#BLACK AND BLUE ; WE ALWAYS SEEM TO HURT ONE ANOTHER (ooc)

[lv-bites]

    Assuming a character is the standard Sonic height, Tough at sitting/standing height is 6 feet.

    But overall.... from head to tail tip....

    12 feet of SNAKE he's gotten longer since his reference image LOL. He is also physically just pretty big, so there's that, too. I still need to calculate how heavy he is.

    I decided to make him the same weight (give or take) as Vector, who is apparently 440 lbs (he is a crocodile). The giant anaconda can weigh up to 550 lbs... Usually because they're like 30ft long, but in Tough's case, he is VERY dense. I think maybe... 480 lbs should suffice? I'm sorry to every character he decided to put his entire weight on.

[https-milo]

Family Man

Summary: Dabi meets the love of his life and leaves the LoV to care for her and their new baby

m. list / inspired by this post of mine B)

TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF • no one is dead >:( • OOC Dabi, sue me!

Being a parent was always something I dreamed about. When I was little, I used to imagine meeting the man of my dreams and starting a family with him as soon as possible. But with every failed relationship I seemed to have, my hopes that would happen diminished. I was walking home from the hospital I work at when I stumbled across a man with a long black coat and a scarred face. He had black hair and piercings and it looked like his scars had staples where they met the non-scarred skin. He was hunched over and clutching his stomach. I wearily approached him.

"Are you okay?" I asked hesitantly. The sound of my voice made his head shoot up, he looked my straight in my eyes. My [eye color] eyes met his icy blue ones.

"Obviously not," He replied through gritted teeth.

"I can help you, the hospital isn't too far-" he cut me off.

"I can't go to the hospital," He said.

"Why not?" I asked

"Just help me out and maybe I'll tell you afterward," He answered. I nodded and walked over to him.

"Here, I can help you walk. I'll take you to my house, it's not that far from here," I said with a smile. The man rolled his eyes at me and supported himself using my shoulder. We stumbled up a few blocks to my apartment building. It was a cheap place and looked run down, but the quality wasn't horrible. I couldn't complain.

"What happened?" I asked. We were now in my apartment and I had the stranger sitting on one of my kitchen chairs.

"I got stabbed. The fucker got me good too," the man replied.

"Can you uh... Take your shirt off?" I asked. The man smirked a bit at my awkwardness.

"Sure," He replied. He took off his jacket and shirt tauntingly slow. He never gave up eye contact either. He was well built and muscular. He had scars on his stomach that matched his face. A weird part of me found it attractive. But I quickly shook that thought and began working. I looked at the wound and my quirk told me everything I need to know.

My quirk was basically an X-ray without all the machines, and it gave me a description of the wound with what caused it. "You're lucky, if you were stabbed one inch to the right, it would've hit your intestines," I explained.

"How do you know? You haven't even touched me," he asked.

I hummed, "My quirk. Wasn't fit to be a pro, so I became a doctor." I walked away to grab a needle and thread to stitch him. "What's your deal? Are you in a gang or something?"

He hesitated, "You could say that."

I nodded, "Ah ok. At least you weren't some random civilian that got stabbed then."

"What? You think I deserved to be stabbed?" He asked.

"That's not what I meant. No one 'deserves' to be stabbed. I'm just saying crime has been on the rise and I'd hate it if someone defenseless got stabbed. But since you're in a sorta-gang or whatever, then you can handle yourself," I explained.

He scoffed, "Whatever. I kill people, you know. I could kill you right now."

I shrugged, "Doesn't matter. My job is helping the sick and injured, not persecuting them. And done. There, all stitched up and not bleeding."

"What already?" He asked. "I didn't even feel you start."

"Just another part of my quirk. When someone who's hurt talks to me, it gives the same effect painkillers would. Pretty nifty, huh?" I explained. "I'm Y/N by the way. If you're ever injured again, you can stop by. I usually get off work around 10 PM and go in at 8 AM."

"Dabi. I'll keep you to that offer," He simply said before putting his clothes back on and leaving.

"Take care, be safe," I said as I closed the door.

The second time I saw him it was midnight and there were loud knocks at my door. Hurriedly, I rushed to the door and opened it. Dabi was there with a teenage girl in his arms. "I didn't know where else to go," he said. "Please."

"Don't just stand there! Put her on the counter!" I instructed. I pushed everything that was on my counter to the floor to make room for the girl. Dabi gently placed her down and I scanned her body. She had 2 stab wounds on her lower stomach and large lacerations on her arms and legs. "Who did this? What happened? Try waking her up, I need her to speak to me so she doesn't feel any pain."

"We were trying to get more recruits for our group. Apparently we messed with the wrong gang. They went crazy and started attacking us," Dabi explained. He tapped the girls face and gently woke her up.

"Where are we?" She asked.

"Hi, I'm Y/n and I'm going to help you out, okay? Can you tell me about yourself?" I was cleaning the cuts on her arm first. I couldn't start stitching the stab wounds until she was awake and speaking to me.

"My name is Himiko Toga. It's nice to meet you," she answered. I wrapped her arm with bandages and moved to her legs.

"Hi, sweetie. How old are you?" I asked. She was starting to get more awake and that's all I needed.

"I'm 16, how old are you?"

"I'm 22, do you feel any pain?"

She looked at her bloodied badge wildly, "No-no but I'm sure I should? I'm bleeding!"

"Don't worry, it's just my quirk. You're gonna be okay. Dabi, can you dress this real quick? I want to stitch her quickly before she loses too much blood," I asked.

Dabi nodded and grabbed the bandages from my hand. He wrapped her leg wounds as I started to stitch the first stab wound on her stomach. "I need you to keep talking to me, okay? It can be anything, just keep talking," I said. Himiko nodded.

"Well I saw this really cute kitten! It was adorable! It was so small. It was gray with brown spots! I'm gushing just thinking about it! While me and patchwork were on our mission, one of the gang members looked soooo cute! Her hair was really pretty. Almost as pretty as yours! You're really pretty, by the way. I bet you'd look even cuter if you bled a little!~"

"Done! And thank you for the compliments, but I'm not really a big fan of bleeding. Would you like a change of clothes? I can grab something of mine real quick," I offered. Himiko nodded and sat up. I left the room and went to my closet. I tried taking her clothes into account for what she'd like. I settled for a white skirt and pink cardigan with a white undershirt. Just as I was about to walk back into my kitchen, I heard the two talking.

"She's super pretty, and nice! You should totallyyy try getting with her~," Himiko said.

Dabi scoffed, "As if she'd like someone like me. Incase you forgot, we kill people for a living. She saves them. As pretty and nice as she is, no one can look past that fact."

"Ooo so you totally would if the circumstances were different!!"

Dabi shrugged, "Who wouldn't?"

I walk over to them and hand Himiko the clothes. "Here you go, hon. You can go change in my bathroom, it's the first door down the hallway." Himiko nodded and walked to my bathroom to change. I turned to face Dabi. "You okay? Any wounds?"

He shrugged, "None that are too deep."

"I can dress them if you want. I'd rather they didn't get infected," I said. He rolled his eyes but didn't stop me from pushing him into a chair. He had some scratches on his face I hadn't noticed before, along with surface-level gashes on his arm.

"Why do you even care?" He asked. I was cleaning the blood from his cheek. Our faces were only centimeters apart. I looked into his eyes and blushed wildly.

"Everyone deserves to have someone who cares. I'm here to take care of you whenever you need me," I replied kindly. He scoffed.

"I don't deserve this," He said.

"Why not?"

He hesitated, feelings were something he obviously wasn't good with. "You're too nice. And I'm... me."

"I'm not 'too nice'," I replied. "I just... do what I can. Everyone deserves someone in their corner. And, even if I don't support what you do, I'm here for you and whoever else needs my help."

I was done bandaging him and Himiko came out of the bathroom. "I'm ready! Do I look cute?~"

"The cutest girl in the whole world," I replied happily.

"Thank you!" Himiko replied. She jumped into my arms and squeezed me. "Can I have your number? I need more girls in my life."

"Sure, do you have your phone?" I asked.

"Yep! Right here!" She pulled her phone out and handed it to me. I put my contact in and handed it back.

"Feel free to come over whenever. You don't need to be injured to hang out," I said to Himiko. I turned to Dabi, "That goes to you too."

He scoffed, "Yeah, whatever. C'mon, crazy."

He and Himiko left my house. "Take care, be safe," I said to them as I closed the door.

I was walking to my apartment when I saw Dabi standing outside my door. It had been 2 months since we first met. In those two months, he was consistently coming over. I noticed with each time he was less hurt. "Dabi? What's up? You okay?" I doted. I scanned over his body and saw no injuries.

He sighed, "I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm just... I don't know. I can leave if you want."

"What? No, of course not. Come in," I replied. I unlocked my door and let him in. "I was just about to make some dinner."

"What're you gonna make?" He asked.

I rubbed my neck sheepishly, "I was going to make some ramen. Sorry, if I knew you were coming, I would've prepared something."

He just shrugged, "You work long shifts, I don't mind. As long as I'm with you."

I flushed. "You don't mean that."

"Why wouldn't I?" Dabi asked. "You... you're good to be around. I don't know... You... You're safe."

I smiled brightly, "Well, I enjoy being around you too." I finished our ramen bowls and brought them to the living room. I placed the two bowls on the coffee table. I sat down and Dabi sat beside me. Even though the couch was medium-sized and there was way more room, we were shoulder to shoulder. I handed him the remote. "Put on whatever you want."

He nodded and put on a random horror movie. "So, what'd you do today?" He asked.

"Hmm. Well, I went home early because we were double-staffed so they sent me home. Which is so stupid? Like I literally have the x-ray and painkillers built into me. And, get this, my replacement was some girl whose quirk is growing hair. Not to quirk shame, but c'mon!" I complained. "I'm not too shocked though, my manager hates me. We used to have a fling but I broke up with him because he cheated on me. And he's not over me?! Ugh, boys are so stupid. No offense."

Dabi hummed in acknowledgment, "Sounds rough."

I sighed, "Yeah. But it's ok. You're here now. What did you do today?"

"Normal league things. I got into an argument with our leader. I couldn't stand being with him. I wasn't sure where else to go, so I came here," Dabi explained.

"You're always welcome here, you know," I said.

He hesitated. "Yeah. I know."

I don't remember falling asleep, but I woke up with my head on Dabi's shoulder and his head on mine. I blushed wildly. I lightly pushed him off of me and let him lay down fully on the couch. I grabbed a blanket and draped it over him. It was 7 am and I had to work in an hour, so I decided to make a small breakfast. I got instant pancake mix and made a couple pancakes for Dabi when he woke up. I made a few extra on a separate plate for Himiko if he saw her today. I wrote a note for him.

We fell asleep watching the movie last night whoops :,) I made you some pancakes and there should be a few extra for Himiko if you see her today (but if youre extra hungry, feel free to eat them all!! I didn't tell her about them ;) ) visit me again sometime? I enjoyed your company <3

- Y/N

Dabi has been visiting me everyday for the past two weeks. He always came around 11 PM and stayed until 2 AM. Usually, though, we'd fall asleep on the couch. It was weirdly domestic. Whenever I heard his knock at my door, a feeling of unbeatable happiness overcame me. When he walked in, it felt different. I wasn't sure how or why, but something wasn't right.

"What's wrong?" I asked. I did a scan and he had no injuries, which made me even more confused.

"My boss wants to know who I keep sneaking off to see," Dabi said. He rubbed his neck. "He wants to meet you. Everyone does."

"Oh, ok. That's fine. Um they're not gonna like... Hurt me right?"

Dabi's eyes widened. "No. And if they try anything, I have you."

I sighed, "Okay. So like... Right now... Orrrrrr?"

He nodded, "Right now preferably."

"Ok, let me just change out of my pajamas," I said. He nodded and sat on my couch. He made himself at home as he always did. I put on sweatpants and a T-shirt. It wasn't too cold outside so I wasn't worried. I put on my sneakers and walked over to Dabi. "Ready?" He nodded and we left my apartment.

It was a 10 minute walk to his base. In that time he was growing more and more anxious. We were just outside the entrance when I stopped him. "Are you okay? Like seriously, what's up?" I placed my hands on his arms to stop him from moving.

"It's nothing. It's stupid," He said.

"it's not stupid if it's affecting you," I replied.

He sighed. "It's just... God this is pathetic... I just don't want you to like them more... than... you... like... me..." He hesitated on his words as he went on.

I giggled but hid it behind one of my hands. "You're jealous! That's so cute."

He scoffed, "Yeah, yeah. Adorable." He refused to meet my eyes. But I grabbed his face and gently tilted it down to look at me.

"You don't have to worry. I'm not gonna leave you," I said. His eyes lightened and he sighed.

"Whatever. Let's just meet them," He replied. I nodded and he grabbed my hand to lead me inside. Immediately, Himiko jumped in my arms.

"Y/n-channnn!~" She cheered as she spun us around.

"Himi-chan!" I greeted back. "How are you?"

"I'm good! Did you get the cat picture I sent you?" She asked.

"Yes! He was so cute! Did you see the makeup look I sent you?"

