#typically it’s just ‘you cannot go somewhere without telling me or I’ll throw a fit and you’re the bad guy if you say otherwise’

[keys-hellscape-1020]

Y’all this is SO damn cute

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's his face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[vermillionflames]

hi... idk what this is hehe :)

nozel x oc

word count: 2k+

warnings: language, mention of blood and self-stabbing (non violent)

PROLOGUE

“There, there, Your Highness,” the guard said as he wiped away the princesses tears, “It must’ve been so scary down there. I’m sorry you had to go all alone this time. If I had permission or the strength to go with you I would. But you’re alright now. I’ll be standing guard outside your door all night if you need me.” 

The guard had a smile so small you would only see it if you knew to look for it. The princess didn’t need to see the smile to know he meant what he said. Out of all the soldiers in the Kingdom hers were the most loyal. 

“Please don’t tell my father I was crying… or the King!”

“I would never, it will be our little secret, alright, Princess Seraphina,” he stuck out it pink to show he meant his promise.

“Thank you,” the young girl crawled back under her blankets as her guard headed towards the door, “Goodnight, Dante.”

REAL TIME I GUESS

You know when you tell your husband for days to not do something because there will be a negative outcome, but he does it anyway? And what you told him would happen, does? And yet he still acts surprised and upset? Sometimes takes his anger out on you via a cold shoulder and glare? No admittance that you were right? That’s what it’s like to be married to the Captain of the Silver Eagles. 

I love Nozel dearly but he is more annoying than my father-in-law and the ladies of the court asking about babies. Actually, now that I think about it, the whole Silva family had something about them… 

“Vice Captain? Are you alright?”

That’s one way to snap me out of a scheme

“Oh, Nils, I’m sorry. A thought crossed my mind and I got lost in it… What were you saying?” Will probably get scolded for that later.

“I was just telling you how I’d improve myself before my next mission with what I learned on the previous one… Do you think Captain will be pleased with my plan?” 

Royalty always wants to improve themselves without much training, but I can’t say that to him without it causing a rile so I just smile at him.

“I think Nozel will be very pleased. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I do have a lot of work to get to,” I gesture to some papers on my desk. 

He nods and takes his leave. I sigh and turn my chair to face the window. Noelle should have gotten her grimoire by now, surely. I do not want to do this paperwork or deal with the hell my in laws will unleash on their baby sister, but if anyone had a chance of redirecting their attention to another failure it was me and my womb. 

I play with the ring on my left hand. It was his mothers, in fact Nozel had gifted me with more jewelry than I could ever wear that had come from Lady Acier’s collection. Sometimes I wondered if he got it all or first dibs and took it all because he was the oldest. Perhaps her collection had just been so expansive I could have a shit load and the other kids could do. The girls didn’t ever bat a lash when I wore her crowns and necklaces. 

There’s a firm knock on my door, they don’t pause before opening it. Husbands, ya know? I looked over my shoulder to see he’s entered my office, not bothering to shut the door (to avoid scandal though I’ve never understood how married people can be scandalous with each other? The policies of this country were difficult to understand). 

“Yes,” I ask, raising my brow at him.

“Noelle has received her grimoire,” his face was bleak.

“And?”

“And she still cannot control her magic. She’s still a shame to House Silva.”

The fluctuation in his mana told me all I needed to know.

“Nozel-”

“Don’t try to coddle me, Seraphina. You don’t understand what this means for my family and our reputation.”

I wonder in our 14 years of marriage if he’s ever learned that I can read his mind and emotions. He kept on the mean big brother act and never shut it off. However, I like to take opportunities to argue when I see them. I turn my whole body to face him and cross my arms.

“Like how we don’t have an heir?”

“Don’t start this right now,” his voice was low and serious, “Nebra, Solid, and I will be having dinner with our father and grandparents tonight.”

“Then I’ll join you,” I shot up out of my chair, “It would look bad if I stayed here.”

His stare was cold. I started to prepare an argument in my head.

“Fine. But wear something nice,” he moved his attention to the deep cut of my dress, “Maybe we should get your robes adjusted.”

“Oh darling, I think that’s the most attention you’ve given my breasts in our whole marriage.” I bit my tongue, a little too late for that, Sera. Oops. 

“Tsh,” Nozel turned and headed for the door, “You should probably have the maids at the castle help you get ready… We both know you won’t be able to braid your own hair.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The door closed and I was alone again. The mother fucker. He was right, but that mother fucker. If he knew what kind of foul language I had stored in my head for him… Maybe tonight will be the night all chaos explodes. Dinner and a show with me as the main actress. 

I started to make a mental list of things to bring up during our argument as I made a spacial magic gate to my quarters at the Silva Castle. 

----

I opted for an emerald gown with silver jewelry for tonight. Rule number one of House Silva: all the jewelry is silver. If you happen to have gold it was either a gift from House Vermillion or House Kira and you only ever wore it to fit a dress code House Vermillion made for a ball. Same thing for red and blue. Do not wear red or blue unless you want to piss off your husband, which I’ll admit is fun but he threw the poor dress into the fireplace the next morning. We don’t even share a room, he had to wake up early, come in, and find it to do that. 

Rule number two: be very, very good at keeping your thoughts to yourself. Especially when it comes to Noelle, Acier, and your lack of offspring. 

“Seraphina, perhaps you decided to join us because you and Nozel have some good news to share,”  if Nebra was anything it was blunt and to the point. 

I gave Nozel the side eye.

“No,” He said while lifting his wine to his lips, “Just didn’t want to bother socializing with the rest of the squad tonight.”

I gave her a meek smile.

“Well, Seraphina, I have something to show you, Solid rose from his seat and walked over to Noelle who was staring at her food with tears in her eyes. He pulled her grimoire out from her side while she winced. “Look at how thin this is. You’re more a Silva than Noelle could ever be.”

I dropped my shoulders and focused on my plate in front of me.

“I guess...” 

----

If I got anything from that dinner it’s that I needed to find a way to sneak Noelle out of the castle and get her away; at least for a day. I was sat at my vanity removing all the tiny gems the servant had insisted on putting in my hair. If I couldn’t stand up to her to my in-laws the least I could do was get her away. God how many gems were there? I started at the bell to call a maid… I really hate doing this but if there’s one thing I cannot do it is my hair. 

After a few moments a young girl came to my room and went right to work undoing the braids and taking out the gems. I watched her in the mirror, she never took her eyes off my head.

“So, what’s the hot gossip from the servants quarters?”

She paused.

“I’m sure nothing would be of interest to you ma’am.”

I purse my lips. 

“If I say you can keep all the gems in my hair?”

“That wouldn’t be necessary, the masters pay us kindly.”

“Oh… well surely you heard something that would be of interest to me?”

“Ma’am, I know you don’t stay here often, but typically you wouldn’t speak to me so casually…”

“Who cares about that? It’s late. It’s just you and me here. Everyone else is probably settled into bed,” No budge. Oh. “Lord Nozel won’t be visiting my chambers tonight. It’s alright.”

“Surely the Captain visits his wife every night… You two are in love and you’re so beautiful.”

Great. Not the can of worms I wanted to open. And now I gave her shit to say about me!

“He stays in his room when I am bleeding.” And now I have to stab myself or else she’ll know I lied. Dammit. 

“Oh, the other servant didn’t mention you were… Would you like me to get you some warm towels?”

“No, what I would like is some information that only someone in your position would know.”

“Really, ma’am. There’s nothing happening these days.”

“Please?”

“Um… well I have a friend that works for House Vermillion and she said they’ve been preparing Lady Mereoleona’s room for her return. They expect her to arrive tomorrow afternoon.”

Oh god.

“And Lord and Lady Vermillion had to have meat brought in from the town! The chefs don’t even know how to cook meat!”

“Surely they can just give it to the girl and let her cook it herself…”

“You’re funny, Lady Seraphina.”

“Well, ya know, someone in the family has to be! Thank you for your help. You’re dismissed, go off to bed now.”

The girl bowed and left.

And she had the right fucking idea.

I need to leave too. Mereoleona? No thank you. God only knows what kind of torment she has planned for me. Actually, probably not God. Probably no higher being.

I need to hide somewhere and take Noelle with me. I throw off my dressing gown and scramble to put on clothes, throwing random shit I think I’ll want in a bag. Real manic style. Now if there’s one thing I am not it is a bad liar. I throw the blankets off my bed and lay as if I’m going to sleep. Crossing my leg so it sorta comes to wear my center lays and take out a knife and cut my leg… which heals pretty quickly given my abilities. I’m almost certain it’s not enough to be convincing but I am far more concerned in avoiding the Vermillion to care. 

Next stop, Noelle’s room. I knock on the door. No answer so I help myself. She’s asleep, dry tears around her eyes. I put my hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, wake up. Noelle.”

She gasps and her eyes fly open, instantly putting her arms in defense. I take a step back… They didn’t wake her up to hurt her… did they?

“Pack a bag, we’re going into hiding.”

“What?”

“Lady Mereoleona is coming back for her yearly visit. I’m taking you and we’re gonna go hide at the beach castle.” Yeah, I married into a two castle family. Had its perks.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my baby sister by marriage and I think we both could use a little vacation. Don’t you agree?”

“Really? But what about Nozel?”

“I’ll deal with him if he notices. Chances are no one will know. So get up, grab your stuff, and let's go.”

She got out of bed quick. I sat at her vanity while she gathered some things. 

“Also, no servants.”

“No servants?!” She turned me so quick she almost snapped her neck.

“You’ll live. This is about survival. Now,” I stand to make a portal to the beach castle, “let’s go.”

[punkscowardschampions]

James & Ava

James: Good morning

James: how are you, darling?

Ava: Sleepy 🥱

Ava: but all the better starting my day with you, of course

Ava: how about you? 😊

James: hopeful that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, because likewise

James: & my cautious optimism doesn’t extend to the viewing I’m currently heading to

Ava: Oh, how have they oversold this one, I wonder

Ava: the adverts are nothing short of epic fiction

Ava: there should be awards for how they can spin any - into like +++

Ava: Where are you headed?

James: it would be inspirational if I were solely doing research for the novel but alas I need a suitable study first

James: [somewhere that’s one of the places we discounted]

Ava: I can believe estate agents are all unfulfilled creatives, definitely

Ava: I’ll 🤞 all my fingers and toes that it’s the one

Ava: though I could tell you more pubs and clubs in that area than nurseries…

James: absolutely up there with the teaching profession in terms of both dashed dreams setting them on that path & a litany of thankless tasks once they get there

James: thank you though

James: I’ll let you know if it constitutes enough of a disaster to warrant theoretically drowning my sorrows, after all, there isn’t a huge difference between some of the clubs Teddy frequents & soft play so I’ve no doubt my aide for today would be thrilled to hear every suggestion

Ava: You cannot make me feel bad for teachers today

Ava: not when Mr Hawthorne has beat you to it with the against argument in the form of his 🥱 inducing lectures

Ava: 😅 I don’t think foam parties are safe for anyone, 1-year-olds especially so though

James: there’s an argument to be made that I possess the ability to do so, however, if I’m going to use my powers of persuasion for anything 😈 I would argue it is indeed wasted on Mr Hawthorne

James: oh well in that case, the hunt for my sister’s baby shower venue also continues

Ava: If you used your powers of persuasions on Mr Hawthorne, I might be a tiny bit jealous

Ava: not to mention almost as confused as he would undoubtedly be

Ava: Joy of joys

Ava: it would be typical for that to be added to your to-do list as well, but at least a place for grown women to eat chocolate bars out of nappies isn’t as much like gold dust as a decent place in central

James: I’m jealous that he’s spending time with you right now, despite your attention being less than rapt & therefore promise to do nothing that benefits him in any way whatsoever

James: including, but not limited to, refusing to assist you in the homework he intends to set by being as distracting as I can later as well as now

James: you’re not wrong, but she is her belief that to this day I remain blacklisted by an extremely high percentage of clubs, thus sparing me being delegated the role even in these hypothetical planning stages

Ava: That would be a wild rumour, even for this place

Ava: and what can I say? You’re more worthy of my time and attention

Ava: as you’ve just proved 😍

Ava: Definite blessing in disguise

Ava: Will it be a women-only event?

James: I’d be lying if I didn’t say I miss you & am always willing to prove how much at every given opportunity

James: god, I hope so, even a foam party isn’t enough of an incentive to get me there if I am expected

Ava: I miss you too

Ava: I can come see you tonight though, if you’re free

Ava: sadly, I don’t think I can make a soft-play date so that’ll have to be just you two

Ava: and you’re lucky, I’ve been to so many baby showers it’s not even funny

James: I’m supposed to work late to make up the time I’ve taken off this morning but I can do that when you’re busy

James: that’s a shame, I’ll have to throw myself in the ball pit

James: time will tell if you have an invite to Diana’s, what’s incredibly lucky is that she won’t expect you to actually attend regardless of how you RSVP

Ava: Only if you’re sure

Ava: my plans can always be more fluid than yours

Ava: Ugh 😞 I’d LOVE to push you into a ball pit right now, life is unfair

Ava: I don’t think she was impressed with my party-planning skills enough to put in that call

James: I am very sure that I want to spend tonight with you instead of at the office

James: & I’m also suddenly determined to create our very own ball pit in the new place

James: [pictures like which room do you think we should fill with plastic balls lol but let’s say it’s all really small]

James: having to forgo a traditional master bedroom isn’t at all unfair, I’ll obviously sleep like a baby among the balls

Ava: 🥰

Ava: An absolute must

Ava: why brag of a ‘cosy’ third bedroom when you can boast a gigantic ball pit

Ava: I bet the girls would be more than willing for you to do that too

Ava: Party house has a whole new meaning 🥳

James: indeed

Ava: I hope there’s not too many people there this time though, really

James: I think there are more people here than at the last viewing we went to, impossible as that sounds

Ava: 😫 How, where do all these people spring from?!

