#100% in for a pain train this weekend

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Unbound

Part 4 - Dancing With Your Ghost

Series Summary - Not having a mating bond didn't stop the love Azriel and Celeste have for each other or their commitment. When an unknown magic lingering from Celeste's past causes her to lose all memories of the last century, will they be able to rebuild their life without a bond tethering them together?

Word Count - 7.2k

Warnings - arousal scents, mention of wing amputation, mention/description of scars, implied SA (offpage), character in pain, hurt/comfort, flashback dream, sexually suggestive dialogue.

Author's Notes - We've made the jump into present time. This chapter takes place 100 years after the previous chapters.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Present Time (100 years later)

The sky was still gray with watery light as the townhouse slowly began to show signs of life. This morning began like most of them did, breakfast as a pair while the rest of Velaris was mostly in slumber, this morning especially. The weekend had brought the revelry and chaos of Starfall with most residents probably just having found their beds only hours ago after two days of stargazing and alcohol. 

Azriel’s normal routine had him heading off to training just as the sun was making its ascent over the horizon. Slow to wake and not really a morning Illyrian, he needed the extra time before leaving to get his mind working in tandem with his body. The effects of a barely cured hangover from two nights ago didn’t help. He allowed his wings a wide spanning stretch to shake off the effects of sleep before taking his usual place at the expansive round table. The shadows ringing his arms and shoulders seemed to follow suit and shake off their own doze and then took a zooming lap through the room. 

Celeste glided easily into the room carrying two steaming mugs, placing one next to his already filled plate at the table. Azirel’s gaze flickered to hers as she settled into the chair beside him. Her perfectly coiffed dark hair twisted into a tight bin at the nape of her neck. His shadows responded to her presence immediately, leaving behind his scarred hands and taking roost along her chair back before slipping down and settling like a fine mist along her shoulders. 

“Busy day?” Azriel questioned over the rim of his steaming mug.

“Mmhm.” Celeste nodded through a bite of eggs quickly swallowing. “Two new mothers to check in on and a surprising number of fairly impressive injuries to assess and redress.” As the official healer of the Night Court after Madja’s retirement not quite a century ago, most of the serious calls fell to Celeste. “Starfall falling on a weekend always adds extra to the schedule. No one can resist an extra day of celebrations.” A small smile lit up her face as she gave a sly sideways glance at his classically beautiful features. 

Azriel’s mind immediately went to their own added day of celebrations. After spending the whole night of Starfall with their family and the usual formal party, he and Celeste had chosen to spend the extra day alone. His own smile slowly crept across his face and a strong hand settled on Celeste’s thigh under the table. The memory of her in that dress a couple nights ago in the forefront of his mind. 

“No, they certainly can’t resist.” A rolling rumble left his throat as he turned back to his breakfast. Yet before he could shovel in the next bite, the sounds of Cassian pounding on the front door vibrated through the space.  

Azriel moved to let him in, giving Celeste’s thigh a gentle squeeze before standing fully. The sight of her in that lovely velvet dress dimmed in his memory, quickly replaced by the memory of her out of that dress. She flashed a sly smirk in return as Azriel’s scent thickened in his wake leaving her with her own memories of this past weekend. The misty shadows swirled around in the space he left behind but did not follow, instead staying behind clinging closely around Celeste. Rising from the table, she began plating up another breakfast for their guest. 

“I still don’t understand why you can’t just let us winnow inside like Rhys does at his townhouse.” Cassian’s griping echoed from the entryway. “Have me standing out there in the cold just waiting like a stray dog.”

Cassian’s mood was no doubt due to his celebratory weekend going awry. Nesta had spent most of the formal Starfall party glaring daggers at him through the crowd. Cas on the other hand spent the evening using poor attempts at humor to right whatever wrong he had committed. Nesta had already filled Celeste in on the details days before regarding the argument that had occurred leading up to the party. 

“Have you ever thought we might not want to be disturbed at all hours, Cassian?” Azriel’s deep voice carried strongly ahead of him before they made their appearance in the dining room.

“Here. Eat.” Celeste commanded as she slid a heaping plate into Cassian’s usual spot at the table. The shadows darted from their perch along her skin and quickly inspected the newcomer. Determining him of no interest they returned. “It will make you less grumpy. It’s far too early for that.”

“Cauldron bless you, Celeste.” he sighed and practically fell into the plate ready to devour it. “Tell that to Nesta,” he grumbled through an already full mouth. “Apparently the House takes her side in all our arguments now. I can’t even get it to conjure a decent meal anymore!”

Azriel rolled his eyes as he settled back to his own plate. Celeste stifled a giggle into her coffee mug at the thought of the House of Wind holding a grudge on Nesta’s behalf and refusing to feed poor Cas. 

“Have you tried apologizing perhaps?” Az drawled.

“I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING WRONG!” Cas bellowed in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

“Of course not.” Az’s sarcastic reply echoed from the bottom of his mug as he finished the last dregs of his tea. Celeste wisely kept her mouth shut, lips pressed into a thin line to keep an amused smile from appearing. Of course she had only heard Nesta’s side of the whole scenario, but she did make a compelling argument. And knowing Cassian as well as they all did, it was no stretch of the imagination to believe he could be incredibly dense at times. 

With a quick pause in his ravenous eating Cassian looked up, piercing his brother with a knowing look while making a not so subtle sniff at the air. “What exactly did I interrupt?”

Celeste started back to reality at the question, her mind had already wandered back to what had been brewing before Cassian arrived. Picking up on the tension, the shadows began a cycling track between the spouses. Az’s face snapped to her with a darkened look in his eye instead of returning Cas’s questioning gaze. A single stray wisp curled around his ear seemingly whispering. Whatever the secret entailed brought a flash of brightness to his eyes and a blush of color to his cheeks. 

A similar blush had already bloomed on her own face when a sudden flurry of noise caused Celeste to jump. She evaded answering the question as enchanted slips of paper fluttered to the table in a pile. She quickly gathered them and began to shuffle them into some semblance of order. 

Apparently Cas was only incredibly dense when it came to his mate as he shot out a disgusted noise at the assumed answer to his question. “Ugh. Gross. We eat here you know!”

Az’s stoic face brightened with amusement. “You’re one to talk Cassian,” quickly reminding his brother of his time as Cas’s chaperone in the House of Wind during his courtship with Nesta.

The notes had arrived from one of the enchanted pads of paper Celeste left for her patients and fellow healers. They allowed correspondence during her off hours if the need arose, although there were never truly “off” hours as a healer. She had enchanted them to deposit wherever she was present in order to be reached immediately. 

“Mmm,” she started as she swallowed the last of her bacon and gulped a final sip of coffee. “I should go. One of my new mothers is convinced the babe isn’t feeding enough. She’s panicking a bit being a new mom and all, but I should see her first thing.” Before she could slip past his wings to round behind his chair, Azriel reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling gently to halt her movement. Reaching out with his other scarred hand he cradled the side of Celeste’s face and tilted his head back, leaning in for a kiss. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” he crooned, pressing another soft kiss to her lips and drawing his thumb behind it, lightly tracing the line of her scar that crossed through her top lip. The raised skin along his fingertips caused a shiver to dance up her back.

“Yeah,” she responded in a whisper before standing upright again. Even after all this time, Azriel’s kiss never failed to leave her a little breathless. “And go easy on him today.” She tilted her head toward Cas across the table with a little smirk before rushing to the entryway for her things. 

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!” he shouted at her as she pulled the door closed to leave. 

Celeste paused for a moment on the top step to bundle against the cold wind that told her winter wasn't ready to let go just yet. Her hand brushed against the spot on her scar where Azriel had just kissed as she pulled her scarf around her neck. The memory of the lingering touch causing her to smile into its folds. The injury had not always been associated with thoughts of affection. Its origins were brutal and the recovery had been hard. It had taken many years after her escape to even look at herself properly in a mirror again. Over time she had grown to accept her new face. Fleeing her birthplace was the first step in her recovery, but it was the chosen family she had gathered in her new life that had helped heal the scars beyond the physical. 

Thoughts wandering absentmindedly to other scars, she unconsciously stretched the muscles of her back. Two more deep wounds had closed there long ago, their skin rippled and pale, unlike the bright red one on her face. Directly between the shoulder blades, the tight skin eased a bit from the movement and Celeste was reminded of a time when they had ached constantly. It wasn't just from the injury itself but from the absence of their purpose. At one time those muscles had powered an expansive set of feathered wings. A magnificent relic of distant Seraphim ancestors in her bloodline. They had been sandy in color with deep flecks of velvety brown that had once matched her eyes. 

Rolling her shoulders once more, she brushed off the memory of those aches that belonged to another life. Her life before Velaris. The time between then and now had transformed Celeste into a different person, unrecognizable from the scared and trembling thing she had been arriving in a strange new land, similar in ways to her own birthplace but at the same time so very different. She had been born in a land on what the fae of Prythian called the Continent. Settled high up in the northernmost section was a region called Valhallan. Filled with snow capped mountains and harsh, cold winters, much like the ones of Illyria. 

Celeste had had the misfortune of being born into a broken family with no wealth to their name. There had been little time for anything that could bring joy into their household. Celeste’s brother worked into the night most of the time in order to bring in the meager wages to feed them. Her mother was off raising other families' children so that she could provide for her own, which left Celeste alone the majority of the time. With no signs of magical abilities ever developing, Celeste had resigned her days to the domestic chores that kept their household running. By the time she had reached maturity, her mother’s charges had grown up themselves and her brother’s life had been claimed in an accident while working as a bounty hunter. When the chance to leave poverty behind had arisen, Celeste had taken it. 

It wasn’t just the desire for more that had Celeste running from her poverty although it was a considerable factor. She wouldn’t have just jumped into bed with someone for money or else she would have sold her body long before then. It was the desire for love and affection that also drove her decision. And there seemed to be just that in her happenstance romance with Tyrik, at least at first. 

When a respectable looking male Fae had crossed her path in the market one day, she had taken an appreciative glance and carried on. Looking at a handsome male didn’t hurt anyone. Tyrik apparently had other ideas. He was enamored at first sight, weaving through the crowds behind her in order to trail along. Finally approaching her at a market stall he had offered to carry her baskets before insisting on paying for her wares. Celeste had refused politely at first. Then more insistently as Tyrik shoved the coin into the merchant's hands. Tyrik wouldn’t take no as an answer. It was much too late before Celeste realized that Tyrik never took no for an answer.

He had wined and dined her in the days following. He delighted in her astonishment and enjoyment of all the pleasures she could normally never afford. After a whirlwind courtship during his brief stay in Valhallan, Tyrik had insisted on carrying her with him back to his home in the center of the continent. Leaving her mother behind wasn’t easy, but seeing the same opportunity that Celeste did, she had insisted it was for the best and gave her blessings. Over the journey Celeste had convinced herself it was indeed for the best. It wasn’t just about leaving behind her hard life, it was about love too. Of course Tyrik could be pushy. So incredibly pushy, but he had shown her affection and care. She could imagine those feelings blossoming into something deeper over time if she gave it a chance. 

It wasn’t until a couple months after her arrival at his estate that Celeste had realized her mistake. By then it had been too late. She was subjected to his brutality for wrongs he was convinced she had committed – and attempted escape was the ultimate wrong in his eyes. Rumor had it that he had ‘run off’ a number of potential love interests, although where they ran to wasn’t clear. Their whereabouts were never questioned after, no mention of them was ever made. 

Celeste shook off the memories of the past with a shudder, instead choosing to focus on Azriel’s promise of “I’ll see you tonight.” With a small smile she refocused on organizing her thoughts to the hectic day ahead and carried on towards her first patient.

The day passed at a decent pace and progressed productively with no major incidents among her charges. Celeste distractedly rubbed at her temple as she rounded the corner to her final patient. The headache had been building all day and was threatening to reach its boiling point soon. A weekend of strong spirits and little sleep apparently had a longer recovery time than she had remembered in prior times. Before she could glance up to track the path ahead, she inadvertently slammed full bodied into another pedestrian. 

“Oh! Oh gods! I’m so sorry - I wasn’t paying attention. Are you-” Celeste stammered out.

“Ah! Oh-Celeste! Good, I’m glad I caught you.” The figure righted herself into the lithe and willowy healer that she knew as Marin. “I was just hoping to catch you before you trudged all the way up to see Khalen.” Marin tossed her thick, shockingly blond braid over her shoulder as she readjusted her tote and nodded toward the imposing hill ahead of them. “Would hate for you to hike all the way up there just to find out I already saw him.”

Relief washed over Celeste and bloomed evident on her face. “Ah, what a nice surprise Marin, thank you. A good excuse to make an early night of it.” She continued to rub at her temple as a touch of stronger pain radiated down her face. 

“Long weekend huh?” Marin winked and gave Celeste a gentle hip check as she smiled. “I saw you and Az at the party before I had to rush off. I tell you, I wouldn’t mind a male dressed like that keeping me up all night that’s for sure.” 

“Marin!” Celeste cracked a wide radiant smile as she let out a sharp laugh. “It’s not that,” she chuckled, “but two days of drinks, dancing and hardly sleeping isn’t as easy as it used to be.” 