"Yesss!! You looked so cute! I loved the red, it almost looked like blood!~"

"I knew you'd like it! That's why I did it!" I giggled. The two of us were holding hands and excitedly talking. Unbeknownst to me, Dabi was talking with a guy with light blue hair; their boss.

"This is the girl you've been meeting?" He asked.

"Yeah. She's something, isn't she?" He had a faint, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. Shigaraki cleared his throat and I turned my attention to him. I forgot about everyone else I was meeting, I was just really happy to see Himiko.

"I'm so sorry! It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Y/n L/n," I introduced. I extended a hand out to their boss, but Dabi pushed it down. I spared him a confused glance before looking back at the boss.

"Shigaraki. Dabi has told us a lot about you," He said.

"All good things, I hope?" I joked lightly. Shigaraki just hummed. I turned to the rest of the League. They were all in their villain outfits. One of them had a full body suit on with the mask being half grey and half black. One of them wore a full suit; the button-up was orange-red and he had a top hat with a mask on. Another was a lizard with purple hair and a red torn up scarf, something that obviously drew inspiration from Stain: The Hero Killer. And the final man was... made of gas? He was purple and black and sort of looked like a weird cloud.

"it's nice to meet you guys as well," I said with a wave. The man in the body suit approached me, and looked me up and down before jumping excitedly.

"Oh it's gonna be so fun to have someone new around!" He said. Then his personality completely shifted. "No it won't. Yes it will. No. Yes."

I just kinda stared at him awkwardly. I looked to Dabi for some help and he pulled me away from him. "That's Twice," he introduced. "He's a little crazy." I nodded.

"No problem! I was just a little concerned," I replied. The lizard man grabbed my attention.

"I'm Spinner. Hey, do you happen to know who the Hero Killer is?"

"I know of him, yeah," I shrugged.

"Do you agree with him?" Spinner asked.

"Well, I think there are a lot of fake heroes but like I don't think anyone deserves to die. I see a lot of people close to death with my job, and each time it doesn't get any easier," I answered.

"You do know who you're talking to right?" The top hat wearing one asked.

"Yeah, you know we kill people, right?" Shigaraki asked.

"Yeah I know. I don't support it. But, my job isn't persecuting criminals; it's helping people. So, even if I could never do what you guys do, I don't hate you or think lowly of you," I explained.

Shigaraki approached me, he placed four fingers on my shoulder and Dabi tensed. "What are you doing?" He asked.

Shigaraki smirked, "What makes you trust us? We could kill you right now."

I showed no fear. I looked him in his eyes. His red ones met my own. "I don't trust you. Nothing is stopping you from killing me. But... I don't think Dabi would walk me into a situation he knew I wouldn't leave from. I trust him and Himiko."

Shigaraki scoffed, his grip on my shoulder tightened. His index finger, which he was keeping off my shoulder, was inching closer and closer slowly. It was as if he wanted a reaction from me or someone else. I was about to say something when Dabi shoved him away from me.

"Quit it, will you?" He said gruffly, clearly annoyed. "You're lucky I even dragged her here to meet your ugly ass."

"Going soft, Dabi?" Shigaraki asked. Dabi didn't answer. He just grabbed my hand and we walked back to my apartment. His hand never left mine.

When we got home and the door was shut, he looked me up and down - as if trying to find an injury. I recognized the habit as one of my own whenever he was at my door. "Hey I'm okay," I reassured.

"The... The reason they wanted to meet you was because I've been talking about you. A lot," he said with a sigh as he lazed about on my couch. I joined him and sat curled up on his chest. These past few months have been the best of my life. He, despite being a serial killer, was safe.

"And what do you tell them?" I ask.

"I tell them I want to be with you," he admits. I could tell it wasn't easy as he hesitated on his words and his heartbeat quickened. I looked up at him.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah. It's not going to be... easy liking me and I get it if you don't like me like that. Except, I might have to kill you cause this is too embarrassing to not kill over." Now, normally if a mass murderer says something like this, I'd be concerned. But Dabi said it in a light way. There may have been some truth but I don't think he'd ever kill me... Right?

"Nothing is ever easy. I thought you were cute the minute I saw you shirtless in my kitchen," I joked. "I like you too, Dabi."

He hesitated greatly at my words. "...Touya. My name is Touya."

My eyes widened, "Woah wait what? Dabi isn't your real name?"

He looked at me quizzically. "No?? What kind of name is Dabi for a baby??"

"I don't know! I thought your parents hated you or something!"

"I mean, you could say that. My old man is a piece of shit to put it lightly. I was sick of the way things were going so I... Faked my death and became a villain."

"I'm sorry, Touya. I can't imagine," I said gently. I sat up from his chest and made him look at me. There was something so cute about him, about us. He closed his eyes and placed a hand on the back of my neck, pushing my face closer to his. I closed my eyes as well and our lips connected halfway.

In that moment, we were eternal. Nothing else mattered. The cars that sped down the street and the dogs that barked, all those noises were drowned out simply by the feeling of being so close to someone else. His hands traveled to my waist and he pulled me into his lap. My hand moved from his face to his shoulder to support myself. We disconnected our lips from each other after a minute, taking deep breaths and admiring the other.

"Maybe I am going soft," He mumbles. I didn't hear him though. I was already passed out sitting in his lap.

Two months into dating and Touya practically lives with me. Some of his clothes were in my closet and drawers, I had his favorite foods constantly stocked in my cabinets and fridge, and he even had his own toothbrush in my bathroom. We were sitting on my couch when I got a call from my sister, I looked puzzled and paused our show.

"[Sisters name]? What's up?" I asked. Dabi was about to ask me something but I held a finger up. He scoffed, crossed his arms, and pushed me away dramatically. "You want me to watch your kid..? Um yeah sure! Drop him off at my house." She hung up quickly after the confirmation.

"Who was that?" Dabi asked.

"My sister. We haven't spoken in 2 years and suddenly she has a kid and wants me to babysit? Ugh," I groaned.

He just hummed. "Do you think she's gonna freak out when she sees my face?"

"considering the fact it's on wanted posters; probably," I loving tap his cheek and he rolls his eyes. I was about to move off the couch but he grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

"Do you want kids?" He asked. It was the question I was both dreading and incredibly excited for.

"I would like some, yes. But with work and everything I don't know if I'd be able to," I replied.

"What? Like it's a one person job?" He teased.

I rolled my eyes. "With the people I used to date, I knew it would've been. How about you, Mr. Murder?"

"I used to think starting a family would be out of the picture for me but I don't know if that's the case anymore," he replied simply. He said it so casually I thought I was reading too deep into things.

"Y-you want to to have a family with me?" I asked.

He shrugged, "I don't know who else I'd rather have one with. Besides, we'd make cute babies."

My sister arrived with my nephew. It was our first time meeting and I'm sure it was likely going to be the last. I brought Kam to the living room and introduced him to Touya.

"Kam, this is Touya. Touya, this is Kam," I said.

"Are those real?" Kam asked, pointing at Touya's face.

"My scars?" Touya asked. Kam nodded. "Yeah, bud. They're real. I got into a really bad accident when I was younger. They don't scare you, do they?"

Kam shook his head immediately. "No! They look super cool!"

Touya smiled. "Yeah?"

"Mhm!" Kam replied with an innocent smile on his face. Touya looked at me with a soft smile of his own. He had a look in his eyes as he played and talked to Kam. It was nothing I'd seen before. His eyes were full of fatherly love.

It was around 5 when the three of us were curled up on the couch. My head rested on Touya's chest and Kam sat on Touya's lap. He had protective arms wrapped around us. Kam was already sleeping and I was about to lull off myself, but then Touya started speaking.

"We should have one," He said. "These couple hours have been better than I could've imagined."

"You know it isn't going to be all sunshine and rainbows, right? If we have one it's gonna be a newborn and it'll cry all the time," I replied.

"Do you not want one?"

"I do. I really do. But, I don't want to force you into a commitment you're not ready for. Kids are a handful."

"I know. But... My life has been totally different these past months and it's because of you. Fuck, princess, I don't know what kind of drug you are but I'm addicted. You make me want to be a better person. But I know even if I wasn't, you'd still be there. You're the best damn thing in my life."

"Look at you getting all sappy on me," I teased.

"Forget it then," He scoffed. I rolled my eyes and moved off his chest to look at him in his eyes. I placed a hand on his cheek and and kiss him.

"I'm only teasing. You're the best thing in my life too. Before I met you, I was just in a constant loop. My days would feel the same and my life didn't feel worth it. Even if you're a crazy murderer, you're my crazy murderer."

He sarcastically smiled and rolled his eyes. "I think I'm the more sane one in this relationship."

"Only because I got you started on meds," I shrugged. "If you're serious, we can have a baby."

"Of course I'm serious. I just... Don't want to be like my dad."

"And you're not gonna. I'm not worried about that in the slightest. I can keep you in check."

"Yeah, I know you can, doll," He breathed out a sigh. He looked down at his lap as Kam shifted to get comfortable. His smile met his eyes as he leaned his head against mine.

I woke Touya up with an at-home pregnancy test in my hand. The two lines on it made me feel anxious. I was worried he wouldn't actually want to have a kid, that maybe he just said it to make me feel better. "Touya," I said as I shook him awake.

"Hm? I'm trying to sleep, princess," He groaned into his pillow. By this time, he was fully living in my apartment. I got new pillows and sheets, we painted the walls, and hung up photos of us together. It really felt like a home.

"You might want to wake up," I said. "Something happened."

He shot up almost immediately. He looked at me and scanned my body as if he had my quirk. Then his eyes fell onto my hands with the pregnancy test in their grasp. He looked at me shocked and then he grabbed the test. He saw the two lines and breathed deeply. "We're going to be parents?" He asked.

"Y-yeah," I choked. "I understand if you don't want me to have it... I know we talked about it a lot but I get it if you... want.. to.. leave..?" I looked down and refused to meet his eyes. He sighed.

"After all this time, you really think I'm going to leave you?" He asked. He grabbed my face and looked at me so sincerely. "We're gonna be parents, princess. I'll leave the league, I'll try seeing what I can do to become reformed, I want to be with you."

"You mean it?"

"Never wanted anything more in my life."

Touya came home from visiting the League with a bruise on his face. I rushed over to him immediately. "What happened?" I doted.

"They couldn't believe I was leaving. Me and Scratchy got into a fight," He smiled. "They want to see our baby when he's born and Crazy says you need to text her."

It had been three months since Touya started his reformation process. It wasn't easy. I was basically a glorified babysitter. He was put on meds that blocked his quirk, something I knew he hated. But he kept going for me. Today was finally the day we were going to see his siblings. His father, Endeavor, was someone he wanted nothing to do with. Even after all the therapy he went through, nothing could shake the hatred he felt. His natural hair was showing now, he stopped dying it black and it was now a bright white. I wore a simple light purple dress and Touya had black jeans and a dark purple button-up on.

"What if they don't like me?" I groaned as we walked to his house.

"I should be the one worrying about that. You're not a serial killer," Touya grumbled.

"Former serial killer," I chimed. He rolled his eyes. I looked up and we were on the Todoroki Family's doorstep. "Are you ready?"

He shrugged, "Only been a decade or so since I saw them."

I huff and knock on the door. A girl opens it, Fuyumi I assume. "Hi, I hope you were informed about our visit..." I asked worriedly. Touya was standing awkwardly at my side.

"No, I'm sorry. Who are you?" Fuyumi asked.

My heart dropped. "I'm your brother's girlfriend, and this is Touya." I introduced the two for him, I knew he wouldn't be able to. Fuyumi's eyes widened.

"Touya?" She gasped. She looked at his scarred face and blue eyes. A look of recognition flashed behind her own.

"Hey, Yumi," Touya replied. He acted casual, but I could tell it was eating him up inside. There was so much he wanted to say, but no words could describe.

"Does Dad know you're here?" she asked.

Touya tensed. "He knows we're here, but I refuse to see him." His sister hummed.

"Well, come in. Tell us where you've been!" She said kindly. She led the two of us in and sat us down at the table. "Nats! Sho! Come down here!"

Touya was growing more and more anxious. He couldn't stop the feeling of anxiety that crawled within him. I placed my hand in his and squeezed tightly, he gently sighed and took deep breaths. Natsuo and Shoto came down, they were expecting dinner and not their long-lost brother and his girlfriend, obviously.

"Who are they?" Shoto asked.

"Touya?" Natsuo said, amazed. Shoto looked at Touya shocked. Natsuo pushed past Fuyumi and Shoto and embraced Touya tightly. I smiled at the sight.

Touya and I sat at the table as he reconnected with his siblings. After the initial shock of seeing him wore off, they welcomed him with open arms. We still hadn't told them the "big news" so to speak.