Ava: At least you’re far more eligible than most young professionals

Ava: If I was looking for a model renter

James: what a pity you aren't, your rooftop garden has much greater appeal for this particular young professional, not least because I've seen its existence with my own eyes

Ava: If my landlords weren’t so involved…

Ava: This place is far too big for us now

James: hopefully they won't drag you along on yet more insufferable viewings if, or when, they decide to downsize since you're an undeniable pro now, because for that, there would only so many apologies I can offer you

Ava: I’m sure mum’s already getting the planning permission sorted for if and when

Ava: Sadly their portfolio doesn’t extend to a reasonable price range, I did ask

Ava: but if it isn’t something that would get her in Architect Digest, or whatever, she’s not interested so

Ava: As you said, it would be fun in a way, if all this looking didn’t mean you were still without your perfect family home

Ava: It takes people watching to a new level, and seeing the landlord’s ‘decor’ choices is also as revealing

James: it's okay, being indebted to my own parents is quite enough

James: it's becoming clear if my father visualizes me living here it's because he's done a drastic rewrite of the type of young professional I am

James: I could see you here, for instance, in a draft where I don't exist as your love interest, but in terms of a family home, perfect of otherwise, where we'd put Frank & the children is anyone's guess

James: perhaps some of these people are imagining wild architecture projects the likes of which your mother would have to act undaunted by, who's to say

Ava: I don’t love that rewrite

Ava: Frank is particularly demanding with how much space he needs to recline, relax, snooze and sleep…

Ava: You’ll find somewhere soon, I know it

Ava: If nothing else, this dull lesson is giving me all the time to refresh and refresh and repeat every listing I can find

James: cautious optimism as ever for our 2nd attempt

James: [deets because I'm gonna say that this is one he ends up loving that falls through somehow at some stage because how real and frustrating and then she can be the one who finds their forever home and they can look at it together]

Ava: Okay, I can picture that one

Ava: light and airy isn’t actually a lie this time, what a concept

Ava: 😍

Ava: All the rooms are a good size so you wouldn’t feel as if either girl was getting the short straw, and you won’t have to settle for sleeping amongst the balls either

James: I do have a genuinely good feeling about it, terrifying as that is to admit in our present surroundings where it feels as though someone will sense it & immediately swoop in, but yes

Ava: I know

Ava: It’s one of those things

Ava: You have to be cautious, because so many roadblocks are between you and the end goal

Ava: but similarly, how can you be, when it’s such a big life thing

Ava: You can be as honest and optimistic as you like with me, it doesn’t need to go any further, shark-like buyers and the girls alike

James: we aren’t anywhere close to the stressful moving in stage & I’m already acutely aware that I wouldn’t have survived up until now without your help, so I will, as long as you know the continued support is appreciated beyond words or any other measure

Ava: Stressful, but fun

Ava: you get to pick what colour your new room is 😌

Ava: It’ll be reward enough, to see you get the fresh start you deserve

James: [whatever her fave colour is] of course

James: then you won’t mind seeing me covered from head to toe in it, potentially indefinitely, when we discover I can’t fit in the tub at the new place either

Ava: Oh, I don’t think I would mind that no matter the colour

Ava: but I also would not mind you having an amazing shower so we could take care of that

James: if there isn’t I won’t mind adding it to my renovations to-do list

Ava: As long as I’m on that list too I’m happy

James: the top of any list I write is where I’m happy to put you

Ava: If you put in a bid, you should do it at/even over asking price, so they’ll take attention of you and then you can make a list of repairs/quality checks etc you want done before you agree to move in, then if they do them, they’re done for you, but more likely, they’ll not want to, and you can say take that cost off my offer then

Ava: one of the 💡 tips I’ve picked up and you’d undoubtedly thought of yourself but there we go

James: here’s where I could nod & keep up the pretense to avoid giving away what a total novice I am, but there’s very little point given than you know I’ve never done this, & a list of countless other things as long as my arm, for myself before

James: instead I’ll just take your advice & thank you accordingly

Ava: There’s so much we don’t get prepared for

Ava: even under normal circumstances

Ava: It isn’t as if I was told that at school, or I get told anything vaguely useful on the day-to-day by Hawthorne or any of the others worse or marginally better than him

Ava: You shouldn’t feel like you’re alone in feeling unprepared, is what I’m failing to say

Ava: Lots of people feel it, that’s why I could never just stay here, in the bubble of SW forever

James: don’t worry, you aren’t failing at anything where this conversation is concerned & whilst it is somewhat overwhelming at times, I don’t feel alone because I’ve got you to talk it through with

James: what that school taught me, all that living here has taught me, was how to avoid facing up to situations by lying & name dropping, which probably would assist me in climbing the property ladder but I’d rather be honest, if the bubble bursts as a result, I’m prepared for that from now on

Ava: I’m proud of you

Ava: and the girls will be too

Ava: It can be fun, and there are some good people here, just as there are everywhere

Ava: but outside of the postcode, the currency of who you know and where you went to school, it’s just not real, irrelevant

Ava: I don’t want to rely on my parents’ hard work, let alone someone else’s father knowing the crest on my blazer, you know

James: yes, I know exactly what having to rely on my father feels like, it isn’t fun or something to be proud of & it definitely isn’t a precedent I’d like to keep setting for my daughters

James: the stark reality & contrast of this fresh start needs to happen soon, while I still have Jay here to teach

Ava: She’s not going anywhere

James: she’s going to have to meet him eventually even if that’s under the guise of him being one of my old friends or your brother

Ava: And I understand that that’s fair

Ava: to him, I don’t know how to feel about it in regards to Jay, and it’s not even my job to so I know how hard this must be for you

Ava: but that doesn’t mean he should get to ‘keep’ her, for God’s sake, she has had no idea who he is until now, you’re her dad

James: I have to hope that he’ll understand that too, he’s not the villain here, as much as it would make my life easier to paint him as such

Ava: I hope so too

James: it’ll be okay, for her, I don’t know if I can make the same promise for us but I want to be able to

Ava: Don’t put yourself down like that

Ava: It wouldn’t be okay if she lost you

James: she isn’t going to lose me whatever Buster decides to do next, things may have to change but never that drastically, I’ll always be in her life

Ava: Providing he plays that nicely

Ava: I’m just scared he’ll do something that drastic, and stupid

James: if he doesn’t I won’t, I’m not afraid to fight fire with fire should that be the only option he leaves me with

Ava: Good

Ava: I wish I could promise it won’t be

Ava: but I don’t know what he will be prepared to do, so you should be prepared for any and all eventualities too

James: I am, my marriage made sure I was equipped to anticipate the unexpected & not to expect rational responses

Ava: Yeah, of course

Ava: Still no word from Chloe?

James: no & no trace of a belated birthday card

Ava: Typical

Ava: Good thing Mattie got spoiled by you and had a great party already

James: Jay is devastated she has to wait so long for you to throw one for her though, maybe we can find a way to cater the housewarming party to her

Ava: Awh, bless her

Ava: If there’s one thing Chelsea HAS taught me, is that you only need a vague notion of an idea to have a party and celebrate

Ava: Does she like fireworks?

James: she LOVES fireworks, if you weren’t in Dublin she’d have insisted you come with us to [wherever we’re gonna go see some on the night]

Ava: I am pretty gutted I can’t

Ava: but I’ll have to get some sparklers, probably not Catherine Wheels or Roman Candles, and do a belated bonfire themed do for her

Ava: smores are a good idea any night

James: I wonder if she’ll expect us to dye her hair red, orange or yellow this time

Ava: 😬 accidentally set a precedent

Ava: thank god for washouts

James: I’ll do what I can to have her convinced that face paint is a much better idea by the time you get back but she’s no Mr Hawthorne so

Ava: I admire a girl who requires more than a persuasive essay

Ava: you’ll have a great time

Ava: 🤞 the endless family drama doesn’t get in the way of me having one too

James: no amount of Catherine Wheels or Roman Candles could prevent me from being on the end of the phone whether you aren’t having a great time or simply want to tell me how much fun it is

Ava: You’re the best ❤️

Ava: It should be fine

Ava: If anything, hopefully someone else is bringing more drama than my parents or siblings could accuse me of, then it’ll really give them a bit of perspective 🤫

James: if your family resembles the dynamic of mine even slightly I won’t have to keep anything crossed in order to make that happen for you, but of course I will nevertheless, just in case

Ava: How soon is too soon to clue you in on my mad family dynamic 🤔😅

Ava: Maybe when you’re in your new home, so you have a door to politely shut in my face

James: having never kept an air of mystery there I can understand why you’d want to, but I would never christen my new front door like that

Ava: It was like an unspoken rule, when Buster was here too

Ava: I don’t really care that much, and anyway, he broke it big time

Ava: Every family has struggles and secrets, or are long overdue their share if not

James: I couldn’t agree more, my mother acts as though nobody else has skeletons hung up next to their hideously expensive coats & we must stay silent come what may, but she’s the last person to feign shock when any of said secrets inevitably come out

Ava: It’s such a waste of time and energy

Ava: not to mention resolves precisely (0) of said troubles, if and when they can be

Ava: I’m so glad you don’t want to keep up pretenses together

Ava: wouldn’t make for a very interesting story

James: exactly, if I adhered to her code of silence I wouldn’t have gone to rehab or spent any time & energy on recovery, god knows what trouble I’d be in right now in that instance, but we certainly wouldn’t have this plotline to delight in

Ava: Being dubious about the potential results, maybe

Ava: but the idea your own mum would rather you suffer in silence, literally, is beyond me

James: it’s an attitude worthy of an outdated classic novel, for sure, that we can all take ourselves in hand & address our flaws with a firm word or two but she isn’t alone in her 'you don't need outside help, you just need to learn and then follow through with setting your own limits' mentality

James: in my parents' defence I was still young, despite the baby I wasn't looking after properly or the wedding I don't remember very much of at all, & I know they'd argue, if pressed, that was the main reason for their anti-rehab stance

James: therefore, I'd like to believe, however naively perhaps, on this occasion it isn't entirely about saving face with yet more pretense but rather a glimpse at some character development for both of them, if only so the novel isn't doomed by one dimensional subplots, naturally

Ava: I can see that too, again, a lot of people’s problems go unaddressed or at least are allowed to get worse because the person is ‘too young’ for it to either be a problem, or it is something they will ‘bounce back’ from once they ‘calm down’ and mature

Ava: It doesn’t make your parents the devil, I wouldn’t suggest as much, nor the first people to fall into that trap

Ava: There are definitely instances of the exact same mindset I can point to within my own family

Ava: We’d all like to see the best in people, and sometimes, that desire lets us down

James: regardless this viewing has yet to let me down unlike the previous

James: I wish you were here

Ava: With any luck, I’ll be able to come see it with you next time

Ava: The pictures look great, trying to keep the optimism at the cautious level still but 🤞🤞😌

James: need I remind you I like your optimism as unabashed as your excitement

Ava: You don’t need to

Ava: but I wouldn’t be opposed

James: [tell her about whatever cute and romantic plans you've sorted for you two tonight so she'll be happy and excited]

Ava: How have you managed to sort that whilst at these viewings and also with Mattie 😍

James: it appears I’m guilty of similarly high levels of enthusiasm & so the greater crime would be letting it go to waste

Ava: AND being an excellent multi-tasker AND AND an even greater romantic

James: Mattie can & will take full credit for the former but the romanticism is a newly acquired skill that I’m still trying to find my feet with, & entirely down to you

Ava: I should feel bad for keeping it all for myself

James: I disagree but I’ll happily rush through the book’s publication if sharing will make you feel better

Ava: Should doesn’t mean would or could

Ava: because I don’t

Ava: It’s nice not being secret, but I’m still happy keeping you to myself for a while longer

James: oh good, because I’d rather continue to multitask like this than on a novel deadline

Ava: Being anything but a reprieve from all the other drains on your time is not very romantic heroine of me, so never

Ava: what would the readers think

James: you’ve got me there, by evoking how fickle our readers are more than likely to prove themselves to be, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about

Ava: You either think the protagonist is ‘relatable’ or you hate her because you deserve the love interest far more than her

James: nobody deserves me more than you, they’ll have no choice but to appreciate you

Ava: James

James: Ava

Ava: I can’t wait to see you later

James: can I pick you up from school or do you need to go home first?

Ava: I don’t need to go home 😊

James: I’ll see you there then, unfortunately, I have work to get back to & I’ve kept you from yours for longer than I responsibly should have, lest you end up at Kings after all

Ava: 🙄 I’m sure my career’s officer would tell me they’re higher in the rankings or something else that isn’t going to change my mind more than your experience and my own, however brief

Ava: If I were rating them on chance, perfect meetings, however

Ava: A++

Ava: I’ll see you later then, try not to get TOO exhausted by soft play 😏❤️

James: I’ll be certain to tell them now that’s not a secret, it wouldn’t surprise me if they used us a ringing endorsement for some kind of meet-cute society to take place weekly in The Vault

James: the allure of soft play meanwhile needs no advertising, with or without any single mothers trying to engineer romantic entanglements of their own

Ava: I’ll square that with my conscience and you run that gauntlet, love

James: I’ll do my best

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

finally. i decided to do this. anyways hello there, i am jake and today i want to talk about something; you see, if you are in the tf2 fandom, you probably know about heavymedic. Wherther you are a hardcore gamer who resents f2p’s or a person that never played the game but has trillions of notes on their art- you know heavymedic exists and most of all you probably ship it.

And I find that weird. In the few fandoms in my life I have been in I had never seen a single ship be so widely if not shipped, then accepted. Sure, maybe everyone in the GF fandom knows what Billdip is - for better or for worse. Sure, maybe the HS fandom is 70% shipping.

But I have never ever seen such a phenomenon in a prominent multiplayer game fandom. A fandom, sadly, oftentimes filled with toxicity. Overwatch is very similar here - yet ships are either a hot topic of discussion or straight up ignored. But TF2? In here for whatever reason we ship these two mercenaries. And in this essay I will try and find a reason or two why is that.

Apologies for any mistakes or incoherency. English is not my first language, I need to ramble, and my vocabulary is all over the place.

Content warning: mentions of homophobia, blood, death, mentions of WLW fetishization, nsfw mention. Also MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR THE TF2 COMICS.

Part 1: Canonical Evidence and Interactions

Let’s be honest: I could ramble about this one for days on end. But I’ll try and keep it short.

First and foremost we have the official videos. And of course the first thing that comes to mind is Meet the Medic.

At the very start of the part where Medic himself appears, we see him telling a joke about a particularly gruesome situation to Heavy.

He laughs along with him, visibly enjoying his company. He even smiles as he waits for another joke. Heavy only shows genuine fear a lot later.