Marin held her suspicious smile. “Yeah, hardly sleeping,” she retorted, winking again. 

Celeste barked out another laugh before wincing in pain at the throb it produced. “Anyway,” she continued. “Thanks again for offering to take my on-call night on Starfall. I owe you.”

“No problem, you know I’ll cash it in sooner than later. My camp rotation is coming up.” All the healers that Celeste managed rotated on a schedule, taking turns with on-call nights and week-long rotations once a month through the Illyrian camps. 

Marin flipped open the top of her canvas tote. “Hey, do you happen to have more of those message pads? I would have written to you but I gave my last one earlier this morning.”

Celeste rummaged in her own bag finding a banded bundle of 3 pads neatly tucked in a pocket, handing them over to Marin and turning to make her way home. “Thanks again, I’ll see you!” she concluded.

Tucking her scarf into her bag as the early spring weather had changed its mind once again, Celeste began the long journey home. Silently she wished for the use of her wings to make the trek quicker. Normally she didn’t mind the walks home. It gave her time to decompress and unwind after long days and enjoy the sights and sounds of the city she had so lovingly called home for so long. Today however the sights and sounds were grating against her already taut nerves caused by this headache. It had now pushed past the boundary of her temples and carried down into her eyes and along her nose. She brushed a cool hand along her brow pressing against the bone for relief, feeling along the rounded edge of her scar as she did. 

She kept her eyes cast downward trying not to catch glances of the sunlight sinking lower in the sky as the light was beginning to send throbs of dull pain through her eyeballs. She was taking quick squints of the path ahead to keep herself from accidentally body slamming someone else when she saw him. Just ahead, leaning sedately against a lamppost, he waited. No longer in his fighting leathers but instead a simple dark shirt and loose pants, wings tucked neatly with one broad shoulder pressed against the post with arms crossed, watching Celeste make her way over the cobblestone. Thin tendrils of shadow swirled low to the ground and snaked out over her boots. 

“Well, if it isn’t my wife.” Az purred lowly. “Lucky meeting you here,” he added, a feline smile spreading across his perfect lips before it hastily dropped and he hurriedly pushed off the post. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

His worried eyes followed the movement of Celeste’s hands as she pushed against her brow bone once more and then shielded her eyes from the glaring light behind him trying to peek up at his face. Noting concern, his shadows changed route and slunk up her arms and circled around her neck.

“Just a headache. I’ve had it all day. I think the festivities finally caught up with me.” She tried to flash him a weak smile and ended up wincing instead. This recent burst of pain covered her whole face and made her draw in a sharp breath. 

“Did you take anything?” Azriel’s damaged hands slipped smoothly along Celeste's jaw gently cradling her face. In one smooth movement, he flared out his wings behind him to block out the glaring sun from her face, peering down into her dark eyes, concern pulling down his brow. 

“Yeah, I took something a couple hours ago but it didn’t do much. I think I just need to lie down.” His chilled palms felt almost heavenly against her skin and the errant shadows were now floating along her hairline in a soothing caress. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch and savored the small relief. 

“Let’s get you home then.” Az’s hands pulled away, taking their relief with them but the shadows lingered. 

“I know winnowing is faster but could we fly instead?” she requested meekly. Rhys had once described winnowing as just like taking a giant step through darkness. While Celeste had winnowed plenty of times with Az and Rhys, it never felt like a big step to her. It felt a little like dropping too quickly in flight and your stomach flopping and always left her slightly dizzy for a second after, which she was certain her poor head couldn't handle right now. At least not without vomiting.

He nodded solemnly before scooping her up into his arms ready to take flight. The kickoff from the ground rattled her brain painfully and she stifled a paltry cry in her throat before nuzzling against his neck and relishing in the darkness it provided. 

Azriel gently pulled her tighter to his chest and whispered an apology into her hair. He didn’t like seeing her feeling unwell and especially not in pain. Thankfully the instances of Celeste being injured or ill had been few and far between but for her to cry out from a headache he knew the pain must be pretty intense. A seed of worry settled between his ribs. 

Arriving at their modest townhouse Azriel circled the upper balcony along the backside of the house making a slow descent. Easing into a landing he touched down as gently as he could without jostling her. Her head was still buried against his neck, breath warm against his skin. He could feel the rapid exhales coursing over his collarbone. Without a word he carried her into the room they shared through the balcony door and headed toward the bed. 

“Bath now? Or later?” he asked as he sat her on the edge of the luxuriously large bed.

“Now please.” Her eyes were now open but she sat there with her shoulders held stiffly and not making any effort to look up at him. The seed of worry wiggled in a little deeper. 

Az regarded her now with the hardened gaze of a true spymaster. “What else hurts?” His eyes roved over her frame noting any tic or tell and collecting the information. The fist she held gripped in her lap with her thumb tucked between her middle and ring finger gave it away. Her thumb rubbing there always gave away her anxiety, but clenched in her fist meant she was trying to hide something. Pain.

“Celeste. Tell me what hurts.” It wasn’t a request. She heard the soft command of his voice and pulled in a pained breath and held it before releasing it slowly.

“My neck. My head and my neck. It hurts to turn. And it’s so bright in here. Can you close the curtains?” Her brows were pinched as she relayed her answer.

“The bath can wait.” He directed her as he released the shadows in silent command so they could draw the curtains closed. “Lie back. I’ll get you some tea and headache powder.” He moved to help ease her down against the pillows. Grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed and draping it over her fully, she curled onto her side and squeezed her eyes closed. 

“No. The powder didn’t help earlier. In the bottom of my bag, the green sachet, brew that in the tea. And hand me the bottle of papavera too.”

“Sweetheart, maybe I should call one of the healers.” The worry had escaped into his tone. Azriel had been married to a healer long enough to understand that papavera was a strong choice for pain. He had used it a couple times himself, once being when his wings were shredded in a storm. 

“Selah is on-call. She’s going to tell you the same thing I am. Besides, she was heading to a birth when I saw her this afternoon so I’m sure she’s still there.”

Az liked Selah. She was quiet and contemplative and quick to learn. She had come to a few training sessions with the priestesses before being recruited into being a healer by Celeste. She said she had shown a lot of promise with a natural inclination to healing. Az knew she was competent and trusted her. Knowing that Selah would have done exactly what Celeste was asking still did not settle that seed of worry that was now taking root. He handed her the bottle of tonic without countering her argument before slipping downstairs to brew the tea. 

The effects of the papavera were almost immediate. Slipping into a blissful darkness of sleep Celeste barely registered the dulling ache that was slowly leaving her body. She felt as if she were spinning. Slowly around in not quite a circle. Over the thump of her steady heart she thought she heard music. Not spinning, dancing. 

The music gradually lowered into an easy tempo. Soft and low against the backdrop of chatter and glasses inside. The band was seated just to the left outside the open double doors leading to the dining room of the House of Wind. 

“Care to dance Shadowsinger?” she murmured, leaning her head back and settling into his chest. Azriel was pressed up against her back, hands making lazy, idle circles along her hips as they both leaned up against the railing on the neighboring balcony. His attention was fixed up in the twilight sky, watching the hundreds of flaming bright stars sweep across the expanse. 

“With you?” He brought his gaze to meet hers tortuously slowly. Meeting her line of sight she swore she saw the reflection of the shooting stars twinkling back at her. “Always.”

She spun in his grasp to face him. One of his siphoned hands laid her delicate fingers over where his shoulder met his chest and then with a smooth caress, slid to the small of her back. With his other hand he slipped her remaining palm into his. 

He beamed down at her hand in his, admiring the matching blue gem she had fashioned to fit the back of her own hand. “That really was a nice touch,” he added modestly, watching the glowing flicker inside. She knew he was being a bit reserved in saying that, but then again that's just the way Azriel was. Reserved. She had seen the gleam of silver tears lining his eyelashes when she made her appearance for the first time to him at the start of the party. She knew what it really meant to him even if he couldn’t quite say it. 

Celeste had planned this dress nearly all year. She had worked diligently with an associate of Amren’s agonizing over the stones cut and color to perfectly match the siphons Azriel normally wore. Each one, all seven, had been carefully measured and set to match exactly. The one on her chest she had settled right on the neckline of the low cut front so it lay perfectly between her breasts along her sternum. Along her shoulders she had them strung on velvet cording to match the dress and hung delicately in the opening of her split sleeves. The same cording threaded through her fingers and tied to a velvet band around her wrist to affix the gemmed siphons on the back of her hands. But the most scandalous of all were the garters she had specially made to hold the brilliant blue stones securely above her knees. Feyre had debated with her whether cutting the hemline short enough to make them visible was entirely appropriate for such a formal party. The hemmed edge grazed just barely to the middle of her bountiful thighs making it nearly impossible to bend at the waist without losing coverage over her backside. After trying on the sample, Nesta and Mor sided with Celeste.

“It’s daring. I love it.” Mor had exclaimed excitedly. “Wear it!”

Nesta had laughed with a sparkling glint in her eye at the first look. “Oh yes. Absolutely. Az is going to combust when he sees you in this.”

And he very nearly did. Celeste had insisted she wanted to get ready in the House of Wind with Nesta and her sisters and told Azriel she would meet him there. They timed their entrance perfectly with the first swings of the party ramping up. As she descended the stairs alone after Nesta and the others had gathered at the bottom, she caught sight of him. His shadows reacted first, racing up the marble steps nearly creating a cyclone around her feet and then zooming between each siphon almost as if inspecting their authenticity. He barely took any notice of them as they returned back to his side, ever loyal, and began whispering around his neck and ears. 

Azriel’s glare darkened as he took her in, his mouth popped slightly open. She could almost feel the heat burning each body part as he raked his vision from one siphon to the next making his way down her curves. Catching sight of the blue jewels tapping lightly against her knees with each step she could almost predict his growling request of ‘Keep those on later.’

Reaching the bottom landing she stood before him at a distance to allow him to take it in further from a closer angle. 

“Celeste, sweetheart” he said roughly. “You look — stunning.” The words were having a hard time finding purchase in his brain as he stumbled along. “Did — did you make this?”

“With some help.” She beamed up at him, noticing the moisture gathered on his lashes and watching him swallow slowly. “It’s not every day you get to have your 100th Starfall with your husband. I figured a memorable year needed a memorable dress.” 

A wide smile crept across his face. “Memorable indeed.” He paused, taking her hand in his and looking over the whole outfit again. Pulling her into his body he murmured through her loose curls into her ear. “Wear it again. Wear it every year. But especially tonight.” She shivered against his hold at his words, scenting night air and fresh cedar rolling off of him.

“There’s one more thing.” Celeste brightened with anticipation. Leaning back in his grip she rapped a gentle tap to the siphon at her breast and studied Azriel’s face as he watched with rapt attention. Slowly the center began to glow a brilliant blue, casting the light over his own outfit. The other gems quickly followed suit until they all carried a gentle flicker of blue light inside them. “They will respond to your touch too,” she added.

Eyes widening with rapture and delight, Azriel threw his head back and laughed a deep full laugh. The sound captured her breath and she stole away the memory to replay later. His laugh was one of the most magnificent things she could ever hear and she never got enough of it.

“Oh, that's brilliant!” Cassian howled, tossing his head back in laughter too. He and Nesta were standing off to the side taking in the show along with the rest of the family. 

Nesta, with a proud warmth on her face, met Celeste’s eye with a knowing look. “I told you.” 

Celeste let out her own burst of laughter. 

Centering herself back into Az’s embrace she peered up into his eyes again. Without another word he moved swiftly to graze his lips against hers, only a slight hesitation before he sank in for a lingering kiss. 

The music was only just a throbbing ebb in the background now. Unable to make sense of the notes anymore, Celeste tried to concentrate on them harder, willing them to take shape into song again. One, two, three beats later she lost them completely until they were just replaced by the steady  thrum of her own heartbeat in her head. Her head. 

Oh yeah, my head. It doesn’t hurt anymore.

She peeled her eyes open carefully expecting the light of morning to assault her senses, but was met with only gray dusk — and shadows. Swirling around her head and spinning through her vision. Their quick movement quickly corrected her earlier thoughts. Her head did still hurt but not as badly. Hesitant to make a move just yet she scanned the bedside to find Azriel lounging back a tufted chair, his long muscular legs propped up and crossed on the ottoman, elbow propped on the arm with his head leaning against his fist. His wings spilled gracefully over the low back of the chair and Celeste had an urge to drag the pads of her fingers across their webbing. He was reading reports of some kind as she studied his face in the deepening twilight before he became aware of her consciousness. 

“Did you know you have really nice lips?” Her voice croaked with sleep as she brought her fingers to her own lips still feeling the lingering memory there.

His head jerked up at the sound of her voice and in the instant it took for him to register her words his eyes brightened and he tossed out a laugh. The sound echoed through Celeste’s head in tandem with what she recollected from her dream. 

“I’ve had a few compliments on them,” he responded smoothly. Bringing his feet to the floor and righting himself, he searched her face for signs of distress. “Feeling better?”

Even though she heard his question she remained silent for a moment. His laugh just now and the one from her dream squeezed at her heart in echo and she mentally squirreled them away deep into the recesses of her mind to savor later. The sound of his joy was something she never tired of.