"We didn't come here just to meet and catch up," Touya said. He glanced at me and I looked down slightly. "Are you two getting married?" Fuyumi asked. I blushed viciously. "N-no!" "Well?" Natsuo prompted. Touya looked at me and I nodded. "She's pregnant," Touya explained. All three of their eyes widened. Fuyumi immediately started doting on me and cheerfully checked over my body. Natsuo patted Touya on his back and Shoto was just stunned. "Oh my god! How far along are you?" Fuyumi asked. "14 weeks," I answered. "I hope you guys aren't too shocked." "Well, our brother comes back from the dead with a girlfriend and a baby on the way... I think we can be a little shocked," Natsuo said. I laughed a bit. "You're having a kid out of wedlock?" Shoto asked. "Yeah," Touya said as he rubbed his neck. "It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision." "At that exact moment sure, but we talked about it beforehand," I rolled my eyes. "Hey, I'm not complaining," He teased. I blushed and stuck my thumb down at him. Shoto made a fake throw-up noise and Natsuo looked away with a soft smile. Fuyumi shook her head.

"How are you going to tell Dad?" She asked. Touya shrugged, "Simple. We're not. He'll find out when he finds out but he won't hear it from either of us." Fuyumi just nodded. "I'm glad to have you back, Touya." "Me too!" Natsuo agreed. "It is nice," Shoto added. Touya just sheepishly rubbed his neck again, he clearly wasn't expecting so much support. "It's good to be back," Touya said.

Our baby woke up crying for the third time that night. It was now one full year since Touya started reforming. He went to all his mandatory meetings, took his meds, and went through extensive therapy. I was about to get up but my white-haired boyfriend stopped me. Even though he seemed annoyed, I could see the love in his eyes from just knowing our baby was alive and with us. He was happy because we had a family. "I'll get him, princess," He said. He pushed me back to lying down and pulled the blanket back over my body. I smiled at him and watched as he went over to the crib we set up in our room. He held our baby in his hands and cradled him tightly as he rocked him back to sleep. After a few minutes, our baby fell back asleep. Touya smiled and gently placed him back in the crib.

Touya crawled into bed with me and held me close. "Thank you," Touya whispered into my hair. "For what?" I asked, snuggling into him further. "Giving me something to live for," He replied.

BONUS!

© https-milo. please do not repost, steal, copy, or modify my works!

[pyxalicious]

My statement.

Hello everyone, I am PYX - some of you know me as Eve. I know that you have seen recent posts about me regarding some racist behavior amongst other accusations, and I am here to respond to that.

I am sorry I took a while to address these issues, but it was very out of the blue for me, and I didn’t think it was wise for me to respond immediately when I was in a state of shock.

First of all, regarding the racist allegations, I own up to what I said that time and I am terribly sorry for it. I didn’t think twice before sending it and wasn’t aware how I had put things across. I am sorry I have hurt and confused people in the process and I know no amount of justification can prove that coming across racist was not my intention. However, there was context behind the messages, and whilst I would love to provide screenshots, the server’s moderators have already removed the channel that this conversation happened in and I am unable to retrieve them.

Basically, another member had asked if she should take down her Black OC’s pfp (which was her tumblr pfp) because there seemed to be cancel culture amongst the Simblr community when they would find out that POC character’s creator is, in fact, White. Because I had a similar train of thought as her, I shared my two cents. I could have worded things a lot differently, and I still look back and regret this. After this happened, two of the moderators came forward to talk to me about it personally, and it made me understand how my words came across as offensive. I also had a conversation with Coloursul about this and yes, they provided screenshots about it, but I felt it was a very one-sided view of our conversation. (The blurred part is them talking about their mental health, and I am not trying to invalidate them because of it.)

I am keeping the conversation with the other two moderators private out of respect for them. Besides apologies being made, I have also promised that I would be more mindful moving forward; and I don’t really know what anyone else expects me to do after that, because obviously, words that have already afflicted the hurt cannot be taken back. I wish I never said those things, of course, but I did, and I can only promise to do better. Which I am still learning and trying to do.

Idobmm has never approached me about this matter besides her response in the server, and I understood that the mods, who have spoken to me, had urged her at one point to do so as well. I was under the impression that the mods have cleared things up with everyone regarding this issue and it had come to a close after our conversation.

Regarding my jealousy towards the friendship between Idobmm and Coloursul, I wasn’t sure why exactly anyone was under the impression that I was, and I could only think of one incident that probably set the tone for that statement. Earlier on in the server, before the above stated incident, I remembered that I was irked by Idobmm and Coloursul discussing about their OC’s relationship in detail and at length within the “main” chat of the server. As it was a main chat, I didn’t feel it was appropriate for them to do that as it breaks the flow of conversation between other members. I was nothing but supportive of their OC’s relationship with each other, but it didn’t seem tactful that they were doing it in a channel that wasn’t meant for discussing what they were, so I told them to take it up somewhere else.

I have tried to speak with Idobmm privately about this but she never replied - we both ended up deleting our messages in the server for the sake of others. I wasn’t aware of the misunderstanding that was created since my OC Yuni was in a “relationship” with Coloursul’s OC (Aleck) at that point in time. I would like to reiterate that I wasn’t jealous of anybody or anything, I made that statement simply because it was out of place for them to discuss their OCs in detail on a channel that was made for OOC chatting and banter.

As for the naming my CC after them, I have always named my CC after my friends, it was my own little way of honoring them and the impact they had in my life. In the server, I also shared my WIP actively with everyone and let them know that I was naming CC after them, since they were my most valued friends at that point in time. In fact, they have responded positively to it multiple times. In the screenshots provided, you can clearly see the dates and that it occurred before any CC with their names was published.

I wasn’t aware that they were uncomfortable and shouldn’t they have said something instead of cheering me on whilst I was doing that? Regarding the paywalling of the CC named after them, yes, they were blender files which was why I paywalled them - however, all of them also got the CC files sent to them. It didn’t cross my mind to take down the items named after them after everyone had fallen out. If you were offended by this, I apologize. I will make the blender items public as I don’t want any more issues to rise out of this - I will take them down if necessary.

Another thing that was being said was about how my friends “enabled” me. I want to let it be known that the “friends” they were talking about were the only ones who approached me and cleared things up with me privately, and educated me about what I have done. Is it enabling if they did that?

Idobmm and Coloursul have also both come forward about how I was being manipulative about their OOC friendship with each other and have perhaps provided screenshots of the last conversation I had with Coloursul before our friendship broke apart. I was hurt by the, then ongoing, situation and have let my emotions get the better of me. I am not sure if I should provide context, because what happened that led to the conversation was initially a private dispute between them and our mutual friend. I will only speak on this if my friend is comfortable about sharing this experience - otherwise, I will choose not to, out of respect for their privacy. However, I will say that what transpired to the entire friend group falling apart, was due to that matter, and it is not my place to comment on anything besides what they have accused me of. The fact that this issue only came up after my friend has decided to exit the community to take care of their own mental health seems deplorable to me of what the people - they once called friends - are doing.

Again, I am deeply sorry for what I said, and there is no excuse for racism. I am here to assure you that what I have said did not come with any intention of putting anybody down. Moving forward, I can only promise to do better. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

[cafeacademia]

Promises

Draco Malfoy x Reader (smut)

Summary: Draco reunites with his best friend after the war, but when they see each other again, unsaid feelings come to the surface.

Warnings: Some angst/sadness, talk of war, lots of fluff, oral (fem rec), sex.

Word count: Approx 3600

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves! I really loved writing this one and I hope it came out well. Please let me know if Draco is too OOC, but I love playing with his softer side, especially post war. Enjoy! 💖 NOTE: Paragraphs in italics are memories

Taglist is open!

Draco lay awake, only one thing seemed to play on his mind as he allowed it to wander. It was a painful memory, one that lingered and nearly every time he closed his eyes, he saw you looking back at him with tears in your eyes. That was the last memory of you he had. And it hurt him deeply to know he’d done that to you. Of all of the things he had done in his life, hurting you was the thing he deeply regretted.

Please don’t forget me and all of the things we did.

His fingers traced over the written words, scribbled onto the back of a photograph he had given you, though now it was in his hands.

Draco sighed as he read the words over again, gently turning the photo over in his hands to see the image of you both together. He could almost feel the joy shared between you in that moment, had it not been for the pain it reminded him of. The loss that he faced.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Draco tried hard to hold his emotions in, but slowly, he was unravelling. The smart suit, the well styled hair, not a piece out of place, but it was all a front and it quickly came crashing down when the tears fell, his hands running through his hair, clinging harshly to the ashen locks, his tie feeling almost suffocating and Draco pulled at it until it was loose enough.

How could he have thrown it all away to appease someone that didn’t care for him? At least not cared for in the way he wanted to be. The way you cared for him.

It had always been secret. It had been rainy free periods you spent secretly up in a small tower room, nestled away atop a winding staircase that was tucked behind the portrait of a lady gilded in gold at Draco’s side. It had been hours spent in class, secretly trying to cast glances at one another, hoping you’d get paired together in practical studies. It was those moments in class that you had spent your time standing close to Draco, acting as if you barely knew each other beyond being classmates.

It had been those moments that you had harboured a secret of your own. A secret of your feelings towards the ashen haired Slytherin boy. It was the little touches, his fingers brushing against your hand under the table in class, it was lingering looks shared between you and uncontrollable smiles that you just couldn’t seem to calm until you looked away from him.

It was the way your heart fluttered when Draco said your name, the way he called you love and put his arm around you in that teasing manner. And you had wished it was real. That when he did those things that it was genuine, but you knew you’d never have that with Draco, so you cherished the secret friendship you had with him instead.

“We can’t see each other again, it’s the only way to keep you safe, love.” Draco told you as he held your hands in his. His stomach lurched, chest tightening with guilt for what he was doing, but he knew if he didn’t push you away, you might be pulled into the side of the war he was trying so hard to keep you away from. “Please, just come with me Draco.” You plead, tears rolling down your cheeks as you urged him to stay with you. “Please?” “You know I can’t, sweetheart.” He shook his head, trying his best not to cry, because he knew if he let his tears out, he would give in and go with you and then you really could be in danger.

“Promise you’ll find me when this is over.” You whispered, looking up at him, your eyes meeting his and he struggled to hold your gaze, seeing the hurt you held in your eyes. “I promise, love.” Draco reassured you. Before he could turn away to leave, you threw yourself into his arms, your head resting against him as you cried, your fingers slipping something into his jacket pocket. “Goodbye sweetheart.” Were the last words he spoke to you, holding you tightly before he let go, his eyes catching yours before he turned away, his heart sinking ever deeper as he left you behind.

And it was later when he pulled out the photo of the two of you together, laughing and standing close together, that Draco realised you had probably known that moment would come, else you wouldn’t have had the photo prepared to give to him with the note scrawled onto the back.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Draco internally scolded himself for having not kept his promise. The war had ended a year ago and he had yet to come and find you. And what made it all the more difficult was that he knew exactly where you were.

Would you run into his arms when you saw him? Would you reject him? Tell him you didn’t want to be around him? Truth be told, Draco had tried to uphold his promise as soon as the war had ended, but when he found you, exactly where you had told him you would be when all of this was over, Draco couldn’t quite bring himself to step back into your life.

What if you were happy without him? Granted, all you had ever been was friends, but Draco certainly couldn’t deny that maybe there was something else there too and he knew he’d never really know until he came back to you.

Sighing, Draco placed the little photo down on his nightstand and propped it up against a candle holder as his thoughts of you lingered in his mind.

Closing up shop for the day, you stepped out of the front door of your store giving Fred and George a little wave as they saw off the last of their customers. You counted yourself lucky to be able to even open your shop in Diagon Alley and even luckier to be receiving good custom and be opposite two friendly faces.

Having a rummage in your bag, you pulled out the keys, locked up your shop and took a few steps along the side of the building until you reached the entrance to the staircase that led up to your apartment above the shop. Walking up the steps, you turned and let yourself into the apartment. It wasn’t long before you had gotten yourself settled and comfortable with a warm drink and a good hearty fire started in your little wood burner.

You were lost in your evening routine when a knock at the door caught your attention and you frowned, setting your mug down on the coffee table as you got up. You hadn’t been expecting company, but you assumed that perhaps one of the Weasley twins needed something, the three of you often dropping by to borrow something or for a quick chat and a cup of tea.

But when you pulled the front door open to see your ashen haired boy, Draco Malfoy on your doorstep, you thought for a moment that you might be dreaming, because in truth, you had dreamed of this happening, of him arriving one day out of the blue and you almost didn’t believe it was real.

“Draco?” You whispered his name and he looked sheepishly at you, afraid of your reaction. You looked him over, a little stunned for a moment as he stood in your doorway. With his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, a wool jumper thrown over his button up shirt and a long black woollen coat over the top, he looked a bit more casual than when you had last seen him with slightly messy hair from the wind out in the street, cheeks a little flushed and you had to admit, it definitely suited him well.

“Hi love, is it okay that I’m here? I can go if-.” “Please don’t leave.” It came out barely above a whisper, your voice failing you as you stood under his gaze. It was a feeling you hadn’t realised you had missed, the way you felt under his eyes and despite his often brash, harsh demeanor, there was something so tender and gentle about him.

Swallowing harshly, you finally mustered up the courage to step aside and let him in, Draco slowly taking a step over the threshold and for the first time in over a year, you stood close to him again. You could feel his warmth, the edge of his coat brushing gently against you as he looked you over, soft blue eyes taking you in and he seemed to relax slightly in your presence.