And of course this damn scene always cracks me up. Medic slightly pinches Heavy’s cheek and strokes his lip gently (the other part is almost not noticeable unless you play the video at slow speed).

Of course we all know about the Hand Hold that happens somewhere halfway in the vid. I don’t think I have to explain the gayness in that. The fact their hands stay interlocked even after Medic helps Heavy up. The deep breath Medic takes because even he cannot handle the emotions. That few seconds is unresolved sexual tension manifest.

Overall the short shows a strong feeling of trust between these two. Medic confides in Heavy and reverse. Yeah he puts a baboon heart into his friend’s chest cavity but the fact (as proven at the end of the video) that Heavy was the first one to have an Ubercharge implanted into him shows that Medic at the very least considers him a lab rat.

I treat End of the Line as non-canonical, as do many others, and as such won’t discuss it here. But it will forever crack me up that Valve endorsed such levels of homoerotic subtext.

These two have some short moments in other videos, like for example in Invasion Heavy helps Medic up (CINEMATIC PARALLELS) but it’s nothing major so I guess I’ll skip forward.

Second is their interactions ingame. You might call me a weirdo for trying to find stuff in there but holy shit I have things to say and I’m going to say them.

You thought I was going to fanboy over the “i love this doktor” voiceline huh? Well not really. I wish these two had unique lines if they assist one another.

Heavy is literally listed on the official wiki as the “ideal medic buddy” and multiple pages on that exact wiki say some pretty interesting things.

I have to say something about the Gentleman’s Ushanka and/or Pocket Medic. They are both community cosmetics - but the fact they both got accepted by Valve says a lot. Above is text snipped from the actual wiki.

Last but not least: The Comics. Darned comics. The pair of mercenaries has basically no interaction - unless you count issue 6.

Heavy getting absolutely PISSED when Medic is killed by Ch*avy. Their reunion. Medic referring to Heavy by “my friend” in a totally straight way. Kind of sad Valve wasted an opportunity for them to hug. Maybe they knew their comic artist ships them and wanted to avoid having to answer the Question™.

Part 2: Dynamics

This part’s a bit trickier, mostly due to the reason that I’m new to this whole dynamic analysis thing. Yeah I’m good at spotting canonical evidence but very specific shipping dynamics often escape my gaze.

The most obvious one is Big Guy, Little Guy. Quoting the TVTROPES page:

[…] This trope describes a pair of guys who always fight together, are best friends forever, and quite often have a very obvious hierarchy: The little guy is often in charge […] The little guy is usually listed first, since he’s the leader, and they are always listed together, as if they are one entity. In fact, some episodes may center on the fact that they can’t live without each other. […] If this is a case of Brains and Brawn, the Big Guy is usually the Brawn, and the Little Guy the Brains. It’s almost never the other way around, but in some cases the Big Guy can be rather smart too. […]

A sub-type of this, a common favorite here on Tumblr is known as “small chaotic big calm” and hoo boy if that isn’t these two. I don’t really have much to say here - again I am not an expert.

Part 3: Fandom Impact

So you don’t think Red Oktoberfest (as Heavymedic is sometimes called) is super popular on anywhere else than Tumblr? Wrong.

It’s hard to find TF2 fics on Archive of Our Own not tagged with Heavy/Medic. Of course most of them only contain hints to their relationship but go in the main tf2 tag and I can guarantee you, you’ll gonna see “implied heavy/medic” all the time.

But these two go further than AO3 or Tumblr or Instagram or whatever. They are recognized even within the wider circle of the fanbase. Take this SFM, for example. (I am using the Saxxy Awards version of Secret Lives here mostly due to the fact that the Heavymedic moment is much gayer. In the normal version, the dialogue isn’t changed, but they simply hold hands.)

But it gets deeper. (WARNING: THE GAY MOMENT IN THIS ONE IS NSFW. NOT EXPLICITLY SO BUT JUST A HEADS UP TUMBLR PLEASE DO NOT FLAG ME)

And the best part? The comments are extremely positive. You’d expect hoards upon hoards of homophobes screeching but no, the comments are supportive. Even on places such as Reddit or Youtube, comments like “yeah they’re gay and in love” do not get downvoted/disliked to hell; in fact the opposite.

Part 4: Canon Status

Let’s be real. Most ships are shipped because people want to explore the dynamics in fanfic, fanart or something else. But Heavymedic is shipped because… well, I have no idea.

Actually, I kind of do - but only theories. You see, while the canonical evidence is here, the creators have never said anything about them. No confirmation, no disproval, no hinting, nothing.

But the ship is so prominent! There has to be something causing this!- you say. And to that I present you 2 theories on why Heavy/Medic is so popular.

Theory number 1 states that we simply all choose to interpret their interactions as homoerotic. And this is very easy to disprove - there’s simply no way we just collectively agreed on these matters out of nothing. There has to be something bigger.

And theory 2 states that, well, our interpretation is the desired interpretation. But this is even more ridiculous than theory 1 for a number of reasons. If they are in fact gay, why hasn’t Valve made them canon yet?

A Theoretical Scenario

I am going to ramble big time on this one, so buckle up lads. I’ll discuss a theoretical scenario in which, well, if that was not obvious, Valve confirms Heavymedic as canon. Maybe then we will see why they will probably never do so.

TF2 is considered by typical capital G, alt-right Gamers as a “non-political” game. This means no women (in the game itself, at least, and if even, sexy women only), no queer folk and no minorities (for some reason they accept Demoman but throw a fit if someone draws any other merc as not being pearl white). Team Fortress 2 was around before Gamergate and other things like Gamers Rise Up. It’s a classic and Valve is regarded as the good guy to Epic Game’s bad guy. If Valve did anything to confirm doubts, wherther it be clearing up popular fanon or confirming ships, these people would throw hands. (Although they seemed to ignore when one of the writers confirmed Miss Pauling is a lesbian. Huh.) Even those that don’t play TF2 would come to the aid of their bros.

Let me illustrate with two very similar examples. In both cases these confirmations were the first made by the company as a whole, both are fairly recent and both confirm a character as gay.

First we have the confirmation of Tracer from Overwatch as a lesbian. It was done in one of OVW’s comics. Tracer is the FACE of Overwatch as a whole and while most of the fanbase accepted it (thankfully the Gamers are reluctant to infest ow), some people threw what I can only describe as a hissy fit. At least her girlfriend’s a background character.

Second is Neeko from League of Legends. Unlike Tracer she was added a while before it was confirmed she was gay. LOL is much more toxic and filled with Gamers than OW and holy shit people smeared LOL so much.

Of course these are not accurate to Heavy/Medic. In both of the cases I listed it was girls being wlw and we all know how much cisgender heterosexual gamers LOVE yuri porn. Apparently only girls can be gay because they can jack off to it - if it’s two guys then it’s disgusting. Nevertheless I think these are good approximations - in every case the company gets “shat on” on social media and other sites. With the community that Valve has, I think even if they wanted them to be gay, they would never ever confirm it.

Conclusion

I’m sorry for that ending. I had to theorize a bit. Regardless I’d love if you shared this on other sites, reblogged or whatever - I wasted at least 1 and a half hours of my life on it. Feel free to cite this as a source if someone asks you why you ship the big heavy weapons expert and the feral battle medic.

[beeblackburn]

Pretender Reads A Little Hatred, Part I, Chapter One

It's time. Goes without saying spoilers ahead for the entirety of The First Law works beyond the keep reading. Read at your own risk.

PART I

"The age is running mad after innovation;

and all the business of the world

is to be done in a new way.”

—Dr Johnson

No joke? This quotes gave me chills as a declaration of authorial intent. I have a slightly more optimistic view of The First Law’s world, but even I knew the first trilogy’s intent was, beyond commenting on how much Abercrombie dug Lord of the Rings so much that he wrote a trilogy to show his... appreciation, to show that, as much as people want to change, they are helpless to actually commit by their pasts, being pieces and pawns to the old ways and grudges of Bayaz and Khalul’s “great” war of two old assholes fighting over grudges kept alive solely two great powers butting heads over wrongs long past. 

That human nature is fundamentally unchanging.

But, at the same time? Abercrombie’s throwing down a gauntlet with this quote. With the new flavor of fantasy he’s promising, the new generation of characters he has to usher in to spearhead that new age, he has to change. He cannot rehash the old stories. Cannot repeat the old patterns. Cannot force the old systems continuing to work, having grown rusty and creaky with age. History has to move forward. Meaning he has to pave the path to new ways. The question is, new way in what manner? New ways as in a social progress, positive change, a better world? Or new ways as in Bayaz changing from magic to money, and from spells to cannons, in order to assert the same small-minded ideal of might makes right with different tools? 

It’s a new age of madness, but with human nature being what it is? Abercrombie has shown that a little hatred goes a long way to lead us to stepping upon old roads left behind our parents, who they themselves trod on by their predecessors.

Chapter Title: Blessings and Curses Point-of-View: Rikke

“Rikke.”

She prised one eye open. A slit of stabbing, sickening brightness.

“Come back.”

She pushed the spit-wet dowel out of her mouth with her tongue and croaked the one word she could think of. “Fuck.”

Now isn’t that just a typical Abercrombie sentiment. Actually, what I want to focus on is how this opening is lean compared to The Blade Itself:

Logen plunged through the trees, bare feet slipping and sliding on the wet earth, the slush, the wet pine needles, breath rasping in his chest, blood thumping in his head. He stumbled and sprawled onto his side, nearly cut his chest open with his own axe, lay there panting, peering through the shadowy forest.

—The Blade Itself, The End

From Blessings and Curses, we already see a much apparent crispness of voice, short paragraphs broken apart, an unusual situation of a girl opening one eye and having to come back (come back from what?) There’s a surreal quality that Logen’s opening, as much as I like it as an introduction to The Blade Itself, can’t beat beyond the chapter title. Yet, to remind us it’s Abercrombie, someone has to say fuck. Because of course.

“There’s my girl!” Isern squatted beside her, necklace of runes and finger bones dangling, grinning that twisted grin that showed the hole in her teeth and offering no help at all.

HOLY FUCK IT’S CRUMMOCK’S SHIN-KICKER AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

“I saw folk falling from a high tower. Dozens of ’em.” She winced at the thought of them hitting the ground. “I saw folk hanged. Rows of ’em.” Her gut cramped at the memory of swinging bodies, dangling feet. “I saw … a battle, maybe? Below a red hill.”

Isern sniffed. “This is the North. Takes no magic to see a battle coming. What else?”

“I saw Uffrith burning.” Rikke could almost smell the smoke still. She pressed her hand to her left eye. Felt hot. Burning hot.

“What else?”

“I saw a wolf eat the sun. Then a lion ate the wolf. Then a lamb ate the lion. Then an owl ate the lamb.”

“Must’ve been a real monster of an owl.”

“Or a tiny little lamb, I guess? What does it mean?”

So, full disclosure here: I did read the A Little Hatred blurb before reading, so I already knew we were getting something like this... but holy shit, we’re seriously getting a prophet? I’m going to talk my precise thoughts on this later, in full first impressions of Rikke as a character, but man, I usually hate prophecies and prophets, but with Abercrombie? Dude’s earned enough credit (specifically, everything to do with Grom-gil-Gorm’s prophecy in the Shattered Sea series) at my trust bank to get me to care. And I love how Rikke can still feel the sensory details of her visions, the costs of magic. Magic.

Also, am I a terrible person for, seeing the eats in the prophecy, immediately thinking Eaters? I probably am.

I’ll hold off on dissecting the prophecy at the chapter’s end. 

"Well, I can unveil two secrets right away.” Rikke groaned as she pushed herself up onto one elbow. “My head hurts and I shat myself.”

"That second one’s no secret, anyone with a nose is party to it.”

"Shitty Rikke, they’ll call me." She wrinkled her nose as she shifted. “And not for the first time.”

"Your problem is in caring what they call you.”

There’s definitely a very winning formula with how Rikke and Isern’s dynamic works: the young, soft-hearted naif butting and bouncing heads against the more world-weary, a touch twisted, experienced warrior. Rikke complains about how much the world will react to her, Isern tells her to suck it up because Rikke doesn’t have to care at all.

Also, not going to lie: part of why I love Rikke is that she shits herself during her visions and fits. It undercuts the mystique of magic with the unpleasant consequences, grounded in reality.

Isern tapped under her left eye. “You say cursed with fits, I say blessed with the Long Eye.”

So. First off, fun fact:

Crummock spun one of the wooden signs on his necklace round and around. “I can’t see her letting Bethod lose, and herself along with him, can you? A witch as clever as that one? There’s all kinds of magic she could mix. All kinds of blessings and curses. All kinds of ways that bitch could tilt the outcome, as though the chances weren’t tilted enough already.”

—Last Argument of Kings, Leaves on the Water

History echoes, doesn’t it? Another i-Phail, another user of the Long Eye, and a discussion about the blessings and curses of magic. The players are different, but the sentiments are similar enough to ripple from the past to the present.

Now, my first reaction to reading this part of the blurb was: WHOA WHOA WHOA, Caurib’s Long Eye from The First Law trilogy? OH MY GOD!!!!! Just more connective tissue to link this book from its past, the earliest roots of Abercrombie’s world-building, when he was still tinkering with what he wanted (long eye isn’t even capitalized in The First Law’s mention of it). It’s a nice reference for us long-time readers and a magical power for the new readers. 

Mind you, all I’m thinking is: was Caurib, every time she was decked out and being impossibly beautiful in the way Abercrombie wrote her... was she actually having fits and headaches and shitting for her visions? Because, wow, I can only imagine how frustrated she must’ve been having to make public appearances. I can just imagine her wishing everyone would fuck off so she could have headaches and shit in peace. Already makes me like Caurib a lot more now.

“Huh.” Rikke rolled onto her knees and her stomach kept on rolling and tickled her throat with sick. By the dead, she felt sore and squeezed out. Twice the pain of a night at the ale cup and none of the sweet memories. “Doesn’t feel like much of a blessing to me,” she muttered, once she’d risked a little burp and fought her guts to a draw.

I really do appreciate how much Abercrombie grounds and mixes a curse into magical “blessings.” I was really skeptical of putting in some last trace of magic in anyone, but Rikke’s right in it not being a blessing, and considering magic is on its last legs, there’s no way Bayaz won’t meet her later and clutch his monstrous hands on her Long Eye, teaching her finesse in exchange for getting to aim where it goes towards.