“You have a nice laugh too,” she said wistfully, her voice croaking once more. 

A lopsided smile hung on his face, reaching his eyes and causing them to wrinkle a bit. “Are you feeling better?” he asked genuinely.

“A little. Yeah. It’s not as bad but it still hurts some.”

He shifted his body, easing himself on the edge of the bed by her knees, pulling his wings into a tight tuck so as not to hit her. “Drink this.” A mug balanced in his wide, textured palm with the handle facing toward her. Celeste shifted and slowly pulled herself to sitting, Azriel’s free hand steadying her with a grip to her upper arm. Settling back against the headboard she claimed the mug with both hands, soaking its warmth into her palms. She sipped the scalding liquid slowly, Az watching every swallow. Unease furrowed his brow as he watched her face pinch and he laid the back of his hand to her forehead feeling for a fever. The shadows bled off his skin and furiously began circling around her face and through her hair.

“I’m fine, really Az. This stuff just tastes awful.” She forced down another large gulp of the drink, knowing it would only taste worse as it cooled. She hoped that this, along with the earlier dose of papavera would knock out the pain that was lingering. Not nearly as pervading as it was before but the pain still pulsed along the bridge of her nose and along her eyebrows. “But can you rein these things in a bit,” she gestured toward the still circling shadows. “They’re making me dizzy.”

Azriel pulled on whatever source of power commanded them and a small trickle returned to his skin. The rest had slowed their circuit but still continued around and around. Narrowing his eyes he attempted again without success. A look of contemplation tightened his features as he reached out toward Celeste. 

“I don’t have a fever Az,” she moved to lean away. “I told you I feel a lot better.” 

“What you actually said was ‘a little’,” he said neutrally, grasping her shoulder to still her. Cupping his hand in front of her face, he placed the side of his palm to her forehead and gathered the misty filaments like dipping a cup into a river. They collected there as they collided with his palm, seemingly reluctant to disobey again. As he pulled away and they slithered back to their master’s arms, one single tendril snaked out from Celeste’s hairline and lazily floated in the space between them. 

Celeste snorted a laugh. “They don’t listen very well do they?”

“No. They don’t.” Az replied distractedly. He scrutinized the errant shadow with a withering look. Halting its lazy drift through the air between them it then returned towards Celeste’s face. Ever so slowly it grazed her forehead again and then quickly shot down the full path of her scar before zipping back to Azriel.

She hissed a sharp inhale through her teeth as she clutched at her face. “Ow! What the hell was that?! What did you do?”

Az made to grab her wrist to pull it away from her face intent on inspecting the damage. “That wasn’t me.”

 As she pulled her own hands from her face he saw nothing amiss. The same bright red, smooth scar in the same state it had always been. Suddenly, that wayward wisp curled around his ear and Azriel’s face shifted to darkened surprise. Celeste wasn’t paying either of them any attention as she ran her finger along the length of her past injury and inspected her hand.

Celeste was now the subject of his scrutiny. He didn’t fully understand the meaning of the shadows message, it spoke not in a true language but more in the way of feelings and intuitions and very occasionally images. Over the centuries he had come to be fluent in the emotions they used most often, especially when it came to his loved ones. But this shadow’s message was too complex without words. It felt like a warning but of what he didn’t know. He held his searing stare as he sat still as stone.

“I think I’d like that bath now,” Celeste tossed the blanket away from her legs and poked at Azriel’s back with her toes. “Scooch.” 

Rising from the bed and turning to assist her, he grabbed her elbow for support as she shimmied off the side of the bed. 

“I told you, I’m fine.” A smile tugging at the corners of her mouth but accepting the help anyway. Her bare feet hit the cool wood and as she unfolded herself to stand, the floor seemed to tilt sharply to the right, her body correcting the shift by careening to the left. Az clamped down on the grip he had of her elbow and encircled her waist with his free arm, wings flaring out to balance them both. 

“Yeah,” he huffed out. “So you said.” Before she could test her balance again, his arm slipped up from her waist and he bent to scoop behind her knees, carrying her into the ample washroom and setting her gingerly to sit on the wide rim of the tub. 

“Stay,” he commanded as he leaned over to turn the taps.

“Yes sir,” she giggled. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” he retorted with stone faced seriousness. He tested the water temperature before closing the drain and held up two bottles of bath oil for her to select. 

“You,” she tapped the spearmint one with her nail. “I find you amusing.” She began shedding her clothing from her seated position as he added the oil to the filling tub. Once fully undressed she remained perched on the tub edge and craned her neck back to look into Azriel’s face. “I’m fine.” 

He arched his brow and twisted his mouth into a disbelieving look. “So you said.” 

Wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her cheek against his middle, she inhaled the scent of spearmint as the vapors filled the room. His hands wandered to the sides of her neck, thumbs swiping gently in an arch along her jaw. Ever so gently he began locating the hair pins in her bun at the nape of her neck, nimbly pulling them out one by one. As her hair unraveled, he gathered it in his palm before letting it unfurl down her back. Celeste shivered and made a hum of contentment in her throat. Her dark tresses skimmed the skin at the very bottom of her ribcage. 

“Will you braid it for me?” she tugged at his shirt, untucking one corner, and pressed her lips to the skin just above his waistband. “I don’t feel like washing it tonight. Too much work.” 

He didn’t answer because she knew she didn’t really have to ask. He always braided her hair for her. Noticing the tub was full he leaned sideways, her arms still encircling his waist, and turned off the taps. “C’mon. In,” he said as he untangled himself from her grasp and bent to lift her again. 

“Join me?” she questioned, desire brightening her eyes. 

Azriel lowered her into the steaming water, shadows spreading over the surface like an oil slick. She made another low sound in her throat at the heat enveloping her body. “Please?” 

Now fully seated in the tub she had hooked one finger through the opening between the buttons on his shirt and began unfastening them. 

Az softly stilled her hands with one of his own. “Lay back. Relax. Let me take care of you.” He had gathered her hair in his other hand, holding it above the water and as she laid back he flipped it over the back of the tub. 

“Did you know endorphins are a natural pain reliever?” she quipped, head tilted back against the tub with eyes closed. “You’d be doing me a favor.”

Settling himself on the stool he had grabbed from the vanity, he released a deep rumble of a laugh. The sound caused a broad smile to erupt on Celeste’s face. 

“You have a nice laugh,” she said wistfully, popping open her eyes to meet his sultry hazel ones above her. 

He leaned over her, releasing her hair from his hands and bringing them up to massage her temples. He rested his lips against her forehead and planted a tender kiss. “So you said,” he whispered. 

Following his request to relax, Celeste melted deeper into the tub. She let the warmth of the water ease her aches and lull her into a doze. Azriel had begun brushing through her hair, sending delicious chills over her skin. 

“Not too tight,” she requested as he started to gather her locks into three bundles, her eyes still closed. “It makes it hard to sleep.”

She felt his hands pause for just a fraction too long. He knew what she said wasn’t true. Out of the thousands of times he had braided her hair over the years, tight or not, he had never known her to lose sleep over it. Celeste could practically feel the concern seeping into her scalp. 

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice as limp as her body felt. He didn’t acknowledge her statement, working slowly and smoothly at plaiting her hair, having already decided to get one of the other healers to drop in. 

Taglist - @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @chairofchaos

@weekendlusting @pit-and-the-pen @sarawritestories

[pandorasprongs]

CHAPTER THREE | so inviting, i almost jump in.

'it's nice to have a friend' masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SUMMARY: jamie and reader go out for drinks and meet a familiar face that brings up a painful memory for both of them.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i'd like to apologize in advance for this one because the end is just 100% angst so brace yourselves sorry :')

It was like deja vu. Over the past weeks, you and Jamie started hanging out on a regular basis. Late nights and weekends were often spent eating pizza, watching old movies, and searching for old schoolmates online. He even helped you re-organize your room when he arrived during one of your cleaning days. You uncovered a box of old toy rings that Jamie gave you every birthday of yours for five years.

Initially, Jamie would message you if he was on the way. But the more he came over, it went back to your usual habits of him just showing up at your door at random hours of the day. When you weren't home, he'd message that he dropped by and then you'd call him when you got back. He'd race over to watch another one of your favorite childhood movies.

You hadn't realized how much you missed it all till you started spending time with Jamie again. You missed it so much that you may have neglected to mention to Liv how often you were with him. Despite the mini-sermon she gave you weeks ago about confronting Jamie, you hadn't actually made any moves to do it. All of this started to feel normal, regular, and the thought of disturbing that scared you too much. Even if there were times where you were annoyed at how casual he talked about the past few years of radio silence from him. Or how he'd mention his Man City teammates and you felt like tensing up every time.

There was no need to bring it up anymore, something you repeated to yourself. Plus, you were noticing that Jamie was now closer to your childhood best friend than the one who broke your heart. But still, you were cautious around the footballers Jamie associated with. Even when the season started again and Jamie would offer to tour you around the clubhouse or reserve tickets for the games, you'd always politely decline. You're sure the AFC Richmond players aren't terrible people given how highly Jamie would talk about them, but better to be safe than sorry.

Besides, with his now swamped schedule, you hadn’t seen Jamie recently. The most you did was when he’d send messages before training or games to which you’d answer with a “Good luck!” It was weird in the beginning, given that when he was at Man City, Jamie didn’t do any of that, but you hoped that this meant he wouldn’t leave again.

The next time you did was the night after one of their games, which continued their winning streak, thanks to Zava. While you knew Richmond fans — well, Liv and Frankie — were absolutely ecstatic to have him, Jamie despised the guy. You stopped yourself from pointing out the hypocrisy of him hating the player for being self-centered and thinking highly of himself.

You guess it’s working though because now you’re watching Richmond secure their fifth win in a row with your neighbor’s kid, Ronnie. When her mom found out you were a Science professor, she practically begged you to tutor her kid (and occasionally babysit). Ronnie was in primary school, so the lessons were pretty simple and you’ve been doing sessions every week to help her out. You always rewarded her afterward with whatever she wanted to watch on your TV that was age-appropriate, of course. This time, — after running back to their flat to get her Obisanya shirt, — she decided on watching the game. 

“Zava’s incredible,” she murmured next to you, staring at the screen as if in a trance. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the reaction. The game was finished and so the channel was just playing match highlights, which for Richmond, were mostly their current star player. Sometimes, you’d spot Jamie in the background and even though the rest of the team was cheering along, he was having a hard time masking his resentment.

When you were finally able to drag her away from the TV, you heated up two plates of lasagna. Ronnie’s mom still hadn’t knocked on your door and you didn’t want to leave her alone in your flat, so she was having dinner with you tonight. For the most part, it was just like eating with Jamie. She was non-stop talking about the match which turned to talking about her favorite players and future games. It reminded you of Jamie as a kid, who’d go on and on about the exact same things.

As you’re washing dishes and Ronnie’s answering some extra worksheets, — she asked for them! — you hear the doorbell ring. You go over and find Jamie standing at the door, much to your surprise.

“Hey! Didn’t know you were coming over,” you say, but after noticing his exasperated expression, you tilt your head. “I know you don’t like a certain teammate, but I thought you’d at least be happy about the win.”

Jamie sighs. “I know." He gives you a weak smile, and you have to admit that even that simple act made your heart skip. “Is that lasagna?”

Jamie enters the room without warning and as soon as he does, your eyes widened remembering who else was there. You turn to the dining room table at the same time as Jamie and together, watch a 9-year-old stare in awe.

“Oh my God,” she let out. “That’s Jamie Tartt!” She walks over to you, leaving behind the worksheets. 

You lean over and whisper to Jamie, “Forgot to mention I’m watching my neighbor’s kid.”

But Jamie’s already jumped into celebrity mode. He crouches down and confirms, “That’s me.” He glances at her oversized jersey before asking, “You a fan of Richmond?”

Ronnie nods her head enthusiastically. “I’m Ronnie! Congrats on winning!”

Jamie chuckles, and thanks her. “Nice to meet you, Ronnie.”

You hear someone approach the door and clear their throat and you turn to find Ronnie’s mom looking curiously at you. You turn back to Ronnie — who has now launched into a full monologue about how much she loves the team — and exclaim, “Look who else is here! I think it’s time to head back to your flat, Neens.”

She pouts at that statement, but one look from her mom and she was waving goodbye to the player. You quickly collect all of her stuff scattered around the place and hand it to her mom, who seems too exhausted from her shift to even notice the other person in the room.

Once you close the door, you lean on it and sigh in relief. “Sorry about that. I sometimes watch her after tutoring if her mom isn’t back, yet.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, not a problem. I love meeting fans. Real ego boost.” 

Yet another countless eye roll. “Calm down. You’re not even her third favorite player.”

Jamie scoffs, almost offended but after remembering the lasagna, he heads to the kitchen for a plate of his own. You walk beside him and after tripping over a loose marker Ronnie left, you fall forward. Jamie's reflexes kick in and he catches you quickly and you grab hold of his — really broad, you notice — shoulders to steady yourself.

