to hear it.”

“The rats’ll give you a standing ovation.”

He snickered. “My biggest fans.”

A hand squeezing yours prevented you from getting lost in the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled. Nora now stood beside you, expression innocuous to Eddie or any other man, but her dark brown eyes silently asked, are you okay?

I’m fine, you replied with a squeeze of your own, grateful for someone who swooped in seeing you with a man she didn’t know.

“Nora, this is Eddie,” you introduced her. “He’s–he’s my friend who’s been helping us out around the motel. Eddie, this is Nora, best friend and study buddy extraordinaire.”

“Ahh, Wallpaper Boy.” Nora furrowed a brow. “You go to school here?”

Eddie cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “No, I…she left her paper, so…” He trailed off as though embarrassed by his chivalry.

“So now she can graduate!” Nora wrapped you in an embrace so tight that you briefly worried about your shoulder dislocating. She leaned in knowingly, her tone teasing with an air of seriousness. “And keep me company at the ceremony, right?”

You rolled your eyes, acutely aware that Eddie was watching the entire interaction. The last thing you wanted was attention drawn to the fact that you weren’t attending graduation. “Maybe,” was all you said, and Nora left it at that.

There was an awkward beat before anyone spoke again, and it was Eddie who eventually filled the silence. “Heading home now?” He asked you, already starting towards the building’s doors.

“No, I’m going to Eisen’s. I promised Ben that I’d help clean the graffiti.” You braced yourself for a volatile reaction, or at least something akin to annoyance, but his response was more surprising than any snarky remark.

“I’ll come with.”

Cocking a disbelieving brow, you did your best to keep your tone free of judgment. You were waiting for the gotcha, but you couldn’t let him know that. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, why not? I’ve got the day free, and I have some…expertise in graffiti removal.” He relented with a shrug when you and Nora exchanged curious glances, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “My trailer got hit a time or twelve back in the day. The tragic life of a Satan-worshiping freak, y’know?”

“But I bet the vandalizers were upstanding citizens.”

“Keys to the city and everything.” Eddie stuck out his hand, palm up, and you could see the details etched into his pale skin. Calluses decorated the pads of his fingers; you’d assumed they were mostly from guitar playing, but now you could add physical labor to their origins. He looked down at his hand, then back at you. “Shall we?”

Your own hands were suddenly slick with anxious perspiration, like a middle school student on her first-ever date. Even that juvenile scenario held more significance than this—two friends scrubbing down a hardware store was a far cry from the Sandra Brown romance novels you secretly devoured in high school.

And yet, you felt it—that soft electricity that crackled through your whorls of fingerprints when you slid your palm against his, the jolt of energy as he tugged you forward and laced his fingers with yours. If he noticed the nervousness that embarrassing seeped from your pores, he didn’t mention it.

Nora, ever astute, excused herself with a story about not wanting to miss the bus, but not before whispering in your ear, “he’s cute.” An approval that would almost certainly be followed up with a phone call later to discuss the fine details of the afternoon’s escapades.

There are no ‘escapades,’ you reminded yourself. You’re removing graffiti, not embarking on a Parisian vacation.

Eddie led the way until he reached the building’s doors, blinking as his eyes once again adjusted to the sunlight. “I, uh, I have no idea where we’re going.”

You laughed at his candor. “Follow me.”

It was an opportunity to break the grasp, to unleash the anxiety that threatened to cleave you and Eddie back into two separate pieces. He was dangerous because he was temporary; if you allowed him in even farther than you already had—beyond the confines of friendship—his inevitable departure would destroy you.

Let go. Let go. Let. Go.

And yet you kept holding on, adjusting only to take the lead. Eddie’s thumb brushed against yours, pausing just at the knuckle to press down in subtle acknowledgment.

Hi.

You pressed back with an accompanying smile.

Hi.

This time when you reached the subway station, you both jumped the turnstile.

taglist (now closed ♥):

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demaparbat-hp · 1 day

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I can definitely see a version of katara, a couple years after sokka goes off with their dad, watching her tribe struggle for resources, first being overjoyed to welcome this air nomad, somebody around her age and also trying to save whats left of their culture in the fire nation’s wake, and then so betrayed when he’s (in her eyes) suddenly the reason they’ve all been suffering for so long, the reason she doesn’t know whether her brother and father are alive or not.

And then zuko coming along, not only with a tangible plan to stop the war and help her family, but also a way *out*. She loves her tribe and would do anything for them, but she’s also a teenager that feels so angry, so alone and helpless, and can only see a future where she lives and dies on this small patch of ice, feeling the pull of the moon but being too busy, too tired, too ignorant to heed its call. Of course its the scariest thing she’s ever done. I bet she deals with nightmares after the righteousness wears off and it sinks in what shes signed up for, the last waterbender of the southern water tribe on a metal fire nation boat. But if katara does anything its buckle down and commit.

I would love to know how zuko even gets into a position to have a conversation with katara and tell her his plan. What is their first meeting like, to not only divulge that, but want her on his crew? Do the two of them do their best to teach her waterbending; does uncle iroh help? I can only imagine watching katara struggle but keep on getting up to try the forms again and again brings back some of his own memories learning bending (i love your art, i love all the details about this au and all the others youve dropped, thank you for sharing even when people are dicks)

You have put this into words much better than I ever could. Her journey, her development and what drove her to make the decision to leave it all behind.

Zuko is a different person in this AU, and has had different experiences. He respects their village's boundaries, and comes in a small ship with two unmasked members of his crew, a man and a woman. He introduces himself in the way of the Water Tribe (I am Zuko, son of Ursa—no father, only his mother's name when it should have come last), and asks for permission to stay in their lands as his ship is repaired. Away from the village, where their presence wouldn't be a burden or a threat, and they could be easily forgotten or watched.

Katara is the only person to look him directly in the eye and, when she goes to where his ship is docked late at night and threatens to end his life if he so much as lights a fire in the direction of the village, he doesn't dismiss her fury or her capabilities. He smiles instead, eyes old and tired. I can end you, right here, right now, she says. I know, he answers. I know.

Days pass, Aang has been making himself scarce and the Prince has kept to his word. He doesn't ask for anything, he isn't seen unless someone from the village goes to stand watch, and he looks at her with something akin to respect.

Then, a few days after his arrival, Zuko asks for an audience with the village's mathriach and her family. He isn't surprised when Katara is there, and he addresses her directly, as if her opinion is something to value.

He hasn't been entirely honest, he says, with the countenance of someone about to play it all in a move that could earn him either victory or defeat. His ship needed repairs and he was closer to their shores than Earth Kingdom land, this is true. But it was so because the person he was chasing after had damaged his ship and, according to maps and calculations and sheer dumb luck, the only place they could have run to was here, in the Southern Water Tribe.

But why would he chase someone like that?

To return home. To earn back the rights to challenge his father for the throne, and end the war.

Why do such a thing?

For his mother. For his sister and uncle. For the world.

Why tell them this?

Because they had a right to know, since the person he was after was right here, right now.

Who?

The Avatar.

Who?

The airbender.

(Later, after Aang abandoned them again, Katara approached the Prince and offered herself to him. She knew the Avatar, she said. She was a waterbender and could help them in the seas. She was the Sea Wolf's daughter, and could ensure an alliance. She needed a way out. He accepted.)

#dema answers #zutara #atla #zuko #avatar the last airbender #katara #hunters au #Katara joins Zuko AU #zutara au

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greenfinchwriter · 3 days

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Okay so I debated posting this for a long time but it won't stop bothering me. Before you come for me,all I ask is that you hear me out, and that my intention with this post is NOT to not to attack anyone.

Here we go: Alana Bloom is not a good person. That is pre-moral-decay arc.

Why am I saying this?

It is NOT because:

She's a woman

queer

Female professional in a male dominated field

Somehow "standing between Hannigram"

It IS because,in my very subjective opinion as 1 autistic person, she is a prime example of a self-righteous "Autism Speaks/Facebook Autism Mom" with a degree.

Personally the most insidious kind of allistic ableist to encounter. It took me a long time to recognize that this kind of person is not any less harmful,or bigoted,and they are by far the most difficult to call out. Why? Because they are what neurotypical people see as "nice,well-intentioned,altruistic,allies, compassionate,self-sacrificing" etc, this goes double if you have a degree to cement your authority. Trying to even gently explain to them how and why their behavior is not okay from an actual neurodivergent point of view will always be met with more outrage by other neurotypicals than calling out someone who is outright,loud and proud hostile in their ableism. A similar concept to other subtle, covert forms of bigotry.

Alana is a worse therapist than Hannibal, and hell,even Bedelia. She's on par with Chilton.

Because she is "normal", "nice", and "sweet" it is easily overlooked just how not only ableist but emotionally manipulative she is. She is just as bad as Sutcliffe,or any other professional who sees Will as an exotic case study,and her "fascination" with Will echoes Freddie's. I don't doubt that she genuinely thinks of herself as a "good person who cares about/for Will", and that she firmly believes to be "well-intentioned",and "morally surperior". But she really isn't. Her behavior towards Will is NOT okay. She did and does use,and infantilize him,she does manipulate him,be that consciously or subconsciously. But whereas we make "excuses" for Hannibal, and don't really expect him to act differently because of his pathology,his "nature",his way of thinking etc. We do not hold the "normal" people like Alana to the same measure.

That's why I get angry when people regurgitate Chilton's talking points about Will,and demonize him.

It is far more nuanced,and complex than that.

Imho, in this show (apart from the dogs) there are no "pure" characters. And to deny Alana is not fundamentally flawed,and yes ableist character because "feminism!" could in and of itself be misogynistic. A person can be a bigot regardless of gender,race/ethnicity/culture,religion etc. They can be so without actively meaning harm,or even being really all that aware that their 'good intentions' are destructive. If such a person is willing to learn and change,than that's good. No such thing as doomed. But most of her "with a degree" types will die on their hills,and be affronted by the accusation that their oh so "noble" attitudes might actually be anything but.

I am NOT bird app accusing anyone who likes her character of being any of those terms,to stop liking her,or that she is "worse" but I am saying that just as we acknowledge Hannibal's flaws,can (meta) decry his actions,and still call him Blorbo and fiercely ship Hannigram,we should also be able to do so with Alana.

The "normal" ones aren't always the "good ones".

That is why I dislike Alana,and I just don't like being accused of merely disliking her for being a queer woman,or the infantile notion that she was "in the way of Hannigram". I have my HIGHLY PERSONAL,SUBJECTIVE BUT TO ME VALID,UNRELATED REASONS I dislike her. Not because she read a weird book to Abigail. Or anything else that has recently come up in the fandom.

You don't have to dislike her. It's okay if you like her. It's okay if she's your favorite,your obsession,or you just find her sexy. It's perfectly fine if you ship Marlana,or ship her with Hannibal. I'm not posting this to lecture,or convert anyone. I couldn't be happier for you if you like her and/or find comfort in her character.