Another tool. Another weapon to kill his enemies.

"Might have to rope you in future, make sure you don’t crack your nut and end up a drooler like my brother Brait. At least he can keep his shit in, mind you.” 

HOW MANY SONS DID CRUMMOCK HAVE. THE FUCK!? I can’t even find a Brait anywhere except The Heroes and that was clearly not him. For one, he didn’t drool!

“My head still aches so bad I can feel it in my teeth.” Rikke wanted to shout but knew it’d hurt too much, so she had to whine it soft instead. “I need no more small discomforts.”

“Life is small discomforts, girl! They’re how you know you are alive.”

Another part of why I like Rikke so much is that, as a character starting out, she whines. A decent amount. She’s admittedly got some good reason to do so, but as the narrative points out and Isern especially, at least living means you get to whine about it and too much of it will only enable more discomfort, make the pain bigger. There’s intentional room to grow for Rikke and the fact that Abercrombie lets her be a bit of a whiner at the risk of alienating readers is a writer’s courage I always try to emulate. 

Character development’s has to start somewhere.

“Guess not. Just, in the songs, it’s a thing witches and magi and deep-wise folk used to see into the fog of what comes. Not a thing that makes idiots fall down and shit themselves.”

“In case you never noticed, bards have a habit of dressing things up. There is a fine living, d’you see, in songs about deep-wise witches, but in shitty idiots, less.”

Snrrrrrk. I got to love how Abercrombie shades lesser and classic fantasies. He does so well with it.

“And proving you have the Long Eye is no simple matter. You cannot force it open. You must coax it.” And Isern tickled Rikke under the chin and made her jerk away. “Take it up to the sacred places where the old stones stand so the moon might shine full upon it. But it’ll see what it sees when it chooses, even so.” 

Huh. Crummock made it clear that there was something special about the moon during his time in Last Argument of Kings. I assumed it was solely just him thinking the moon’s love made men more violent and strong, but did he think it could influence magic? Given his more singular focus on violence and his clear Bloody-Nine murderboner fanboying, I think Crummock was a lot more close-minded about how the moon can affect things. Isern’s a lot more flexible, by comparison.

(Also, are those sacred places that fortress Logen and Crummock and the rest had their last stand in the High Places? Crummock did say it was well loved of the moon...)

“War?”

“It’s when a fight gets so big almost no one comes out of it well.”

“I know what it bloody is.” Rikke had a spot of fear growing at the nape of her neck which she couldn’t shrug off however much she wriggled her shoulders. “But there’s been peace in the North all my lifetime.”

“My da used to say times of peace are when the wise prepare for violence.”

“Your da was mad as a bootful of dung.”

“And what does your da say? Few men so sane as the Dogman.”

Rikke wriggled her shoulders one more time, but nothing helped. “He says hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

Isern’s first line is true, but also makes me think of all the Northmen who came into war, looking for glory and a Name, and came out dead or unable to stop killing, their bloody footsteps followed by fellow warriors with same dreams of glory and a Name, just younger. War chews up men and spits them out, dead or alive, no one living coming out without trauma and/or a score of dead friends.

Also, Dogman’s daughter, huh! Good on him for managing to raise a decent child in the Circle of the World, even if she has her share of flaws. Rikke certainly reminds me of a softer, more whinier Dogman, yet still decent.

Rikke blinked at her. ‘You can’t have been ten years old.’

‘Old enough to kill a man.’

‘What?’

‘Used to carry my da’s hammer, ’cause the smallest should take the heaviest load, but that day he was fighting with the hammer so I had his spear. This very one.’ Its butt tapped the rhythm of their walking on the path. ‘My da knocked a man down, and he was trying to get up, and I stabbed him right up the arse.’

‘With that spear?’ Rikke had come to think of it as just a stick Isern carried. A stick that happened to have a deerskin cover over one end. She didn’t like thinking there was a blade under there. Especially not one that had been up some poor bastard’s arse.

I love Abercrombie’s humor, especially given how actually rather depressing Isern’s age of killing was. It always serves to give levity to some heavy stuff in the story, preventing the darkness from choking most people whole. It’s the “poor bastard” part of that last line that brings the smile and laughter out.

“Girl, you have a ring through your nose.” 

“I am aware.” And Rikke stuck her tongue out and touched the tip to it. “It keeps me tethered.”

Hey, you want to know another part of why I really like Rikke? Nose rings are fucking cool. Gives her a distinct appearance and fashion.

Now if only other prophets had nose rings instead of cloaks and vague portents, I wouldn’t find them so bloody boring.

“You’ve a wolf on your shield,” she said.

“Stour Nightfall’s mark,” growled the big man, with a hint of pride, and Rikke saw he had a wolf on his shield, too, though his was scuffed almost back to the wood.

(Looks at his book) Well, shit! The cover’s actually relevant. I was eyeing the UK cover better, but now that this US/Can one has meaning, I can accept it.

Also, Stour Nightfall is the coolest fucking name. Can’t wait to meet him!

“Nightfall’s the greatest warrior since the Bloody-Nine!” piped up the young one. “He’s going to take back Angland and drive the Union out o’ the North!” 

(Arches an eyebrow) I don’t take issue with taking back Angland, there’s some valid enough history with Casamir that I don’t blame the North for it, but how did what I theorized to be Calder’s son become such a beef-cake? But really? Greatest warrior since the Bloody-Nine? I can’t help but think him a cut-price Bloody-Nine now.

“The Union?” And Rikke looked down at the wolf’s head badly daubed on his badly made shield. "A wolf ate the sun,” she whispered.

Thank you, Rikke, I studied English lit in high school. I can do my own analysis of symbolism and visions.

Rikke’s arrow stuck into his back, just under his shoulder blade.

Her turn to say, “Oh,” not sure whether she’d meant to let go the string or not.

A flash of metal and the old man’s head jolted, the blade of Isern’s spear catching him in the throat. He dropped his own spear, grabbed for her with clumsy fingers.

“Shush.” Isern slapped his hand away and ripped the blade free in a black gout.

The inexperienced child and hardened warrior dynamic continues with Rikke accidentally, not knowing if she meant to or not, dooming a boy to death and Isern, experienced hand at the black business, aims for the kill and gives her enemies no ground to gain leverage upon her. But, ultimately...

“You killed ’em.” Rikke felt all hot. There were some red speckles on her hand. The big one was lying on his face, shirt soaked dark.

“You killed this one,” said Isern. The lad knelt there, making these squeaky little gasps as he tried to reach around his back to the arrow shaft, though what he’d do if he got his fingertips to it, Rikke had no idea.

... no one’s hands in this world remain clean for too long.

“Then killing ’em was all o’ the one choices we had, eh? Your problem is you’re all heart.” And she stabbed Rikke in the tit with one bony finger.

“Ow!” Rikke took a step away, holding her arms across her chest. “That hurts, you know!”

“You’re all heart all over, so you feel every sting and buffet. You must make of your heart a stone.” And Isern thumped her ribs with a fist, the finger bones around her neck rattling. “Ruthlessness is a quality much loved o’ the moon.” As if to prove the point, she bent down and heaved the dead lad into the bushes. “A leader must be hard, so others don’t have to be.”

First off, I stabbed my own chest with my own finger just now to see how much it hurt. I can only imagine the increased discomfort with doing it to breasts.

Second off, to give my first impressions of Rikke... well, it’s funny. I once talked to a great friend of mine who we love to talk tropes and stories and fiction about and I told him I generally don’t gravitate to the rougher shit-talking tomboy and the prophet character tropes. To be quite frank, the former bores me on general lack of craft (everyone seems to think the trope itself constitutes a strong personality!) and the latter is just dry plot exposition on two legs generally, full of billowing cloaks and being fuck-useless 99% of the story.

Rikke might have been love at first sight for a few reasons.

The consequences of prophecy. I keep nailing this point, but I do for a reason: I have rarely seen a prophet actually endure physical ailments for their magical gifts, and the headaches, the fits, the burning hot eye, and the shitting? It helps ground Rikke’s struggles in less abstract details so we can sympathize better. We might not have had visions, but we’ve had headaches, hot eyes and shat before.

She’s got a personality! She’s rough, she gives as good verbally as she gets, but she’s also kind and not someone who goes for violence as a first resort. But, at the same time, she’s definitely got her flaws. She’s a whiner. There’s a touch of naivety and inexperience that shows when she talks how times were different when Dogman was fighting and Isern shuts that illusion down, there’s even a softness in her with how she said they should’ve given Stour’s thugs a chance.

Her partnership dynamic with Isern is really winning, allowing more of her personality to bounce off of Isern while having some sass of her own to snap back at Isern, allowing her to have a personality to bounce off of. It allows for development of both characters in a way that Abercrombie’s first attempt at having an early traveling pair in Malacus Quai and Logen can never match, given all the personality leaping off the screen.

The tonal difference. Rikke is a really decent kid dropped into the Circle of the World. In any other series, my eyes would glaze over in boredom. In here? There’s so much misery and depressing reality that happens in the Circle of the World, that it looks like it’ll be a treat to see how she’ll interacts with the older, hardened generation of characters and how much decency might touch upon them. And that only makes Isern’s advice to her all the more interesting. Because her being all heart is hardly Bayaz’s ideal tool and I get the sense that her turning her heart into stone won’t be a smooth ride.

The nose ring. I’m sorry if it makes me shallow, but that’s a cool design choice and love the tethered justification.

The morning mist was long faded and she could see all the way across the patchwork of new-planted fields to Uffrith, wedged in against the grey sea behind its grey wall. Where her father’s old hall stood with the scraggy garden out the back. Safe, boring Uffrith, where she’d been born and raised. Only it was burning, just the way she’d seen it, and a great column of dark smoke rolled up and smudged the sky, drifting out over the restless sea.

(winces) Well, that’s one part of the prophecy dealt with.

Isern wandered from the trees with her spear across her shoulders and a great smile across her face. ‘You know what this means?’

‘War?’ whispered Rikke, horrified.

“Aye, that.” Isern waved it away like it was a trifle. “But more to the matter, I was right!” And she clapped Rikke on the shoulder so hard she near knocked her down. “You do have the Long Eye!”

Hah! Somehow, Isern, I think she won’t take the blessing of that statement and only see the curse of it.

So! Theory-crafting on the prophecy itself!

The only tower I know of in the North was in the High Places, and given Isern’s with Rikke, I can imagine that’s certainly plausible. Either that or somewhere in the Union, given its towers, especially the Tower of Chains? 

The battle below a red hill will be one of our battle set-pieces. Definitely something like the Casualties chapter in The Heroes.

Uffrith already burnt, but it was the first thing to happen, so the people hanged from towers and the red hill battle are yet to happen.

“I saw a wolf eat the sun” Stour taking down the Union. 

“Then a lion ate the wolf” Leo taking down Stour, which I’d normally take as a sign I shouldn’t get invested because I already know the outcome... but given Grom-gil-Gorm’s prophecy twist, I think there’s plenty of ways this could easily turn twisted, especially with Black Calder about. 

“Then a lamb ate the lion” I heard a decent amount of people say they thought it’d be straight-up Lamb and, man, NO. The point of Red Country is that, deep down, Lamb was only pretending to be a lamb and was really a wolf in lambswool. Someone who genuinely is worthless... Orso, from the blurb, seems to fit the bill, given that Leo’s been hoping for help there.

“Then an owl ate the lamb.” Bayaz with Orso. Owls are symbolized as knowledge and Bayaz’s being the First of the Magi, feels right for that... and given that Orso is part of the royal family and how Bayaz “ate” Jezal, I can’t say him repeating it with Orso is implausible. My only worry is, how will this be new from Bayaz and Jezal’s deal?

PART I

Chapter One: Blessings and Curses Chapter Two: Where the Fight’s Hottest Chapter Three: Guilt Is a Luxury Chapter Four: Keeping Score Chapter Five:  A Little Public Hanging Chapter Six: The Breakers Chapter Seven: The Answer to Your Tears Chapter Eight: Young Heroes Chapter Nine: The Moment

[carrietrekkie]

Through the grapevine.

Hello together!

This one cames to my mind today, while I was waiting for my shuttle(car) to be fixed. A little one shot about some crew members of the Enterprise during their weekly breakfast.

Something funny for the weekend! I hope you like it and leave me a little fb. Also let me know, if you want to read more about the four in here!

@bold-brave-courageous @allthetrek @reeselivesforeverinmyheart

Meet our four gosippy people:

Yeoman Ensign Connor McAdams Lieutenant Lanissa th`Zhinnat, engineer, Andorian Lieutenant Barian Lanos, science officer, xeno-anthropology, Betazoid. Ensign Samantha Winter, Nurse

The Enterprise mess hall was well attended, as every morning at breakfast time, a wild jumble of the fatigued members of the gamma shift, hectic officers of the alpha shift, anxious to be late, and the rest of the crew with free time or flexible service. At one of the tables in the corner, with the best view across the room, sat a sworn group of officers, their eyes wandering through the room as they enjoyed their weekly ritual that had established more and more over the last mission. "Can you believe this is the last time?" Connor McAdams, Pike's Yeoman leaned back in his chair. "After mentioning it for the third time, yes, we can believe it." He was followed by a long sigh. "And you're acting as if it's the end of the world." "Let him Lanissa." Barian Lanos, the senior of the group, punched the Andorian lightly. "Not everyone is such a sentimental sissie like you." She tapped something in the PADD that just barely fit between the cups and plates. "Or he." "Well, I too, think it's sad." Samantha Winter, the youngest at the table, took her cup. "And you're just so grumpy because you know it's your fault." "Yes, exactly!" Enthusiastic, finally to find someone on his side, Connor got back into the conversation. "The three of us will still be there on the next mission, but you have decided that you want to go back to Andor."

"Connor!" Lanissa went up in her chair. "Oh crap." He pinched his lips. "Sorry, that was really no intention." "You go back to Andor?" "I thought that was a joke."