Now you're stuck in a position that happens in almost every 90s rom-com you've watched: your feet diagonally off the ground with Jamie's hands gripping tightly at your waist. Both of you are too much in shock to move and simply look at each other with wide eyes. Your faces were close, too close to be platonic if it was intentional. So much so that if you leaned forward, just a little bit…

You snap out of the trance and move to stand straight up as Jamie lets go of you. You head over to the sink and quietly curse at yourself and that stupid blue marker. Things haven't been weird between you and Jamie for ages. And you weren't going to let the possible resurfacing of your feelings ruin that. Not again. Plus, if you were already burying your old feelings of resentment, why not add onto it too?

You go back to washing dishes when Jamie asks you a question. "Are you doing anything Saturday night?"

Given what just happened, your mind wanders off in the romantic direction before you shake your head. Instead, you respond, "I think you know better than anyone that I never do anything Saturday night." You reply as you wipe your hands. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you want to get a drink with me. Well, you get a drink and I get water 'cause fucking Roy’s banned me from alcohol till the season’s over. I just really need a night out. Fucking Zava, I swear." Forget the fact that he was technically at a night out with his teammates earlier; he more of just wanted a night out with someone who isn't so related to his football life. Or, he just really wants a night out with you.

You snort at that last comment but oblige anyway, ignoring the feeling of disappointment.

Jamie and you had only ever hung out together in the comfort of your own home. You'd just assumed that it was to avoid any unwanted press and since the bar he mentioned was one of those members-only pubs, it makes sense that the first time the two of you hung out publicly was there. But seeing as it was a pub, it's not going to be a romantic not-a-date date that you'll be going on.

Though, you soon realized how different it was from your usual places. Everyone there was dressed up so formally and you were glad that you picked the black trousers that you usually only wear to work over your everyday jeans that had paint stains at the bottom of them. Maybe you had worn it in case Jamie at the last minute decided to take a detour to a nice restaurant, but you were relieved either way.

The two of you ended up just sitting in the bar while Jamie complained about his most recent Twitter feud. Christ, you pray for Keeley Jones for having to deal with all his PR nonsense. When he starts shit-talking Roy for getting him up at 4 am for training, — “I thought he was joking!” — you end up tuning out of the conversation knowing how long the rant was going to be.

Your eyes drift off behind Jamie when you notice a familiar face. Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could feel your breathing hitch and your fingers were scratching the inside of your palm. Before you could even consider doing anything, he reached you.

"Jamie Tartt!" The footballer's train of thought is broken and he turns to his former teammate to greet him. "Haven't seen you since you went off to be a reality star!"

Jamie simply rolls his eyes at the comment. "Well George, I haven't seen you since they forced you out of Man City!"

"They couldn't afford me anymore," He shrugs before his eyes land on yours. You shift in your seat and you can see the exact moment when Jamie notices how uneasy you've become. "And who's this with you?"

He doesn't remember you. And why would he? To him, you were just another crazed fan at a pub, one of many he's encountered over the years. You doubt that the memory of that night stuck with him the way it did to you.

"This is (Y/N), an old friend of mine," Jamie adds carefully and you build up enough courage to shake his former teammates' hand, but not enough to stay in this conversation.

"I'll let you two catch up while I get another drink." You explain, in an obviously fake cheery voice, but only Jamie spots it. He reaches out for your hand on the table to comfort you, but you swipe it away before he can.

You head off to the other side of the bar to order another beer, but you can't stop your eyes from shifting over to the pair of them again. Jamie looked so comfortable laughing and talking to George. You scoff at the sight. How could he act so chummy with that guy when he was the driving force for why the two of you ended on shitty terms in the first place?

Jamie's told you all about how he's been working on himself and trying to become a better person, but a part of you still feared that one interaction with that guy would unravel everything. He was an absolute prick; the number of fights and scandals Jamie had been in for his entire career was nothing compared to the amount George had in his first five years.

You wanted to trust Jamie, but he was always quick to change who he was when he was around certain people. You just hoped he had grown enough to not let his Man City "mentor" — too many of George’s scandal photos had a 19 to 22-year-old Jamie Tartt in the background — bring back the side of him he's tried so hard to erase.

You don't know how long they were talking, but by the time they moved over to the pool table, your vision was already starting to blur. The drinks just kept coming. Flashbacks from that night started to come in too: the spotting Jamie in the crowd, the confrontation, the holding back of tears, and the walk-out. You couldn't look over at the pair of them without an intense pain appearing in your chest.

Jamie looked back to where you were supposed to be seated and found you spacing out into a corner. It was the same dreamy and tired look you had the first time you tested your alcohol limit when your parents were out of town. Immediately, he abandoned the game of pool and rushed over to you.

"Maybe that's enough alcohol for tonight." Someone pulls the Cosmopolitan from your grasp and you squint your eyes to identify them as Jamie.

"Ha, that's rich coming from you." You can't remember how many times you've had to help Jamie sneak up the stairs and into his bedroom after a night out. "Aren't you still busy hanging out with that Man City prick?" Lack of tactfulness is the most obvious sign you'd drank too much.

"Woo, a little harsh there," You hear George come up to the two of you. You rush — well, more of stumble — forward to confront him, but Jamie holds you back. The retired footballer points out, "She's a feisty one."

"Let's bring you back to your flat, yeah?" Jamie offers softly, but you remove yourself from his arms and shake your head.

"I am perfectly capable of getting home by myself." You grab your clutch from the table. "Don't want to ruin another night for you guys, right?"

A pang of guilt visibly hits Jamie, but George is just left confused. You start to walk towards the exit and get to the door till you feel someone gently take hold of your left arm.

"You can't even see your phone clearly to book a taxi. I'll drive you home." Jamie's voice is low and whatever common sense you have left takes him up on your offer. He turns his head to say goodbye to George, but all the former footballer does is shout, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" following by a boastful laugh.

You clench your clutch at the comment, but Jamie brings you out the door before you can turn back and do something that'll land you on the front page of the Sun the next morning.

When you get to Jamie's car, he carefully helps you into the passenger's seat and puts on your seatbelt before getting into the car himself. Once the car starts, you take the chance to close your eyes in an attempt to remedy the throbbing headache you feel is already coming on.

You don't know how long you stay like that, but when you open your eyes, you're already at your building. You slowly get out of the car and once you make it to the sidewalk, Jamie asks, "Can’t believe you just downed a dozen drinks like a recent divorcee."

"I wonder why," You scoff and side-eyed him, unwilling to move your head from looking forward. You see the footballer's expression drop and suddenly you understand what Liv was going on about. You finally break. "How could you still be so friendly with him, Jamie! He’s an absolute arse and everyone in England knows it!"

"He was my teammate! And still a major name in football, even after retirement and all the shit he’s done. I didn't want to risk anything!" Maybe if you were sober, you'd accept that reason. There were countless alumni, tenured professors, and chairmen that you had to suck up to just to keep your job. But were drunk people ever known to be rational?

"Is that why you let him talk to me like that? Back in the pub?"

"You two barely spoke a word to each other," Jamie points out but you shake your head furiously.

"I mean back in Cardiff!" You exclaimed loudly and you knew for a fact that at least one of your neighbors had heard your outburst. But you didn't really care.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You went to walk up the stairs, expecting it to be the end of it. If Jamie didn't have anything to say, then what was the point? He'd let you walk away and tomorrow morning, you'd be back to normal and you can just pretend this night didn't happen. You've done it before.

"You said you didn't want to talk about that." Jamie finally speaks up.

"I thought I didn't," you admit, your voice levels lower than before. You continue walking when you feel a presence following suit. You stayed in that silence till you made it back to your flat. It's a miracle you didn't tip over on the way in, but spite was enough to power you through.

Jamie closed the door behind him and sighed, "I couldn't just ignore him at the bar."

Suddenly, any fear of confrontation seemed to disappear. Your anger resurfaced and you spit out, "You seemed just fine ignoring me for seven years." You turn to face him and for a second, the pitiful look in his eyes almost made you back off. Almost. "Or is abandoning your best friend easier when she's not some big-shot footballer?"

"I know you're mad," Jamie starts and you angrily run your hands through your hair.

"Yes, I'm mad, Jamie!" You shout and you watch him take a step back, but you don't falter. "I'm mad at you! Seeing George tonight just reminded me of it and how a part of me still fucking hates you for taking their side."

"I've been trying to apologize—"

"I know, Jamie, but I'm still pissed at you, okay? For leaving me like that! And for letting me leave that night! I mean, how could you? Just throw away a decade of friendship for some football assholes that threw you away the second they could." Everyone knew how Jamie's career with Man City ended and it was surely a sore spot for the player, but at that moment, you didn't care.

Before Jamie can even defend himself, you start again. "I... fuck Jamie, I loved you. You were my best friend. I would've spent every waking hour with you if I could've. But you couldn't care less about me, right? The moment someone more famous than me believed in you the same way I always did. You just stopped answering my calls, and my texts, and even my parents when they asked you for me! Worst of all, you didn't give me a single reason why!

"Honestly, I would've been fine if you did stop being friends with me, as long as you gave me an explanation. Even if it was for some stupid reason that I wouldn't understand or hate you for, because at least I could've moved on! Instead, I spent years wondering where it all went wrong. If I could've done something, anything to change what happened." You start to feel the strain on your throat and know for a fact that at least one of your neighbors would be eavesdropping, but you were finally letting it out.

Your voice comes out hoarse, "And then the next time I did see you, in that pub, you were a whole new person. A complete and utter prick, Jamie. After that night, I prayed that you'd come to your senses. Do the decent thing and apologize, even if it was just a fucking text or something. But no, you kept ignoring me and pretending I didn't even exist. So I forced myself to stop thinking about you. To stop caring about you calling me. To stop dreaming about you telling me you fucked up and that you were sorry. So I could move on with my life."

You look away from Jamie and around the living room in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing down. You were unsuccessful. "And after years, I did move on. I went to London, got a job, and stayed as far away as I could from football. From you. But God, you always find a way back to me, huh?

"It just had to be you who found me in Nelson Road that night. It had to be you who picked me up, who drove me home, and reminded me how happy I was when we were kids. So much so that I thought I'd be fine without an apology! As long as I had you back in my life, it'd be fine. But as you can tell now, it's not." The amount of alcohol in your system was wearing you down and you were starting to get tired.

You start to lose your balance when Jamie's there to catch you, but you harshly push him off you. He doesn't seem affected by your strength, but even then, he moves back.

  "Just get out, Jamie." is all you manage to say this time and after hesitating for a moment, he does. Now you're left alone again, only with your thoughts and the realization that any chance of bringing back what you had with Jamie was gone.

A/N: and that's that! i hope this teases the interlude nicely cause i'm sick of being so vague about that night since that's up next and trust me, it gets worse in that one... anyway i hope you all enjoyed this one!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamirtarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

[dullgecko]

Don’t know if you’re okay with alcohol (if not ignore this) but I rewatched Rock the Boat and I have Ideas about the bad kids being drunk. We see the bad kids drunk the first few times it happens, but after a while I think they settle into their drunk personas.

Riz distrusts alcohol generally. Anything that negatively affects his perception is a bad idea to him. However, the few times he has gotten drunk, he’s emotional. Think the Sophmore Shrimp Party x10. His emotions are locked right up to the moment he gets drunk. His size doesn’t help, since it means he gets drunk pretty easy compared to his friends.

Fig and Kristin are pretty similar, in that every idea sounds like a good idea. As long as their friends are still happy and no one’s died, they’re all in on everything. Fig has pretty high tolerance from parties on tour, and Kristin microdosed on alcohol all the time because she was convinced that a restricted childhood meant she’d be too much of a lightweight, but she holds her alcohol much better than most. Unfortunately, Kristine brand of chaos means she does not need to be that drunk in order to do many stupid things.

Adaine can not hold her alcohol. She gets tipsy on beer. Depending on who’s around, she either falls asleep immediately or become the most extroverted person imaginable. In the junior year parties, with lots of people she doesn’t know well, she’s loud and friendly and doing magic in every direction. If it’s just her friends on a hangout night, she’ll be asleep by 9. Either way, she wakes up late with an awful hangover.

Fabian doesn’t like drinking because of his mother, so he doesn’t drink often. When he does, Fabian is himself up to eleven. Dramatic, loud, friendly. Fabian once went to a nightclub and came out with twelve new friends and a broken nose. He’s got a decent tolerance, but it’s dropped since high school because he no longer parties every weekend. Miraculously, has pretty easy hangovers, but Fabian sleeps until 10am anyway, so it’s not like it’s useful to him.

Gorgug has high tolerance for a number of reasons. Orc’s have good alcohol tolerance anyway, and his body weight and height are useful. He doesn’t drink as much on tours as Fig, but still has fun. His parents made it clear that alcohol isn’t bad, just be careful. If he’s still sober enough, he keeps Fig and Kristin from falling out the window, and Fabian from getting punched. When he’s actually drunk, he’s just as likely to propose a stupid idea, but will also try to talk everyone out of it. Keeps pain meds in his room because he once woke up hungover and couldn’t get to the bathroom medicine cabinet and almost broke the wall down.

Riz went to the overthinker competition and they disqualified him because he made the other competitors cry when they realised they could never reach his level. Alcohol just... switches off the part of his brain keeping that train going and he turns into a mess. Mostly because his default method of dealing with his own issues is shoving them down as far as possible and burrying them under other thoughts so he doesnt have to deal with it.