What I do have issues with is seeing her idealized without legitimate discourse about her character.

No,I don't think of Will or Hannibal as pure cherubs without fault but I have had enough about the angel-ification of Alana,and reimagining of Will as darker/more monstrous/misanthropic than he is.

That is my perspective. You don't have to agree with it - not if you are autistic/neurodivergent as well,or if you are neurotypical. You really don't have to. That's okay! I respect that,and you!

So respectfully,gently,please let one autistic person of many explain her discomfort with her character,or maybe offer food for thought to some.

There is more I could say but I'll leave it at that.

Sorry if I upset anyone,and for not being more eloquent about this,I hope what I was trying to express came across well enough.

#nbc hannibal #hannibal #hannibal meta #alana bloom #text post #im sorry #actually autistic #autistic experiences

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howi99 · 2 days

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Jaune is a Genuis Au: How about what happened to Penny,Lewis,Alyx and the Cat?

Follow up to this post. Also, disclaimer: the cat has a different way of subjugating people in this AU and is a bit more powerful.

Ruby: *looking at Penny, who only seem asleep in her lifepod* What... Happened? To both of you?

Roman: *sitting in a chair* What red said, me and Neo been waiting forever to know the whole story- *Neo kick his leg* gaoutch! Why!?

Neo: "Don't be an ass"

The Puppeteer: ... *Sigh while sitting down* I am the sole reason for the state she's in.

Weiss: Impossible! You'd never hurt her, even if your life depends on it!

The Puppeteer: *looking down* I wish you'd be right Weiss... *Shakily breath* But i had no other choice.

Yang: *eyes turning red* You are saying you almost killed Penny!? What did she do to deserve this!!!

Marie: *Putting herself between Jaune and team RWBY*

The Puppeteer: *sad chuckle* She was at the worst place at the worst time. They say curiosity killed the cat? What a joke, the cat killed curiosity, kindness and any hope to get out of here.

???: Oh but Jaune~ She chose to voluntarily be my host. Remember? A live for a live?

RWBY+RN: *looking around, wandering where the voice is coming from*

The Cat: *taking form from Jaune's shadow, chained by Jaune aura* I'm here! *Chuckle* I present myself: i am the Curious Cat, pleased to meet the second team i saw most in my jailers dream~

Marie: *looking furiously at the cat, trying to kick without any luck since the cat is intangible*

The Cat: Ah~ i see you are still angry about your mom and sister? What a shame, you can't hurt me as long as i am jailed~

Ruby: *shacking angrily* I assume this is the real culprit of hee condition?

The Puppeteer: He is. But i still was the one to hurt her...

P: *looking at Jaune, seeing that he's having difficulty bringing how Penny almost died* I can explain to them the story if you-

The Puppeteer: No, i... I should be the one to explain. *Looking at team RWBY+ RN* It happened 10 years ago...

______________

Jaune: Alyx, Where are you? *Shacking his head* Gods be damned, where the hell is she?

Alyx: *from afar* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Jaune: *turning to the direction of the scream* ALYX!? *Sprinting in her direction*

// I thought i got rid of all danger from the forest, but i was wrong...//

Alyx: *trying to run away from the danger, seeing Jaune* JAUNE! HELP! T-THE CAT! HE- *she fall to the ground, her ankle twisted* Aw!

Jaune: *Running even faster to her* Alyx!

// I couldn't stop it, i was to far...//

Penny: *coming slowly from the forest, blue filaments making her move like a puppet* P-please... No... I don't want to hurt...

The cat: *whose magic is controlling her* If i can't break her to my will, she has no purpose.

Kill her.

__________

The Cat: *chuckling* It was a blast! Poor Alyx getting killed by the one she wanted to call her mother. *Hysterical laugh*

The Puppeteer: Silence! Remember the only reason i keep you alive is to give me more time! Don't make me reconsider even more.

Team RWBY: *looking horrified at the cat*

Roman: *disgusted* I have done many crimes in my life, some i regret from the bottom of my wretched soul. But that's.. that's...

Neo: "You killed her for your own pleasure?"

The cat: *chuckling* Pleasure? I did take some but it wasn't the objective. I needed to break her, to make her empty. And what better way than making her kill an innocent child?

Marie: *furiously trying to kill the cat, still unable to*

The Puppeteer: ... I couldn't save either of them... But i'll make it right, i'll bring them back even if it takes centuries.

Weiss: Is that why you keep the cat!? Jaune, she wouldn't want that! She-

The Puppeteer: *angry* You think i don't know that!? I don't care what she would want, she's basically dead! The kid i was supposed to protect has been buried by my own hands! I'm dot doing this for them, i'm doing this for me Weiss! Because if i can't even save a kid and my own wife...

What good am i?

#rwby #rwby au #jaune is a genius au #answer #jaune arc #ruby rose #penny polendina #yang xiao long #roman torchwick #neopolitian (rwby)#rwby oc

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eunkitarot · 1 day

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Eunki can u make a post on how enhypen would react to their s/o crying because of them? Like how they would react and what they would do if they made their s/o cry?

So using tarot I would be telling yall what might happen and also fyi its not au😬 so im not gg to sugar coat it. I will read the reaction as it is.

DISCLAIMER : its tarot 💥energy shifts💥.

So with,

Heeseung

Ace Of Pentacles reversed

Right of the bat when he sees is SO crying because of him he would be worried. I can see him feeling bad but unsure how to approach his SO. He would be hesitant to make any more moves. He worries he would make it worse. He would show signs of stress or anxiety, such as a furrowed brow or tense posture. So I am seeing him standing there stuck and just thinking " What have I done? Have i gone too far? Why did I say that?" A million questions running through his mind. Because of this he may not even try to calm you down because he himself is having this inner crisis of trying to process what he just did.

Jay

Nine of Cups

Okay so with Jay, we need to see the reason you cry. Is it of happiness or sadness. Why did he make you cry? So if happiness he would give you a hug. Asking why are you crying? For eg he bought you a ring and you cry cause you are touched. He would be proud of how he makes you feel. He is happy to see you happy. Now if its sadness, Jay is someone that would instantly realise and approach you to apologise. He would calmly handle the situation with compassion trying to understand why are you crying. Overall, he would have this calm demeanor as if setting his foot down. Physically, he would put his shoulders around yours gently.

Jake

King Of Cups reversed

Ok for Jake he would panic. He would appear unsettled or inconsistent, reflecting his inner emotional turmoil. He would be restless or feel discomfort seeing you cry because of him. I can see him being shifty. Very dramatic, not calm at all. Its like the world ended when you cry. Massive amount of guilt crashing down on him. I can see him pacing back and forth. So usually i dont link to astrology but Jake is a scorpio venus and this card reversed is link to scorpio placements.

Astrologically, the King of Cups reversed as a person represents someone who is dealing with the challenging aspects of Scorpio or Pisces, like emotional hypersensitivity. These astrological influences may exacerbate their tendencies towards emotional extremes and difficulty in handling their deep emotional sensitivity.

Jake may feel its difficult to find a balance in his emotional life and developing healthier ways to express and manage his feelings. So yes, if he sees you cry he would panic to no end and he wont know how to handle how he feels , so he definitely can't handle yours.

Sunghoon

Eight of wands

Okay, for Sunghoon, he would react fast upon seeing you cry. So he would approach you and be like, " wait what happened? What did I say that made you cry?". So for eg, you're sitting and he is standing and then he sees you start crying, he would suddenly rush to your side asking " hey what's wrong? is it something that I said?" Grab a box of tissue asap and hug you. I think he is very straightforward. He would react accordingly. Quick decisions and rapid responds is what I am getting. And he would want to communicate with you right there and then to quickly clear the air. So yeah he would ask you as you cry. So that the situation wont get worst. He would want you to let it all out, even if you are angry at him.

Sunoo

Ace Of Swords

Okay so seeing you cry Sunoo would approach the situation clear-minded still. So even if youre crying, he wont be emotionally swayed by it but instead he would look at the situation as it is while comforting you. He would silently sit next to you as you cry giving you time to collect yourself. " let it all out and then tell me what happened" if he hurt you he needs to know why. So that he won't do it again. With this card , this is someone that goes straight to the heart of the matter. He wants a clear communication. Physically, he would sit beside you, and have this focused penetrating gaze on you. This whole demeanor could also reflect a bit of his guilt.

Jungwon

Four of cups reversed

Jungwon would reasses what he did. Seeing you cry he would come towards you with a gaze that become more focused and present. He would reach out for your hands looking into your eyes as if searching for answers as what did he say or do that makes you cry. A bit confused but he would be willing to figure it out. He would be open to whatever you want to say. Whether you want to scold him or reprimand him for what he did. Jungwon would be open to that because he is aware he hurt you. He would just accept it.

Ni-Ki

The magician reversed

Ok last but not least our maknae Ni-ki, alright right of the bat seeing you cry makes him feel insecure. Insecure of himself not being a great SO to you because he hurt you. He would start to doubt himself and question if he deserves you. Something about him not showing his true reaction to seeing you cry. So maybe in his head is its full blown chaos but outside he looks aloof. Like he don't care. Niki struggles to show how he really feels about the situation. So he would just stare at you and is just stuck.

💗Honest takes; take it with a grain of salt: tbh i like the way sunoo handle it. Something about being able to be present even if youre not being affectionate is so important to me. So yeah i like his approach the most.

I hope you like my read. Again its tarot, dont take it as an ultimatum. Enha boys are humans, and they constantly grow over time. Emotional maturity constantly evolve. And that people should realise your idols are not perfect and they too have red flags :)

#enhypen #enhypen tarot #heeseung tarot #enhypen heeseung #kpop tarot #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #sim jaeyun #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #ni ki

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argisthebulwark · 2 days

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Nothing Left For Me, I Am Pleading

summary: The fallout after you learn he's cheated on you. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Cicero warnings: angsty hurt/no comfort. cheating in an established relationship. swearing. reference to sexual acts, nothing explicit. masterlist

Vilkas' fingers are uncharacteristically chilly when they grab your arm. Your stomach churns at the contact - mere hours had passed since they'd touched someone else. "Don't go." You see every muscle in his body tense - does he anticipate you lashing out at him? Your anger is far too cold for that, a detached hatred that drowns out any love you've felt for him. "Give me one good reason to stay." You sniff, glaring up at the man you've loved so deeply that it hurt. Your heart is shredding in your chest but you refuse to show him. After last night, he does not deserve to see you hurt. You will grant him no opportunity to comfort you. "I thought of you the whole time." "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" You seethe, wrenching your arm from his grasp. "How kind of you to remember me while fucking some stranger at the tavern." "Please." His voice is caught in his throat when he steps closer, hand still reaching uselessly toward you. "I - we just lost Kodlak. He's the closest thing I've ever had to a parent and I felt so fucking lost. I didn't know what to do with myself." His nose wrinkles and you know he's fighting back tears. Strangely, you feel no urge to comfort him - all you want is to escape this damned room. "I was there." You curse your voice for wobbling. "Farkas was there. Our friends were right there - we were all there grieving Kodlak. Together." "I know." He mumbles, sucking in a shaky breath. "I should have talked to you - I don't know why I did that. Nothing makes sense." "You should talk to someone, maybe your brother." You press your lips into a tight line, clamping down the sob tearing at your throat. "I hope you can figure things out, Vilkas." You do hope that he can figure things out. Grief is messy but when you turn away from him, there's a sense of finality to it. You clench your fists to stop their shaking and before you can take that first step away from Vilkas, his voice stops you dead in your tracks. "Can we try again someday?" His voice is so defeated, as if he already knows your answer. Why did he bother asking? "I know that Kodlak meant a lot to you." You squeeze your eyes shut against those damned tears. "But I can never forgive this." "I understand." Vilkas sniffs and you're glad you turned away. The sight of him crying could break you. "I'll always love you, though." You can't think of a response that doesn't break your heart.