There was a lingering silence and while his company was welcome and warm, the weight of all of the unspoken things you had longed to tell him almost had you bursting at the seams. You had no idea where to start, what to even say first and for a moment, Draco watched you as thoughts and emotions came to you, your eyes glistening as the swell of tears rose, your lower lip wobbling slightly as you struggled to find the words to say to him.

“Sweetheart,” He paused, about to tell you he wouldn’t stay long if his visit was causing you hurt, but before he could continue, hot, heavy tears escaped you, rolling down your cheeks and he didn’t spare a moment before tugging you into his embrace, bringing you the comfort he knew you had been reaching for, but hadn’t had the courage to take.

“I’m here, I’ve got you.” Draco’s voice was softer than you remembered, the years of pain and stress he had endured, forced to play as Voldemort’s pawn and the pressure from his family had obviously played into the boy you remembered at school, though with you he had always been gentler and kinder and while back then it had seemed uncharacteristic, now it felt natural to see him that way, Draco slowly allowing himself to be comfortable with his true nature.

“I knew you’d find me.” You sobbed against his coat, Draco’s tears falling as he almost curled over you, holding you so close, so tightly, afraid to let go of you. “I promised I would, love.” He reminded you, speaking softly against your hair as his hand gently soothed up your back to cradle your head against him. You breathed in deeply, tears slowing as his scent filled your senses, calming you a little, the gentle beat of his heart lulling you into a state of calm.

“I missed you so much.” His voice shook as he spoke, finally being able to let out everything he had held in for months of being away from you. As you whispered the words back to him, you clung to Draco, afraid to let go of him as he stood in the middle of your living room and that strange, hazy feeling of disbelief washed over you, making you feel like you might be dreaming, but every time Draco tightened his embrace or moved a little bit, it reminded you that it was very much real.

You stayed that way for a while, neither of you making moves to let go and by the time you finally parted from him, just enough to look up at the Slytherin, you had no idea how long you had been there for, holding each other, but you knew from a quick glance at the window that it had been a while as now it was dark and rain began to patter gently against the old, single paned wobbly glass windows.

Reaching up, your touch tentative as you slowly soothed your fingers over his cheek, Draco’s eyes softening as he allowed you, almost leaning into you as you took a moment to really take him in. He looked tired, but there was a vibrancy in his eyes, one you hadn’t seen in a long time and if you were to ask him, you were sure he’d tell you what he used to say when you were both at Hogwarts. “It’s because you’re here.” He’d say in a teasing manner. But maybe it really was the reason.

His jaw was lined with short, day old stubble, though it was still quite soft under your touch. Your fingers reached up, gently brushing at the hair above his ear, the pale whitened hair having grown out a little bit and to be honest, the softer, casual look suited him. Draco hummed quietly, almost involuntarily as his eyes closed at the feeling of you running your fingers through his hair, tucking some of it behind his ear.

And when he opened his eyes again, gazing down at you with a look in his eyes that brought back memories, times that felt so long ago, when they had only been a couple of years ago.

“Come here,” He laughed, reaching forwards and winding his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him before he gently took your hand in his. “May I have this dance?” He asked, bowing to you, his grin widening as you giggled in delight. “You may.” You replied, giving him a playful little curtsy before he lifted your arm so you could do a little twirl.

Draco looked at you with such a loving look in his eyes and your heart paced quickly in your chest, butterflies fluttering through you as you twirled for him. You turned to face him, your hands coming up to his chest to stop yourself in your movements, but you quickly pulled away. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off you, all night he had wanted to dance with you at the ball, all night he had wanted to see you twirl in your beautiful dress and watch the way you looked up at him with that lovely gleam in your eye. He just hoped no one noticed you were both missing from the hall, having snuck you off up to your secret little tower room so he could give you the dance he wished he had been able to give you down in the hall.

The way he looked at you, the way he tugged you close and held you as if you were something truly precious made you think that Draco might kiss you, and it was at that moment that you began to realise that you were falling in love with your best friend.

Draco wished things had remained that way.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He broke the silence, the way he almost sobbed the words out broke your heart. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I left you, I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Draco teared up, the lump in his throat tightening as he reached up to brush his fingers against the back of your hand that rested on his cheek, gently holding it in both of his hands.

“It’s alright, it’s over and you’re here now, that’s all that matters Draco.” You whispered softly to him, letting him hold your hands in his and the Slytherin smiled softly at you, his shoulders relaxing a little as he took your words in. You wanted to reach up, lean into him and kiss him. You wanted to kiss Draco and show him how much he meant to you, how much you had missed him, how much you loved him, but you were scared. He’d only just come back, what if all he was looking for was his best friend and nothing more? What if he’d already moved on in the year after the war?

And while you were too shy to do it, too shy to finally admit how you felt after all of those years, Draco noticed. He noticed you deep in thought, love swirling deep in your eyes whenever you caught his gaze, the way his smile seemed to make you act all flustered and how his touch, intimate and gentle was making you lean into him.

And just like that evening of the Yule Ball, Draco pulled you close. He pulled you against his chest, your hands coming up to rest against him and before your shyness could take over and have you pull away, Draco leaned in, his lips brushing gently against yours, his eyes sliding shut as he listened to your surprised, little gasp, though you made no moves to stop him, only leaning closer into him.

Draco kissed you, his lips soft against yours as he embraced you gently, his hands resting at your lower back. Your kiss was timid at first, but as you relaxed into him, the reality of what was happening sinking in, you slowly deepened the kiss. He hummed when he felt your touch trail over his shoulders and comb through his hair until your hands met at the back of his neck, pulling yourself flush against his chest.

It was warm, Draco was warm and your stomach fluttered with butterflies, accompanied with something you could only describe as a gentle warmth that blossomed in your heart. Draco felt himself relax further, kissing you with a passionate intensity, but still so gentle and tender. Draco knew now as he kissed you, that you always had been the love of his life. He’d never find another person that knew and loved him as deeply as you did.

As you parted, Draco resting his forehead against yours, he relished in the feeling of warmth and love he shared with you. The soft crackle of the little wood burner was the only sound between the two of you, aside from your soft breaths and the sound of Draco slowly sliding his coat off his shoulders, draping it carefully over your armchair. You opened your eyes to meet his, the soft, warm glow of the fire was the only thing lighting the room as the evening drew in, but all of your focus was on Draco and all of his on you.

“Can we stay like this? Just me and you?” You asked softly, not wanting to disturb the peace the two of you had created. “I’d love nothing more.” Draco replied, embracing you against him as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours.

You leaned into him, whimpering softly as Draco pressed you up against the wall, his hands wandering as he kissed you breathless. “Make me yours, Draco.” You whispered against his lips, Draco’s grip on your waist tightened at your words.

His kisses trailed down from your lips, fluttering over your neck and you gasped softly as he gently worked you up. Pulling you into his arms, Draco picked you up, laying you down on the sofa before slowly teasing you, his hands tugging at your top. He was gentle, just as gentle as you imagined as he undressed you, pulling your shirt away and carefully removing your bra, Draco looking down at you in awe as he took you in. You looked beautiful beneath him, exposed with that sweet, flustered look on your features, eyes full of adoration as you looked up at the man above you as he undressed himself.

It was hazy and warm and so loving as he took you, his gentle movements bringing you so much pleasure. His hot breath against your tender skin elicited a soft moan from you, fingers working you in soft motions as he played with you. The way he looked up at you as he pleasured you, drawing circles around your sensitive bud, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle passion melted you, your eyes rolling back as he pulled moans and soft gasps from you over and over again, his name falling from your lips as he worked you.

Sliding his hardened length into you, Draco grunted softly, his eyes closing for a moment as he pulled out and thrust back into you, pulling a sweet, airy moan from you. Draco watched you through half lidded eyes, the way you arched into him as he made love to you, your eyes meeting his with nothing but love and passion for him. His touch trailed over your body, thumb circling over your sensitive bud as he watched you. Your moans were almost hypnotic, the way you whined out his name in pleasure as he hit the spot that made you gasp.

“I’ve got you, darling, let go.” He encouraged, and you did, your release rolling through you in a warm and loving intensity. Draco thrust into you, making love to you until his high came too, the soft grunts and moans, paired with the soft muttering of your name on his lips pulled a little whimper from you.

“I’ll take care of you, love.” He whispered, noticing the sleepy look on your features. And Draco gently cleaned you both up, his kisses soft and his eyes casting a gentle gaze over you.

“I love you.” It came out as a soft whisper from his lips, warm and sweet with an air of sincerity to his words as he gently stroked your hair away from your face. “Draco,” You paused with a sweet smile on your lips as you relaxed into his touch. “I’ve always loved you.” You told him, pulling him close. “I know, sweetheart.” He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Draco had always known.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace as Draco pulled you onto him so that your head was resting on his chest, your arm thrown over his middle as he drew in a breath, a smile forming on his lips. “Of course I will, darling. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He reassured you. “I promise.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@kitkatd7​​ @paintballkid711​ @thesewaywardskies​ @coldlilheart​ @victorialynn​ @pandaxnienke​ @megantje123​ @loving-life-my-way​ @chaotic-fae-queen​

[writefightandflightclub]

Calm after the storm (dad!Nathan x fem!reader)

Summary: dad!Nathan / ex-husband!Nathan and angst. He comforts your son during a storm. You were always better at dishing out comfort, but Nathan is trying his best to learn how. He’s had to, since you left him. If only he could get you to come home, after he pushed you so far away.

Author’s note: my 1st go at writing something emotional / angsty with Nathan. Different to my other Nathan stuff, so won;t be offended if you don’t like it! No-one asked for this but this popped into my head and ended me and I figured I’d drag you down with me. Will add taglists tomorrow :o) (If you DO happen to like it, please let me know! Writing has been so slow for me lately and honestly I’m just pleased to have finished something.)

Warnings: language, themes of children, divorce / separation, angst, alcohol abuse / misuse, parent!reader.

Warning that there is zero smut in this. Nathan is literally a father when I say daddy here. Just to be clear. Some may feel this is ooc (I may have used a bit of license with his character to achieve angst, but actually, I don’t think it’s too far from a potential truth?)? Mistakes etc. maybe, but I can’t look at this a second longer so here it is.

Word count: 8.8k (sorry!)

Nathan’s head whips up from his computer screen as he sees a tiny, shadowed figure appear in the doorway to his lab. He pauses his frenzied typing, but retains the frown weighing on his brow.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed, buddy,” he says sternly, bathed in a pool of blue light and looking at the child from beneath his lenses. Hell, when did it get so dark?

“I’m scared,” a tearful little voice says, and Nathan sighs, pushing back his chair with a small, thin-lipped smile as he regards the boy. His soft, dinosaur-adorned pyjamas have been twisted by sleep, and he is rubbing his balled-up fists into his cheeks, a pet lip trembling beneath. Nathan never did understand the kid’s obsession with dinosaurs.

Unlike father, unlike son.

Things long dead and gone? Nathan didn’t like to look back, after all. He looked ahead. Moved forward. There’s nothing for me over my shoulder.

With his headspace out of his work, Nathan suddenly notices the rain drumming down against the skylight. The rumble of thunder and flash of lightning carving the sky open.

“The storm?” he asks, rising to meet the boy as his little feet pad with trepidation across the cold lab floor to his father. The boy nods. He looks slightly uncertain, since he’s not allowed in the lab, but enters and sticks his arms up into the air all the same. He does that tentatively too, since Nathan hasn’t historically been generous with affection; and yet, this time, Nathan wordlessly scoops him up on to his hip, his heart clenching as the boy’s wet, grabby little hands fist into his Henley. His severe gaze softens instantly; though not all the way. The gesture is still a little rusty.

“That’s illogical, bud - it’s not gonna hurt you. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Irrational. Emotional. Unlike father, unlike son.

You were always better at the comfort stuff. Of course you were. Still, Nathan thinks he’s learning, without you. He’s had to learn. 

Nathan quietly carries the little spider-monkeyed bundle back to his bed. He offers no words of comfort, but he does offer a firm and reassuring pat on his back as he walks. The boy smells of bath bubbles and baby oil, mixed-in with fresh detergent and that indescribable kid smell, and Nathan feels alarmingly soothed as he inhales the scent.

A flood of memories comes back, but he pushes them down. There is nothing for him over his shoulder, after all. Nothing in the past he would care to resurrect.

Carefully balancing the boy with one strong arm, Nathan peels back the covers and slots him back into his soft bed, the glow of the nightlight illuminating the boy in a blue halo.

Like father, like son.

The man securely tucks him in and smooths the covers, his eyes alarmingly gentle now, even amidst his stony face; however, the boy is still not entirely placated. His eyes are still wide. His bottom lip is still trembling.

Nathan sighs and lowers himself on to the edge of the bed, his genius brain struggling with this problem. Apparently, simply telling a 4-year-old they’re being illogical doesn’t cut it. Children; so inefficient. So tiny and fragile and…

The best thing I ever created.

Let’s hope he doesn’t grow up to stab me in the chest.

“Okay,” he begins, with a sweep of his hand over that buzzed head of his. “Do you know what static electricity is, buddy? One of the forces which attracts or repels things? Remember?”

“Repels. Pushes things away?” the small voice asks him.

I pushed her away. I’m a force. A force of nature. A storm.