Kristen and Fig are those people at a party that you have to supervise heavily even if there ISNT alcohol involved. Look away for a second and all your patio furniture is in the pool, your TV is suspended from the ceiling and someone dyed the cat a weird colour (and this is them SOBER). Alcohol takes their already poor impulse control out back and shoots it in the head.

Drunk Adaine is fun. She drops her inhibitions at the door and can 100% become the life of the party. She can only hold that energy for so long before needing to go take a nap though. Her friends have learned to make her take some painkillers and chug a couple bottles of water before letting her sleep properly just to help prevent the inevitable hangovers.

Fabian grew up with pirates, there's literally no way he could have avoided drinking completely with his father around so he started building a tolerence early. He does know when he has to stop though and usually never goes past 'pleasently tipsy'. He often acts more drunk than he actually is on purpose so he doesnt get called out on it. If he does get wasted he's one of those super friendly cuddly drunks.

Gorgug tries not to get drunk, even though his tolerence is so high. He's more liable to loose control of his emotions and worries he'll either do something stupid or get into a fight and hurt someone. He'll try to stay at the level where things are fun but he's never let himself become blackout drunk because he feels responsible for looking after other people. After the painkiller incident he makes sure to join Adaine in chugging water before going to bed.

[my-darling-boy]

As someone who does medieval reenactment in the US it was super interesting to read about how more modern reenactment across the pond works! Our group(s) tend to be much more casual and events not for the public’s viewing, and also fairly progressive relative to their area- I think the realization has come around to the older generation that they have to be actively inclusive to attract younger folks. Wishing all the best to you and other anon, I hope they can have a good time in the hobby!

If you’re interested in talking about it, could you tell us more about what it’s like to have the general public come to watch you reenact?

Oh that’s so interesting! I do forget there are events that go on not for public viewing. And I agree, I think people are realising if they want reenactments to continue, they need to be more open to the coming generations as they’ll be receiving the torch! What you say does help support one of my points too, that the further you reenact towards the 21st century, the more it strikes an emotional chord with hobbyists and spectators as both world wars are still very much in collective consciousness. People are still moved by stories and ceremonies (hell, even by seeing us in uniform!) because it’s not like this happened 800 years ago, it happened recently enough that there’s still people waiting for battlefield archaeologists to locate the remains of their grandparents from WWI. The pain and the loss are still very much alive, and for some people, especially older people, all of this felt like yesterday. It ties into the public viewings…

I’ve not done every sort of event reenactment has to offer, for me now it’s a lot of public training days with a variety of demonstrations, open period camps, and guided trench exhibitions. But having the public about makes it all the more meaningful? Living history is so important, it humanises people lumped together in textbooks. The stories that people share about the men you’re reenacting or their own parents/grandparents really are quite something. A few times we’ve done a little demonstration of wounded soldiers holding onto each other guided towards rushing nurses and crowds are absolutely captivated. A little girl once approached me and my pals to read a (surprisingly harrowing) letter she had to do for school about what it would be like to write home while in the trenches. Veterans of the regiment we do have watched us at events. Like in terms of medieval reenactment, imagine if you had children of warriors and townspeople watching you reenact members of their families that may have died horrifically barely 100 years ago, like, there’s almost a low-key emotional pressure to try to do as much justice as you can to the role over a little weekend!

I’ll have to get out to a medieval reenactment one day, haven’t been to one in a long time!

[angelsanarchy]

One Long Weekend: - Clyde/YN One-Shot Series CH 02

"Fuck does this mean you get to taser me?" "100 Percent."

FRIDAY 10:30PM

Y/n stood at the foot of the stage taking photos of the metal band currently occupying the stage. Luckily they brought a crowd of headbangers rather than full violent moshing or else the photo quality would suffer. Baby had promised a few hundred bucks for some promotional photos for the local venues and after the rent hike, she could use the extra cash.

Tonight had been different than most. Usually she was strictly business, bouncing from one venue to the next getting the photos taken and crawling into bed at 2AM just to have Baby blowing up her phone for the images before she's even had a chance to get real sleep. Tonight she finally got a chance to meet the shaggy haired, stoner who seemed to travel with one of the local bands. She had thought maybe he was blind at one point with how he stared blankly at her but one of the bartenders assured her that he was pretty harmless, if not a pain in the ass.

"Hey Y/N, you staying for the next couple of bands? We've got some new guys coming in." The bartender knew Baby and had kind of taken me under their wing while I was working these jobs. Bartenders and bouncers seemed to really enjoy her company.

"I might stay for a few. I don't have anymore pressing items on my agenda so I might as well." Y/n packed up her camera and sat on a stool for at least two more performers before bidding farewell to the bartender and heading towards whatever commotion that was trapped at the front door. The owner of the venue had been arguing with someone, cussing loudly at him and telling him that he was banned.

"Oh don't be such a soft dick! I promise not to jump off the tables...much." The voice is what caught her attention.

"Tony! Hey Tony!" Y/n yelled trying to get the attention of the bouncer.

"STAY THE FUCK OUT!" The club owner shoved Clyde out the door and throwing his hands up as he told off the band he traveled with. Johnny tried to plead his case while she squeezed past and saw Clyde on his hands and knees.

"I deserved that." Clyde was trying to peel himself off the pavement. He looked up and met her gaze with a stupid grin.

"That's my girlfriend." Clyde stumbled forward putting his hands on her shoulders.

"In your dreams kid." Tony scoffed.

"Where have you fucking been?" Clyde whispered.

"I didn't get the bat signal that I would need to be peeling you off the sidewalk. That's clearly my fault." Y/n put rested her hand on Clyde's.

"Oh come on Y/n! You aren't really with these guys are you?" Tony whined as the rest of the band shuffled out. They all looked a little dejected.

"Unfortunately Tony, I do. I'm going to need to cash in on that favor. Can you talk to Pete for me? See if you can get them back in to play a set? Even if it's just tomorrow?" Johnny looked at Clyde who's mouth hung open.

"I can give it a try but this is your only favor. No more freebies." Tony shook his head before shaking Johnny's hand.

"Wow um I love Clyde's stalkee. Thank you!" Johnny reached out and pulled y/n into a hug.

"No problem. Crowd is better on Saturday anyway. Just try and keep this one from getting me put on the banned list." Clyde put his hand on his heart.

"Johnny, I told you she wants to have my little deaf babies." Johnny laughed.

"You better make sure she isn't trying to make babies with anyone with both functioning ears first bud." The van pulled up and the band started loaded it up with their gear.

"You gonna be okay to get home?" Y/n asked seeing Clyde stumbling over to her again.

"What answer would get you to come with us?" Clyde tested.

"I mean I know your boyfriend...or girlfriend or they-friend is probably waiting up-" She cut Clyde off.

"I'm not seeing anyone actually but I should probably get home. This is the first night I'll make it to the motor-rail before it closes for the night." Clyde seemed amused.

"What? No! You can't take the train. Come hang out for a bit and then I can drive you home. It's the least I can do for helping the guys out." Clyde tossed his thumb back towards the van as they finished loading it up.

"Honestly I don't know that I trust you to drive me anywhere right now. You're a little loose on your feet." Clyde swayed a bit as he stood in front of her.

"Even more of a reason to come with. I will let you drive. I'm already deaf, do you really want me to be cripple too?" Clyde showed y/n the hearing aid fitted to his ear. She could smell the weed on him when he swayed towards her. She didn't have anywhere to be for the rest of the night and its not like anyone was waiting at home.

"Fuck it. Who am I to let you crash and burn on a perfectly good long weekend." Y/n held her hand out for the keys and Clyde bounced on his feet, handing the keys over.

"Every weekend is a long weekend if you try hard enough." Clyde hopped into the passenger seat.

"Some of us have weekday jobs, sweetheart." Y/n slammed the driver door shut and looked back at the band.

"Guys, this is my new wife Y/n. Y/n these are the guys. They're all stupid fuckers but they play killer music." Clyde introduced her to the band and they threw empty bottles and trash at his introduction.

"It's a pleasure. If one of you can give me a coherent address, I will get you all there in one piece." Y/h promised firing up the van.

"310 W. Utah. It's the really shitty brick apartments on the corner of Tracy Park and Violet Ridge." Clyde said sitting back in the seat. She knew where that was. It was actually about 45 minutes from her apartment if there wasn't any traffic.

Y/n started to pull away from the curb and immediately the horn started blaring.

"Did you fuckers rig my steering wheel again?" Clyde whined returning the trash that was thrown at him.

"Just try not to use the turn signals. These idiots think it's funny when they mess with the only guy who has a van big enough to transport their shit for free." Clyde gave them the finger before reaching across y/n and flipping the signal off.

"No turning signals. Got it. I'm sure the Vegas residence are accustom to it by now." Clyde laughed at the joke as she drove.

"Does your deafness have a great story worth teasing you over or were you born with it?" Y/n asked. Clyde seemed surprised she bothered asking.

"No it's not too recent but I definitely wasn't born with it. You'll have to dig a little deeper for that story though." Clyde smirked. Y/n rolled her eyes with a snort.

"Always a give and take with you." She remarked.

"Hey I can always tell you and waste your payback for saving my ass but then how would you get home?" Clyde teased.

"Oh I won't need a ride home but I already have plans for that payback so by all means, please keep that story in the cards." Y/n kept her eyes on the road and her hands on the wheel as Clyde sighed.

"Fuck, you're gonna taser me aren't you?" Clyde turned his body towards her and she nodded.

"Oh 100%." Y/n's response made Clyde run his hands down his face.

The guys in the back of the van started laughing and ribbing Clyde about being tasered and he swatted at them.

"How are you going to tase a deaf guy? Isn't that like kicking a kid in a wheelchair?" Clyde offered.

"Absolutely not. One is a dick move and the other is for amusement. Besides I wear a night guard when I sleep but you don't see me using it as a crutch." Y/n said confidently.

"Having straight teeth and being down an entire ear are hardly a fair comparison." Clyde was drawn to her sassy nature and quick to joke sense of humor. Even if she had plans to taser him.

"We've all got our baggage. You'll live." She looked over at Clyde and he caught her wink. Fuck was he in trouble.

[dea-doesnt-do-d1ck]

Family line

★≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺★

Kiyosumi was nauseous.

Additionally, he had the biggest hangover he's had in weeks, all because he had gone on a bender over the weekend.

So now, here he was, Monday afternoon, nauseous, lying on his futon, the nasty looking bedside table that functioned as a nightstand beside him starting to tremble as his phone that was laying screen down on the booze-stained wood began to vibrate.

Groaning in annoyance and clicking his tongue,the man picked up his phone,his brows furrowing causing deep wrinkles to set on his forehead as his eyes tried to focus on the bright white screen which irritated them, considering the rest of the room was bathed in darkness due to the man having closed his curtains before trying to take a nap.

"Whaddya want...?"

His voice was gruffy and clearly communicated even more than his rude words that he was in no mood to talk or even interact with anyone. Well, anyone other than his cat that was currently lying in her bed that stood next to his.

"Hello kiyo, how are you? Good? Great. Anyway, do you know what we're celebrating this Saturday?"

"No."

The person on the other end of the phonecall sighed a bit, before letting him know it was Keichi's birthday. Kiyosumi's brows furrowed even more as he told her he didn't care, his sister cutting him off before he could say anything more rude than that as she told him that they'd be celebrating at their mother's home.

"Look, neither I nor him expect you to bring a present but you're coming. Bye bye, see you Saturday!"

Before the Japanese man could protest, the older woman hung up the phone as kiyosumi resisted the urge to toss the smart device across his room, instead just slamming it down on the night table, as if to show his upset despite the fact that there was no one around to see it as he tried to snuggle back into bed.

But there was something stopping him.

He almost screamt in frustration as, additionally to the nausea and headache already plaguing him, a third, even more annoying and useless source of pain joined as he held his arms over his stomach. The dread he held for this Saturday caused a stomach ache to plague his already plagued body.

★≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺★

Kiyosumi wanted to die.

Not seriously, or at least not entirely seriously, but he didn't remember the last time he had felt so bad, so useless, so stupid so.... So weak.

He was often brushed off and disliked by many as just some cocky karateka asshole who was way too arrogant and needed to be taken down a notch, and while partially, it was true (He was both a karateka and an asshole after all), he was also incredibly insecure and, towards people he actually respected, oftentimes almost soft.

Like baki. In the begining, he had thought of the boy as some arrogant 17 year old, but now, things we're different. He admired the boy's ability to fight and his unbelievable strength. It was a bit similar to how he felt about Katsumi.

Sure, he was the grandmaster's son, and sometimes, too cocky to be likeable, but he was also an incredibly kind and strong man that Katou had long admired, and who astounded him when he asked for Katou to act as his master.

Of course Kiyosumi being Kiyosumi had acted as if it was no biggie, but in reality, he had been really proud of himself that Katsumi admired him enough to make him his master, even if it was just for short.

All this to say that Kiyosumi was by no means 100% some cocky asshole, he was often rude, but he had other moments too and he wasn't ashamed of that.