"It meant nothing, Mal Dov." You smack away Miraak's hand - you know he wants to caress your face, to calm your nerves as he has so many times before. You can hardly think past her fucking voice ringing through your head. "After that, my hopes of being named High Priestess don't seem so far-fetched. Our lord truly is blessed, isn't he? Well, I suppose you know that better than anyone." She'd bumped into you like it was a silly little mistake, dragon mask pulled aside to display the messy state of her lipstick. The thought of what she'd done for Miraak - the thought of him with anyone else, it makes you sick. "Nothing?" You spit the word back at him. You hate that look on his face, the tears gathering in his eyes. He has the audacity to make you feel like the hurtful one. "In my time, it was quite common to maintain a concubine -" "Oh, fuck you!" Angry tears spill down your cheeks, that hot ball of rage fueled with every word that passes his lips. "You would burn Tamriel if another man dared to kiss me, yet you expect me to be alright with some priestess getting on her knees for you?" "My beloved, please allow me to explain." Miraak reaches for you once more, an offer that feels so loaded. You know that if you take his hand he will whisper sweet apologies in your ear and promises that he will spend the rest of his unnatural life with you. He will tell you that a passing moment with a priestess means nothing compared to an eternity at your side. "No." You reject, gulping past the knot in your throat. Drying your tears you turn, hands shaking when they clench at your sides. "No explanation will undo your actions."

Sunlight bursts over the horizon, bright and cheerful. Farkas' snores echo across the hall as your weary eyes wander toward the window to watch. Your throat is raw from swallowing those ugly sobs and your cheeks are stained with war paint and tears. Clutching your knees to your chest you wait, stuffed into the same chair you've been seated in for hours. When the doors creak open your heart leaps into your throat. You've practiced the speech over and over, memorizing the words and praying that you won't stumble but it's all gone when you see her. The woman is half dressed when she scurries through Jorrvaskr, offering you a kind smile when she spots you. "Sorry if we kept you up." Her voice holds no malice - you're certain that she's interpreted you as a disgruntled housemate. "Can you point me toward the exit?" Your voice ceases to function, merely pointing her toward the front doors. Uncertain of how much time passes you remain there, knees tucked to your chest scrambling for the words you'd planned out so carefully. "Gods, it's bright." Farkas' rich voice causes a fresh wave of tears. Through blurry vision you watch him emerge from the living quarters, one hand shading his eyes from the sun. "My love - what day is it? I thought you weren't back until Middas?" "The assignment was easy." You gulp, hating the way he kneels right in front of you. His thumb traces through the mess of war paint on your face and you suck in a deep breath. "Everyone acted so strange when I returned. I thought perhaps it was because I was a bit early - they were all fairly drunk." "We drank far too much last." Farkas moans, still scrubbing at your cheek. "I can hardly remember anything past dinner." "When Aela tried to stop me from going to bed I knew something was wrong." "My beloved -" "I saw you." You sob, shoving at his bare chest when he attempts to hold you. Your heart is cracking deep in your chest, fat tears spilling down your cheeks but you can't let him piece you back together. "I heard you, Farkas -" "It was a drunken mistake. Please," rough hands cup your face but you're shaking your head. You can't see him through the tears but you know he's crying too. "Please don't leave me." "I can't stop seeing it." You hiccup, curling deeper into the chair. "I can't even look at you."

"I would have raised him better than that." Karliah's hand pats your shoulder. "The Brynjolf I knew would never do that." "He did." Your voice sounds scratchy and far away. Whether it's from rage or the alcohol you aren't certain. You're lying flat on the bar, Vekel's infinite patience saving you from the floor as the world tilts and dips around you. "I have some friends in the Brotherhood." Delvin pipes up from somewhere far away. You aren't sure if you're laughing or sobbing at his comment, noises and tears slipping out of you. "Want me to kill 'im?" "I could kill him for you." Vex offers and you bury your head in your arms. You feel sick - you'd hoped that too many drinks would rid that image from your brain but it persists. His lips on her skin, her fingers in his hair, the sound of her sighing his name. "There you are." His voice still sends shivers down your spine. You bury your face in your arms, mind still stuck on the way his hand wrapped around someone else's waist. "I've been lookin' for you -" "To what?" Vex snaps. "Looking to do some more damage?" "Love, gimme a chance." "Get away from me." "C'mon, I know it was fucked up but we were together for years. I told her I'm with you, that we had to stop before things went too far -" "I said get away from me." You whirl toward him, the world spinning and your stomach flipping dangerously with the motion. Warm hands are there to steady you, Brynjolf's familiar scent filling your nostrils as your bleary eyes struggle to focus on him. "Talk to me, love. Just for a bit, yeah?" "We are done." You stare up at him, hating the way his eyes still make your heart flutter. "I'm taking some time off -" "Don't say that. Think of the Guild - we need you, I need you." "You should've thought of the fucking Guild!" You sob, hands smacking against his chest. "You should've thought about me! You don't get to do this, you don't get to make this my fault." "I know sweetheart, trust me I know it's my fault." "You should probably leave for now, Bryn." Karliah taps his shoulder when you devolve into a mess of sobs. His hands slip from your face and gods help you, after everything you hate to feel it. "Give it time." "I'll be here, love. Whenever you're ready I'll be here waitin' for you."

"I'm sorry." Cicero snivels, falling into your lap. "Cicero's so sorry, Listener - please don't leave me, don't leave your awful Keeper." The indecision is paralyzing; so badly you want to comfort him, to comb through the mess of his hair and wipe at his face until he's calmed down but you cannot. You can't stop thinking about the dreamy look on his face after someone else's lips touched his. "Please, Listener." He gasps, fingers screwed up in the front of your armor. You can't bring yourself to rebuff him but do not have the capacity to soothe him. "Please, Cicero is so sorry - they were helping with Mother's rituals and so kind to me, so sweet helping with prayers and honeyed words." He hiccups, a sob breaking up his explanations. You want nothing more than to forgive him, to wipe at his tears and tell your beloved that everything will be alright, but find those words too difficult. "Was I not enough?" Your voice breaks, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. The flood of emotions is too much all at once when Cicero buries his face in your shoulder. God it hurts - you've known hurt but nothing like this, betrayal that cuts down to the bone. "You're everything!" He howls, both your bodies shaking with the weight of his sobs. "Terrible, awful Keeper - I don't deserve that title, the Listener deserves someone much better." "Calm down." You urge, unable to resist rubbing a hand down his back. The sensation of his body curling into yours is so familiar but there is no warmth, no love in the way he clings to you - only guilt. His voice is torn as he mumbles your title over and over, apologies mingled in as he professes his guilt. "Love you, Listener. Love you, love you, love you..." he trails off, wet kisses placed along your throat. "Silly Cicero made a horrible mistake but oh, how I love you." "You know I love you." You choke on the words, shocked at how hard it is to say. You do love Cicero, you always will. "But my beloved -" "Don't, Listener - please, your Keeper begs you." He sniffles, breaths finally evening out. "Don't leave poor Cicero. Anything, I'll do anything, just don't leave." "I don't think we can get past this." His arms tighten around your middle, tears streaming down your face as the raw pain pounds through your body with each beat of your wretched heart. "You know I love you, my Cicero, but I don't think there is any mending this." You sit there, clutching Cicero to your chest and crying until your lungs threaten to give out. You are both painfully aware that as soon as you let each other go that is the end. When he slides from your lap he will no longer be your Cicero, you will simply be two Brotherhood members who cannot look each other in the eyes. So you hold him, allowing him to cry into your armor and shedding endless tears over the love you've both lost.

#writing #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #angst #vilkas #miraak #farkas #brynjolf #cicero

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secretsofruni · 3 days

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prince—ss sirius x guard remus

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆

“ you did not dance tonight, ” a voice behind her said; brush stopping mid—stroke instantly upon its hearing. “ … or so everyone said as they left. ”

everyone— or his dearest mother. he could see the scene so vividly : the guard finishing up his rounds, on his way to his night—post at his door, where he was always stationed, footsteps once more cadenced by the screeches of the queen. what a common scene, the prince thought. what a reinvigorating, exciting scene. it was, without the shadow of a doubt, one of his favourite things. small pleasures found in the darkness corners of his life.

the hint of a smile appeared on their lips, grey eyes raising to look over one’s shoulder in the mirror. their gaze met instantly. “ no, ” they sighed, concealing blossoming amusement. “ i did not. ”

“ why not ? you love dancing. ” remus frowned.

“ i fear someone ruined it for me. ”

“ who ? ” and there was a certain and sudden edge to his voice; one he could not control in such instances, and never tried to. was his job not to protect sirius ? always the devoted, he had never stopped at protecting her from physical harm. no— so much more harm could be done without need of a single touch; a lacerated tongue cutting deeper than steel could ever aim to. he’d experienced it far too many times, witnessed it even more. n͟e͟v͟e͟r͟ ͟ ͟a͟g͟a͟i͟n͟, he’d swore.

“ tell me, ” he took a step forward at her silence, frown deepening, lips pressed so as to not press her even more than he already was. he needed to know, or else, how was he supposed to rebuild what was said to be ruined ? even if it was to be from the ground up, or if the foundations needed to be replaced and completely disposed of. “ please, my prince. ” with these last words utter — words he could not have possibly contained in the cage he’d tried to put on them mere seconds ago —, another step forward was taken.

“ you. ”

“ me— ? ” he stared at her back, not daring to meet her gaze in the mirror anymore. confounded, is what he was. and then, angry, even; angry at himself.

“ yes. you, remus. ” they placed the brush on the vanity, another sigh escaping their lips.

the princess then rose, yet still not facing him. perhaps he was grateful for that at this instant, but he also could not help interpreting this as nothing more than her reproaching him the stain he dared make on her most beloved activity by daring asking her to dance with him those precious few moons ago. but … how could he had not ? seeing her bathing in the moon—light, soft wind sweeping through her hair in a valse of their own, alone, lips curved downward and mind troubled, plagued by prior events he had not been there to prevent. thus had been the reason for his coming that night and he had not regretted it how it had ended (how could he) until now.

but then, he continued, and the torment in which remus had put himself was put to an end. “ how am i supposed to dance with anyone else now that i’ve danced with you ? you’ve ruined it, and now i will never dance again. ”

𝙊𝙃.

remus’ shoulders relaxed. the ghost of a smile passed on his lips, making it its mausoleum— that little stretch on his lips contained life in itself, placed strong, and emboldened by its very builder.