Fear is often based on lack of knowledge. Nathan imagines if he explains the storm, he can demystify it. Take its power away. Still, the 4-year-old looks up at him in confusion, little fingers tightly gripping the edge of the bed covers. His mess of curls splaying over the pillow like a rolling black cloud.

Maybe you did get your mother’s average brain.

We can hope you got fuck all from me, kid.

“Come on, champ, we talked about this...” Nathan sighs, with mild impatience, and then he thinks some more – just like he’s always thinking, except algorithms make sense to him, and how could he hope to solve this?

Nathan shuffles up on to the bed until his back is against the wall, perpendicular to the boy. “Okay,” he says, slapping his palms gently against his thighs. “Remember when we were at Ankita’s party, and you rubbed that balloon on your head, huh? And then all of your hairs stood-up and it kinda tickled?”

The child giggles – a sound that punches Nathan in the gut. “Yeah, Daddy, and it didn’t work on your bald head.”

Nathan exhales through a small smile which doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“So, you remember,” he nods, waving his hand in the air as he tries to find simple language to continue his explanation. “Well. It’s like the sky is having a party, and the clouds are rubbin’ up against each other, making all this static. Understand?” Nathan continues, and the child is rapt, listening to his father’s deep, steady, sandy voice. “But clouds don’t have hair-“ there is another giggle, and this time Nathan’s eyes do crease with his smile, “-so instead they send their lightning forking out in all directions. You got it?”

“A party?” the boy enquires, still unsure. His hands gripping more tightly to the covers and his face inching further below them as a particularly loud rumble of thunder sounds overhead.  

“Right. A party.” Nathan runs with it, pleased that he’s getting somewhere. Moving forward. Making progress. “And parties can be noisy, right? All that dancing and singing and scraping chairs around?”

The kid briefly looks at his father as if he’s stupid -a trait you’d always had nailed- but in the next heartbeat he seems to accept the explanation given, the fear in his eyes beginning to ease, though not entirely gone.

He’s still afraid.

Like father, like son.

It’s evident that Nathan needs to devise something even more soothing. He vaguely considers trying to explain the unparalleled lightning and surge protection in-built into this facility, but he thinks better of it. He instead plumps for something he dearly hopes the kid will understand somewhat better than he comprehends static electricity. “You’re safe here and nothing can hurt you,” he says, raising his eyebrows up from beneath his frames and delivering an intent stare, smoothing a broad hand on the boy’s chest and shoulder. “I promise, kid. Would Daddy let anything hurt you?”

“No,” the boy answers, peeking up at Nathan with big eyes, shaking his little head and rustling his curls against the pillow. It breaks Nathan’s heart that his voice wavers, as if he’s a little unsure of his answer.

“Exactly. Not in a million fuckin’ years.” Nathan says adamantly, his deep, dark eyes intense with conviction to emphasise his point.

“Daddy!” The boy gasps when Nathan curses, little palms rising to clamp down over the shocked “o” of his mouth.

“Ah, shit. Don’t tell your Mama I said a naughty word, okay?” Nathan sucks air through his teeth and delivers a sheepish half-grin.

“I miss Mommy.”

The boy blinks. His eyes sad, his emotions constantly unmasked. Feeling. Always feeling.

Unlike father, unlike son.

Nathan’s chest tightens. He scoops up the plush dog, Crunchy, from on top of the duvet and settles her in the boy’s arms, buying him some time to arrange his busy thoughts.

Thinking. Always thinking.

The dog is so named since it spent the boy’s early years crusted with dried-in food and mud and whatever else. Nathan had dubbed it Crunchy Mutt, and the name had stuck. Memories nip at his heels, but he doesn’t let you creep back in. Doesn’t fill the gaps.

Nathan emits a shallow sigh. He misses you too.

Like father, like son.

His eyes are almost soft, almost apologetic as they meet the boy’s again. He is sorry, in that moment, for depriving the boy of you for half of his time. He shouldn’t have to miss out on you. You shouldn’t have to miss out on your son. Nathan knew all this was because of him.

Nathan had sworn never to let anything hurt you, either. To look after you, and yet...

I pushed her away.

I’m a force. A force of nature.

A storm.

“Mommy’ll be here to get you in the morning.” Nathan says in a taut, gruff voice, his beard bobbing as his throat wrestles around a hard swallow. “To take you… home.” At that, finally the boy finally looks content and sleepy, stretching his little face into a big yawn. Still, selfishly, Nathan no longer wants to be alone in this storm - alone with himself - and so, he keeps talking. “You know, your Mommy loves storms like this.”

“Really? Mommy doesn’t get scared?”

“No.” Nathan shakes his head, eyes becoming burdened with memories. “We would sit out on the deck, wrapped in blankets, and watch the lightning. Listen to the rain.”

“It’s science 101, genius. You can’t work in the lab during a storm. You might create Frankenstein.”

“Fuckin’… how many times? It’s Frankenstein’s monster, sweet cheeks. Frankenstein is the doctor.”

“I know, asshole. At this point I just say it to rile you. Never fails. You stay here then, and play at creating life. If you want to play at living one, I’ll be out on the decking.”

“How about I do both?”

“What are you saying, Nathan?”

“What about we make something together, while the sky is fucking rife with creation?”

The boy springs up in bed, capturing Crunchy in a choke-hold in excitement.

Nathan raises himself to standing - beginning to backtrack, and snapping back to the present day. Compartmentalising you. Putting long dead things to rest. He knows better than to look over his shoulder for too long.

“Can we go outside and watch it, Daddy?”

“Nuh uh. I don’t think so, buddy. It’s way past your bedtime. Go to sleep now, okay?” His voice is sterner again - his gaze back to being more severe.

Still, he guides the boy back down to the mattress and plants a soft kiss on to his forehead, brushing his dark curls back. He kisses Crunchy on the head too, as he is routinely instructed to do.

“Night, kid. Night, mutt. Come on, off to sleep.”

His hands move to his hips, elbows cutting a sharp shape in the near-dark. The boy, however, looks wide awake, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, and an excited glow on his face.  

“Please, Daddy?” the boy pleads, with big, puppy dog eyes. So closely resembling your eyes, which Nathan always was a sucker for. 

Yep. He’s definitely your son.

Nathan is about to use his stern voice, and his finger is moments away from wagging. And yet…

“Fine. Quickly then,” he concedes. “Get your coat and shoes on. And find your little red hat with the Pom-Pom that you look fuckin’ adorable in.”

“Daddy! No bad words!” the kid scolds, even as a smile of glee bursts on to his face and he wriggles out from beneath the covers. 

“Yep, sorry! Don’t tell Mommy,” Nathan repeats on autopilot.

The boy springs out of bed and zooms with enthusiasm to his little closet, while Nathan gathers up some blankets from a neighbouring chest.

Sure - it was past the boy’s bedtime. Yes, Nathan had a lot of coding to rehash. But Nathan had lost you. He had let work consume him until there was nothing left for you. He was always looking ahead to what could be, and he didn’t pay enough attention to what he had, when he had it. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again. Not with his son. This time, at least, work could wait.

Once the pair are both dressed in their outerwear, Nathan hoists the boy up on to his hip again, and carries him out to the decking, on the side of the house with the best view of the storm churning over the miserable valley. He clings on to his son tightly as the pulse of lightning illuminates his awed little face, a perfect mixture of your features and his, and yet someone entirely his own.  The boy gasps and shrinks back from the vast, roaring sky, nuzzling closer into Nathan’s chest, grabby hands fisting in his clothes again.

“It’s okay, buddy. It can’t hurt you, understand?” Nathan reassures.

The child visibly relaxes, absentmindedly tangling his fingers into the soft texture of Nathan’s beard.

He does that when he’s nervous. Seems to calm him down, Nathan notes, and files for later.

“Look, Daddy!” the kid points as forks of lightning raze through the blackened sky, sparkling eyes following the display.

“I saw it, champ,” Nathan confirms, as the storm lights up his child’s face in more ways than one. However, Nathan is more awed by his boy than the storm. By the boy you and he created, on a night not unlike this one.

He fixes his eyes on him as he grows in confidence, facing his fear of the braying wind and rumbling thunder. Being a parent is everything Nathan anticipated he would hate. Full of things you can’t control, and yet, he loves every way this boy surprises him.

Shit, he’s braver than me, Nathan thinks, as he cradles the boy in his arms, holding him just a little bit closer – a little bit tighter.  

Nathan isn’t afraid often. In fact, in his adult life, he’s only been truly afraid a handful of times. On those occasions, he didn’t face it like the boy did. He tended to bury his fear, in a landslide of work and drunkenness and insults and excuses. To cocoon himself in his own self-interest.

Nathan was afraid when he fell in love with you, even despite his best efforts not to. He was terrified he didn’t deserve you. 

He was afraid when you told him you were pregnant; he was terrified of creating another thing that hated him.

But Nathan has never been as afraid as when you left him, and took the boy with you. He was terrified that you would never come back.

You were brave. You were so brave that you never ran away from a storm, and yet you had fled from him.

What kind of storm am I, if even you ran from me?

Despite his fears though, Nathan was learning to be brave. He’s had to, since you’ve been gone. For his son, for you, he would fight off any foe or threat. Turns out, he would even do the hardest thing of all, and fight his own demons.

Yes, Nathan knew he was a stern man. Serious. Flawed. Unyielding. An asshole, a lot of the time.

He hadn’t been ready. To be humbled. By you. By the boy. Hadn’t been ready to face his shortcomings and his demons and look them in the eye.

He was afraid of creating something that hated him, but he hadn’t been prepared to create something better than himself. A child who was open, and kind, and brave, and loving. Who wasn’t afraid to feel, and to be kind.

Unlike father, unlike son.

The boy made him strong. The boy was just like you.

“Wow!” the boy gasps at another display of lightning, even though he jumps slightly as a loud rumble of thunder sounds. The shock makes him laugh - a sweet, musical, innocent noise that makes Nathan’s chest tear in half like the sky. The boy watches for a while longer as the storm tires itself out and the boy with it, the rain dying off to a pleasant lulling noise.

Nathan looks up at the sky too and he feels almost complete, until he looks to the other side of him; where you should be. Until he looks over his shoulder. To where long-dead things still haunt him.

“Mommy will be sad she’s missing the storm, won’t she Daddy? Can we send her a selfie?”

No tech after 5pm. Bed by 7pm. One of the co-parenting rules rings in his head.

It’s 2:30am, and he worries you will ride him for this, but surely this is an exception, right?

“Sure we can, bud,” Nathan responds, and he fishes his phone out of his pants pocket. The boy nuzzles into his chest in that adorable red hat, and gives a thumbs-up as Nathan extends his arm to grab a quick selfie. “Great photo. She’ll love it. What shall we tell her?”

“Hmm...” the boy thinks, and then he lands on the perfect words. “Say… I wish you were here,” he says with a toothy grin, unaware of the emotional sucker punch of his words.

Nathan’s chest tightens again, and he attempts to school the frown from his face.

I wish you were here.

Like father, like son.

Smoothing himself, he types out a message.

“Storm watching with Papa bear. Kid says: I wish you were here.”

“Ok,” he says softly, pinging the message away to you. “Done.”

The boy beams at his father.

“Will she type back?”

“Dunno, kid, she might be asleep.”

Tiredness hitting him, the boy nuzzles closer and Nathan gently rocks him on his hip, the boy’s eyes gradually closing.

When Nathan feels his phone vibrate, he lifts it back up, bathing the pair in a halo of blue once again. He is surprised to see a photo. There you are, wrapped up in a chunky cardigan and blanket on your new porch.

You’re watching the storm too, and god, you look so beautiful that it hurts him.

Beneath the picture, you have typed out: “Storm-watching, Mama bear edition. Wish I was there too, baby bear. I’ll see you in the morning. xxx”

He knows the smile and the wave and the words are solely for your son’s benefit, and not for him, but oh, how he wishes.

“Mommy’s watching the storm too!” the boy says sleepily, barely able to keep his eyes open in the comfort of Nathan’s warm, strong arms, as his soporific movements rock him back to sleep.

“Yeah, bud, she is.”

And Nathan tugs the boy into his chest, bouncing him on his hip and stroking his hair -as much for his own comfort as anything- until he is soothed too.

***

After the boy is safely back in bed, Nathan plods sullenly back down to his workshop, bathing himself once again in a blue halo. His fingers gravitate naturally towards the keys, and though he should work, his mind is very much elsewhere. His mind is wrapped up with long-dead things.

With a heavy sigh, he fishes his phone out of his pocket again, and spends a wistful moment staring at the picture you had sent him.

“Fuck it,” he says, and he lifts up the photo frame he’s had face down on his desk for some time now. For months.

Longer.

It’s a picture of you and him and the boy, out on a hike a few years ago. Nathan is carrying your son in a harness on his front, and you are side by side with them, clasping the baby’s hand in yours, and your head leaning on Nathan’s shoulders. You’re all smiling, though none of you had managed to look at the camera, only at each other.

The sight of it makes Nathan’s throat constrict. Lights a fire of yearning in the pit of him. A fire he’s tried to quell and resist for so long – hasn’t let himself feel, because he’s afraid of the power of it.