Right now though.... Right now he was ashamed. He had never done as horrible during training as he had now, it disgusted him and made him feel weak and he hated it.

He didn't even bother changing out of his gi, his apartment wasn't far and it was smer so he had only taken off his jacket while keeping on his wife beater that hugged his upper body tightly. Before he could leave however, Suredo peeked his head into the changing room, making Kiyosumi scoff as he didn't even make eye contact.

"Yoy wanna go out and get a beer?"

The large redhead asked as Katou looked like he was deep in thought before saying he had beer at home. Atsushi nodded slowly as Katou wanted to brush past him only to be stopped.

"You wanna drink at your place?"

An all too familiar need arose from deep within his brain as he huffed, but nodded, Atsushi following his 'comrade' to said man's apartment.

And then it began.

Soft, almost sensual kisses against eachother's faces and lips, necks and throats as Kiyosumi was seated on his dresser by Atsushi who's never ending sloppy, insecure but incredibly affectionate actions gave Kiyosumi some warming ease that separated him from the anxiety and that seemed to stop him from spiraling into what might've become a depressive episode.

Sure, mental issues were no simple thing easily stopped by a bit of affection, but this kind of affection at least caused his mind to be focused on other things than the dreaded feeling of weakness and uselessness.

And when he was pinned down on his futon, his muscular calves caging in Atsushi's waist, both him and the man currently working on bringing both of them closer and closer to release moaning and groaning, he only thought about that.

How good it felt, how warm he felt, how dizzy he was but how good even that felt. Even afterwards, when he was sticky with his own semen and smoking a cigarette, his mind was fairly calm, atsushi laying by his side, holding him.

It was pretty nice.

Kiyosumi would never say that, but he liked this, however, he was unusually needy and touchy in the moment, so Suedo understood him just fine, even without words.

And then, he raked his hands through katou's damp and sweaty hair, asking him what was going on in a surprisingly non-chalant way. Neither his caring and sweet actions, nor him asking was normal for this man, but Suedo couldn't help it.

Kiyosumi took a long drag of his cigarette before putting it out and rolling onto his side as Suedo huffed before hugging the black haired man close.

In the middle of the night, Kiyosumi just randomly woke up, turning his body which caused the sheets to shuffle with his muscular form as he looked at Suedo's sleeping face illuminated by the moonlight.

Biting his bottom lip, kiyosumi curled up again, all that peace of mind leaving as soon as he once again came to the realization of what he had done like how he did every.single.time.

God, kiyosumi felt so pathetic.

>≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺<

"Kiyosumi, I'm glad you came!"

Cringing at her high pitched voice, Kiyosumi gave his sister a soft glare before putting out his cigarette as the both of them headed into the house in front of them, the door opening upon his sisters ringing of the door bell.

"Oh dear, you two came! I'm glad!"

The short, frail looking woman said, smiling up at her children before gently cupping kiyosumi's face.

"My, what a handsome young man, you look just like your father-"

"Mom, let him get inside first."

Hana said, gently swatting at her mother's wrists, the woman nodding, releasing kiyosumi's face, the man clenching his jaw. He hated when his mother did that.

Both him and Hana took their shoes off, the black haired woman putting them away neatly just like him. He was good mannered when it came to certain things, after all.

Once inside, he handed off a messily wrapped gift to Keichi, wishing his younger brother a happy birthday as the young man beamed with joy, smiling at the man he admired.

God how Kiyosumi both hated and loved that stare.

He loved it because,especially when he and Keichi were younger, he always protected his little brother and just loved the way said boy's whole face would light up with admiration when he saw him. He'll yeah, he really was the world's coolest older brother, that's right Keichi, and don't you forget it! Call him strong again, go on, he really was insanely strong, wasn't he? Even if a certain grandmaster rarely acknowledged it.

It started in high school that he began disliking it deeply. Sure, he was still cocky about how strong he was like before, but now there were... Other things. His constant smoking, boozing, fucking, those were things he didn't want his younger brother to do.

Sure, they made Kiyosumi cool, (except for the last one, because this was before he would've ever tried having sex with men and he was incredibly awkward during and after sex with women since, well, he just wasn't really meant for it) but they could easily fuck up Keichi's life.

And then, after his first time having sex with another man (Probably someone from the dojo), he began absolutely fucking hating it. How could his little brother look at him with such admiration when he did something so shameful and wrong....?

It would've baffled anyone else to find out that Kiyosumi Katou hated being admired, since, at the dojo, he looooved whenever anyone even praised him and was generally pretty cocky, it even baffled Kiyosumi a bit now like he'd ever admit it, but it was probably because of their parents.

Kiyosumi came from a rather traditional family, A salary man father, a housewife mother and two siblings, his life could've been lived pretty normal. Except for the fact that his parents, despite their plain jobs and normal appearances behaved in ways that would surely cause at least some heads to turn.

Take his father for example; Hardworking salary man that used the weekend to unwind and go on camping or fishing trips, spending little time with his family, and when he did, usually just being a rather stoic, not very emotional man. He never really did much with Kiyosumi, other than occasionally taking an hour on a Sunday to teach him basic 'manly' skills, which to his father meant, teaching him mechanical things, maybe helping with mathematics homework and one time very reluctantly taking him out to fish.

His mother, whom most people pitied because they thought she was some poor, unloved housewife, was one of the most mentally unstable people he'd ever met, and while he partially felt bad for how his father treated her, he couldn't handle her outburst.

She could go from being overly affectionate, mainly physically, to the point it started freaking Kiyosumi out, to crying and screaming at them for the smallest slip up and just looking at them and treating them with disgust. Sometimes she'd just sit at the kitchen table, crying about why her husband didn't love her until Hana would just come up and try to escort her mother to the bedroom so the woman could sleep.

In those moments when his mother had her breakdowns, he felt bad for Keichi who was completely overwhelmed by all of this. Not like Kiyosumi ever did anything to comfort him, he'd just leave and go to the dojo or hang out with his delinquent buddies, but he felt bad, he truly did.

"Thank's Kiyo!"

Keichi cheered, clearly excited over the gift as Hana nodded with a small hum of surprise that her younger brother actually managed to get Keichi a gift. Kiyosumi just gave a curt nod before the four of them sat down for tea and cake, his mother smiling, her hands folded in her lap, the table next to her also set as he took in her appearance and realized she had dolled herself up a bit, wearing makeup and jewelry, her long black hair down instead of in its usual bun.

"Your father promised to join us later!"

She excitedly announced as Keichi smiled happily. Out of the three, he was the one who craved their parents attention the most. And while Hana tried to uphold at least basic communication and social interaction, Kiyosumi just completely ignored them.

"Now, how are you doing? Hana, have you found a boyfriend yet, because my friend, she has this son, around your age, you used to play together-"

"I have a girlfriend, mom. You've met Chiyo before, I don't need a boyfriend."

His mother frowned a bit.

"Hana,you can't possibly expect to be happy with a girl by your side. What about children,how will you have those?"

"We can adopt or maybe, I just don't want kids? Not every woman has to live that picket fence dream, you know that, right?"

The woman responded, clearly annoyed with her mothers old fashioned attitude as the woman told Hana not to paint her out to be the villain.

"I'm just worried, that's all, don't be mad at your mother for worrying!"

She said, her voice taking on the hurt one she always put on when she wanted to act like the victim. Kiyosumi hated it, but he just clicked his tongue slightly. Goddammit he needed a cigarette right now.

Then, his mother continued trying to make small talk, Keichi and Hana joining in, but Kiyosumi couldn't care less.

"Ah, Kiyo, how about you? You're doing so much of that karate, you've become such a good man, are there any cute girl's you're interested in?"

"No."

"Well, I suppose it's just like in middle school. All you cared about is that karate, I guess that means there's no space in your life."

His mother chuckled.

"But I know this other woman, her daughter is such a good girl, I'm sure you two would be a perfect pair! Why don't I give you her number, hmm? Or even better, she could come over and-"

"No. I'm not interested-"

"Oh don't be like that, I'm sure once you meet her-"

"Mom, I said I'm not-"

"But you can't be happy with just that karate! A young man like you should experience love, you should kiss and go on dates and-"

Kiyosumi clicked his fingers against his thigh, clearly starting to get annoyed, but before he could scream at her, Keichi interrupted them both.

"I-I met somebody too!"

Silence.

Kiyosumi raised a brow at his younger brother's flustered behaviour before the boy spoke up again.

"They're really kind and sweet and I wanted to maybe...introduce them to you today-"

"They're? Do you mean she?"

Kiyosumi scoffed as Hana elbowed him in the side and Keichi froze over.

"Uhmm...I..."

"That's wonderful news, I'm sure she's a lovely girl! Why didn't you tell me about her earlier?"

"Because it's not a girl."

Hana smacked Kiyosumi over the back of the head at this statement,the man just glaring at her as her mother looked at Keichi in confusion.

"Keichi, she's a girl, right?"

"Yes..."

He sounded like he wanted to add something,but he didn't,kiyosumi's dark eyes picking up on how his younger brother let his nails sink into his thighs.

And then, just as Keichi seemed to reach a certain determination to speak up again, the front door opened, which seemed to turn their mother into a whole different person as she rushed to the door to greet her husband and kiyosumi scoffed while Hana squeezed Keichi's hand under the table.

"It's fine if it's not a girl Keichi."

"It is a girl!"

The young man's insistance made his statement seem less true, but Kiyosumi couldn't care less. Or at least that's what he told himself.

Once his father and mother entered the room again, what ensued was the worst dinner Kiyosumi had ever had, but despite his uncaring attitude,he could tell it was worse for Keichi.

Fiddling with his fingers, the boy seemed overly anxious to say something that never made it past his lips, and Kiyosumi kind of wanted to tell him to man up and say something, but he refrained. Why should he care?

Eventually,the pressure seemed to wear him down enough so that he finally spoke.

"I'm not...I don't feel like Keichi anymore. Now that I'm eighteen, I think I can finally say it with certainty."

Kiyosumi quirked a brow.

"The hell you mean, you don't feel like Keichi anymore?"

He asked, his mother looking at Keichi and his father between short, worried glances.

"What are you saying sweetheart-"

"I'm not a man. I don't feel like a man."

And once again during the short time the five of them had been together in the tidy living room, there was silence.

"Oh, that's perfectly normal, congratulations on coming out-"

"So, what, you're a crossdresser? A ladyboy?"

His father's words were disgusted both in tone and what he chose to say as he wiped his mouth with his paper towel before getting up.

"Darling, please, I'm sure he didn't- K-Keichi, you don't mean it, yeah? You mean, you're a bit feminine, right? You're still my son, right?"

Kiyosumi just looked at Keichi in confusion. This was... Was Keichi Transgender?

He had heard of that, probably from Katsumi or something.

It was almost a bit funny to Kiyosumi if he was honest to himself, that both of his parents were so old fashioned and homophobic, and his sister was a lesbian, he was, though he'd never openly admit it, gay, and his little brother turned out to not be a brother at all.

"No it's nothing like that, I'm not... I'm not a crossdresser or anything. I don't feel like a guy or a girl I just-"

Keichi was babbling,cleaely sweaty as keichi tried explaining keichi's feelings.

"Oh, you're non binary, that's completely normal!"

Hana assured Keichi who, in all of Keichi's panic looked at Kiyosumi for help.

There it was.

That look they had always given him when their mother had a break down.

Sadly for Keichi, Kiyosumi still wasn't one for comforting, so he grumbled something about smoking, getting up and going outside as Hana looked after him in disappointment while she tried comforting Keichi.

Their mother was a sobbing mess at this point,asking the world how she deserved this, begging Keichi to say they were joking and to apologize to their father.

Meanwhile, Kiyosumi was standing outside, having a smoke, Hana eventually leaving, screaming at their mother how insensitive she was and whatever, brushing right past Kiyosumi, Keichi stumbling out until they stood by their brother's side.

"Kiyo... Is there something wrong with me?"

Oh god keichi shouldn't be so vulnerable around Kiyosumi. The Japanese man took a long, maybe even too long, drag of his cigarette before staring at Keichi.

"I don't know man."

Upon Keichi's crying, Kiyosumi lazily wrapped an arm around Keichi, before telling them not to listen to their mother.

"Look I won't... I won't pretend to be super supportive or whatever. I don't care if you're my brother or sister or whatever,we never hang out anyway."

He put his cigarette out on the wall, right next to him before just staying quiet as Keichi sobbed into his chest.

This was part of why he didn't want Keichi to look up to him.

Part of him believed that what he hated most about himself, who he loved and who he was had influenced Keichi like this and he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

And yet, he also felt jealous. His younger sibling, who had always looked up to him had managed to tell both of their pparents something like that, while Kiyosumi still hid that he wasn't interested in women one bit out of sheer and utter fear. How pathetic.

"W-Will they hate me now...?"

Keichi sniffled and Kiyosumi shrugged.

"Yeah. But who cares anyway."

Keichi's crying increased as Kiyosumi said something that shocked him even more than it did Keichi.

"Why don't you come to the shinshinkai with me?"

He wasn't even sure why he said it, maybe because he had found comfort in the dojo?