“ i’m sorry for the trouble i’ve caused you. did you want to dance, princess ? ”

“ you’re not sorry, ” he said, plain and true. and remus was not, indeed. the prince’s head moved slightly to look directly over his shoulder for only a second, before looking at the golden moldings of the mirror’s frame. “ and yes, i did want to dance. i always want to— ”

his words were cut short when he felt heat from behind him : remus had closed the distance, taking those final two steps which had been cruelly separating them.

“ do you … ” his breath caressed their neck, and sirius could feel the tips of his fingers skimming across their waist. “ want to dance ? ”

she nodded. and a finger make contact before retracting; as if burned once it realised its own eagerness which had not only be voiced, but also acted upon.

“ with me ? ” his smile could be heard, and sirius couldn’t help but reciprocate it.

“ i think i’ve made myself pretty clear on the matter, moony. ”

𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙮. that treasure of a little name he had been gifted by the prince that night. the night they danced under the full moon— and oh, what a power the moon had always held on remus, a power she had shared with the guard, bounding him to her. as he had always felt himself bound with invisible strings to sirius— however that may be, he was could for it. “ so i can call you and always remember this dance, ” he had said.

remus’ hand pressed on his waist, bringing them closer— until not even an inch was separating them anymore. sirius’ breath hitched, there was the touch she had longed for ever since losing it.

dance, they will.

for ever, and always.

life partners. and more.

#sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #short story #prince.ss sirius #guard remus #wolfstar #AU #marauders #genderfluid sirius black

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arian-velikan · 9 hours

Text

They called him

Part-1

Sick!Male!Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Warnings: violence, heavy depiction of blood, corpses, bullying and then we got the fluff...the happiness we deserve.

@silkbunnies

★-------------------------💀-------------------------★

{Male} "Rampage" {Reader}...a difficult being to say the least, always on the front line and ready to get his hands soaked in the blood of his enemies.

"Rampage" they called him, for single handedly taking down the bosses of a drug cartel in Mexico that had connections to Spain and Brazil and possibly England and Italy...personal reasons? Who knows why he was acting like that...

"Rampage" they called him, for always risking his life for the 4 he cared about the most, the ones that were his only family, expecially for his one and only special someone.

"Rampage" they called him, for being...a monster in other's eyes, a cold, stoic and 1.92 m. (6"3) uncaring barbarian that preferred to be in a room full of decayed corpses rather than a room full of people.

"Monster" they called him, for having always an easy trigger whether be angriness or the one of an assault rifle.

"Street dog" they called him, for being the target or his last teammates and rumors of having a dead family under the date of his birthday as a birthday gift from his uncle from the cartel.

"Whore" they called him, for casually discovering he liked men.

"Barracks Bunny" they called him...for just discovering that, when he was 16 years old, he had a now ex-boyfriend.

★------------------------💀--------------------------★

Location - Tundra, snowy plains

Time - 04:00 am

Mission - hunt down possible traffickers base for illigal weapon storage and selling of retired but still functioning nuclear military equipment.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

The enviroment is quiet and that silence was sometimes silently ripped away from thw flying of owls or the occasional snarls of carnivores hunting in the back ground. Pulsing ehite stars gave the ground a faint light, enough to just see the outline of the white woolly shoes all of them were wearing.

'Dogs, I hate dogs'

Price said while croucing in the snow that was filling his brown beard to the brim. Walking slowly, he approached Gaz that was laying down on the white carpet with his sniper rifle keeping an eye on any movement.

'Do ya hate yourself Cap.? Never thought you could do that'

The man near John smiled and huffed out a visible white smoke from his mouth.

'Shut it Seargent, if I have to be a dog, then I want to be a retired Great Pirenees'.

He puffed out a laugh laying down and getting from the back of his bulletproof grey vest, a pair of night vision goggles and a thermal display.

'I cant detect any movement'

He pushed the button over the comms and the microphone on his head-casket activeted giving a light buzz.

'Rampage, Soap, Ghost, we cant detect any movement from here. Procede with caution from the opposite side'

Price gave the order and turned off the comms.

'Roger that Bravo 6. Moving on.'

Soap turned around and gave a nod to the other two. Ghost was eyeing the faint lights of the secret entrance of the base while Rampage, while sitting on a rock, was cleaning his M4. They looked at John and they all moved quietly.

'It's going to be hard if we go all together, better going off on different directions.'

Rampage spoke lowly since his mouth was restrained by the long exposure to the cold. He got up, put his M4 back into place and took a step forward, then another and another. His boots dived into the thick stone crunching the twigs inside the dead earthly mat. He signaled the others to turn on the night vision goggles as the lights on their helmes could attract attencion.

They moved along and the base entrance was just 300 m away, the grey dark steel door was well hidden and sentinels where guarding it. Soap was the furthest away, hidden in a bush, he pointed his sniper to the guards and so did Rampage who was on his left 20 meters away.

'Bravo 6 to Soap, Ghost and Rampage. Report'

Ghost was the first one to pick up as he was in the middle.

'We are at the other side of the base. Waiting for confirm.'

Ghost responded while giving a nod to both of his friends.

'We are at the main entrace, guards under shooting range'

'Permission to move forward.'

Low shots exploded as the guards fell down with a stream of crimson blood. The night time was the best for these kinds of missions but black clouds were starting to cover the starry sky. In swift movements they entered the base.

It was dark and quiet, too quiet...green lights at the edge of the narrow tunnels filled with diesel stench and very old pumps were emitting slow and annoying whistles. The only sounds that accompanied those were the ones Rampage who decided to controll this aisle alone.

'Fuck me...this is a fuxking maze...' he whispered as he eyed the glass of a door with a decomposing body behind it. His nose itched and sneezed not emitting a sound, then he sneezed again, this time louder. He felt his head heavy and vision blurry...surely a decomposing body wasnt gonna be a problem for him, right?.

'Ugh, bleh' He snarled as he moved forward shaking his head to get his mind back into place since he was starting to feel very cold out of knowhere.

★------------------------💀--------------------------★

Loud remainings of explosions ringed into his ears, and his vision betrayed him by showing him a blurry and painfull vision. His body ached all over and burned deep down his joints. He was on one of the beds of the military infirmary. Why was he there? Wasn't he near the room with the decaying corpse inside?.

'Morning {Male!Reader}, sunshine of 141. Had a beautifull beauty sleep, didn't we? Well not really since you where almost dead on the med-evac.'

A familiar voice rang near his already hurt ears. That annoying scottish accent...that must have been Johnny?.

'What the...? How the fuck, how I am here and not in the Tundra?'

His muscles burned with a linger of cold and he felt his throat dry.

'Well, yesterday of course. That sudden explosion did caught you off guard didnt it?'

Rampage turned his tired skull to the other. John was sitting on a chair at the side of the bed wearing a jacket and gloves, his head was tilted to the side as he watched you buried under wool sheets.

'Don't move, you took quiet a blow there and the fever surely had it's effect too...'

He pushed him down back to bed, the mere touch scorched like hell on his skin but Soap couldn't know.

'Why the jacket Scot-head? Cold?'

{Male!Reader} teased sitting back up on the hard bed with fatigue and a suppressed laugh with a grin. He had an half closed eye thanks to the now permanent new scar on his left eye...new addition to his glasgow smile...

'You can say soo...he sighed, we all took a beating and some flu but you were the worst put one actually'

Johnny headed to the door and put a hand on the door-knob.

'{Male!Reader}, rest well ok?'

He turned around as he spoke, a look of pity painted on his eyes.

'Yes yes, not that I have anything else to do anyway'

He sounded tired as he groaned and scratched his head. He warched the door of his room close and felt the silence on him weight like a heavy blanket. He looked around, he saw the messy desk, neatly done wardrobe and laundry and...the back and white wool blanket.

It was a gift from Ghost for their 10th anniversary. Since they were on deployment for at least one year, they couldnt really get anything for eachother so Ghost opted for aomething he could get between the short leave days and well...{Male!Reader} didnt have time to do anything since he was asked (more obliged) to stay at base and do paperwork and train the new recruits. All of that stress made him more exposed to catching colds or what more and that made him more stressed that he was before.

#cod mw2 #cod x male reader #tf 141 #call of duty #male reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley #simon riley x male reader #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #cod #cod x male!reader #ghost x male reader #ghost

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sweetmariihs2 · 3 days

Text

Huge vent: My parents don't know how someone with autism struggles with some stuff, and if I tell them that I am struggling because I am autistic, they will say I'm using my own neurodivergence as an excuse. Yipee

Some time ago, my psychologist wanted to take some neurodivergence/QI tests with me because she saw some autistic behaviors and wanted to find out through tests.

I asked myself this too, because I was seeing too many behaviors in myself that neurodivergent people say it comes from their neurodivergences, I always felt a "weirdo" my whole life because I had these behaviors, like hyperfocus, hating how people don't directly communicate with eachother, picky eater, can feel when something has changed in a recipe, have a low social filter like you tend not to notice when people are making fun of you or someone says you acted in a "rude" manner when in fact in your head you were just being nice, masking expressions and memorizing lines to get along in social situations

When I told my mom this and showed her some neurodivergent people on the internet talking about unusual experiences and feelings that were exactly like the ones that I have but said that it was because of their neurodivergences, my mom rolled her eyes and spoke rudely to me "Everyone is autistic/has ADHD today. People like to get attention. Daughter YOU ARE NORMAL, just because you identify with people on the internet doesn't mean you have anything. Everyone can relate to things like this."

But after I asked her so many times to try having those tests, she finally decided to let me do it. I think it was because she thought I wouldn't have anything and I would finally understand that I'm """normal"""

So after I told my psychologyst and my parents that I was suspecting that maybe I had a neurodivergence, after tons of asks, they finally started doing the tests.

Because I carried out these tests in several consultations with a psychologist every few weeks, they lasted for a few months. At first my psychologyst told me that they were just IQ and mental health tests, but one day my family and I went out to dinner and my mother said "we asked your psychologist to do tests on you to find out if you have any neurodivergence, and also your mental health and IQ, because you wanted to know if you had it" and that left me a little confused because that wasn't what the psychologist said, so I realized that something didn't made sense there. At the next appointment I looked at the book where the tests were and the word "neurodivergence" was also written there, so I started to wonder why my psychologist wasn't telling me this, but I decided not to say anything to her and continued taking the tests.