He stares at his phone again, so many things he wishes to say, but all he has the courage to type is:

“Just letting you know. Byron’s back to bed now, before you ride me for keeping him up. Woke up scared.”

Your reply pings back almost immediately, as if you were expecting him.

“Come on, Nathan. I’m not a monster. It’s a sweet picture. He looks happy.”

Nathan scratches the top of his buzzed head, and he sees the tell-tale dots disappear and reappear, signalling you are considering typing something further.

“Say it,” he types out to you, blunt and demanding as ever, and although the dots disappear for a moment, you come back - finding some courage yourself, perhaps?

“I wish I was there too.” He wonders if you held your breath while typing it, like he did when reading it.

This time, it is Nathan’s turn to convey nothing but dots to you, as he struggles to respond.  As his pulse thrums in his ears.

“Say it,” you echo, just as plainly. 

He takes a deep breath, knowing he’s going to curse himself for his stupidity even as he types the message. He has been earning your trust back. He has been rebuilding. He hasn’t pushed you too far yet, and yet he can’t help but plead with you now.

He says what he most needs to say.

“Come home.”

He stares at the phone, his heart hammering in his mouth.

But there’s nothing. No message. No dots. He throws the phone down on the desk.

Fucking idiot, he chides himself, launching himself out of his seat with a surge of nervous energy, and coming to rest his forehead and elbow against the cool window pane as he tries to steady his nerves. This is why he doesn’t let himself feel. Because when he does, it’s too much.

Nathan’s best quality is also his worst. He isn’t a man of moderation. He doesn’t know how to stop. When to stop. He never has. 

Doesn’t know when to stop working, drinking, striving, fighting.

Loving.

He loved you enough to split the sky open, and god damnit, he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. How can he solve this problem?

I pushed her away and she might never come back.

He feels a tightening in his chest - worse than before - and he has thoughts of reaching for a bottle until he’s blackout drunk, or hitting the punchbag until his knuckles bleed, but he bites those urges back down.

He has to. He has to, because his kid is in the house. For him. For you. For his own good too.

Gradually, Nathan -who once naively believed he had already attained perfection, superiority- has become a lot stronger, and a lot braver. A lot better at feeling his emotions instead of pushing them down. He has learned it from the boy, who learned it from you.

Still, despite this newfound courage -or, perhaps as a result of it- he has his moments of weakness, just like anybody else. He’s not untouchable. Not a god any longer.

Nathan is weak when it comes to you. He loves you. And he doesn’t know how to stop.

Overcome by the impulsive need to hear your voice, and ignoring all reason, he tracks back to the desk and calls you.

You answer almost instantly, as if you were expecting him.

“Nathan...” you say, in your eminently familiar voice, and he can he the agitation and accusation veiled as you say his name. What are you thinking? Always thinking. He’s always thinking. Yet, no- this time, he is only feeling. Finally feeling.

Still, Nathan doesn’t respond until a taut pattern of breaths has been laid like a tightrope for him to walk across.

Then, with a deep exhale, he asks you again. A plea. His face sharp and contorted in the blue light. He is terrified of falling.

“Come home.”

“Nathan...” you say, again. What are you thinking? And the sound of his name in your mouth causes a lump to rise in his throat. He hears your discombobulated breath on the other side of the line, and it is all too familiar. You were always charged, rubbing up against one another, causing static. He was always a storm; the one storm that could drive you away.

Come home.

“I wouldn’t even know how,” you insist, your voice paper thin, syllables soft and measured and sorry like raindrops drumming against a window pane.

You were always his release. If he was the energy and commotion and anger behind the storm -the severe, withholding clouds- you were its beauty and majesty and release. Together, you created life, and you destroyed each other.

Nathan hunkers over on the desk, leaning his head in his spare arm for some morsel of comfort, his guard up over his face.

“Just walk through the door tomorrow and stay,” he says tiredly, as if it’s simple.

He hears you sigh again, exasperatedly - the sound he induced all too often, when you were together.

“It didn’t work Nathan,” you say through your teeth, like lightning might spark through them at any moment. “How would this be any different?” Still, he can hear the tell-tale break in your voice. A gentle plea. God, could you really want to come back to him? If he could find the right answers to your questions?

“I’ll be different,” he promises, all the muscles in his face pulled taut. His face and his body aching with the tension of the sky splitting open, creation or destruction imminent.

Fuck it. Fuck everything else. Enough of this. The measured conversations, the co-parenting, the negotiations. You are what he wants - his family back together; home.

True- love hadn’t come easily to him at first. He was an asshole, a misanthrope, a closed book. Sex came easily to him. Desire. Infatuation. Thoughts of you, bordering on obsession as they took over his busy mind. But love? That too came, in the end. But love as a verb- the act of loving?

Nathan had sworn he didn’t want love at all, but then, there was you. He has sworn he had no desire for the legacy of a child, and yet, then there was the boy. For all his arrogance and grandiose dreams of the ways in which the whole world might remember him, he was finally ready to admit that all he wanted was to be remembered by you as a good husband, and by the boy as a good father.

He had never wanted to create another thing that hated him.

It didn’t come naturally to him at first. He was withholding, stubborn, rigid, and self-involved. Still, when he was motivated, there were other, finer qualities Nathan possessed too. Dedication, focus, discipline. When he was motivated, he possessed those in abundance. Turns out, love is one hell of a motivator.

Turns out, sometimes it is still not enough.

“I’m doing better,” he offers as he is met with silence, clenching his fist in discomfort as he hears you sniffing intermittently through the phone.

“I know,” you enthuse, your voice almost sickly with sincerity. “I know. I’m proud of you, Nathan.”

But Nathan doesn’t want your platitudes.

“Baby, please. I love you,” he pleads, and even in his plea his voice is stern. He refuses to let it crack. He states his truth as a cold, hard fact. He loves you. It’s undeniable. It’s logical, that you should be together.

“You know…. You know that I love you too.” you say, your voice small and full of holes. A sigh billowing out of you. “Shit, Nathan…” You sniff on the other end of the line with greater frequency – definitely crying. Nathan knits his brows together, his eyes brimming with tears that he fights back.

He thinks of all the times you cried and he didn’t reach out to you. He would give anything now to wipe your tears away.

“Come home, then,” he pleads, bluntly, swirling with hurt like silt stirred up by the rains. It hurts. It hurts to feel things. “Fuck, why are you so fucking stubborn?”

You huff out air as he snaps and instantly, he knows he’s fucked it. He wishes he could retract the words but it’s too late. They’ve already become breath. Already thunder, splitting his sky in two all over again.

He throws himself back in his chair in defeat, his hand rasping over his buzzed head in some unconscious attempt to comfort himself. “Shit, look, I just-”

When your voice interrupts him, it is perfectly smoothed out. Cold. Withholding.

So that’s how it feels.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nathan.”

There is a beat, and you soften. You always soften. “I’ll come get him later so you can have some extra time, okay?”

Nathan sighs loudly, catching a glance of his calendar on the illuminated screen.

“Fuck. I have a meeting at 11am- I thought you would collect him early so I booked a board thing-” he says tiredly.

“Fine,” you bite off.

“No. Wait, I’ll rearrange,” he backtracks. “Let me have more time,” he reasons, his voice softening. He tips up the photo frame – that blessed and cursed item- and brings it to rest on his thigh, torturing himself with your smiling face. “Please. I need more time.”

You are silent for a moment, and this time when your voice comes back, it is level, but infused with intentional warmth. He hates that tone. That tone where he knows you are placating him rather than speaking your mind, just so he doesn’t do anything stupid. He hates that it must feel like you have a guillotine hanging over your head at all times, because you feel like you can’t push him over the edge.  

“Fine. Get some sleep, Nathan, okay?”

He huffs out air, a sharp, self-pitying guffaw, and he rubs his eyes underneath his glasses, the frames lifting from the bridge of his nose. “Right. I can’t even fuckin’ sleep without you.”

There is another pattern of breaths, and whatever tightrope Nathan might have tried to walk across to reach you snaps. “Don’t do that, don’t guilt me, Nathan.”

The worst thing is, you don’t even sound angry. You just sound… tired.

“I’m sorry,” he pushes out, muffled through a hand over his beard, and though this time he means it, the words come out sounding entirely insincere.

“Sure. ‘Night. Try and get some rest, okay?”

Now that -that sounded genuine. Sincere. You never stopped looking out for him. Even if you couldn’t stand to be around him any longer.

“Yep,” he says tautly, with little feeling, and he hangs up, tightening his grip on the photo frame in his lap before slamming it back down on the desk along with his phone.

He leans back in his chair for a moment and buries his face in his hands. “Fuck.”

I pushed her away. I did that. I pushed her away.

With a knot building in his chest, partly out of need and partly out of habit, Nathan drags opens the desk drawer where an ever-replenishing stash of vodka used to reside. Where instead, he has taped a picture drawn by his son. For moments like this.  

It helps, but it’s not always enough.

Nathan knits his brows together, his face set with a stony resolve, and his dark, turbulent eyes awash with a storm of emotion.

The boy. He’s braver than me.

Somehow, because he has to, perhaps- because he’s had to learn how, Nathan smooths himself. He cannot solve the problem of how to bring you home, when this simply isn’t home to you anymore. So, instead, he bathes himself in blue light. He basks in the glow of algorithms he can solve, and works and works his mind until it shuts off. Feeling to thinking to nothing.

I’m a force. A force of nature. A storm.

He can do anything he sets his mind to.

And… fuck. I pushed her away.

Anything, perhaps, except bring you back.

***

The next day, you arrive to collect your son.

It is familiar by now. It is an encounter that Nathan both longs for and dreads, in equal measure. Today, especially so; especially both.   

Byron runs down the hallway and leaps into your arms, the sound of your laughter scooping Nathan out from the inside as you pepper the boy with kisses, a toothy smile on his angel face.

In these encounters, the moments are always too fleeting; always slipping away too quickly. It seems to happen so fast that it’s a blur to him, his mind zoning-out and working through a million things he wants to tell you, and simultaneously hyper-focussed on every single aspect of you he’s missed desperately. He wracks his brain for the right things to do and say, as if desperately searching for the one remnant of code- the one function or command that will simply make you stay.

With effort, he tunes back in to the scene as the boy wraps his arms around his leg.

“Did you pack Crunchy?” you ask Nathan, as he hands over the kid’s weekend bag to your waiting, outstretched arm.

His mouth opens to respond, but you are already unzipping it and rooting through the bag, checking in amongst the clothes and tiny boxing gloves and dolls for the dear mutt. You find him nestled in there safely, and you smile softly at Nathan for remembering.

You shouldn’t be surprised, he thinks. He remembers things – he remembers everything. It’s forgetting he typically needs a little more assistance with. Maybe he does look over his shoulder more than he’d care to admit.   

You ruffle the boy’s crow black curls as he clings to his father’s leg, snapping your hand back as if you’ve been burned when Nathan opts for the same gesture in the same moment.

You opt to fold your arms against your chest instead, casually clearing your throat. “What did you do with Daddy then, baby? Have you had a good time?”  

“We watched the storm,” the boy begins animatedly, swinging around Nathan’s sturdy leg, “and we did boxing and I learned a new combo,” the boy looks up at his father who nods and smiles gently in proud confirmation, hoisting the kid up on to his hip – a gesture that is becoming increasingly less rusty- “and we did a new trail to the glacier, and, um, what else Daddy?” Byron asks, waving his up-turned palms in the air and turning to his father for guidance. Nathan dips forward to whisper a prompt in his ear. “Oh yeah! And we watched Trolls and I put lots of my dolly’s bows in daddy’s beard,” the boys giggles, and scrunches his fingers through Nathan’s wiry hairs.

The kid’s smile is infectious, even fracturing Nathan’s stony resolve, and it has the three of you joined in a smile for a moment, until Nathan sees your eyes mist subtly over with tears as you observe the father and son together. You quickly quell them, but they don’t go unnoticed.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, voice expertly smoothed, and a masking smile on your face. The strength of you. “Did he look pretty?”

“Yeah, I guess he looked pretty,” the boy giggles. “And this morning Daddy taught me about static electric.... um-” the boys stumbles over his words for a second, and again looks to Nathan for guidance.

“You got it -go ahead,” Nathan encourages firmly.

The boy gains confidence, brushing his black curls out of his face with a little hand before continuing. “Static electricity, right?”

“Right, champ,” Nathan says, and as the boy barrels happily through his recital of events, Nathan barely realises that he’s holding him a little tighter, because with each moment that passes, so fleetingly, he feels it’s getting increasingly harder to think about letting him go.

“And Mommy, did you know this whole valley was made by a glacier that crawled all the way along and carved out all the shapes of the hills and then melted, like, a super long time ago?”

“You know, I did know that, but that’s smart of you to know too, baby,” you say fondly, a tremble at the corner of your lips that the kid doesn’t see, but Nathan is sharp enough to catch.

And then, suddenly, Nathan has no trouble contemplating passing the boy over into your arms, because you look like you need someone to hold too. However, as he motions to do so, Nathan can see tears threatening to spill out of the corner of your eyes. You shake your head subtly at Nathan in apology as you brush away a stray tear, in a moment you hope the boy won’t see, so, instead, Nathan sets your son down on the ground. He crouches and pulls the boy’s shoulders squarely to face him, providing you with a discreet moment to compose yourself.