Stunned, the two new initiates stared at their friend. With an Andorian curse seemingly too special for the Universal Translator, Lanissa sank back in her chair, looking at her friends in turn, before explaining herself. "Yes, I'm going back to Andor. I submitted my resignation to Captain Pike and he approved it. " "Oh yes, that pretty much spoiled his mood." Connor glanced at her. "You leave Starfleet ?! You ... "Sam put down her cup before it was slipping out of her fingers. "You throw up?" "I'm not chucking! I will accept the offer of the Technical University and train engineers and mechanics." "Lanissa." Barian put a hand on her arm. "That cannot really be the solution?" It was a few months ago when an outside mission involving Lanissa went terribly wrong. She had been captured, tortured, and when the rescue team finally found her, she was more dead than alive. It had Dr. Boyd's full skill and countless hours of therapy with Counselor Hanson needed to make her reasonably fit for service. Lanissa's first act was to hand over her departure from Starfleet to Captain Pike. "I cannot do this anymore. Every time there's a bit of wobbling in the engine room, a noise somewhere that I cannot assign right away, or people looking for a away mission, I panic, cannot sleep, and prefer to crawl under my bed. I know, I'll hang you, but it just will not work anymore. " Barain and Samantha stared at her, then she took a swing and slammed Connor against the forearm. "Ouch, hey, what should that?" "You knew that and say nothing!" She glared at him evilly. "We could have stopped her, change her!" "Are you crazy? I'm glad if Pike didn´t find out I was blabbering!" "Oh, such a nonsense! You just didn´t dare! "

"Sam, stop it." Lanissa looked at her. "It would not have worked." She nodded to McAdams. "Connor tried it so many times that I wanted to break his nose because he was so annoying." Now she smiled at her friends. "I'm not gone, I'm just going back to my family, we will see us again. I'm happy with my decision, could you please too. " That had sat and after she had all been silent for a moment, they nodded and decided to enjoy their breakfast. If Lanissa left them on Earth, there would be enough tears to flow.

"Have you seen Spock's new look?" Samantha tipped some milk into her coffee. "Yeah and I think it fits him really good." Lanissa stroked her chin. "Looks daring." "I'm sorry I have to disappoint the ladies, but the beard is off." That brought Connor two sad looks. "Yesterday he came without to the bridge." "Great and I didn´t take a picture." "Well, now you can all thank me." Barain pulled up the PADD and called up the photo folder of the Enterprise Crew, a colorful collection of photos and videos which the crew had collected during their time on board. "And here it is." He grinned at the women. "Ahh, that's a nice picture." Samantha marked it. "That's on the wall in the bar." "He delete it faster than you can upload it." Connor shook his head slightly. "Not even Spock can crack that code, trust me." The Betazoid smiled conspiratorially. "There is a god somewhere." "Did you hear that from T'Pal?" Barain glanced around, making sure that the Vulcan was not around. "No, what?" Connor looked at him while Samantha already smiled widely. "She accidentally opened the wrong valve in botany last week and gotten a huge load of nitrous oxide." He chuckled a little. "That was the weirdest half hour I've ever experienced!" "You're pestering us?!" Lanissa's eyes widened, her antennas jiggling in amusement. "She laughed?" "Like a little kid!" The Betazoid lowered his voice. "And not only that, she was really happy." "The poor mouse has been hiding in our quarters for three days." It was a stroke of fortune for her to share quarters with T'Pal. "Does she know you call her that?" Connor waved to someone shortly before he turned back to the conversation. "Of course, and I'm sure one day her eyebrow she pulls up will slip under her hairline." “What did Louvier say when you told him you were leaving?"

"He was crying." Lanissa placed her arms on the table and rested her head on her hands. "He almost got me to stay." "Oh, the chief is just smooching right?" All eyes suddenly rested on the Betazoid. "If you could hear your thoughts, people." He shook his head. "I mean that in an honest and innocent way. With Louvier, you always know what you have, he is sincere and has his heart on his tongue." "Yes, that's right." Lanissa smiled. "I think I'll miss him a lot." "If one can fix it, then Louvier!" "Ah Sam, I would be careful with that, the new one could almost surpass him." "Whom do you mean?" Barain started stabbing the fruit in his bowl. "He has such a typical earthen name." "Montgomery Scott." Connor raised his hand. "The captain personally requested him." "Well wow, it smells like trouble in paradise." "He's fresh from the Academy until he can reach Louvier, some stars will bless the time." "Oh hey, is that her?" Lanissa interrupted the men and pointed to the door. A brunette woman in a blue uniform had just entered the room. "Whom?" Connor looked unobtrusively over his shoulder, then grinned. "Yes, that´s her." Three days had passed since their rendezvous with the Discovery and the return of Captain Pike to the Enterprise. He had brought someone besides Spock, and since then the rumor mill has seethed. Despite their size and crew, everyone knew everyone on this ship. Rumors spread faster than an infectious disease, and when someone appeared as abrupt as this woman, it quickly became the topic of conversation. "I bet she's sleeping with him." Three pairs of eyes stared at Lanissa. "What? " "How can you be so insensitive!" Samantha waved to Cathrin when she saw her. "Oh please, you probably don´t want to tell me that you did not have that thought yet! I bet even every crew member with a spark of sexual desire in the body had that thought before. " "Oh please not again." Connor nudged Lanissa. "I'm so done with this conversation." "Spoilsport." The Andorian sighed exaggerated dreamy, then squinted conspicuously inconspicuous in Connors direction.

 "Why are you looking at me like this?" The Yeoman tried to hide behind his coffee mug. "Because you know everything about Pike!" "I don´t do that! Nothing at all private and certainly not about that topic! " "Gosh, you're a lousy liar." Barian laughed. "And you should not spit in my head!" "Connor, I don´t need to look into your thoughts for that." An unfathomable smile on his face. "What do you know?" Sighing, he put down his cup, then waved them all a little to him and they leaned toward him. "The Federation can be happy that none of us is part of the intelligence service, that looks so suspicious that even a blind Dorian would recognize it." "Sam." Connor looked at her. "All right, but you have to swear to me that you keep that for yourself." He waited until everyone nodded and Lanissa's antennae signaled to him that they had understood. "Last night he sent me to the infirmary. He had to cancel theire date because there was another thing I could not mention, intervening. "

 "Ha, I knew it!" Lanissa jumped up. "They sleep together!" "How can you be so unromantic!" Barain shook his head. "Think I'm crazy, but there's more between the two." "Now comes this lethargic Betazoid ramblings." The Andorian rolled her eyes. "How did your society actually manage to reach the warp age? If you've been busy with your feelings all day? " "Just like you, just that we have not hit each other's heads!" "Man, how will I miss that." Connor chuckled a little. "Well, I'd like to hear what Barian has to say." Samantha tried to sound as casual as possible, but she didn´t really succeed, but he did her the favor. "Did you ever see them together? That's so incredibly cute. He's so anxious for her, worried and in love head over heels, I tell you! Both are!" "Don´t you violate one or the other policy?" "Not really, that their feelings are so present, I cannot do anything." "Yes that's right, that's not really hard to tell." "Is she talking about him?" Lanissa turned to the nurse. "With me?" "Ever." "Not really." Samantha thought for a moment. "Once she eradicates his first name when she talked with Dr. Boyd, but that's it. " "How is she?" Connor began to collect the dishes.

"Nice, attentive." She went to help him. "She is great! No comparison to the low-flying hedgehoppers we usually get from the academy. Boyd is quite ravished about her. " "Boyd is thrilled by everyone." Barain stood up too. "Except for the Talosians, even he didn´t like them." “Is there anyone who liked them?" Lanissa, however, remained sitting, but collected the remaining crumbs. "Personally, I find it very nice for him to find someone who means something to him. That he has something different than this ship and his crew. "Connor realized how everyone looked at him and shrugged. "What?" "You're such a softie, you know that?" The Andorian now rose as well, picking up remaining cups and plates and bringing them back to the counter. "Do you like that?" He shrugged his eyebrows, whereupon she, embarrassed, as Samantha and Barain found, laughed. The Betazoid leaned over to the nurse, but she raised her hand and interrupted it before he could say anything. "No." She shook herself slightly. "I don´t even want to imagine that." "The horror." He chuckled stupidly, then put his arm around her. "You still have me."

"Cathrin!" Sam shook off her arm and beamed at her colleague. "Sam, good morning! Hello everybody!" Merry, but also a bit uncertain, she smiled in the round. She was a little pale and a few deep rings under her eyes. "Night Shift?" Sam smiled sympathetically. "Yes, my first." She stubbornly stifled a yawn. "It gets better. It's best to lie down right away and wake up around noon, so it'll be easier. " "Thanks, I'll try it right away." Then she looked at everyone. "It was a pleasure." Then she disappeared again and she was not yet right around the corner, the four put their heads together.

  "Connor, which shift has Pike?"

"Alpha." He looked at the clock. "And he should turn up for breakfast right now."

As if they had received an order, the four of them hurried to the door, and thanks to the still unbroken stream of hungry crew members, it was not suspicious that they stopped and looked after Cathrin.

"Guys, that's kind of wrong." Samantha looked around as if she was afraid to get caught.

"Come on, we're just checking a few theories." Barain punched her. "If that makes you nervous, what do you do when you're sent on an external mission?"

"Keep your mouth shut."

"God, finally have a date, that we have this behind us."

"Lanissa!"

"Psst." Connor pointed to the front, if he knew anything, then Captain Pike's morning ritual. "And there he is."

The turbolift in front of Cathrin opend up and spit out the still drowsily commanding officer of the Enterprise. Even from where they stood, they could see the two of them beaming, exchanging a few words with each other, and like Pike, as Cathrin walked past him into the elevator, put a hand behind het back, and her turning around to him looking directly into his eyes. She nudged him with her finger against his nose, he reached for her hand, held it for a moment before Cathrin disappeared backwards in the elevator and their fingers parted.

"Yeah okay, that was really cute." Lanissa found her again stared at by her friends. "What is? You are not satisfied with anything! "

"And that surprises you because?" Barain grinned at them before they all adopt a little attitude as the captain came to them.

"Good morning!" He nodded to them all and they returned the greeting. "Connor, I hope it's just a coincidence that you're here."

"Sorry Sir." The Yeoman grinned crookedly. "You have ten minutes, then a conference call with Admiral Shanoba is already waiting for you."

Pike's answer was a deep breath, then he said goodbye to his crew members and went for breakfast.

"He desperately needs a girlfriend." Samantha looked at him, then at her friends. "But that's beyond our salary and I'm late."

"Wait, I'll come with you, I'll have to pick up some more samples at the infirmary." Barain joined her and Connor also said goodbye to prevent Captain Pike from sneaking away.

Lanissa stayed behind, watching her friends for a moment, sighing softly, then heading for the engine room.

Oh yes, she would miss them all.

Masterlist

[wingedfabray]

home isn’t a place, it’s a person

Tagging: @infinnite, @happilyeveranders, @hautekurture, @trickstersantana, @gotmattitude, @ryderreturns, Quinn Fabray, & Jenna When: Evening, July 3rd 2018 What: A team of intrepid rescuers breaks into Boreas Park room 122. Warnings: Spiders.

Quinn: You cannot go home when the word has no definition.

Quinn’s feet stumbled over chains, her hands catching on stone as she tried to keep herself upright. Breathless and aching, she huddled herself in the arms of one of the kinder angels, it’s face set in lined tears. Home. Just go home. Where was home.

She thought of Lake George, of the rolling, tree-covered hills; her father and his scotch; her sister and their matching Christmas socks. Always remember what the heart calls home.

“No, no no no.” She held her hands to her temples, fingers twisting into her hair and tugging. There was no path home, she couldn’t find it, she’d never find it.

Somewhere on the other side of the mists, Jenna was barking. Bounding around the room, tugging at Quinn’s sleeves. She scratched at the dorm room door furiously. If she could just make it through, if she could just wake Quinn up…

Ryder left for Boreas as soon as the birds returned to him with news. 'She's locked in her room. The dog was barking and scratching at the door.' Without a care about what people thought, Ryder left Sciron at a run, bounding down the stairs until he could leave behind the building. A few birds stuck by him, but he assured them he had it in hand. They had done great work. What he needed was to get to Jenna and get into that room. He shot off a voice message to text to Blaine with what he knew.

Blaine is putting up posters near Florence Farr. He's been at it all day, sweat having made the gel come loose near his temples and ears in the July heat, and he knows what he's doing is mad. However, if someone notices and tells Blaine everything's fine, Quinn's alright, those fonts are terrible, at least he's highlighting an issue and getting something done about it. Quinn Fabray isn't a ghost in his life. She's always been there for him. Blaine will do the same for her. It's as she has said to him, "Your friendship means worlds, galaxies, the stardust that spreads across the universe. You're not a plot point to me, Blaine Anderson. If I help you, it's because I wanted to, because it fit my own narrative." That's how he feels. He wants to be in her story, and he wants her in his. They will get to happily ever after together, even if their tales won't be the same. Blaine licks his dry top lip as he pastes another poster. Kurt's helping him. His back pocket buzzes.

Kurt had his own stack of flyers to hand out. He had told Blaine about the poor font choice and illegible descriptions, however Blaine had already printed out thousands of papers. There was no turning back. Kurt passed one flyer to a nearby student and explained the situation. He noticed how tense his own jaw got when he said Quinn Fabray might be missing. Kurt didn't want to know where she was. Were there monsters like Fuchs out there, free? Kurt didn't like Quinn. They never saw eye to eye. However Quinn Fabray didn't deserve faceless monsters to fight. She deserved a worthy match like him, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Done with his stack, Kurt noticed the vibration on Blaine's pants and pulled out the phone for him. "Message for you." Kurt said, giving the phone to Blaine.

Ryder's Text: QUINN IN ROOM WITH JENNA. NO RESPONDING. MEET THERE. BREAK DOOR. RUN NOW

Just as a student is leaving the dorm, Ryder slipped between the doors. If not for the birds, he wouldn't know what floor to go to. As it was, he wasn't positive on the door. But when he listened, he could hear the whining. Ryder let out a bark to let Jenna know he had arrived. Did people just not care when a dog whined in this fucking hall?? His last meeting with Jenna hadn't gone well, but he was past the full moon now. And she had to let him help.

Finn got the info from some girls at Boreas on where Quinn was boarded. He still felt like shit 'bout that god got swag comment. Maybe it truly wasn't funny. Maybe it was one o' those tastelost jokes his mom told him not to do 'round nice company. S'what Quinn was too. Nice company. Finn left the stairs to see some dude in front of Quinn's door. "Whoa dude, who are ya?" Finn asked.