Minimal detail that confused me even more: During those months between tests, I traveled for a weekend with my parents. They left the house angry because we were late and we didn't had breakfast, so we went to a snack bar to buy some snacks for the trip. I ordered a food with chicken filling (brazillian food, like the famous coxinha, but it's called "salgado pastel", same dough just a different shape) and because of the rush we got into the car and only on the road I found out that the filling was actually ground beef, which I hate because of the texture, I always did, so I couldn't eat it. For some reason my parents were very angry about this, and they said things like "you have to stop creating these blocks in your head, just eat, you eat meat, it just has a different texture" and I said "I know that, but chewing it makes me sick, I can't eat it, makes me wanna puke" and they know that very well.

Until my mother said "you have no justification for this, your psychologist said that you are not autistic, you don't have any neurodivergence, so there is no reason for you to create these mental blocks" (them: personal boundaries and preferences)

Her telling me this made me even more confused, because I had already been adapting to the idea of being autistic for months, I knew I was, and being autistic explained everything about me that I thought was "weird" my whole life. So after hearing my parents yelling at me for 20 minutes straight, what my mom said kept playing in my mind and I thought "I can't believe it. So these doubts I have about myself, these questions I've had my whole life of 'why am I like this? why am I weird?' will never be answered. And in the end, I'm just an outcast for no reason."

Time passed and I kept doing the tests. My psychologist said that as soon as the tests were finished she would call my parents to see the results. When they were finished, I spent time waiting for the results, weeks, thinking about what would appear on paper. I sometimes saw my psychologist on the street and she said she was just waiting for the results, the documents, I'm not sure. So I was really anxious for a few weeks. She set the day for my parents to go there, and they finally went. They arrived home at night and invited me to talk at the dinner table with the results at hand. I won't say much about it, but it was there, confirmed, I am level 1 autistic. My parents' reaction was funny, they were reacting like straight parents who found out that their son is gay, "it's okay son, we still love you, even if you're like this. This doesn't change anything at all, you're still normal to us" 😭 their choice of words and point of view is questionable, but they don't do it on purpose, it's because of the generation they grew up in, at the end their intentions are good, they just don't know how to put them in practice properly.

I went back to my psychologist and we talked about it, she asked me about how the conversation went, my reaction, what my parents told me, and I said that they told me everything, they read all the papers one by one showing me the page per page, they even let me read it, so I knew everything that was written there. And then my psychologist told me something. That before starting taking the tests, SHE had spoke to my parents about it because SHE saw some autistic behaviors in me, so it wasn't just me who was thinking about this.

She told me that she spoke to my parents about it and they said "yes yes our daughter was really talking about this" and they decided to do it, BUT, they told her that they weren't sure if taking a neurodivergence test (that means, discovering how my own mind works and understanding myself better) would be a good idea cuz if I found out I'm something, I'm going to use this info to "play the victim" like HELLO??? LIKE WHEN DID I?!?? HOW?!???!?

Put this together with that situation of my mom saying "everyone is autistic today, people like to get attention", or my parents mad because I didn't wanted to eat something and saying I had no excuse for creating those "mental blocks" because "my psychologist told them I wasn't autistic, so it didn't made sense". I TOLD MY PSYCHOLOGYST THIS AFTER I SAW THE RESULTS, AND SHE SAID SHE NEVER SAID THIS TO THEM! EVER! Actually, what she did told my parents was that I had SEVERAL autistic behaviors and she offered trying to do tests, nothing more.

My parents told my psychologyst to tell me she was only making "QI and mental health" tests, because they were afraid of me faking the test to get the result that I want (?!???!?). And my psychologist found that really weird because she really doubted that someone who doesn't know a thing about psychology could fake those tests, so me knowing it was a neurodivergence test or not it wouldn't change anything, I couldn't fake it even if I wanted to! But she decided to respect their decision. Like parents what the actual fuck

And it's weird that THEY told me it was a QI + mental healt + neurodivergence test, after they told my psychologyst not to. Maybe they stopped caring mid tests about me finding out, maybe they thought a little more about what my psychologist said about not being possible to fake that test. Maybe having that conversation:

Parents: We want her to do the tests but don't tell her what it is fully for cuz she might fake the results (which doesn't make any sense why the hell would I want to fake something like this)

Psychologist: um actually you can't fake it even if you wanted to, so it doesn't change anything

*and after that conversation two things happened: my psychologist respected their decision about not telling me, and my parents got out of there thinking "well, she said it doesn't change anything so let's tell our daughter ourselves"*

Which made this whole mess

It turns out that I am indeed autistic; despite doing the tests blindly, despite not really knowing what it was for, despite my mom telling me 191892827 times that I wasn't and lying to me about my psychologist saying that I'm not (which never ever happened)

AND TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE: They weren't even sure if they would tell ME about MY OWN NEURODIVERGENCE, because they were afraid I would use it to "play the victim" LIKE I'M THE KIND OF PERSO WHO DOES THAT

WHAT THE FUCK #!?!?#?@? WHAT??#??@?

I spent an unhealthy amount of time wondering why my parents were trying to keep this from me, and why do they see me like this.

I am fully aware that for many years, since childhood, my parents do not accept that I have different tastes and preferences.

My mom doesn't accept me dressing how I want, there was a time when I was very insecure and dressed tomboyish in an attempt to hide myself, but I dreamed of wearing anime skirts and being a soft girl style, I just didn't have the confidence (we are talking about 2018/2019). My mom complained a lot back then about how she couldn't dress me anymore. Nowadays, after recovering, I wear coquette style clothes, which is what I always liked but I just didn't had any confidence. And she even says "If you let me dress you, you would see how many compliments you would get", and I always answer "I don't care about the compliments, I just want to feel good in my clothes"

She keeps repeating comments about how "when I was young she dressed me I looked like a princess". Everyone gave me compliments, she gets a lot of compliments on the clothes she wears, my father says "daughter, your mom knows about clothes, let her dress you" and I don't even wear a style that would make their internalized homophobia frustrated like a masc style, IT'S COQUETTE! IT'S EXTREMELY FEMININE! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME WAAAA

That's my pinterest board. I LITERALLY HAVE some of these clothes and make outfits that are similar to these. What are they talking about why are they mad

They don't like the idea of me having boundaries. Whey they do something that I don't, like eat something that I don't, wear something that I don't, do something that I don't, they always said I'm creating a "psychological block", I'm stopping myself from doing things because I put it in my head. "You don't eat something because it gives you the ick? Stop putting that in your head, everyone does it" "You don't wear the clothes I wear? Stop putting that in your head daughter, everyone does it"

And you know what's funniest for me? Of everything? I've been told all my life that I put things in my head about things that are actually boundaries and personal tastes, but now that I discovered that I'm autistic, I actually discovered that this is related to my autism!

I don't eat corn, peanuts, or any grains since I was younger, and they've been treating me like I'm crazy since always, AND IT'S BECAUSE OF THE TEXTURE! AUTISM!

I don't wore jewlery for a long time and this made my mom pissed for years, till this day I don't wear rings or bracelets because they make me uncomfortable, AND IT'S BECAUSE OF TEXTURE AGAIN! AUTISM

I had crazy "anxiety attacks" when I entered highschool, everything was too noisy, too hot, too many people, too many voices, closed in four walls for 9 hours per day, when it was too much I felt like I needed to scream, I cried, felt my chest hurt, and the people talking around me were still too loud, I didn't know why. I WAS OVERESTIMULATED!

"We don't know what's wrong with you, you keep putting those things in your head" NOW YOU DO! I'M AUTISTIC AND THESE WERE MY AUTISTIC BEHAVIORS! YAY!

And to make matters worse, remember how I said that my parents said they didn't want me to find out that I'm autistic because I would use that to "play the victim"? These behaviors of mine that they condemned for so long were autistic behaviors. And now that I know what they are, I can't say that I have difficulties because of my neurodivergence, because for them, I'll be playing the victim.

I've always had these difficulties, such as sensitivity to loud noises. But if I say "my ears are sensitive because I'm autistic" my parents will say that I'm using that as an excuse for something. "before you found out, you didn't use that as a justification for everything" DON'T YOU SAY!

I have a neurodivergence. I have difficulties with it and I need support, I always did, but now I found out the reason and I need you to understand that my brain doesn't work like yours. But if I tell you "my brain doesn't work like yours" you'll say "stop using that to victimize yourself! You're ""normal""

No hell I'm not neurotypical. My world isn't the same as yours. How am I supposed to ask my parents for support when we're at a party and I'm feeling overestimulated and the noises are too loud, if they answer with "stop using this as an excuse"

They didn't told me this yet, but it's because I'm not mentioning my autism in front of them. Some time ago I was playing videogame with my brother and the volume was too loud, it happened once, I told him

"arrgggg turn down the volume, the sound is too loud and it hurts my ears",

my brother said "it doesn't hurt mine"

and I said "you know i'm autistic"

but then he started saying "ever since you found out you're autistic you've been playing the victim."

I tried to explain to him that I always were, and now I can explain where my behaviors came from. I said "if you discovered that something you endure with is actually because of your neurodivergence, wouldn't you explain it to people? After all you're not like everyone else, you need support in some areas" and he said "lol no I would only make jokes about it BC it's nothing at all" (he's the kind of boy who makes fun of it)

I don't wanna try to do this next to my parents. I will hear worse stuff and only be reminded about how my parents don't respect my boundaries. This week there was an interclass championship at my school, the noises were very loud, very very loud, my ears were hurting so much that I couldn't stand it to the point of not giving a damn about what the teachers would say about "staying on the court" and I just left running out of there with my ears covered, extremely overstimulated. My mother stopped by while I was still there, I don't know exactly what she was doing there, but she greeted me and everything. And at that time the entire stand started shouting about a goal, and I already had my ears covered and an extremely uncomfortable expression on my face. When I got home later I talked about how being on the court was stressful and there was a lot of noise, and she said "yeah, I saw you there"

And I just. Couldn't tell her about the struggle I was in and how this was related to me being autistic. Because she wouldn't understand.

#autism #autistic #actually autistic #vent #vent post #neurodivergent #neurodivergence

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frozenjokes · 3 days

Text

A Matter Of Fairness Or Maybe Fear

the next part of the mumbomaid au is four separate mini stories that will be posted as one chapter on ao3, but I thought it might be cool to post them separately here (and since this one’s done, I thought I might post it earlier before the rest goes up on ao3 >:D)

This call marked Scar’s 129th over the course of two days, and quite frankly, his persistence was starting to wear at Etho’s resolve. Maybe ‘resolve’ wasn’t quite the right word actually- patience might be better. This marked the sixth day Etho had been stuck in a little outlet away from home, burying himself in the mud day in and day out, and he was really getting sick of it- sick of Joel, actually, and Scar calling him every free moment of the day was getting quite frustrating when he was waiting on messages from Joel.

Etho let it ring. It wouldn’t stop Scar. Yesterday while sending Joel a very long and very angry message, Etho had accidentally declined Call 4 before the first ring concluded, so Scar knew Etho had his phone. Since then, Etho had also accidentally declined Call 7, 68, 70, and 103.