“Hey, buddy,” he says softly. “I remembered I need to talk to your Mommy about boring grown-up stuff. Gas prices and 401ks and… major yawn. So, hot tip, you might wanna go and play in your room for 5. That okay, champ?”

“Okay,” the kid says, unphased, and skips off down the hall.  

That leaves Nathan and you in the hallway. He hover-hands his palm against your lower back and gestures, with his other arm, towards the living space, guiding you towards the seating area.

You sit on opposite sofas, positions stiff and formal, hands clasped on laps. Your gaze looking just past Nathan because you can’t seem to meet his eyes.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks gently, feeling a lump grow in his throat. He hates this- how tense it is, when you used to be so intimate and relaxed around each other. “Why are you crying?”

Unlike Nathan, you were usually an open book, yet this time, you decline the invitation to share. You pinch your lips in between your teeth.

You’re so strong, and so brave that it breaks Nathan to see you succumb to tears like this. Plus, you’ve given so much already- so much love, and so much heart, and he hasn’t given you nearly enough back.

Still, he looks at you from beneath his lenses, gently encouraging, waiting until you are ready to share. Your gaze fixes on a spot in your lap. “I… It’s just. Seeing you and Byron together. Why in the hell couldn’t you have been this man while we were together, Nathan?”

Nathan’s heart aches at your words. Years ago, even months ago, he would have bristled. He would have snapped back at the insinuation that he was ever in the wrong. Ever less than godly.

This time though, he lets the sad truth settle over him like a dark cloud. And, as much as he wants to pull you towards him, he also- and he can’t believe he’s going to do this- he realises he needs to push you away from him one more time. There is only one way to solve this. To let you go. To realise it’s your choice. You are out of his control. Unsolvable.

He shifts his position, until he is perched on the coffee table in front of you, his palms resting on your knees and smoothing circles there. His dark, calculating eyes intent on yours, and for once unobscured by agendas. For once, he has things to say to you that aren’t intended to provoke a particular response, or establish a particular gain. He has things to say that he simply needs you to hear.

He needs to show you his fear. He needs to face the storm he was never too afraid to create, but was always quick to flee the wake of. Nathan imagines if he explains the storm, he can demystify it. Take its power away. Then, even if you don’t come home, at least there can be calm. Calm after the storm. Both of you able to move on, with all the cards laid out on the table.

With effort, he begins.

“I’m sorry,” Nathan says gently, and even with those two words a gentle sob wracks your chest, perhaps with the relief of a weight you didn’t know you were carrying. “Honestly, I don’t think I told you that and meant it yet. So, I’m sorry.  About last night, by the way. But, shit, about everything that I did, and didn’t do…” Your hands come to clasp his in your lap, fingers gripping fingers tightly as his face contorts with regret. His dark eyes wander over your face as tears stream freely down your cheeks. Where once he would have shied away from you, in a state like this, now he has courage enough to be present.

“I missed you,” he continues, his voice tattered by emotion. “I miss you. I didn’t want to tell you that. Didn’t want to admit that I’m scared either. But I am. Of losing you.  Scared that the best thing for us… the best thing for you, might be being without me. To get out of the black hole I suck everything in to.” Nathan tears his eyes away from yours as his vision becomes blurry with tears, his voice cracking. “I’m scared because I love you, and I love that fucking kid and I... I’m scared that I might get better, and be better… but that you, and him… that you still might deserve better. Better than me. So, I’m sorry. Actually fuckin’ sorry, for all the ways I’ve been a dick. Shut you out. Put you last. Made you hurt.”

“Nathan,” you breathe through tears, as if you can’t fathom this onslaught- this emotion tearing your chest in two, like the sky on that night.  

He reaches up to fumble some tears away from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I need you to know that I finally see it, even if it is too late,” Nathan nods to himself, eyes fixed down at your hands clasped in his. “I see that if had to lose you to realise what I had; I never did deserve you. You’re so… fuckin’ unreal. And he’s just like you. And,” Nathan presses on, despite the mortifying ordeal of baring his heart to you. Despite the tears which finally spike out of the corners of his eyes too. “I need you to know. Even if it didn’t last forever… This fuckin’ family? It will always be the best thing I ever created. And if there’s one thing I want to be remembered for- any fuckin’ legacy I wanna have, I just… I need it to be known that I love you, and I love that fuckin’ kid. I want you to be happy, and I’ll always regret that I didn’t make you happy while I had the chance to.” He huffs out another small, self-pitying laugh “Guess in the end, I’m an idiot; not a genius. Guess I should have realised that when I got stabbed by my own AI…”

He drags his big brown eyes back up to meet yours from beneath his lenses, and your eyes are shining softly at him, brimming with bittersweet pain, and you tug him into you for a hug, holding him close and your tears wetting each other’s shoulder.

After a moment he pulls away and settles himself back on the edge of the coffee table, already missing your embrace.

“You did. You made me happy, Nathan,” you promise. “So, so happy, and so, so miserable,” you let out a small, self-pitying laugh too, and then suddenly you are both laughing, as bizarre at that seems, as you palm the tears away from your puffed cheeks.

When the laughter fades, you reach out and place your palm fondly on the side of his face. Nathan knew that even in all his years of marriage, he had never been so vulnerable with you as he had been just now. He knew that had been precisely part of the problem. He had thought it would feel horrible to open up, but he finds that he feels fresh, like ground after nourishing rain.

Your gaze flicks back to him, and he swears he can read the look in your eyes.

Why couldn’t I have been this man when we were together?

Then, it is as if you remember you are touching him. You snap your hand back from him, and back from the brink as if you have been burned. It would be so easy, Nathan thinks. So easy to just fall back into you. As if wrestling with the exact same thought, you surge up from your seat, wiping the remainder of your tears away and immediately putting some distance between the two of you. You track to the nearby mirror, leaning forward to fix your appearance a little, before the boy returns.

Nathan watches you fondly. Longingly.

You turn back to him again, a little more composed, and retake your seat opposite him – in the same spot, but feeling much further away this time.

You bite your lips between your teeth, gazing at that same spot on your lap again.

He wishes he could reach out to you. Take in the textures and scents and feel of you in all your glory. But he does not want you to jump away as if you’ve been struck by lightning.

“I miss you too, you know? I miss our family. When it was good it was…” your voice is small and you trail off, perhaps not wanting to look too far over your shoulder. With a visible effort, you seem to drag yourself back to the present. “Byron adores you, you know that? I don’t think I’ve told you this since we… but you’re a good father, Nathan.”

A pride ignites in Nathan unlike anything he’s felt before.

He opens his mouth as if to speak, and instantly closes it again, his throat bobbing around a hard swallow before he can push his words out.  

“Just a terrible husband?”

You shake your head. “No,” you say, with a wistful expression on your face, and Nathan is surprised that you sound sincere. “No, not terrible at all.”

Nathan knew his flaws well enough, but you always reminded him of his attributes. You never poisoned the boy against him, even though the split was largely on him – a fact he had denied for a long time, because it was your decision. And, because of your strength and commitment to that, the three of you -oddly- had never made a better team than you do now.

He examines your face. Your beautiful face.

Come home. Please.

For your sake, he makes an effort to lift his thin smile up until it creases the corner of his eyes.

“I think you’re forgetting what an asshole I can be,” he smiles lopsidedly at you and succeeds in lightening the air. Lightening it a little too much. Enough that there is an alarming hint in your eyes of what used to be there for him. He hopes it is not the shining of false hope.

It would be so easy. So easy to kiss you.

You chew some words over in your mouth, and Nathan can see their failure to launch on a couple of breaths as you wring your hands in front of you.  

“You, um. Last night… you asked me to come home.”

Nathan’s breath stalls in his chest.

“Did you mean it?”

Nathan can’t speak suddenly. He can only nod, slowly, tears sparkling in his eyes as he looks at you.

“I could… I could never just move back in. It didn’t work, Nathan. But… maybe…”

Nathan holds his breath, like a latent storm, the hint of a new energy buzzing in the space between you.

“Maybe,” you continue tentatively. “We could start over again. See if we can build something new. Not the same old patterns. No looking over our shoulders or trying to resurrect what’s long-dead. Instead, maybe we – I don’t know- try to create something… new?”

While the sky is rife with creation.

“You’re good at that. Building things,” you finish, fondly, everything about you tentative yet somehow hopeful, and Nathan’s chest constricts, his blood thrumming nervously through his body in a blind panic.

Just shut up, Nathan, and don’t fuck this. Just refrain from being a dick for five fuckin’ minutes.

The muscles in his jaw twitch. The vein on his forehead pops, yet his whole body is still. Breath bated.

“Like, fresh code?” he asks, with shining, hopeful eyes.

You nod, and it is the tiniest gesture, but one that means the absolute world to him.

A new way of doing things. Moving forward. Looking ahead.

“Sure, I guess - fresh code.”

Don’t fuck it up, Bateman, you fucking shithead.

“Yeah,” he agrees weakly, yet with all the conviction in the world. “How?”

Anything.

You nibble on your lower lip, thinking things through as you go. “Take me out for dinner. A first date. Somewhere away from this goddamn house. From everything that happened. All the… mistakes.” As Nathan’s eyes swim with guilt and regret, you squeeze his hand, dipping your head towards his to catch his gaze. “Yours and mine.”

“Yeah. Yeah, ok,” Nathan responds, his eyes glowing as they meet yours.

He immediately feels you withdraw from his burning hope, and so he consciously tries to reel his natural intensity in.

“No promises, Nathan,” you caution, firmly.

He nods, slowly. Outwardly disciplined and measured.

Don’t fuck it. Do not fuck this, you mother fucker.

“And please, don’t get his hopes up?” you say as a quick aside before delivering a broad smile over Nathan’s shoulder, signalling that the kid had arrived back in the vicinity.  

The boy runs over and starts happily wheeling a toy news truck over Nathan’s thigh. The man unconsciously, automatically, winds his arm around his son and dips a kiss into his black curls, causing your eyes to shine softly in admiration. “I love you, champ,” Nathan says, the words heavy with the weight of his feeling even as he reaches to tickle the boy’s tummy, earning a chaotic giggle.  

“Love you too, Daddy,” the boy replies, but Nathan pats him gently on the back.

“Time to go though, bud.”

“Yeah, baby. We should… go,” you announce, and yet there is a tug of hesitation in your voice. A rope binding you to Nathan which he is desperate to reel in; however, he pushed you so far away, and he knows that if you do come back to him, it must be on your terms. In your own time. He understands now.

Nathan leads the two of you to the door and helps pile all of the bags into the trunk of your truck. You strap Byron into his car seat, and Nathan dips to bid him farewell. “Ok, get out of here, kid. Look after your Mommy, you hear me? She’s special.”

There is a moment, before you open the door to slot into the driver’s side that Nathan comes to face you, his hands stuffed into his pockets, a familiar furrow in his brow and tight-lipped expression on his stony, impassive face. “When was the last time you had your tyres checked?” he wonders idly, shifting forward to poke at the tread on the front wheel and finding them satisfactorily safe.

He is surprised to find you smiling softly at him when he looks back at you. You seem like you can’t help yourself, but you lean forward and press a kiss into Nathan’s cheek, your face lingering against his as he closes his eyes and leans in to it, just a little.

You pull back from him, your hand clasped around his upper arm. “We love you, Nathan. Will you be okay?”

His eyes grow overcast. “Uh, don’t like it when you go,” he states plainly, his brow pulled down and cloaking his big, brown eyes with shadow.

You nod in understanding.

“Text me later. About dinner,” you add casually before you slot yourself into the truck. Still, he can see you tearing up, just a little.

“You mean it?” he asks, his stare intense.

“Dinner and we’ll see, okay? No promises.”

He had made you so many promises that were broken.

Nathan nods his agreement and you clasp the door shut. Reluctantly, Nathan steps aside as you swing the truck around, and he doesn’t stick around to wave you off, aside from a quick hand in the air for the boy.

He doesn’t like it when you leave.

He knew he had pushed you away, and now, just maybe you would come back to him. He feels hopeful- ecstatic even- at the prospect, but he can’t help but feel a little guilty. A little selfish too. He feels as though he’s sucking you in to a black hole all over again. He thinks maybe it would be better for you if you could escape him.

But, as Nathan settles back in his chair down in the lab, and gazes at the framed picture of his family, he knows that as much as he has grown and changed - because he’s had to, with you gone- that he will never quite be selfless enough to let you go.

I’m a force. A force of nature. A storm.

You had always revelled in storms. You were always happiest when it rained. Maybe this time, he could make you so, so happy, without the miserable.

Oh, how he hopes.

Don’t fuck it up, Bateman, he thinks, glancing at the picture one more time. Don’t you ever fuckin’ push her away.

This time, he pledges to stop looking over his shoulder, and looks ahead to something new.

That’s what he’s best at.

Fresh code.

He types away, and his chest feels lighter than it has in a long time.

The calm after the storm, perhaps.

[another-emotional-wreck]

Title: Movie Night

Pairings: None except for a hint of Monica x Peter cause they're cute imo I'm sorry

Summary: Movie night with the Hex trio and Peter... until it's not. Also, metallokinetic Peter.