Blaine's face says it all: we need to go. Now! He puts his posters on the nearby bench and grabs Kurt's hand. "Please be okay," Blaine mutters in a loop under his breath as he runs as hard as he can. He opens up a text, sends it to Matt, Santana, Hunter, everyone who knows about Quinn's missing whereabouts. We found Quinn, please get to Boreas Park. He doesn't know how he does it (Kurt probably has helped him), but they arrive to Boreas in record time. Breathing heavy, Blaine quickly explains to a passing student to open the door for him and Kurt, and they rush up to where Quinn's room is. "Ryder!" Blaine says, expecting him. "Finn...?!" Finn, not so much.

Ryder's brow furrowed as a guy surprisingly taller than him approached. He barked his name, shook his head, and then Blaine and Kurt were there. "We need to get inside. My spells to get past locks sucks. Jenna's panicking, says Quinn's there but gone. Keeps calling for help."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at seeing Finn among them. "Finn Hudson? Why are you... ok, so the dog is inside and so is Quinn. There aren't any lock magic on the door, is there?" Kurt walked over and wished he had taken his sai. He left them at his door in Sciron Square. He looked at Quinn's door. It looked normal. "We can break it."

Jenna yipped on the other side of the door, glancing back to Quinn slumped in the circle. She shoved her nose under the crack of the door and pulled in a breath, that typical dog thing that's probably hilarious in any other situation. Help, help, help, she whined, already relieved that someone was there, someone was trying to get in.

Ryder yipped, and barked back, "We will, we're coming!" His magic circle glowed blue around his wrist so he could keep communicating with Jenna. "Stand back, get back. We have to break the door."

Another day goes by and still, there's no sign of Quinn at Grim & War. Matt is on his way back to Sciron and he wonders if maybe he shouldn't actually be worried about her. Maybe this is her way to quit without quitting, if maybe she had just found a better job. A better school, even. Somewhere safer, where curses didn't come every other day. His thoughts drift eventually, until a text from Blaine sends a jolt through his chest. If she was safe, they wouldn't need him, would they? He goes into a jog and asks around Boreas for Quinn Fabray's room, but as it turns out, there's a sizeable, loud crowd outside her room already. "What the fuck's going on?" Was that guy barking? He ignored it. "Be careful with the door!  She could be in the way."

Finn knew a thing or two 'bout breaking things. Chairs, doors, expensive as fuck mirrors, hearts, all of it. "'K, I got this. Stand back!" Finn told everyone before he gave the door a running kick to dislodge the lock. He rammed his foot where the sweet spot was. The door was snapping. "Dudes! I need more power! Everyone come help push now!" Finn said to the lot.

Matt sighs. "Alright, I guess Avicenna can heal up some scratches if we hit her with the door," he says, and helps Finn push the door.

"Jenna, make sure you and Quinn are away from the door," Ryder calls again before adding his strength to pushing the door in.

Blaine winces at the sound of the wood breaking. This is NYADA property, but this is also Quinn Fabray. "Okay, let's!" Blaine rolls his sleeves up on his shirt and positions himself between the other students and the door. "On whose signal do we push?" Blaine calls out over the roll of bodies.

Kurt nodded at Matt's arrival, explaining to him quickly the situation at hand. "I'll stand watch," Kurt said. "You need one person to give passerby a death glare to keep moving, and none of you have glares down right." He watched as the boys pushed the door.

"On my signal! 3, 2, 1! Push it!" Finn yelled. He sent out his empathy out to all of 'em. << We can do this! You're strong. >> He ground his teeth and shoved as hard as he could until he felt the door give.

Blaine strains against the smooth wooden surface, feeling his shoes slip on the floors. The door's not budging; Blaine's not strong enough, isn't he? But the solid object pushing against his desperate fingertips relents, and Blaine feels himself inching forward. He feels rejuvenated, encouraged, and doubles his effort to push. He will pierce through the heavens if it means he can reach Quinn Fabray.

On Finn's signal, Matt pushes the door as hard as he can, and as he does the adrenaline must kick in, because there's a burst of energy, of strength that reminds him of fighting Yejun. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hopes he's able to catch himself when the door does give.

Kurt saw some random give them a weird, disgusted look. Normally Kurt would throw his eyes once for a flash of a second and be done with it. However today he felt powerful. He felt like telling the random person he would amount to nothing if he kept on focusing on other people's business instead of cleaning up his own life. Kurt told all of that with his eyes. The random student fled.

Once the door gives with a mighty crack, the intrepid rescuers find Quinn's dorm dark, save a circle of sigils glowing soft white on the ground. They look foreign starting large at the outer edge, shrinking in size with each circle inwards. At the center sits Quinn. She is slumped forward, her chin against her chest. hands limp in her lap. She does not respond to the crash of the door, nor to any of the voices around her. Jenna circles around the group, tugging against pant legs. Although she is unresponsive, her emotions run wild: fear, confusion, regret, and the tiniest bit of hope.

With so many others to crowd Quinn, people more qualified to heal, Ryder went to Jenna, kneeling down next to her and trying to keep her calm. "It's fine, it'll be fine," he murmurs.

"Fucking hell," Matt mutters when the door reveals Quinn. What the fuck kind of spell was she doing here? She doesn't look injured at a first glance, so he assumes this is the spell's doing, and for a fleeting moment he's frustrated at her for doing it alone.  He kneels down next to her, and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Quinn? Quinn, can you hear me?"

Finn tripped forward on his feet, almost landing into the floor. Thank fuck his arms were as long as his legs but a little shorter. Finn touched the floor and kept himself up. He saw Quinn in a ring of white circles and wondered what the fuck they meant. "What the hell, dude..." Finn said and looked at the girl in what looked like deep sleep. It was anything but that though. Finn felt her emotions hit him. Mixed with the surprise-fear combo the dudes were sportin', Quinn's emotions were higher range and stronger. Finn had to grab at his own arm to keep himself grounded in his own mind and body. This was next level shit. He had to control himself and not share it with the others. He wanted to reach out to Quinn but didn't trust his powers. He didn't want to hurt her. <<Quinn, we're here. We got you.>> Finn thought.

Blaine enters the room with the rest of the team, and his eyes widen at the magic ritual in front of him. Quinn is certainly in a trance, her body's folded into a mystical pose, and the thrumming power and light around her signals something that's still going. "She's still performing a spell," Blaine explains as he gets close to try to interpret the sigils. He cannot pronounce them for he hasn't learned, but Blaine can estimate with surety it's Enochian. He tells that to the others, right as Matt touches Quinn. "Woah! Careful there," Blaine advises, but Matt doesn't seem to be affected. Since Matt's closer, Blaine asks, "How's Quinn's breathing? Any abnormalities which stick out?"

Santana hoped Quinn was just doing one of her long away travels after breaking up with Hunter, and that was the reason she didn't saw her in the livestream. But Blaine's posters and conversation about it made her want to be sure everything was alright. Like the master (or mistress) illusionist she was, she arrived under Quinn's window unnoticed, and with the BSO of ocean's 8 playing in her head during it, she sneakyly opened the window and entered the room. She expected to find either Quinn there or some clue. Not a bunch of people that she has to explain why she entered by the...oh fuck Quinn's in the floor and weird magic is going on.  "What the fuck is going on here?" She asked everyone while analyzing the situation.

Quinn's chest rises and falls in an even rhythm. She does not react to Santana's super-villain, through-the-window entrance. Somewhere far off, there is some comfort. Quinn feels something like calm wash over her, allowing her to take a breath. Her hands unfold from her hair; the whispers are pushed to the background. A way home, a way home.

Blaine's eyes dart over to the window shimmying open to reveal Santana Lopez. "Santana! You made it! You saw my text!" Blaine exclaims, running over to help her through the window. He helps close the window again, in case there's a draft, or other people decide to look through to see why Quinn Fabray, esteemed bloodline witch, is in an unconscious state in the middle of her room with five guys. "Quinn's in mid-spell. It looks to be Enochian, but I can't understand the language." Blaine tells Santana. "What should we do? I think we should contact the hospital. The healers might know how to cure this. I fear if we try to intervene during Quinn's spell, there could be unintended consequences." Blaine returns to Quinn's side, looking at her face with concern. "Oh, Quinn. Come back." Blaine whispers; his chest tightens at seeing her unreadable face.

Ryder's brow furrows when Santana comes in through the window. Why didn't I think of coming in through the window? But his focus goes back to Blaine and Quinn as he explains the situation. "We shouldn't move her. Someone get Avicenna on the phone and get them here." Being in mid-spell, there were too many things that could go wrong. And then because he had nothing else to do, Ryder sent up a prayer to something he believed in: Quinn. "Come back, Q. Wherever you are, if you can hear this, come home," he thinks.

Santana reacts at Blaine's reaction nodding. "Yeah. I made it. I read the text. That's why I'm here" She didn't need help, she was a proffesional.  She though of what to do to help. "Queenie, if you can hear me... I'm going to throw a glass of water over your head so you wake up. So if you don't want to, you should wake up" She warned. "I also have my spider jar~"

Kurt interrupted Santana immediately. "You don't need to use a jar of spiders." He looked at their ragtag group with curiosity, wondering their reasons to check up on Quinn. Naturally, they cared about their friend. Kurt cared about his rivalry? Investment? Discussion partner? He needed Quinn safe regardless. "Yeah, call up the hospital. Quinn, if you can hear me, you're going to be so mortified at the bedlam this caused. I feel for you." He took a photo of the scene in case the hospital had questions.

Matt shakes his head in response to Blaine’s question. “I don’t see anything. Not aside from the obvious sitting unconscious in the middle of glowing sigils,” he says, and lets go of her shoulder, somehow still trying to catch her eye. When Santana breaks in he’s alarmed for a moment, until he sees it’s her. He nods vaguely towards her, and turns back to Quinn. “Come on, Quinn. You got all those books waiting for you to sort ‘em.” A faint smile crosses his face. Maybe she can hear them, somehow. “And us. Us too.” Getting up from his spot on the floor, he gives her shoulder one last reassuring squeeze. “I’ll call Avicenna,” he says, taking his phone out.

Finn let out a loud whoa at seeing Santana crawlin' in like Ninja Gaiden. 'Fuckin' Ryu-tana.' Finn thought. He let Blaine do his thing and tried not to look too annoyed when Blaine did his thing. Blaine thought he was so smart, showin' off. Finn stood awkwardly in the middle of the guys and felt their nervous energy bounce off of each other like it was a basketball. No net, tho. "She's not doing too hot, yea." Finn grunted. Quinn's emotions were still too powerful for him to try to block. But honestly? He didn't wanna block it. Nah. He found himself getting close and softly holding her shoulder, keeping her upright. If this was what his powers were supposed to do, then why was he runnin' away from that shit? << Q. I know you're scared. I know you're confused. I know you think you made a mistake. But s'ok. A mistake gives y'the chance to fix things. A mistake doesn't mean you're alone. We're here to help.>> Finn closed his eyes and allowed himself to send his calm into Quinn while receiving her anxieties back. <<Being scared doesn't make you lesser or greater than me. We're sharing this together. Come back, Q.>> He pulled his hand back, taking in a big breath. "If they ain't comin', I'll like carry her, I carry people all the time in our games. Coach says so."

Blaine nods at what Matt says. "Ah, no, Finn, it's not necessary," Blaine responds. Who knows what could happen should they force her body to move. He shares a glance with everyone, changing his expression so it's braver. "The best we can do is pray, hope, keep her in our thoughts. Look for spells to help someone home. I'm going to hit the books tonight, but if we find a way, let's tell each other, okay?" Blaine wrings his hands nervously when Matt's call goes through.

Quinn: You cannot go home when the word has no definition.

Her feet skid to a stop in the mist-covered landscape, gold and grey and black swirls up around her calves. Above her, Eistibus towers, what could be hands wrapping around a staff.

The word has no definition.

She stops thinking about Lake George, about her father and his Scotch, her mother standing in his shadow. It’s not about the tree-covered hills, or the water as the sun goes down. It’s not about the politics, or the games.

“I can hear you. I’m listening.” She repeats the words from earlier. And suddenly, she can. The whispers around her are cut by clear voices.

I’m going to throw a glass of water over your head.

You’ve got all those books waiting for you. 

Come back, Q. Come home.

I feel for you.

I know you’re scared, I know you’re confused. I know you think you made a mistake, but s’ok. We’re here to help.

Ahead of her, the mists glow a soft gold in color, every word another step. Oh. Home.

A team of Emergency Healers arrive to Boreas Park room 122 to find Quinn Fabray slumped in a circle of Enochian sigils, surrounded by friends. By a handful of the people who make up her home. It is ascertained that the circle invokes Astral Projection. An hour of carefully working through the connections in the sigils later finds Quinn on her way to Avicenna, still unconscious.

The sigils still glow on her dorm room floor, but, just possibly, they seem to be growing fainter.

[eternal-love-song]

Captain, Save Me

For @rennemichaels I hope I did it justice~

Requested prompt - Combo? Frandral is visiting & trying to put the moves on a disinterested Loki. Steve is kinda disgusted that a. Fandral is being so pushy, b impressed that Loki hasn't broken his probation terms by turning Fandral into a frog, so he decides to run interference for loki & finds he is kinda a fun guy to be around when not being annoyed by his sibling or clint. Bonus if you can work in Loki doing a big illusion show for one of steve's events when entertainment is delayed.

"Whoa, Cap! You could set someone on fire with that glare!" Tony's voice cut through Steve's thoughts and he turned to face his friend, reluctantly dragging his eyes away from where Loki and Fandral were talking across the room.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Who's got your red, white, and blues in a twist?" Tony asked.

Tony often spoke in the most ridiculous way possible, but Steve had gotten at catching his meaning. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head a little guiltily. "Sorry. I'm just..." He pressed his lips together in thin line and searched for a polite way to express what was not a very polite feeling. "Put out," He finally settled on.

"I can kinda see that?" Tony said. He looked across the room to where Steve's glare had been focused. Loki was reading and politely responding to whatever Fandral was saying to him, but it was clear that he wasn't enjoying their conversation. Loki looked at Fandral with unimpressed eyes every time the blond touched him, which was often, and kept moving into his personal space. It had resulted in Loki switching positions often just to create distance between them, and sometimes just leaving the room entirely.

"What? Did Reindeer Games do something to you?" Tony asked.