Call 129 ended and Call 130 began. Call 130 did not end before Bdubs rang at the same time, and that hurt, so Etho submerged himself to avoid it. Soon enough, it too was over. Scar’s insistent calling replaced Bdub’s ringtone without pause.

131. 132. 133.

Finally, it stopped, Scar probably running out of time on his work break. Thank god. Etho had enough on his plate without Scar breathing down his neck, but if he was really being honest, being bitter about Scar’s knowledge on his and Joel’s split souls probably wouldn’t change his behavior today. Scar had a habit of spam calling, and Etho did not know him to give up.

Call 134 just a couple of minutes after the 133rd snapped the last remaining thread of Etho’s patience.

Etho pounced on his phone, picking up with a wrathful hiss, “Stop calling me,” before hanging up. After Call 173, Etho was pretty sure this would never end until he grew a pair and answered the phone. With great disdain, he accepted Scar’s call.

“Hello? Etho? Are you there?”

Etho didn’t respond for a while, too busy fuming to speak. “I’m here.”

“Are you in immediate peril? Do you have time to talk?”

“I have time.” Etho spoke every word through gritted teeth. Scar was quiet for a long moment.

“Then hang the fuck up and call Bdubs you fucking asshole. He’s one more anxiety attack away from filing a missing person’s report, and I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t already! He’s convinced you’re dead in a ditch somewhere or kidnapped or something, and I don’t blame him. If you have your phone and you’re not bleeding out on the fucking rocks, there is literally NO REASON you haven’t called him.”

The wind of Scar’s anger left a heavy silence in its wake. Etho wasn’t quite sure how to break it, but he had a feeling Scar wasn’t going to just let him hang up without another word.

“I can’t call him,” he said instead, all too aware that Scar’s assault of his ears would only continue.

“Give me one good reason why you can’t call your best friend and tell him you’re okay. It’s nearly been a week, Etho, come on. The longest you’ve ever been gone at a time is three days, and you told us beforehand. And I swear to god if you say-“

“Scar, I can’t just call him, I’m not human.”

“You don’t have to fucking video call him!”

“I sound different, Scar. I can’t,” Etho insisted, desperation spilling through in sick waves. Scar didn’t get it. How could he make Scar understand? “What if he asks where I am? What am I supposed to tell him? I can’t call him.”

“You do not sound different! At all!”

“I do.”

“I didn’t notice! It can’t be that bad. Over the phone it won’t even matter- I can not believe you’re fighting me on this. Come on.”

“I can’t, Scar,” a soft whistle broke through behind the words, making Etho feel all the more pathetic. He didn’t want to be here. He’d give anything to be home right now, not worried about being seen or overpowered or caught- he’d give anything to go home, eat normal food- He had work too, he had deadlines! He didn’t want to be in this position at all! Etho didn’t- he didn’t want to upset Bdubs either, of course not, but how was he supposed to explain?

“When are you going to be home then, Etho? Because I need to tell him something. I’m going to tell him- at least that you’re okay. Do you even understand what you’re putting him through right now? Would you really rather let him think you’re in trouble than have a difficult conversation with your best friend?”

“I don’t- I don’t know, Scar. This isn’t my fault- it’s not like I want to be away at all! Please don’t.”

“I’m not mad that you’re not home, Etho. I’m mad because you have a phone to call your roommate with and you’re not using it.”

“He’ll ask questions.” Voicing the thought sounded so much worse, so irredeemably meager. He was being selfish, wasn’t he. Scar was right. But Scar didn’t- Scar didn’t understand the fear- the anxiety- How easy it must be for Scar to stand by the sidelines and tell Etho what was right and wrong. He had no idea.

Scar interrupted his train of self righteous anger before it could build further, “Bdubs has every damn right to ask questions! And even then, he probably won’t. He’d do anything to keep from stepping on your toes on issues like this, even when you treat him like shit. I’m serious. This is fucked. This is cruel. Cleo’s worried sick as well- we’re all worried.” Scar stopped with a huff and Etho heard him mess with his hair over the line, “You know what, this is a waste of time. I’m just going to call him.” Scar hung up without another word, lighting a sharp panic in Etho’s chest. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this. But he didn’t want an angry Scar telling Bdubs anything about his situation much more.

He fumbled over Bdubs’ contact, pressing several wrong buttons before finally dialing his number. The phone didn’t even pass the first ring.

“Etho? Hello?” Bdubs spoke, drying the words off Etho’s tongue. Not that he had anything to say in the first place. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for this. His mind seemed to dry up as well, leaving nothing but static in the wake of his panic. “Are you there? Etho?” Bdubs’ voice was faint. Terrified.

Sudden guilt wracked his body, physical in its pain like being caught in the middle of a head-on collision. “I’m here,” his voice shook, but he was hardly aware of it, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Bdubs was quiet, the silence crushing, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

Neither of them spoke, tension thrumming through the air just as clear as audible sound. Etho didn’t think he’d ever be able to breathe again. This was so much worse than he’d ever imagined this conversation going, and he had imagined it.

…

Bdubs sobbed, and all at once Etho crumbled. Mermaids didn’t have the right anatomy to cry, but Bdubs didn’t question the strained noises of distress that bubbled out of Etho’s throat. Bdubs never did question anything, did he? Not to do with Etho’s disappearances. Not for years.

That wasn’t really fair at all, was it.

That wasn’t fair at all.

#hermitcraft #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #ethoslab #etho #bdubs #bdouble0 #the clockers #hermitfic

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lostfirefly · 3 days

Text

Just a second, we're not broken, just bent and we can learn to love again

The idea is based on my biggest fight in life and friends who are in relationships. For some reason, I think Buggy might get mad over something like this. Anyway, Sunday is the best time for a long fic :) English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Masterlist is here

Description: Buggy asks Catherine out on a date, and they accidentally run into an old friend of hers.

Warnings: Fun, fluff turn into their big quarrel. Angry Catherine, angry, jealous and pissed off Buggy.

Words: 5415

Buggy x OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series.

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august

The title is taken from "Just Give Me a Reason" by Pink feat. Nate Ruess.

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“Cathie-pie, it's only 9 am.” Buggy mumbled into his pillow in a sleepy voice.

“I’m in a good mood.” Catherine was spinning around in the bedroom to the music, moving her butt from side to side. "Don't you dare kill my mood!"

“What is wrong with you?” Buggy rolled over on his back and rubbed his eyes.

“Nothing! I woke up in a wonderful city that I adore. We’re home and my blue-haired love is with me! Wo-o-o-ho-o-o!” Catherine raised her arms up and spun around her axis. She stopped for a second, looked at Buggy, broke into a smile and threw herself onto the bed with a squeal. “Love!” Smack. “Love!” Smack. “Love, love, love you!!” Smack. Smack. Smack. “I love your nose.” Smack. “I love your gray hair on your temples and eyebrows!” Smack. “I love your painted mouth.” Smack. Smack.

“Geeez, woman! It's only morning! Stop doing this shit! Stop dancing, twirling and kissing me. Better get in here!” Buggy lifted the blanket and Catherine happily crawled under the covers with her whole body, and stuck her head out.

“Hi! Here I am!” Smack. “You are going somewhere today. Can I come with you?” She settled under his armpit and took his hand.

“Sorry, cotton candy, but it's a little personal.” Buggy looked at her disheveled hair and placed his chin on the top of her head.

“Okay, at the end of the day, you need your own space. I don't want to turn into one of those annoying couples who can't live even a minute without each other.”

“What? I can easily live a day without you!”

“Liar!” Catherine frowned playfully. “If I'm not in the room, you come to me in 10 or 15 minutes. Yesterday, I was in the kitchen arranging Indian food on plates. You came to me though I had been out of the living room for 5 minutes. You just can't live without me! And when you're at rehearsals, you constantly send me messages. And by the way, stop asking for naked pictures of me. This won't happen!”

“But why?” Buggy looked at her with upset eyes.

“I'm not going to send you this when you're at work, clown.” Catherine shook her hand negatively. “What if someone sees?”

“So what?” Buggy shrugged.

“Why do you need my naked photos? I don’t even want to think what you could be doing there, looking at them. I'm lying next to you now, isn't that enough?”

“Doesn't count.” Buggy muttered into her head. “You're in your pajamas. More precisely, in your pants with piglets and my t-shirt. Again.”

“Sorry that this is one of those rare mornings where I luckily woke up dressed.” Catherine blushed. “And after your meeting, what are you gonna do?”

“Hah, I wanted to ask you out on... well... on a date.”

“Seriously?” Catherine suddenly sat on top of him and leaned towards his face. “You haven't invited me anywhere for a long time.”

“We were in the desert, among the pyramids. Where was I supposed to invite you? For dinner in a sarcophagus?” Buggy placed his hands on her back. “Do you understand that you are now in a dangerous position? Why are you doing this? Where's my humble girl?”

“Your humble girl is here.” Catherine ran her lips over his lips. “Right here.”

“Fuck this!” Buggy's hands quickly slid under her t-shirt. “You're mine, Cathie-pie! And I’ll prove that to you now.” He kissed her greedily.

“Na-ah!” Catherine broke the kiss, raised her body and stroked his shoulders. "You had somewhere to go. Get up and go."

“But.. Sex, baby..” Buggy looked confused. “I thought we were go~.”

“You're such a fool.” She pecked him on his nose and snuggled under the blanket. “Nope. Date first. Go away, fucking clown. I wanna sleep some more.”

Catherine didn’t know how not to laugh out loud, watching him get out of bed, muttering under his breath “Little shit!”.

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Buggy entered a bright room and approached a table at which a green-haired man was sitting.

“Mister the Clown!” He raised his head:

“Yeah, me. Is it ready?” Buggy asked quietly.

“Yes, just a minute.” The man run away somewhere into the storage room.

Buggy was sitting on a chair and was noticeably nervous.

The man returned and opened the velvet box. “Everything is as you ordered. Bright, shiny, beautiful, black and with Egyptian vibes. Our designer added a little more drawing here and here, so everything looks more complete.”

Buggy picked up the box, squinted and carefully turned it in all directions. “Perfect! How much is the total?”

“As I told you yesterday, it turned out to be more expensive than we thought, sir.” The man reached into the table for papers.

“I don’t care about the money, how much?” Buggy barked.

“2 million, sir.”

“Fine.” He took out the card and swiped it through the terminal.

“Sir, this is a wonderful gift. And whoever this gift is for, anyone will be glad to receive it.”

Buggy looked at the guy with the corner of his eye. “This is not just a gift for anyone, idiot. This is for my Cathie-pie.”

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Catherine reached the Rosinante bar on Dressrosa Street and looked around. Buggy was nowhere to be seen, and she started to think that she had mixed up the address when the message “turn left” came on the phone. Catherine looked in different directions, but saw no one. She shrugged and walked to the left, grumbling quietly. A new message came on the phone: “to the other left and don’t grumble!”. Catherine turned around, thought a little, and reached into her bag.