Maybe because he saw doppo and natsue as better alternatives to his parents? He had no idea. But before he could take the words back, Keichi spoke.

"I'd really love that."

Well fuck.

Now he couldn't take it back.

But, he thought, maybe it'd be fine. Maybe they'd have a good time, maybe Kiyosumi could feel good and like not so much of a disappointment with his younger sibling there to admire him.

Yeah, he liked that idea, so much so, it managed to make him smile a bit, so much so that it managed to make his stress and anger momentarily melt away as for the first time in years, he felt like an actual good, respectable older brother.

He liked it a lot.

[octuscle]

Working everyday sucks. I mean is this the life we dreamt of when we were young? I mean I had the choice between knowledge and sports. I chose the academic way but there are days I wish for another chance to decide. Working with my body instead of my brain would be cool. Is there a Chronivac program to solve this problem?

Dude, I understand you so well. I mean, you're in-house counsel at your company, 48 years old…. Got 20 more years to work. The peak of your career is probably right now. Damn it! If you would have made the right decision at the right time… I'll choose the setting "Become younger with simultaneous modification of the past". Means in clear language, you become now each hour a year younger. And at the same time you have dedicated yourself one year more to a career as an athlete. Whether you end up as a gold medal winner, Formula 1 champion or coach of a soccer team in the district league, I can't tell you yet. But I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you.

Friday morning, 6:00 a.m. At this time you feel like an old man. Your back has been better. But trust me, in a few minutes you will feel better. Your mind is already off the weekly meeting in the shower. They're on the runs you're planning for the weekend. By the time you sit down to breakfast at 7:00 a.m. (raw vegetables, sugar-free muesli, low-fat quark), you already feel considerably fitter. You sold your car a year ago. Your new bike was almost as expensive. And now you ride it to the office like every morning.

09:00 a.m., weekly meeting of the department heads. Since you've been doing more sports, you love Casual Friday. Your tight suit pants fit snugly and your rolled-up arms show off your tanned, wiry forearms. Three years of hard training are having an effect. It's certainly helped your career, too. Most of the other department heads are not only fatter than you, they are also much older.

The morning goes well, at lunchtime you can convince your colleagues to have sushi. Normally, they always go out for schnitzel at the brewery on Fridays. Then you would have had to take a salad again. And a non-alcoholic beer. Okay, that would have worked, too. But in the meantime it causes you physical pain to watch how some people maltreat their bodies. As you brush your teeth in the office after lunch, you grin very contentedly in the mirror. You are now 40 years old. But as a rule, everyone thinks you're younger. Triathlon and soccer have gotten you out of your post-college slump over the past eight years. And now you're the departmental Adonis. One of the youngest department heads in the entire group. And an absolute winning smile!

The building empties out at 3:00 pm. But you don't just give your all in sports. When you shut down the computer at 6:00 p.m., all the e-mails have been processed. Yes, you are considered an absolute nerd. And you are. Ever since you graduated with your bachelor's degree 12 years ago, you've been working hard. In sports as well as in your job. Your promotion is only a matter of time. But that doesn't matter. You hang up your suit in your closet, stuff your shirt, shoes and knee socks into your backpack, put on your racing bike outfit and start cycling. You'd like to do another 100 kilometers tonight. Two and a half hours would be a good time… Sometime between 20:00 o'clock and 21:00 o'clock it makes click. You almost lost control of the bike. You are now just under 24 years old. And after graduating from high school, you decided to become a carpenter. The alternative would have been to study law. Like your father, like your grandmother, like your brother. But even though you weren't particularly talented at handicrafts, you wanted to do something completely different. Something physical. And fuck, that was the right decision. Today, at 33, you have your own business, plenty of time for sports, and certainly a much more relaxed life than your brother….

Now the changes come one after the other. The beginning of the transformation quickly reaches your 17th and 16th birthday. And the younger you are at the time of onset, the more serious the effects.

At 11:00 p.m. you lie in bed showered. It was a hard day. But you love your job. In the past, you would have dreamed of a different life. When you started playing soccer at the age of 14, you were already too old for the big career. Well, you were active in the second Bundesliga for a while. But now, as a physiotherapist and fitness trainer at a first league club, you're not dissatisfied. It pays pretty good money. And a bit of the boys' glamour falls on you, too. At least you get around a lot… You fall asleep at the thought.

Alarm clock rings like every day at 06:00 o'clock. You don't give a shit that it's Saturday. Could also be Sunday or Christmas. Drink a liter of water to detox, then run ten kilometers. At 07:30 your physiotherapist comes to the hotel room, 08:30 breakfast with the team. Kickoff for the soccer game is today at 8:30 p.m. Until then, light training, a yoga session and coaching with your social media consultant are scheduled.

Let the haters make fun of the soccer millionaires. You've been fighting for your career since your foot first touched a ball. And you work a hell of a lot harder for success than any armchair farter who studied business, law or mechanical engineering. And that's why you will win today!

[letsgetrowdy43]

🌱 one of the umich boys (mark or luca perhaps?) being really proud of a famous gf (maybe a comedian or smth) and all the guys are just like ‘she’s so much cooler than you are’

𝐉𝐞 𝐭'𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞

This is a part of my 100-follower celly, go look at my pinned post to participate!!

ynofficial just posted!!

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ynofficial packing my suitcase while bawling my eyes out, my dreams are coming true 🥲

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rutgermcgroarty Luca is such a little bitch for you

ynofficial my bitch 😼

rutgersmcgroarty you trained him well

user93 I’m excited to see the fits

lucafantilli Ik you’re crying because you’re gonna miss me so much

ynofficial someone needs to humble you

prada can’t wait to see you this weekend!!

ynofficial just posted to their story!!

(4) new messages from the Fantilli who can actually grow facial hair 🧔🏻‍♂️

🧔🏻‍♂️- please come home your boyfriend is being whiny

🧔🏻‍♂️- I’m so mad at you for leaving me to babysit him

🧔🏻‍♂️- are you aware he sings in the shower?

🧔🏻‍♂️- I actually think you’re a godsent for putting up with him everyday

Yn 🤥- it’s only a week

Yn 🤥- I promise you will be just fine

lucafantilli just posted!!

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lucafantilli my gf abandoned me 😔

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nolan_moyle she’s literally gone a week…

nick.granowicz leave him alone he’s in love

adamfantilli he’s a pain in the ass 😒

ynofficial guys he’s just obsessed with me

ynbestfriend she’s such a cutie

lucafantilli Ik 😫

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ynofficial Paris Fashion Week Day One 🌃

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lhughes_06 Are you happy to be in Pari 👨🏼‍🎨

ynofficial OUI 🇫🇷🥖

user94 YOUR HONOUR! YOUR HONOUR SHE'S SLAYING!

use19 ATE

Dylanduke25 No crumbs?

user19 no crumbs!

lucafantilli that's my gf 😌

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lucafantilli behind the scenes of Paris Fashion Week (Yn's version) thank you to @conangray and his candids

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ynofficial they shouldn’t have invited me here

markestapa it’s like setting a toddler loose in paris

user93 the fits do go hard

oliviarodrigo she’s such a babe 💜

umichhockey umich wag takes on the streets of paris

ynofficial I don’t claim that term ✋🏻

adamfantilli I’m glad she’s having fun 😒

adamfantilli just posted to their story!!

(2) new messages from yn 🤥

Yn 🤥- he sleeps with his mouth open…

Yn 🤥- SIDE EYE

🧔🏻‍♂️- you’ve been together nearly two years and you didn’t know that??

Yn 🤥- pour water in his mouth to wake him up 😼

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ynofficial some of my fav moments this week, can’t believe it’s almost over 🫶🏻

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maudeapatow you’re glowing love 😍

ynofficial give me a kiss rn

edwards.73 you need to smile more

user48 bread 🤤

user29 you’ve been feeding us well this week

lucafantilli Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

ynofficial Get. Out. 🚪👈🏻

mackie.samo I’m bleaching my eyes rn 😀

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ynofficial as my week come to an end I’m so honoured to be posting photos of my first runway with @prada

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user92 THIS IS STUNNING

prada we are obsessed with you!! Same time next year?

ynofficial always 🤎

model it was so lovely to work alongside you 🫶🏻

lucafantilli IM SO PROUD OF YOU BABY

ynofficial is it a good time to tell you that I’m never coming home and I wanna live in Paris forever??

lucafantilli omw ✈️

user84 can I have your life please and thank you??

adamfantilli YAY!! Home time

markestapa you’re ruining her dreams dickhead

g.brindley4 let the woman live

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lucafantilli SHE IS HOME

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seamuscasey26 @ynofficial paint me like one of your French girls 😏

lucafantilli wishing you the worst bud

ynofficial help he’s holding me hostage in his dorm!!!

rutgermcgroarty this is payback for leaving him with us for a week xoxo

user37 💙〽️

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[landoscaring]

I'm so glad I came across your post because I swear I'm going to go insane with the hate for both Lando and Oscar. I'm very very new to f1 so I don't have the same context to things like others do, but I grew fond of Lando and Oscar because I liked that they both want to race one another and that they want to win based on merit. 

It's just really frustrating that McLaren keeps putting them in a position that hurts them both. I know they don't want to have a no. 1 driver but I feel like they're at a point when they can give the drivers specific orders in certain situations to get them the best results. Like couldn't they have told them get through the first lap first as 1-2, build a gap between the cars behind them, then race? That's why I don't blame Oscar for overtaking at the start because it looked like the orders were for them to race. I know it's still not a guarantee they win because they did need 2 stops but I think they could've at least prevented this whole hate train for both drivers had they given them specific orders.

Anw I'm sorry for rambling, my friend who got me into f1 can't handle my ramblings when it comes to mclaren lol and I'm losing my head with everything that's happened 😅 Hope you have a nice day!

hey, welcome to the shitshow! we lose our minds every few weekends of the year over 20 guys going vroom vroom very fast.

100%! i agree with you. i think mclaren has been hesitant, for whatever reason, to declare a clear strategy for both of them. now, given the circumstances, they seem forced to. now they come out and say that starting with baku they will prioritize lando. that should've been decided weeks ago (or, y'know, explicitly shown in the races.) i'm not sure i get why they decided to go about it this way. i personally hate team orders and am a sucker for drivers going at it (hah, no pun intended) until the very end, but hey, this sport has gotten huge and there's a lot of money involved, so i also understand that sponsors need guarantees etc. i only wish they'd done it sooner and eased some pain for them both. i had a hard time listening and seeing oscar's post race radio with tom today, with him cursing and hitting the steering wheel.

i saw a post on x earlier today that presented a theory i could totally get behind. it suggested that in today's morning debrief, oscar and lando must've been told the plan for the rest of the calendar. so, oscar must've seen this as a last opportunity to try to win a race before resigning himself to just being lando's second driver for the rest of the year. hence the risky overtake, the anger post-race, etc. it's just a theory, but i think it makes a lot of sense.

i do think they had a clear strategy (as clear as: race each other and don't crash can be, y'know) but oscar saw an opening and took it. again, as i told someone else earlier, the race wasn't lost because of this.

feel free to come ramble here anytime! see you in baku! papaya hugs for you and your friend (they sound cool!)

[abirddogmoment]

some thoughts about the pressures of trialing in dog sports and the emotional environment of trials, partially inspired by this post by the beautiful @mongrelization

this post happened to come at a time when I was at a decision point in my trial career with mav. he had just started refusing jumps (i thought it was a training issue at the time, i now know he was in pain) and he wasn't having fun. we were disconnected in the ring, with him choosing to go visit friends or just blow past obstacles without attempting them. it was frustrating and it was such a stark contrast from our training runs (not flawless but immeasurably better than our performances in the ring) and i was making jokes (as everyone does!) about mav being the worst, etc, etc.

except they weren't jokes.

they sounded like jokes and they even felt like jokes in the moment, but looking back i can confidently see that i was frustrated and resentful and the "lighthearted jokes" from other competitors and from myself were just fueling the fire. i saw darcies post shortly after a particularly frustrating trial where we just couldn't connect, i was trying to decide whether to push through and fix our issues or give up completely on agility.

her post wasn't an epiphany, i probably would've gotten there eventually, but her post that said, essentially hey its fucked up to make those jokes about your dog and its fucked up for people to make those jokes about your dog and thats not how a trial should be - something clicked. its NOT how it should be.

i took a break from trialing in everything and cut training way back and just took all the pressure off of mav while i got my internal emotional environment back on track. im a really competitive person and its hard to consciously dial that back, but more than that, it's legitimately embarrassing when things go wrong with people watching you. if your default is humor about it (like mine), its a hard shift to not make jokes about your dog when things go wrong. but its an important and necessary shift.

i started trialing him again after about 3 months off, very lightly. i stopped entering full weekends and opted to do half-days or only saturdays and he fucking THRIVED. i made time to meet all his needs before trials, i prioritized his happiness over technically correct courses, and i got over the embarrassment of excusing myself from a run if it was going downhill. i fixed my internal emotional environment and that fixed our disconnect and made every win more meaningful.

the thing is, i am 100% sure i would not have fixed my emotional environment if i was actively competing and practicing the same patterns. i absolutely had to take that step back to fix myself. you can't make meaningful change if youre still in the middle of it acting it out.

i lost out on trials with mav and that sucked so much in the moment. i had awful FOMO watching my friends compete and finish titles while we did little low-pressure walks at home. but ultimately i gained something so much more important, and looking back i can't bring myself to regret that at all.