Steve looked at Tony with incredulity. Could he not see what was happening? "No, I wasn't looking at Loki," Steve said. "Well, I was, but not just Loki. That guy has been bothering him since he arrived."

"Who, Fandral?" Tony asked. Steve was surprised Tony knew his name. He rarely called anyone by their name. "Looks like their just talking to me?"

"Are you kidding?" Steve asked. "He's been hitting on him nonstop!"

Tony shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah, but I do that, too."

"Not like this, you don't."

Tony's eyes strayed back over to Loki, but somehow he just wasn't seeing what Steve had. Maybe it was because Loki was responding so politely. Or maybe it was just because Steve had watched it go on for so long.

Fandral had placed his hand on Loki's should as he said something or another, and though it was subtle, Steve saw Loki shifting so that the hand slipped right off. Fandral didn't seem perturbed, he just found another reason to initiate physical contact. Loki sighed as he changed positions again and widened the space separating them. Steve couldn't be the only personal to notice. He looked back to Tony, who looked away from the Asgardians to meet Steve's pleading eyes.

"Yeah, I see what you're saying," Tony said. "Loki's giving off more shoulder than cold, but a rejection is a rejection. How long did you say he's been at it?"

"Since he got here," Steve told him. "If he's not with Thor, he's bothering Loki."

"Calm down Capsicle, I'll put some distance between them so you don't have to chaperon anymore."

Steve smiled. "Thank you." Steve maybe could have intervened himself, but he wasn't sure what to say that wouldn't come off... too strongly worded. Maybe if he talked to Fandral alone he could get him to back off.

Steve watched Tony stroll over and throw an arm over Loki's shoulder. Steve could have face palmed hard enough to bring down the tower. Was Tony really going to hit on Loki to save him from being hit on. He sighed as he raised his eyes back to the scene. Loki was closing his book as he disentangled himself from Tony, who backed off with good humor and shot a look at Fandral while doing it. Tony didn't touch Loki again as the god stood up and walked off with him and Tony said a few parting words to Fandral that kept him from following. Maybe Steve didn't give Tony enough credit.

The next time Steve saw Fandral bothering Loki, he decided to run interference himself. He didn't want to be rude, even if he thought Fandral was, so he used the first excuse that popped into his head.

"Hey Loki!" He called, gaining the attention of both Asgardians. "I, uh, need your help with something?"

"With what?" Loki asked.

Steve faltered for a moment. "Avengers business."

"Oh! May I be of help?" Fandral asked. "Thor has been saying that I should help in one of these battles."

"Magic... business," Steve corrected, mentally cringing at his wording. "I... need to know something about a...magic problem..."

Loki smirked, but otherwise remained composed as he stood up. "I'm at your disposal, Captain."

Steve smiled as Loki followed him out of the room. As soon as they were out of sight of Fandral, Loki burst into laughter. He leaned against the wall to hold himself up as his laughing fit completely over took him.

"F-forgive me," Loki choked out. "Watching you lie is the best thing I have seen all week."

"Wh-what?"

"Stark told me that you thought Fandral was troubling me, but I didn't expect you to act on it. Now I see why you sent Stark to do so in your place yesterday." Loki was still laughing and Steve found himself blushing slightly.

"It wasn't that funny," He grumbled.

Loki straightened up. "Would you like me to teach you the ways of subterfuge?"

"I don't need you to teach me how to lie!" Steve exclaimed.

"That's not what it looked like to me," Loki told him. "You cannot rely on the Spider to do all your lying for you."

"I don't use Natasha to lie for me!"

"Ah, Stark is your liar," Loki concluded. "Not the worst choice and not the best. He's fairly good at misdirection, but really, subtlety is not his strong suit."

It was then that Steve realized that he was being teased. This was the same kind of teasing that Stark usually did and Steve was embarrassed that he didn't notice it sooner. Steve blushed and hung his head.

Loki rested a hand on his shoulder. "I thank you for providing me a reprieve from Fandral's exhaustive expressions of interest. It was quite noble of you to save me, Captain." With that, Loki walked off, leaving Steve feeling as if he'd lost his footing.

Steve had never paid much attention to Loki in their down time. He made sure that the god wasn't causing trouble and took note of his abilities and how they could be put to the best use in battle, but he'd never really talked to Loki. Loki had always seemed so... grouchy.

Steve was only now realizing that that was only around his brother, who ate personal space like Tony drank scotch and listened to others as well Tony followed orders, or Clint who could hold a grudge as well as he hit his targets. Now that he was paying more attention, he could see that Loki did a lot more than snap and sulk.

Loki and Tony got along well, which Steve had kinda known but was still surprised to see. He even had a few friendly looking conversations with Natasha. Really, Steve felt kind of guilty that it was only because of Fandral that he was paying this much attention to Loki.

"Tell another Midgardian tale," Fandral insisted of Loki as he tried to dismiss himself from the room.

"Fandral, do you ever curb your insatiable desires for even a second?" Loki asked him with a sigh.

Thor threw an arm around Loki's shoulder and pulled him closer. "Come now, brother, spin us another tale!"

Steve was starting to wonder if all Asgardians were this pushy. Loki was politely fending off both Thor and Fandral, but neither seemed particularly good at taking the hint.

"Loki doesn't have time to tell you another story," Steve spoke up. "We have somewhere to be."

"Oh?" Fandral sounded curious, but he didn't actually question it.

Thor did. "What are the two of you off to do? Perhaps we can all join?"

Steve was starting to understand why Loki was so bothered by Thor all the time. Steve just smiled as he said, "Sorry, but Loki's helping me with a drawing of mine. Nothing really to entertain a group."

Thor looked crestfallen as Loki extracted himself from his brother's hold. "Some other time, brother. Fandral." Loki walked at Steve's side as they left the room.

"So you can lie," Loki grinned at him. "And now you've saved me again, Captain."

"You just looked like you could use some breathing room."

"Well, now that we have a modicum of freedom, I would very much like to see this imaginary drawing I am to help you with. It's the least that you can do."

"The least that I can do for rescuing you?" Steve asked.

"You must take responsibility for your actions, Captain," Loki said over his shoulder. "You made yourself my alibi, now you must deal with me."

Steve didn't find this prospect at all daunting.

Steve was already speaking to Loki when Fandral arrived. It annoyed Steve to watch Fandral slowly insert himself into the conversation ans annoyed him more when he tried to encroach on Loki's space as he typically did. Steve was really tired of this.

"Oh, Loki! We better go or we're going to be late." Steve said as he stood abruptly.

Loki didn't question as he stood with him. "Oh, dear. I cannot believe we let time pass us by this way."

"If you don't mind me asking, where would you two be off to?" Fandral asked. He didn't seem upset, wasn't trying to get invited, but Steve wanted to put him off anyway.

"We've got a date!" Steve said.

Loki's grin in response to that was nearly brighter than the sun and sharper than the blades he used in battle. Loki was positively giddy and Steve didn't know how to take that.

Fandral's expression fell slightly, but his smile held. "Alas, my prince is lost to me." Fandral clapped Loki on the shoulder. "Do enjoy your time without me."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I will try ever so hard."

They moved to the elevator and as soon as the doors closed, Loki turned his gleeful smile to Steve. "You save me again, Captain. You realize that we are most assuredly going on a date now, yes?"

Steve sighed. "I thought that you would say that."

Loki's grin got impossibly wider as he leaned in toward Steve. "May we end this pretense and start our courtship properly now? Or are you going to insist that this is only another interference tactic?"

Steve blushed at that. "That's not..." Loki raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I didn't intend..."

"You did not intend," Loki repeated. "But are you opposed?"

Steve blushed again. "I am not opposed."

Loki leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Steve's lips. "Just so you are aware, I am entirely in favor of this."

[hasansonsuzceliktas]

Women and Their Signs

Today, I want to inform you (especially the men) about some key features of the Zodiac signs. You must know there’s a marvelous question that can get normally quiet women to talk for hours with other women: “What’s your sign?” When a woman asks this question to another woman, you can bet your bottom dollar that the conversation will not just flow; it will cascade! Today, I want to inform you (especially the men) about some key features of the Zodiac signs. Later, there will be a test, so have your paper ready and your pencils sharpened. Aries This is Miss Wisenheimer. She knows it all, guys. The phrase “Would you help, please” is not in her vocabulary. An Aries woman goes off half-cocked, and she’s alone as far as adventure is concerned. She’s dominant and wants to dominate her man, but once she achieves this domination, she can no longer respect him. She wants to sail away, but once she does, she realizes that she has sailed much too far. Sometimes you want to say to her, “What on earth do you want, woman?” She doesn’t gossip, copy, or cheat. She drives at 60mph when the speed limit is 70mph, always sticking to the rules and having no tolerance for lies and bad discipline. If you don’t keep your promises, I warn you that you’ll feel her wrath. She’s curious about the spiritual realm, meaning you can conjure the spirits with her. There’s also a party animal inside her, so you can paint the town red until dawn with her. Taurus Here comes the goddess of aphorism! O’ Woman, can’t you just act clearly once in a while. Say you love someone, or say you’re upset, but just say it. Everything is aphorismic, and everything is citations. Ask a Taurus woman where she’s going, and she’ll likely tell you something like, “The world stands aside for the person who knows where to go.” Man, why not just tell me you’re visiting your sister or something? Even if she isn’t always good at finding words for her feelings, Taurus is one of the rare signs whose people know exactly what they want from their careers. She does whatever she sets her mind on, but once she falls in love, along comes the warm slippers and comfortable sweatpants, and she’s ready to go to the kitchen and make her man a sandwich. However, if you’re not sure you can return the same amount of effort and esteem, I advise you to run to the hills, because she’s pretty bloody minded in such situations. Gemini Not just two but literally ten women live inside this one. Did I mention that she’s the most uncanny specimen of all? One moment she’s making merry, and the next you discover that she packs quite a punch. Her system rejects men that keep her sweet, and she almost goes for those who get her back up. She’s talkative and fun, and she loves to travel. Remember that if you decide to take her out for dinner, you won’t see a scrap of food on your table for at least three hours. She usually talks to the waiter for some time, asking questions like, “Do you serve chicken? And do you have pasta. Oh yes, there it is. I think I’ll have the tuna then.” If you notice a meal being sent back in a restaurant, you can be certain it’s the work of a female Gemini. They look younger than they are, because their sign is the most youthful one. It’s only natural, seeing as they don’t hesitate to chew people’s asses out whenever they see fit; they just can’t hold back. Kudos to Gemini. Keep it up sister, honestly. Cancer This is the only sign that tries to look tough but messes it up almost every time. You feel something warm, sweet, and balmy inside when you talk to her. But yes, you guessed it right. That balmy mess happens to be your brain. She can talk about relationships for three days straight. She’s the most adept at not listening to you, pretending to listen instead. You can talk about anything, and she will still have rabbits jumping around in her head. If you would call her to tell her that the world is ending,  she would say, “So that’s why he left me. Otherwise he wouldn’t have had the heart to, aww…” For a Cancerian woman, every little thing in the universe was made for her and her lover. She’s an early riser through and through, often happily waking up at 5am. She’s sincere and funny, and you miss her every moment she’s away. She can hide her emotional nature with her wits and rascally nature. She cannot stand criticism and negligence, so be careful you don’t indulge in these! Leo She’s the queen, guys. She’s got the swagger. She’s very fond of luxury and splendor, wiping her behind with dollar bills whenever it’s possible. She keeps her friends close, and if, God forbid, she sees a friend’s boyfriend with another girl, she’s quick to put the boot in. She has a real disregard for positive sciences, and no matter which department she graduates from, she thinks she’s in the wrong one. If you let them, all Leos would be painters, musicians, and advertising agents. She’s very sensitive and clever, but she’s unable to tolerate ordeals. She’s so busy with herself that if you tell her that all hell has broken loose, she’ll just think about the perfume to wear while heading to safety. She chooses her lovers from a pool of the most impossible men and then tries to make men of them. She’s quick to make innuendos, riddling you with these bullets, so handle her with great care. Virgo She has a constant melancholic expression, revealing an ongoing agony in her eyes. She’s restless and really cannot stand a life of rest. She may wear a poker face, but she actually loves to gossip. She’s chummy and longsuffering, so much so that there’s no end to this. She plays it cool. She’s a stylish person, and even a sack would look good on her. She makes an ideal roommate at college. Being neat and tidy, she scrubs the bathroom, mops the floor, and never makes a big deal of it. Virgo is probably the only sign that doesn’t like to be on the front burner. The devil is not in the details—it’s in Virgo. She picks one word from your five-page essay and finds some underlying, nonexistent meaning that she can take offense at, dumping you without a second thought. Do not offend a Virgo. Mark my words: Go easy on her, and think twice before saying anything. Good luck. Libra A Libran woman is somewhere between Mother Theresa and Lady Gaga. She soon falls in love and forgets just as quickly. She cannot decide whether she wants to get married and have children or make an album and go on a music tour. She’s strategic and skillful at interpersonal affairs. She takes four suitcases on a daytrip. Even if a storm is breaking within her heart, her face always shows the enigmatic expression of the Mona Lisa. She cooks just fine when she wants to, but only if she really wants to. She’s skilled at housework, cooking, and dentistry. She’s indolent, typically choosing her lovers from her inner circle and going loopy once she falls in love. Her blood pressure goes down when faced with uncertainty. She’s sharp and impatient, and for this reason, everything must be clear. Are you in love or not? Are you a gentleman or a rogue? The biggest favor you can do for a Libran woman is to not waste her time, otherwise it’s surely you who will be laid to waste. Scorpio This one always has her own way. She’s posh and loves artsy things. She’s a real showoff, but she doesn’t level with people easily or get close to them. Don’t ever talk through your hat to a Scorpio. She’s also a mother hen, and healing, treating, and feeding are instinctive behaviors for her. Although she cannot argue her way out of a paper bag, she continually criticizes herself. She isn’t envious, but she’s definitely jealous. Her favorite drink is diet coke. She sometimes has a taste for black and sometimes for white, but it’s always with a passion. She lives on the edge, sometimes so far on the edge that her cellphone loses its signal. If she blows her stack, the mother earth she is may suddenly turn into a leather-clad rebel priestess, so try not to annoy her. What’s more, she’s so psychically inclined that she can read you like an open book, even when this book is still blank. If she ever spots a lie in your head, prepare to be blown away. She spends her money carefully, usually preferring to go out on her own. Sagittarius Look what the cat dragged in! She’s God’s baseball bat, if you get what I mean. Abuse her trust or put her off, and she’ll bust you like a traffic cop with a quota to meet. She walks so proud that if her nose fell off, she wouldn’t deign to stop and look down at it. She analyzes everything. Take your leave if she ever starts gibbering, “You say that, but you actually mean this.” She will fly her lover to the moon, but she forgets to keep hold of him. She never rises to wealth, because even if she made a billion dollars in a month, she would lavishly throw it around. Her mood is unstable, and she can turn from Walt Disney into Alice Cooper in the blink of an eye. She likes to learn things, constantly trying something new, such as fitness training, Latin dancing, diets, wrestling, and so on, but she never sees them through. She’s most successful in her career and so feminine with her laughter. A Sagittarian woman is loyal, and she doesn’t dismiss anyone unnecessarily. If you make a fool of her, though, she’ll run you through. Capricorn You can easily mistake this one for a duchess or countess. She’s wary and skeptical, and this is the reason behind her squint. A woman of Capricorn is royal and prudent, never putting her pants on one leg at a time. I say this because she’s cooler, calmer, and more collected than you and I could ever be. She’s careful in her career decisions, and she doesn’t usually make mistakes. She doesn’t hobnob with people, rarely warming or taking a dislike to people, but once she lets you into her life, she will never leave you in the lurch. These women tend to go through an identity crisis at an early age, just so they can overcome it. You could easily become hysterical from their excessive realism. When you tell her that in ten years you’ll be sipping wine together in Tuscany, she’ll tell you to pay off your home loan first. Since she’s the figurative great granddaughter of Henry VII, she maintains her composure at all costs. She’s quick in cutting the ignorant off. Do not make her cry, or she’ll bump you off for sure. Aquarius Aquarians are crazy about gossip until it’s just no fun anymore. An Aquarian woman thinks she has a genius inside, but no one ever saw her invent a thing. She’s in love with her wits and has a permanently swollen ego. It’d be great if some modesty accompanied her sweet ego, but it’s just one of those things. She loves her friends. Well, not just loves, she loses her marbles and falls off her rocker where her friends are concerned. She likes commitment and loathes dependence. She’s almost masculine in her relationships. She bosses, commands, abuses, and dominates, and she would eventually grow a penis if she went the extra mile. She doesn’t even let the man lead in the wedding dance, because she has to dominate in all things. She’s sophisticated, but she might believe that too much culture is bad for her health, so she goes to a charity sale after visiting an art museum, or to a Hank Williams Jr. concert after a Verdi opera. She’s familiar with the tabloid press, so much so that she could be a magazine reporter. She’s incredibly funny and practical. She could rule the world if she wasn’t so lazy, but come on, we’re talking about someone who doesn’t even remove her make-up before bed. Pisces This one cries easily, and there’s no way you can discover the reason why. She could be moved to tears just by looking at a window steaming up. She has private jokes that only she can understand. She begins her relationships as if they will be her last, and when they’re over, she claims her lover was a schizophrenic or so anyway. She’s a daydreamer, but not romantic in the sense of fluffy love stories. She may laugh in her lover’s face whenever he is reciting a love poem to her. She’s grateful for small blessings, but she may also get the blues from just about anything. Despite her overwhelming romanticism, she’s incredibly resilient against hardship. Her ideal profession is as a judge, because she can’t stand injustice. She’s so fond of appearances that she wouldn’t even drink a mocha if it didn’t have cinnamon on it. She usually ends up being the one in the wrong, because she blurts things out that she should have said at the end of the conversation. She then pouts, claiming that the whole world is against her. Most women of Pisces are good cooks, and they make great wives and mothers. Read the full article