“Damn you and your chop chop shit, idiot!” She mumbled and began to gently tickle Buggy's ear with her fingers. “This is my revenge on you, pervert!”

Catherine turned the right corner and saw Buggy.

“You lost something.” She handed him his ear. "Stop leaving your body parts everywhere, clown. When I made you breakfast yesterday, your hands were flying all over the kitchen just to grab something. Bread, cheese, my ass. Don't be lazy and get your butt off the couch. Hi!" Catherine pecked him on the lips, put Buggy's ear back in place and looked around. “What are we doing here? It seems like you called me to a bar, but this is a restaurant.”

“And this is my surprise.” He smiled and made a come-on gesture with his hand.

“But I’m dressed like hell, Buggy.” Catherine said with an upset voice and looked at her jeans. “You should warn me, I should at least wear a dress.”

“Fuck it! You’re always beautiful.” He bent his arm at the elbow and offered it to her.

“Wow! Today you are Buggy the Gentleman.” Catherine grabbed his hand, and they walked into the restaurant together.

Catherine looked around. Everything inside looked elegant. Soft light fell on the mahogany walls, there were bas-reliefs on the ceiling and beams, white starched tablecloths on the tables. She was surprised by the oval shape of the restaurant and the fact that it had several floors. All the world's most delicious smells seemed to mingle inside. The room was filled with laughter, voices, the constant clinking of glasses. The place seemed like a small oasis in the middle of the hot city. A place where strangers could become friends for a while, eating delicious food. A place where fairy stories could be trawled until the wee hours of the morning. One of the hostesses greeted them with a warm and wide smile and escorted them to a table.

“Wow. Everything is so beautiful.” Catherine sat down on the semicircular sofa and gently ran her hand along the table. “Are we celebrating something today? We don't have a relationship anniversary, first kiss, or first...you know.” She blushed.

“Oh, I remember that day. And how you dragged me into the bedroom.” Buggy rolled his eyes dreamily and asked the waitress to bring wine.

“Said the disgusting man who took me to the airport. Lucky for you, I stayed to punish you!” Catherine stroked his head.

“Yeah, and you successfully do it every day. Returning to your question, we celebrate nothing. We have a lot of money, why can’t I take you to a restaurant and show my girl to the whole world.” The waitress brought a bottle of the most delicious wine and Buggy immediately poured it into Catherine’s glass.

During the date they laughed a lot. Catherine loved the fact that Buggy could make her laugh until she cried, and this fact sometimes caused her to catch unhappy looks from some of the visitors. Buggy constantly ordered her food and the most expensive wine, almost never taking his eyes off her. She blushed and asked him to stop staring. Throughout the evening, Buggy got angry when something went wrong. When the waiter brought the wrong wine, he threw a tantrum. When they mixed up the dishes, he got angry again. Catherine kept reassuring him that everything was fine. But he wanted the evening to be perfect, not just fine.

She listened attentively to his stories, trying to understand where the truth ended and his fantasies began. During their dinner Catherine always said that she loved him, that he was handsome and funny. She constantly hugged Buggy, making him blush. At home, when no one saw, he was slowly getting used to her expression of feelings, then in public he sometimes had trouble with it. Yes, he could make a loud dirty joke or grab her ass. But he also said something nice to her. Quietly.

“I think I'm about to burst.” Catherine patted her belly lightly. “A couple more nights like this, and you'll be rolling me around like a ball. We spent a lot of money here, yeah?”

“Not a bunch. Just 10000. Baby, we have 350 million in our account, we can eat in restaurants every fucking day.” Buggy took a sip of beer.

“We can, but I won't let you spend all your money on food and booze.” Catherine placed her head on Buggy’s shoulder. “First, stop grabbing my ass, clown. Second, what's next?”

“It's hard not to try to grab your ass. You're seducing me with your bare shoulders the whole evening. And I'm taking you for a walk.”

Catherine shook her head and pulled her shirt on. Buggy took her hand and led her for a walk. They wandered along the promenade, listening to the sound of the waves and catching glances from visitors in the small cafes. One of the older women muttered “look the clown took the princess for a walk", Catherine quickly sent her the fuck away and then spent a long time calming the upset Buggy. Later he snatched a cup of lavender ice cream for Catherine, laughing that half an hour ago she was talking about being full and already she was asking for ice cream.

Catherine dragged Buggy to the beach, sat down on the sand and pulled him along with her. Buggy sat down next to her, and she immediately settled under his armpit.

Catherine took his hand and began to stroke his palm with her fingers. “It's great, right? Thank you for this evening! I love when we go for walks.” She glanced at Buggy. “Do you think that in old age you will want to hold my hand? I will obviously dry out under the hot sun of Egypt and become a disgusting mummy. You will stop loving me and will leave to look for a younger mummy.”

“You will be the most beautiful old mummy in the world!” Buggy became nervous. “You know.. I would like us to be.. to be together. I don’t know. When I will be 80 years old, I want to eat your pancakes, chewing them with false teeth.”

Catherine laughed. “You look sexy even now with gray hair on your eyebrows and temples, but all gray hair and with false teeth, you will make a splash!”

“Listen.. About being together.” Buggy cleared his throat. “Cathie-pie, you know I lo~.”

“I know.” She nodded.

“Don't interrupt me, woman! And you love me.”

“Not just love! I love you so-o-o much!” Catherine sat on her knees and spread her arms wide to the side. “You know, I thought that if I fell in love when I was over 30, I would be calm. See? You blew my head off, Buggy Bear.” She cupped his face and pecked him on his lips several times.

“I still insist that this is a terrible, terrible nickname, by the way.” Buggy cleared his throat again and took her hands. “But.. I wanted to ask you. You.. You… Do you wa~...”

“Shatter me with thunder! Catherine Elizabeth Mitchell!” A man's voice came from somewhere to the side. Catherine turned around and her jaw dropped.

“Larnie?!” She jumped up and ran to a tall, pumped up dark-haired guy and hugged him. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you asking me?” He kissed her on the cheek and raised her above the sand. “We haven’t seen each other for how long? About 5 or 7 years? And of all the possible places on the planet, I find you on the beach in Cairo!” He put her down and kissed again.

“Life is unpredictable, right?” Catherine laughed.

“At first it seemed to me that it wasn't you, but then I heard your loud laugh, which I cannot confuse with anything. How.. What.. How.. How did you end up here?” Larnie shook her hands.

Catherine carefully nodded towards Buggy, who was watching this whole situation with a not very happy face. “It's a long story, but over there sits my main reason. Buggy, come here! This is Larnie! We went to school and university together. Larnie, this is my Buggy.”

Buggy reluctantly stood up and came closer to Catherine, pulled her closer and immediately wrapped his hand around her waist, marking the territory.

“No! You have to tell me everything! We haven't seen each other in a thousand years! The last time I saw you, you wanted to marry the marshmallow man.” Larnie scratched his cheek.

“Hah, yes. But the marshmallow man lost in an unequal fight with this man.” Catherine stroked Buggy’s back.

“No, no! We're going somewhere to drink. You, me and... Biggy, right?”

“Buggy.” He answered dryly.

“Wait a sec, Larnie!” Catherine took Buggy's hand and led him aside, asking if he wanted to go somewhere. Buggy didn't want to go, but he looked into her eyes, exhaled heavily, and agreed. Catherine jumped up with a squeal and smacked him several times on the cheek.

They reached Arlong's Bar and sat down at a table. Larnie looked around for a long time and was surprised at the fish people.

“When I first saw them, I had the same reaction.” Catherine laughed loudly. “It was so strange. Fish people drinking alcohol. But I'm so happy I was brought here. Oh, oh, Larnie! See the bar counter? Near it I met Buggy.” Catherine stroked Buggy's back and opened the menu. “Oh, my love. Can you order me this?” She pointed at the drawing of the blue velvet cake.

“Ok.” Buggy stopped the fish waiter, ordered dessert, beer and wine. He practically kept his eyes on Larnie. Catherine smiled back at Buggy and silently said with her lips “I love you.”

“Can't believe it! My little friend Catherine is in a relationship. You're a lucky man, Buggy. That girl had so many guys chasing after her, but this is not surprising she has always been a cheerful laugher. But she'd just sit with her books. Sometimes they managed to ask her out, but it always ended the same way. I thought she'd end up with books or a boring, pimply librarian. But our little Catherine surprised everyone.” Larnie chuckled, called the waitress and ordered several bottles of beer for himself and Buggy and a bottle of wine for Catherine. “Oh, do you remember when I asked you out? I think it was freshman year, right? You know, dude, I somehow thought that girl liked me, because she was kind to me and asked her to the park.”

“Meh.” Buggy chuckled and poured Catherine's wine from the bottle he had ordered.

“Because you lost our tickets to the movie.” Catherine laughed.

“Hey, I bought popcorn in the park! Anyway, she said I wasn't for her, she needed someone higher level and we stayed friends. Good friends. I whined to her every time I got dumped by a girl. So, Cath, tell me what you're doing now.” Larnie took a sip.

“Me? Nothing.” Catherine placed her hand on Buggy's shoulder. “Buggy runs a circus.”

“Really? The circus?” Larnie looked at him and frowned.

“Yeah. Do you have any problems with that?” Buggy crossed his arms and practically drilled Larnie with his eyes.

Catherine took Buggy’s hand and started stroking his arm. “The most famous circus around here. If you're in Cairo for the long haul, I suggest you go and watch the show the day after tomorrow. And there will be a new show in three months. I'm looking forward to it!”

“The show?” Larnie asked again with interest. “I'll think about it. Now I'm wondering what it is that has won over our little Catherine.”

“Stop calling me little!” Catherine ate a piece of cake.

“Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately? But anyway. I haven't been to the circus in a long time. Are you coming? Maybe I'll join you?” Larnie took a sip.

“Of course, I'll go!” Catherine looked at Buggy, offered him a cake, but he refused.

“Well, that's settled then, I'll go with you.” Larnie chuckled. “Oh! Remember when you and I went to the circus when we were kids. It'll be cool to reminisce about those days, right? So, what's your row? Which one should I buy a ticket for? Buggy, do you think there are any tickets left?”

“She always has the best seat.” Buggy took a sip. “And I have no idea, go to the fucking ticket office tomorrow and check. But I'm afraid all the seats are already taken.”

“Ok, I’ll check. So wait, Catherine. You're really not working?”

"She doesn't need to work.” Buggy barked, opened the third bottle of beer and also refilled Catherine’s glass with wine. “I can provide for her myself.”

“I'm tired of my boring job as a librarian, and I'm completely happy with my life now.” She rested her head on Buggy's shoulder. “Buggy takes care of me.”

Larnie smirked. “I have to admit, Catherine Mitchell, I haven't seen your eyes light up like that in a long time. Hm, I think, I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“Blame it all on him.” Catherine stroked Buggy’s arm. “This man made me like this. Wait! I heard that you were going to marry Haeley! What happened?”