[guarddogdyke]

alright, i need to scream for a minute. this is like 25% a mutual aid post and 75% i am going through it and need to vent my ungodly rage at corporate bureaucracy

so, for context, i have two supervisors, i’ll call them supervisor a and supervisor m. supervisor m is a delight to work with, she was able to help me get a good placement, albeit not one with an incredible pay rate, she always picks up calls, and is just generally polite to work with. supervisor a, on the other hand, complete opposite. just a massive pain in the ass. completely and totally insufferable. always sounds like he’s mad that i, a lowly employee, have the audacity to ask him for something like a site placement or, god forbid, the money i’m owed. the only “placement” he gave me was the one that decided that they didn’t fucking want me literally the day of training, and in order to contact him, i had to call several times a day for a week and a half just to get him to pick up. the one time he did actually pick up, he was on the road and told me he’d call me back in half an hour. didn’t hear from him for over a week.

during the failed placement supervisor a gave me, the site manager promised me wages for the time i had spent on site. that was a few weeks ago, and i still haven’t seen a cent of it. i talked to supervisor m about it, but unfortunately, supervisor m doesn’t have any sway over payroll. that’s entire supervisor a’s department. try to contact him repeatedly, doesn’t even pick up. i was on a call with supervisor m a few days ago, and along with some other questions, i asked her if she could tell supervisor a to please give me a call, which she says okay to. several days go by, and i get a call from him yesterday afternoon. i think, hey, he’s finally calling me to help resolve that payroll issue!

nope. he’s calling me to tell me that, due to having been inactive for over a month (i was out of state for a few months bc i was home from university, and unlike the state my university’s in, my home state requires a license to operate), my previous manager had put a temporary termination on me as an employee; basically, though i wasn’t fired, i was technically no longer an employee. what this means is that i need updated fingerprinting and background check paperwork. essentially, even though i had my first weekend last weekend, i can’t work this weekend, or until he’s able to actually get that in order, and, given how fucking great he is at being prompt, god only knows when that’s happening. i asked him to send me the info for the location, still hasn’t done that so i get to hound him again today. cool.

while i’m on the call, i bring up the payroll discrepancy. he fucking plays dumb with me, acts confused as to what i’m talking about. i tell him that the site manager at the location he’d sent me to had promised me wages for the five and a half hours i’d been there for training. i had to remind him in no uncertain terms that yes, i had been on site working for several hours, which i hadn’t seen a cent of payment for. here i am, a broke college student, arguing for my pay with a supervisor of a several billion dollar multi-national. it’s not even a hundred dollars i’m trying to get here, pennies in his book, but for me, it’s half a monthly car payment. it’s food. it’s what i need to fucking scrape by. eventually after several minutes, he just says he’ll get me the pay for it, and then hangs up.

i had to fight for several WEEKS to get a payment of less than $100.

i’m so fucking tired.

sorry for the long post. i’d love to go back to posting fun horny shit once i’m a little less keyed up.

as always, vnmo is $unfoundobjects, and anything helps. if you’ve read this far, thank you for putting up with my rant.

[elementoftheeye]

Mother's day, niece's college graduation equal stressed emotions welcome to the weekend. Busy weekend... my wife's mom and step mother have both passed... rather recently. I expected it to be a tough one for her and I feel I fell short... although she reminded me that I still have my mother. Which sent me down a mental metal sliding board in the middle of the summer... I do have my mother physically, but she doesn't connect me as being her son because of dementia. As painful as it is for me it's 100 times worse for my father, and my sister since they were/are much closer. I took my wife for a drive and went to Kings Gap environmental training center to a native plant sale. I took some pinhole shots and thought the weekend was winding down nicely ... then we get home and discover a mouse got into the pantry, and made a massive mess and well shit everywhere. Incredible... so the highlight of the day was dashed by a tiny creature. I guess the highlight was the graduation, the weather was breezy and cool with clouds that rolled through, but no rain until the afternoon.

[l1nghuarchive]

RED HUE | AKITO X GN!READER

request. [@akiitos] hihi............. winks ok can i req that prompt of urs thats like "one kiss is never enough" with akito shinonome 😁😁😁😁😁 like fluff plspls and thank yijjyoyoyoy

prompt. Number three

"One kiss is never enough"

prompt list. 100 followers event!!

warnings. Fluff, ermmm can't think of anything else ngl or probs ooc akito?

word count. 701

notes. Hello~! Tysm for the req, this took a while because I'm brain dead but i hope this is to your liking! Enjoy ^0^!

Weekends are always the best especially if you get to hangout with your boyfriend who tends to overwork himself in practise just so he can catch up with his unit.

Weekends are always the best aren't they? No school, no homework nor anyone being able to disturb you. You sighed as you laid your head on Akito's shoulder both of you were at his house as Ena was out shopping with Mizuki, despite him usually having practices with Toya and the others today was cancelled when An said she couldn't make it since she had to help her father at the cafe of course you weren't complaining with the amount of time you spent in school and Akito with his training both of you rarely had moments to talk to each other face to face. Most of the conversation both of you had were through texts or hallways. Barely you or Akito could schedule a date where you could relax in each other's arms.

Silence filled the atmosphere but it wasn't awkward at all, both you and Akito enjoyed the atmosphere as both of you cuddled in silence. It was times like this that both of you could really relax and enjoy each other's affection, unknowingly a smile crept onto your face as you were about to doze off on Akito's shoulder you slightly jumped when your phone buzzed in your pocket hitting Akito's cheek in the process. You quickly apologised to him before looking at your phone in annoyance, why did it have to ruin such a perfect moment? You saw the notification and it was from your mother asking you to buy some groceries due to her having to take care of your younger siblings. You frowned before sighing as you turn off and looked at a rather confused Akito who was rubbing his now sore cheek in hopes to soothe the pain.

"My mom said I have to go and get some groceries since she is busy with my siblings…" You mumbled as you stood up from Akito's bed, you were rather disappointed that you couldn't spend the day with your boyfriend and though you would ignore your mother's request seeing her angry is the last thing you want… You saw that Akito was rather surprised when you got up to leave at the corner of your eye but before you could make your way towards the door you quickly backtrack to Akito, and quickly gave a kiss on his swollen cheek. "Sorry again for that…" You said while scratching your neck awkwardly, screaming in your head why did you have to hit his cheek of all places.

Though before you could walk away, Akito grabbed hold of your arm before crashing his lips onto yours before pulling away with a red hue clearly present on his face though perhaps it couldn't match how red face was compared to his. "One kiss from you is never enough, ya'know?" Akito said, a genuine smile present on his face of course after hearing his words your face exploded as you immediately ran out of the shinonome household shouting a goodbye to Akito and Ena after seeing she was in the living room presumably back from her hangout with Mizuki.

"Gee, good going Akito you scared your little lover away from our house."

Ena mumbled while staring at the television screen with a sigh, she really wondered how someone like Akito could have such an amazing person like you. Of course though she mumbled it under her breath, Akito heard her comment and there started the never ending quarrelling of the two shinonome siblings.

While the shinonome household was filled with arguing, you were outside holding your rather red cheeks with your hands as you tried to calm down both your beating heart and breath though you slightly smiled to yourself when you recalled how Akito genuinely smiled you knew about his fake personality with other people he doesn't know so seeing a genuine smile once in a while coming from him always somehow make you feel all happy perhaps its because seeing him being happy without faking it is somehow a big improvement? You weren't sure… Though as you recalled Akito's words after his smile, you quickly sped walk to the grocery store hoping to forget what had just happened even though you knew Akito would be teasing you at school.

All works belong to @astrididi do not steal nor copy!

[winarasidi]

When I Fell in Love with Cycling

I discovered my love for cycling when I met Dargo. At the time, he was just someone I knew, and I never imagined I would end up marrying him. Getting to know Dargo also meant getting to know cycling, a passion he had pursued regularly for several years before we got married. I began watching European cyclists glide beautifully through green mountains and snowy hills. Naturally, I was captivated and wondered if I could ever do something like that.

After we got married, I decided to share a hobby with Dargo and give cycling a try. I chose it for myself, not because my husband pressured me—Dargo has never forced me into anything.

On December 26, 2023, I bought a Twitter Cyclon Pro Disc R7000-22S bike in black and red. After discussing it with my husband, we decided this would be my first bike. The main factor was its affordability at the time, combined with its full carbon frame and Shimano 105 groupset. Despite one drawback—the bike was still a bit too large for me—it was the best option for us.

In early January 2024, I began my journey as an amateur cyclist. I started getting used to my new bike, beginning with my first 50 kilometers, then 70 kilometers, and eventually my first 100 kilometers. I still vividly remember my first 100 kilometers; I took the route from South Tangerang to Bogor, riding back and forth from home. Anjay rada gelo!

Eight months after buying my road bike, I decided to participate in a race in July 2024. I joined the Tour de Ambarukkmo in Yogyakarta in the regular category, covering 128 kilometers. Of course, with various adjustments to make the bike fit my body. It was an exhilarating experience, especially since I typically only cycled once a week on weekends. But I prepared as best as I could, training enough and learning to understand my body. In the end, I completed the Tour de Ambarukkmo. Though it was exhausting, I was filled with pride—a feeling of abundance.

Cycling, like running, is more than just a sport for me. These activities are my way of connecting with my body and the world around me. When I cycle or run, I focus on feeling my body, muscles, breath, and heartbeat. I learn to recognize pain and fatigue. I become fully aware of my body, knowing when to stop and when I can keep going. When cycling, I often clear my mind. I never listen to music while riding; instead, I prefer to hear the rhythm of my breath, the sounds around me, and the wind rushing against my body as I descend hills or climb slopes.

I can’t recall exactly when I fell in love with cycling, but I’ve come to realize that it has become one of my most meaningful routines. When I miss a ride, something feels off and different. Perhaps, at this point, cycling has become an essential part of who I am.

Tangerang, 23 Agustus 2024

[lestappenforever]

Wait a minute, I just realised I didn’t do anything post Spa related to the race, so (better be late than never) here’s (kinda) my Spa analysis one month later 😂 (also l, it won’t be super detailed, I’m just going off memory)

First up, Mercedes. The team as a whole could be split in two. One for the masterclass they pulled, with George only pitting once and his tyre deg (kudos to the mechanics for the set up which decreased his deg) and Lewis for the perfect strategy they executed perfectly during the race. Being able to pull a 1-2 with the likes of Charles, Oscar, Lando and Max behind is impressive tbh. But Mercedes, as a whole team, needs to be assessed. Simply because no Formula One team, and especially one from the top 5, should have a car disqualified twice in less than a year. They need to work on that, because this cost them a jump in constructors points with the 1-2 and tbh, it could cost the drivers faith in their team, because very tiny errors that are fatal to the rules and laws put for a clear and fair competition between drivers.

Ferrari played it good. Finally getting the set up right, especially during quali in the rain and the masterclass pulled by Charles to get p2 in quali and start on pole. Yet again the car is just not 100% during the race, the fact that Lewis at the beginning of the race and oscar were able to pull away from Charles is just not something that should be occurring a lot and should not be overlooked tbh. Carlos was okay, but for him, the competition was not on the top spots, so his was a bit less harsh than Charles’

McLaren were meh tbh. Very underwhelming in a track that, like every other track, they should excel in. First, Strategy was not the best and so far during the season, their strategy was a pain point for them (not that I’m complaining personally) and Lando’s starts need to be improved drastically because all he’s done since the beginning of the season in presumably one of his best seasons thus far in Formula One, is lose places or stay as by the end of lap 1. Oscar was pretty good tbh, but not that amazing, because again, that McLaren is currently the best car on the grid.

Finally Red Bull. Checo was underwhelming to say the least. He had a magnificent qualifying the day before, snagging p2 before Charles just got it from him, starting on the front row which has not happened in a while, but he was supposed to be helping his team mate who started p11. His start was so bad, being unable to overtake Charles at the start, and then continuing to loose places till the end of the race, he’s lucky the team decided not to have a mid season driver swap, but I have a feeling his contract (despite renewed) could be terminated soon after the season ends and he’s replaced. As for Max, in a car that isn’t the fastest, a track that is known to be easy for overtaking but as Oscar said, clean air is such a huge factor, beging stuck in a drs train in dirty air, finishing 4th and ahead of Lando while starting p11 in a car that’s not great, I wouldn’t just call this damage limitation, I’d call it he’s the best fucking driver on that damn grid. Not everyone would be able to keep the fastest car on the grid with a really talented driver in it in a track with easier overtaking behind for a lot of laps, and finishing 4th from 11th is something beyond amazing, he made up a shit ton of places, and was able to snag important points.

So yeah, that’s me on a month-old race, hopefully Zandvooft is good (especially for Max who this not just his home for this weekend, but also his 200th gp venue) and we finally hear the Dutch National Anthem twice on Sunday, because I genuinely miss it

Just going to leave this in all its glory, even if it is about a race that took place a month ago.