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Body Image and Alllllll the Baggage it Brings.

If I’m being honest with  myself, a lot of my self-loathing is centered around negative body image and all that it brings with it. I’ve had a horrible relationship with food my entire life and some lousy genetics to go with it. On good days, I don’t actually think about what I look like, how big I am, or whether or not others find me attractive. I can go about my day to day and not feel like I’m burdened by my size or appearance. The problem lies in the bad days, which are far more frequent than the good. Those are the days where I feel utterly crippled by my size and completely disgusted with my appearance so much that I typically make matters worse by seeking comfort in my favorite foods.

Body image is something most people, particularly women, typically struggle with so I’m sure it comes as no surprise that it would be one of my biggest battles. What I think people don’t realize is the depth that my insecurities go when it comes to my day to day interactions. There are things I replay over and over in my brain on a loop that sometimes drive me absolutely insane and it becomes exhausting. When you struggle with disordered eating habits and negative self-image, you also feel an intense hatred and shame towards yourself for enabling the destructive behavior you hate. For me, that materializes in binge eating and making constant jokes about  my overeating, general slovenly nature and desire to be the “fat and lazy” person I assume people think me to be based on my appearance. So, let’s start at the beginning, folks….

I have struggled with body image my entire life. High school was utter hell for me trying to navigate how to be the kind of girl boys wanted to talk to and date, despite the fact that I wasn’t a size 2. I’m naturally a goofy person so I typically leaned into the humor thing to cover up my shame but it all came to a head when I was about 15 and slowly stopped eating normally and focused my attention on athletics to try and shed some weight. This is when my battle with food really started and I remember how amazing it felt when I lost like 45 pounds and guys suddenly paid attention to me, girls complimented me and I had to have all my marching band outfits taken in. (Marching band was cool – COME AT ME). I joined the field hockey team, didn’t eat breakfast or lunch and ate only peanut butter toast for dinner most nights after getting home from my games/practices/work/rehearsals etc. and suddenly I was wearing size 8 pants and feeling like I might actually be attractive.

My confidence was short lived, however, because like most young girls come to find out, I still wasn’t good enough for myself or for other people. I was a size 8 but not a size 4. My stomach wasn’t flat. I really couldn’t run without wanting to die (I have asthma, and heart complications I discovered late in high school) and despite being a healthy size, I had a group of friends who constantly teased me about things and called me names like “Big Hoss” and “Hoss the Plump” (now – your instinct will tell you to be mad at these people and say ‘they’re jerks!” and you’re not wrong – they were – but they were also 15 and idiots who hadn’t grown up yet. We were all idiots and jerks back then so go easy on them) and I can remember distinct moments that ultimately led to me having a more strained relationship with food throughout my time in high school.

I remember being so excited to wear a bikini one summer because I finally lost enough weight and wasn’t afraid to show my stomach and one day my friends and I all went swimming and we played chicken — you know, that game where the girls are lifted on the guys shoulders and fight till one drops — and when I got put on someone’s shoulders, another one of my friends was on the deck of the pool shouting “no God, my eyes” and making fun of my size. That was the first night I went home and tried to make myself throw up after eating. I remember crying and realizing it was too loud to hide from my parents so I cried myself to sleep and just hoped I could do better at not eating the next day.

The second time I tried to make myself throw up was after my boyfriend and I had gone shopping. We got home and laid all our clothes out on the floor to show his mom (because apparently that’s the cool thing to do) and he compared my polo shirt to his because his was a small and mine was a large and made a comment about how I weighed more than he did (I will remember our weight at this time until I die because this moment is so engrained in my memory – I weighed 142 pounds at the time, he was 137). I left his house that night and tried so hard to find a way to become bulimic, silently, so I could stop gaining weight and become a girl who wore a small t shirt size.

Fast forward and I got into a healthy relationship, found my first experience with what I would call my first love, and my battle with food was set aside for a while and I had started to gain a little more weight again. I didn’t care as much because I was happy and felt loved, but I did notice some stuff changing with my physicality and my gym teacher noticed too. That was when I discovered some issues with my heart and my doctor ordered me to stop doing extracurricular physical activity so that I could figure out what was happening with those. Turns out, I had some weird murmur thing and some issues with a signal, had to wear this freaky monitor thing blah blah blah but I ALSO had polycystic ovarian syndrome and hypothyroidism which are notorious for causing weight gain and can run rampant without physical exercise to keep them under control. My first semester of college I gained like 100 pounds and my relationship with food got even worse. I couldn’t binge and purge because the purging part was too loud and difficult for me to accomplish (and if you don’t believe me, ask one of my sorority sisters what I sound like when I vomit – it’s insane how loud I am) so I fell into a depression about it and began to cope by binging all the time.

Since the beginning of college, I’ve had a binge eating disorder that I have struggled to cope with. I had these tendencies even as a kid, though. I remember my parents cleaning my room and questioning why I had all these spoons hidden near my bed because I ate peanut butter by the spoonful at night in secret. It got so bad once that I got the flu shortly after and threw up peanut butter and couldn’t eat it for like a year.

I eat horribly as it is – and I will be the first to admit that – but somewhere along the line my relationship with food became this toxic, shameful thing that I would use to cope with my loneliness, frustration, stress and sadness. I can remember times during grad school where I would eat an entire pizza and then instantly get sick not because I wanted to purge but because I physically made myself sick by overeating and I couldn’t stop. It was horrible and upsetting but I couldn’t bring myself to stop doing it, and it was only exacerbated by the fact that losing weight was much harder for me as someone who had a genetic predisposition to weight gain.

So what’s the point I’m trying to make by telling you all these stories? I’m glad you asked!

Body image is a horrible, horrible beast that has hung over my life for as long as I remember. Because of the way I struggled when I was younger, and a size 8 (and a gorgeous girl, if I might add) I look at who I am now, and I cannot even fathom how people could tolerate the person I’ve become let alone find it to be something worthy of love. If that girl got made fun of and had a hard time finding people who found her attractive, what hope does the woman I am now have?

This is the way I think. Every. Single. Day.

What’s different now is that people are nice enough not to mock me to my face or tell me how they really feel because they recognize it’s probably rude to call someone a “pink whale”, regardless of how rooted in truth the statement is. My weight and subsequent shame surrounding my weight has held me back from SO MANY THINGS I would love to do, and I hate it so much.

When people want to go to shows, or concerts, or theaters, or theme parks, I have to worry about whether or not I will fit in a chair. Like – what? That’s insane, but it’s a very real concern I have now whenever I do an activity and it’s even more embarrassing at the event when my whole body is uncomfortably spilling over the sides of chairs and touching everyone around me and I’m hot and sweating and just generally a monsterous beast. I have to worry about how much I’m going to sweat if we walk around a lot, or if I’ll be in pain because I’m not used to doing that much physical activity. I hate it so much because when you’re with a group of other people you never want to be the one that holds other people back, so I have adopted this philosophy of just not going to avoid ruining the good time for others. If I don’t go – I can’t feel ashamed by the fact that I can’t fit in a chair. If I don’t go – no one has to go slower so I can keep up.

But in adopting this philosophy, I feel like I’ve missed out on so much and I’ve gotten in this cycle of just not doing anything. I don’t have fun at events because I’m so anxious about what will happen, or I simply don’t attend at all and feel isolated and alone. It becomes this vicious cycle, too, because I think about trying to meet someone or go on dates and realize I’m a really boring person. Not because I’m actually boring or want to be, but because my weight has literally isolated me from being able to experience life the way others do. I do the same, boring things, day in and day out, not because I necessarily want to, but because physically I am limited in what I am able to do comfortably. And don’t get me started on what my weight has done for the idea of sharing intimacy with another person…

Well, fine, since you asked – how can I possibly date anyone if I’m so ashamed of my body I don’t want to be seen in public let alone intimately? That fear has basically stopped my dating life in it’s tracks. You see, I’m not the girl who gets noticed because you find me physically attractive – this I know – but I am someone people generally like talking to and interacting with because as I mentioned before, I am privileged in that I’m smart, talented and humorous (I’m also SO modest) so I can be quite engaging when you get to know me. At any rate, despite the fact that people like to talk to me and find me to be interesting, I’m never the girl people want to date, and I believe a lot of that is due to my body image. I don’t look like the girl you want to bring home. I look like the girl you want to ask for advice or tell your problems to before you call your girlfriend to go out that night.

But more importantly – even if I was the girl you wanted to bring home – I wouldn’t be able to believe you. I wouldn’t know how to trust that you were genuinely attracted to me because I am so disgusted by myself that I can’t fathom someone else may have a different opinion than mine. And my body image has left me with such negative self-worth and isolation that I’ve inherently cut myself off from attracting other people. There’s nothing attractive about someone who’s self-conscious and self-deprecating. People aren’t attracted to the girl who’s always putting herself down. But I don’t know how to be anything else. I don’t know how to change my own opinion.

How do you learn how to love yourself?

I’ve never been able to answer that question and I think it’s ultimately led to a big hole in my life and is the fundamental reason I’m not happy.

Now, the response I will get here is likely “oh my gosh, you have so much to offer though! You’ll find someone. The right person is out there who will love you for you!” and I’m not saying that those aren’t kind things to say, or even false things, but also – it doesn’t make it suck any less.

I have not been in a relationship in like 6 years. I have developed this sarcastic, hilarious exterior that talks about how much I hate cuddling, and I don’t want your hot breath on my face when you sleep next to me, boys are too demanding, I don’t want to compromise my wants and needs to take care of someone else – and honestly, those are actually all true things – but it’s not representative of the way I truly feel towards relationships, it’s just easier to say all of that then be the pathetic single friend in your group of all married and committed couples who are buying homes and having kids together while you’re going home every night and re-watching the Office for the 13th time alone while you eat pizza and troll Instagram.

What I want, is to start a family and share my life with someone who is genuinely interested in me. I want to have a partner to grow with. Someone to invest my time into and support while they do the same for me. I want to be loved in a way that only a relationship can give (I know I have a lot of people who love me, and I’m so grateful for that, but this is a different need). I want to trust that someone truly wants me as their partner and loves the person that I am.

What shatters that whole desire is my body image. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to trust that someone could love me for me. Can they love my personality? Sure. That’s easy (until I become irrational and start tweaking out for no reason other than I’m a girl and the wind is blowing outside- that’s for another day, though). I don’t know that I’ll ever be happy with how I look and feel. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to make fun plans and not start a long chain of endless thoughts on the “what ifs” that will come with me doing that activity.

I just don’t know.

And I hope that someday this will go away. But for a girl who’s overweight, this is the biggest obstacle in my path right now. This is something that plagues my thoughts every single day in almost every activity I do.

Some days, it’s just really freaking hard to deal with.

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