Larnie waved his hand. “Oh, this ginger girl ran away from me to the blond cook. And I came here to lick my wounds. And I met you!”

They sat at the bar for quite a long time, sipping beer and wine, reminiscing about old stories. Catherine laughed loudly all evening, glancing at Buggy, who was clearly unhappy with what was happening all evening and constantly snapped.

Catherine and Buggy returned home quite late.

“Funny, right? Meeting an old friend in another country.” She took off her sneakers. “Are you okay?”

“Yes." Buggy threw the keys on the table, but missed.

“Someone is drunk and jealous!!” Catherine smiled and hugged him from behind.

Buggy silently took her hands away and went into the kitchen, swaying. Catherine narrowed her eyes, tiptoed to the kitchen and watched as he opened another bottle of beer, sitting down on the chair.

She came up behind him and gave him a hug. “My Buggy Bear is sad! His Cathie-pie might cheer him up?”

“I’m tired, Catherine.” Buggy pulled her arms away and slowly went into the living room.

Catherine waved her arms and followed him. “You're sulking like a pissed cat. What did I do? Why are you mad?”

“I'm not mad.” He took a sip.

“You walk around the house with squinted eyes and a clenched jaw. Is it because of tonight? Oh my god, Buggy!” Catherine rolled her eyes. “I haven't seen a friend in almost ten years. Sorry, I couldn't scare him off with a machine gun or your Buggy Fluggy bombs or whatever you call them. I'm sorry that I had and still have friends. And I'm sorry that I'm glad to see someone I haven't seen for a bunch of years. What was I supposed to say? Oh, sorry Larnie, my boyfriend is too jealous, I can’t look at anyone now, and I also can’t sit next to anyone.”

“Sit with whoever and wherever you want, Catherine. Even with your fucking Larnie.” He took another sip of beer and could barely stand on his feet. “Oh, you know, Buggy, I once went on a date with your girlfriend. Oh, Buggy, did you know that a flock of handsome men were running after her? Oh, l’ll go with your girl to the circus. Or maybe we can ride off into the sunset together and leave this red-nose loser alone? Because she needs someone at a higher level. I know perfectly she needs someone at a higher level.”

“What are you talking about? I don't need anyone.” Catherine came closer and tried to hug him. “Let's talk, please.”

“I’m gonna sleep. Tomorrow is a full day rehearsal. Everything should be perfect. What if your fucking Larnie’ll show up, I’ll have to impress him, right? Oh, little Catherine, I want to know what you’re up to. Oh, what a shame. You chose a fucking loser and even his shows are terrible. So sorry for you.” He took another sip. “Fuck, the floor is moving.”

“Sit down, you're drunk. First, you're not a loser.” Catherine felt herself starting to get angry. “Second, can you imagine, clown, I had a life before you. And yes, I went on dates from time to time. Just remember, I chose you! Do you see any guys I want to run away with? Hey! Where are you? Maybe you're in the closet?” She went to the closet in the bedroom and opened the doors. “No one. Or maybe in the nightstand under the TV?” She opened the TV set cabinet. “No one! Surprise! You've been rude all evening, Buggy. And if you haven't noticed, I spent the entire evening showing poor Larnie that I was with you. Should I have stood on the table and rang the bell? Hello, people of Cairo. I’m Catherine and I’m with this clown. We just sat at the bar and that's it!”

“Why the fuck would you choose this bar out of all the fucking bars in Cairo? Wasn't there another one?” Buggy hissed through his teeth.

“What?” Catherine looked at him uncomprehending.

Buggy didn't answer. He looked at her angrily, set the bottle on the table and went to the bedroom, slamming the door loudly.

Catherine stood for a few minutes, opened the door, knocking softly and watching him lay under the blanket with a dissatisfied growl. “Can I come in?”

Catherine tiptoed to the closet, quickly changed into pajamas and climbed into the bed. She lay down behind Buggy and hugged him. He gently pulled her hands away. Catherine exhaled and covered herself with the blanket. Okay, she decided she'd try to talk to him in the morning.

For the next two days, they didn't speak. The morning after the arguing, Catherine made Buggy apologetic pancakes, but it did help to improve his mood. Usually he was very clingy in the morning. But not this time. He ate breakfast in silence and left, saying nothing. No “goodbye, my Cathie-pie”, no “see you later, little shit”, no inappropriate jokes. She gave him a quick “have a nice day” kiss on his cheek but Buggy said nothing. She hoped he would start sending her messages every hour like he used to. Usually it was silly, but funny messages like "Richie yawned”, “Richie ate grass”, “Cabaji fell off his bike”, “And now look at the pain on his face." But Buggy didn't send anything, he didn't respond to her messages either. When Buggy got home, he sat in the kitchen, eating dinner and sipping a beer. And didn't talk to her.

On the second day after arguing, Catherine thought for a long time about going to the show or not. She was not very happy with his behavior, but she realized that she overreacted too.

Yes, they'd argued about various things during their relationship, but they'd made up quickly, even though they'd been as stubborn as sheep at times. But this quarrel did not please her at all, and Catherine felt disgusted. She'd never seen Buggy so pissed off. But why was he so mad?

Catherine was sipping her coffee and widened her eyes. “Oh, shit!”

The bar! That's why he got angry. They were in their place.

“Fuck!” She thought.

Why had she brought Larnie there? Why hadn't she thought that this place had a special meaning to Buggy? Of course, it was special to him. She was the first person who didn't run away from him with cries of disgust, the first who accepted him with all his faults. With his grumbling, whining and driving her crazy. The first who said she loved him. She became his shelter from the world. And he met her there.

“Stupid Catherine.” She muttered to herself, dressed up and went to the circus. Despite the arguing, she wanted to support him. As always.

Catherine didn't expect Larnie to wait for her at the entrance, offered to drink before the show and to go for a walk after it. She refused politely, showed him where to go and quickly went to her seat. Catherine was glad that he didn't find a ticket next to her and didn't even want to imagine what would happen in another case.

Catherine sat in her seat (of course, it was the center of the front row) and waited for the show to start. She saw Buggy walk out into the arena with his arms spread out, bathing in the applause of the audience. Her flashy fool under his favorite spotlights. Buggy noticed Catherine, and she thought for a second that he was surprised to see her there. Actually, it was the first time in two days that they met gazes. Catherine raised her right hand slightly and said "hi" with her lips. But.. Nothing happened in response. Buggy usually winked at her. When he bowed at the beginning and the end of the show, he always made a small pass at the front row and always stopped in front of her for a few seconds longer to hear a quiet "I love you" from her. Catherine liked that little show of love and intimacy at moments like these. But this didn't happen this time. She was a little confused. During an act change, one of the freaks brought her a large bucket of popcorn. Catherine threw a glance at Buggy, and thought she saw a slight smile on his face. After the show, which was of course well received by the audience, Catherine waited for Buggy for a while. One of the freaks said he was busy, she exhaled sadly, saying “okay” and went home, trying not to cry.

Catherine was sitting on the couch sipping wine when she heard the jingle of keys. Buggy walked into the living room, holding a bouquet of blue roses, sat down next to her on the floor without saying a word.

Catherine took the bouquet, put it on the table and ran her hand along his back. “Stole flowers again?” She asked quietly.

Buggy nodded and laid his head on her lap, hugging her legs. “You'll leave me, right? You will leave me to live in the fucking marshmallow house.”

“If I had to leave, I'd gnaw my way back in the marshmallow house and return to you.” She started stroking his head. “I'm sorry. I ruined our evening.”

“You came to see my show. Without him.”

“Of course I came. Because I love you. It was amazing, as always. I’m so proud of you, Buggy the Clown. And you won't believe me, but there were three girls sitting behind me sighing at you. When you brought me popcorn, I swear, your fangirls were ready to kill me.” Catherine kissed his head.

“Liar, I don't have fangirls.” Buggy giggled and climbed onto the sofa, laying his head on her lap again, took her hand and kissed it. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Catherine kissed his nose. “No, you have. Look at you! You're so handsome and funny. God, I'm so lucky to have you. Do you know how difficult it was not to fall in love with you at first sight?” She ran her hand through his hair. “I was waiting for you, but one of your freaks said you were busy. I thought you were mad at me, or disgusted to look at me.”

“No! No, no, no! Richie's food arrived. The fucking courier got the time wrong and I had to do the paperwork. I sent Cabaji to tell you to wait for me, but he said that you left.” Buggy squeezed her hand. “And baby. Disgusted? Seriously? You're beautiful even now, when your hair is dishevelled, and you're sitting like an upset raccoon in your pants with.. Who is this?”

“I’m not a raccoon, jerk! And this is a kangaroo.” Catherine smiled slightly and started stroking his face. “I’m sorry, please. I just didn't think with my brain that you were a romantic at heart.” She giggled. “Agree, let this bar be just ours. Let's go there tomorrow? Just you and me.” She kissed his forehead, watching him nod. “You know, I even know why I like this place so much. Because one day I met a blue-haired brute there. He grumbled at me and wanted to leave me in the desert. But somehow he became the love of my life. That’s why I want to take everyone there and show that special place where we met. I don't want you to think that all this doesn't matter to me. It does. It really does.”

“Well, you can bring your sister there.” Buggy shrugged.

“Deal. I'll let you take your friends there. But not ex-girlfriends.”

“Then you'll have to kick a couple of waitresses out of there. We didn't meet, but there was something. If you know what I mean.” He giggled idiotically.

“Oh, go to hell, clown.” Catherine playfully slapped his shoulder. “I can live with that. I'm still better than all of them put together. You've got the best of everything. The show, the popcorn, the house. So, I'm the best by default.”

“You forgot to mention the best sex.” Buggy looked at her with a proud face.

“I knew that phrase would stick in your head, pervert. I just had to tell you that once.” Catherine rolled her eyes playfully.

“Well, sorry, I can't get over my awesomeness.”

“Idiot!” She pecked him on his nose. “I think this was our biggest fight, right? But look how good we are! Our crew made it through even that. I love when you're jealous, but I don't want to fight like that anymore. Let's continue swearing about little things. Crusts on the bread, you drank all the milk, you broke all the eggs, you're not wearing pants.”

“Cotton candy, it's hard not to be jealous. You are smart, beautiful. But you chose the loser.” Buggy became sad.

“Okay, be jealous, I can't change you anyway. But don't say horrible things about yourself. You're not a loser. You're not a pathetic clown. You're my Buggy Bear. And I want to live with you in the marshmallow house. And let's talk more.” Catherine rested her forehead against his. “Come on. Help me make some tea, I warm up the pancakes I made for you, and you tell me about those waitresses, okay? My hot clown and girls in short skirts. Hmmm, I'm actually getting a little jealous.” She ruffled his hair, stood up from the couch, shook her buttocks to cheer Buggy up and dragged him into the kitchen.

They made tea, took the pancakes and went to the bedroom.

That night they talked.

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