Warnings: No warnings as far as I know, but there's angst and a decent amount of fluff

Word Count: 2.2k words

Author's Note: This is my first fic for anything Marvel/Xmen related. Kinda nervous but mostly excited. Feedback is really appreciated as there's a pretty good chance a lot some of the character's actions could be pretty ooc.

*******************************************************************

“Wait… what?” Peter asked for what had to have been the millionth time. For a guy who could run fast, it was seriously taking him way too long to get this.

Darcy sighed again. “Alright, so you have to press this button--”

“The little sideways bow thing?”

“Uh, sure, why not. So you press it and then you’re gonna see a lot of different names. The one you’re gonna pick is called ‘Peter’s earbuds’.”

“Okay. Wait how does it know my-- oh wait, it beeped! The lady said it’s… paired? Now what?”

“Now you can pick a song to listen to.” Darcy pressed an icon of a square with a black background and a green circle in the middle. “Anything in particular?”

Peter was silent for a moment. "What do people listen to these days?"

Darcy took the phone from Peter before typing the name of a band into the search bar. His face lit up as Darcy handed it back to him, the screen filled with different songs to choose from. After a moment of scrolling, the opening chords of Dumb by Nirvana filled his ears, and for just a little while, his mind was calm. It was quiet.

“It’s nice to know at least music hasn’t changed since the 80s."

“I wouldn't say that exactly," Darcy mumbled.

Before he could question her statement, Monica spoke up.

"The 80s." She and Jimmy walked through the front door, both carrying grocery bags in their hands. "Is that where you're from?"

Monica placed the groceries on the counter before sitting down on the couch across from Peter.

He squinted at something in the distance. “I think so. I uh…” fuzzy images filled his mind. Laughing at jokes next to a boy with the strangest glasses. Playing in the snow with a woman with red hair. Sharing popcorn in a cold room with a girl with a mohawk and a blue devil.

A serious conversation with a man who meant a lot to him.

Peter winced at the sudden sharp pain behind his eyes. “It’s kinda… kinda hard to sort through.”

“That’s cool,” Darcy shrugged. “I felt the same way during English class back when I was in high school.”

Kurt Cobain’s voice rang in his ears. My heart is broke, but I have some glue. Help me inhale, and mend it with you. Peter nodded his head as he hummed along clumsily, not quite getting the tune right.

Once the pain faded from behind his eyes, Darcy noticed the way Peter’s face seemed to brighten at the sight of a certain someone.

“Guess what!” In less than a second, Peter had moved from his spot next to Darcy onto the couch beside Monica. “Darcy showed me how to get these little pods to play music--”

“They’re called earbuds--”

“And I can listen to whatever I want. How do you feel about this band called Nirvana?” Peter offered an earbud to Monica.

She laughed. “Right now, Jimmy has his heart set on this Lord of the Rings marathon.”

Jimmy shook his head as he took two bags from Monica and placed them all on the counter. “I stand by my claim that Lord of the Rings was and will forever be the best trilogy to ever exist.”

“Sure, Jimmy.” Darcy crossed the room to inspect the groceries. “Popcorn, sherbet, and Sprite? You got orange sherbet?”

Jimmy raised his palms in surrender and pointed at Monica. “Take that up with her.”

“Orange sherbet is the best flavor and, no, I will not be taking any questions.”

Darcy scrunched her nose. “And you’re sure powers were all you got from going through the Hex so many times?”

“You mean aside from having superior taste?” Monica joked. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

*********

“Frodo didn’t deserve Sam,” Monica stated as the movie played on screen.

Shoving another handful of popcorn in his mouth, Jimmy responded. “He was under a lot of pressure! The corruption from the ring only got worse the closer they got to Mordor, so you can’t really blame Frodo for everything.”

Monica wrinkled her nose at the kernels that flew out of his mouth as Jimmy spoke. “Whatever you say. Plus it doesn’t matter cause Darcy’s on my side anyways.”

“You say that as if she didn’t fall asleep the second the movie started,” Jimmy snorted as he gestured to Darcy, who was snoring rather loudly on his shoulder.

Peter chuckled at the banter between the two and at Monica’s annoyed expression, catching her attention.

With Darcy practically on top of Jimmy yet somehow also managing to take up half of the couch, Peter and Monica were seated rather close together.

“Unless you’re laughing at Jimmy, that noise shouldn’t be coming out of your mouth,” she joked, having to turn her head to look Peter in the eye.

“It’s really not my fault that you always seem to be wrong.”

“That’s a lie, actually, but alright.”

“See?” He snorted. “Wrong again.”

Monica glared at Peter who just chuckled and adjusted his position.

After no more than twenty minutes of the movie playing on screen, the sound of Monica snoring told Peter that he and Jimmy were the last two awake.

“They never stay up for my movies,” Jimmy muttered.

Peter turned in his direction. “They never what?”

“We try and do this movie night a couple of times a month. So far, they’ve fallen asleep on every single movie I’ve chosen. I mean that’s obviously just because they don’t appreciate classic media--”

“Right,” Peter mumbled. “That’s why.”

Jimmy paused as he shoveled another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “But I don’t mind it. I mean, everyone’s been back for a little while now, but there’s still this… this underlying fear that it’ll happen again. This nagging feeling that people are gonna be taken away from us, but this time they won’t come back.”

He looked at Darcy, still completely unconscious on Jimmy’s shoulder, and Monica, who was curled up under Peter. “They feel like family” Jimmy admitted. “We haven’t even known each other for that long, but I’d do anything for these two, and I’m comfortable saying they’d do the same for me.”

“I’m happy for all of you, really.” Peter sighed, feeling the clasp on Monica’s necklace dig into his side. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. I have a few memories--”

Taking a look at the confused look on Jimmy’s face, Peter continued. “Well, you all know that I’m not from here. Wanda just pulled me out of my own time and brought me here. ”

“I mean we know it wasn’t intentional--”

“That’s not the point!” Peter did his best to rein in his anger. “The point is, some random lady took me away from my time. Away from my home, my friends, my family. And I’m not even saying that I blame her, but why did it have to be me?” When Jimmy didn’t respond, Peter continued. “I get these… flashbacks. Fuzzy memories of home. They used to be pretty rare but lately, I’ve been getting them more often. One of them keeps showing up.”

“You think you can try and remember?” Jimmy suggested.

After a moment of silence, Peter decided. “Yeah.” He adjusted Monica so that her head rested on the arm of the couch instead of his side, and something strange happened to his chest at the sight of her sleeping so peacefully.

Jimmy pulled out a notebook and pen. Peter cleared his throat as Jimmy nodded for him to begin, ready to jot down whatever he could.

“It was me, a little girl. An older woman, could’ve been my mother? And--” Peter furrowed his brow as a dull pain began to form behind his eyes and a white noise began ringing in his ears. “Someone… someone else. They, uh-- a man. I think.”

“If you can’t remember who, try to focus on where.”

“No no, I’ve got it. They uh. We--” It was beginning to hurt. “No. Wait. Younger people… friends, they had to be.”

The pain became more intense. The noise in his head was getting louder. It hurt. Different images flashed in his head, all fuzzy and difficult to clear up. His mind reached out to grasp one but just as his fingertips brushed the surface, it was gone.

A patient teacher bound to a wheelchair.

A charming blue devil.

A shapeshifter with a warm heart.

A man who could shake the earth itself.

“They keep moving,” Peter said through gritted teeth. “They… t-they won’t sit still.”

“Alright, man,” Jimmy closed the notebook. “If you need to take a break we can--”

“No! I wanna do this. I need to do this.” Peter’s voice cracked. “I don’t-- I can’t forget them.”

“Okay. Alright, that’s fine but you-- uhh…” Jimmy furrowed his brow at the sight of the pen in his hand beginning to twitch. He took one look at Peter and his eyes grew wide the moment he began to understand. “Peter. Hey, you’ve gotta take a breath. You gotta-- shit.”

Jimmy took in Peter’s current state. Pale and shaky with droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. His eyes wide and panicked. “Uhmm, shit, Monica! Darcy! I really think now would be an appropriate time for the two of you to wake up, given the circumstances.”

As he moved to shake the two women awake, Peter’s struggle grew more intense. The pain had now spread throughout his entire head and turned into a pounding sensation. The noise was deafening as it bounced around in his skull.

Monica woke quickly to see Peter pale and in distress. “Jimmy, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know! We were trying to clear up the memories in his head when he started shaking and--”

“I can see that, but what’s happening?”

“Uhh…. I think stuff is about to start floating…”

Darcy’s eyes fluttered open. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy continued, still trying to wake Darcy. “Cause, my pen was shaking and your necklace is moving a lot, and Darcy, I think your glasses are about to fly off of your face.”

Monica looked down to see her necklace float away from her chest, then watched in what seemed like slow motion as each object Jimmy mentioned flew towards the same source.

Peter.

Seconds later the tv in front of them crumpled in on itself. “That was expensive,” Darcy sighed, now fully awake.

Monica cocked her head, her gaze flickering from Peter to Jimmy to Darcy. “Is he--”

“Yep,” Darcy said loudly

The three sat in awe and terror as Peter sank to the floor in agony, screaming as he drew his knees to his chest. His hands pressed over his ears.

Darcy looked into her kitchen and her eyes grew wide. Locking eyes with Monica and then Jimmy, they all spoke at once. “The knives.”

Monica scrambled to Peter’s side while Darcy and Jimmy ran to get as many knives as they could out of the house.

Darcy turned towards Monica. “You, uh, sure you got this?”

At Monica’s shaky nod, she followed Jimmy into the kitchen.

“Okay,” Monica began. “Peter… I’m gonna, um. I, uh-- okay I actually have no idea what I’m gonna do, but I need you to just, try and, uh, I don’t know, breathe?”

“I can’t.” he panted. The breaths he took were uneven and rapid and his face was stark white. He wasn’t responding to her. “I can’t forget. I-- no, no no I don’t want to forget. They’re slipping. I can’t reach them. Help me.”

She knew he wasn’t going to be able to calm himself down. Monica called the other two in there.

Jimmy ran into the living room first. “We weren’t-- oh.”

Darcy quickly followed. “Holy shit.” she looked at Monica. “You know what to do?”

Monica nodded. “But I haven’t exactly done it before and there’s a good chance I’ll pass out after.”

“I mean, if it means he stops screaming bloody murder, I feel like it’ll be worth it.” Jimmy looked at Darcy with wide eyes, who just shrugged.

“Right,” Monica shook the nerves out of her hands. “Okay. Alright.”

“Y’know, there are still knives and other extremely sharp objects in the kitchen so--”

“I got that, Darcy!” Monica snapped. She took a deep breath before turning all of her attention to the man in front of her. “Okay, Peter? I’m sorry, but none of us have any idea what to do, and so, this was the next best option.”

She closed her eyes and placed both hands to his temple, struggling to keep them there as he twisted in pain. When her eyes opened again, a bright blue shone in place of their usual brown.

His energy came through in tendrils. The super-speed feeling like electricity itself, sharp and cold, while his metallokinesis was slow and warm and heavy. It was new and painful and in that moment Monica understood his pain.

While his powers had come to a pause, his memories were a different matter.

“I gotta keep going,” Monica slurred. Her eyelids were heavy.

“Yeah that’s what we’re not gonna do,” Darcy said.

“He’s still in pain!”

“And now so are you! We can find something to sedate him but, right now, you can’t--”

Monica responded by placing her hands on Peter’s temple once again, this time taking out smaller amounts of energy. Just enough to put him to sleep for a little while.

She then promptly collapsed.

“Energy absorption,” Jimmy stated. “Impressive.”

Darcy sighed. “Please just help me get them to bed.”

“Right. Okay.”

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder Pt. 2 (Eugene Roe x Reader)

Part 1

Requested by @wolfers-stuff​: “Can you please make a part 2 for 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'?...”

Author’s Note: One last farewell fic for y’all before I disappear. I apologize if the pacing or writing is wack, I’ve been trying to revise it- I’m also sorry for makin’ you wait this long, it was not my intention to. I hope you still enjoy this 💕

Words: around 8.3k

Disclaimers/Warnings: Angst witha happy ending, mild cursing, ooc Gene(??), and longass writing

Italics means the past or a memory

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Taglist:  @deldontplay, @thatsonefishyboi,@noneofurbusinez, @meteora-fc, @gutsandgloryhere, @hihosilvers, @basilonely, @floydtab, @wexhappyxfew, @sherlollydramoine, @meganthesunflower, @3milesup, @jamie506101, @sunflowerchuck, @softlieb, @k-websters, @punkgeekchic, @speirs-crazy-ass, @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant, @runtdrummer, @fromtheoldtimes, @liebegott, @tvserie-s-world​ 

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Carentan was successfully captured but work was just beginning for Gene. Countless men were taken in and out of the building where the medics were treating them. While it was better than getting shot at, it was still a far cry from somebody’s idea of relaxing.

Eugene sat wearily as he took care of men after men, but the stream never really seemed to stop. As much as Genie cared about the boys, a break would’ve been well appreciated by the medic. Chatter and the work kept Gene busy and soon his mind was focused on nothing other than what was in front of him.

That was probably why Eugene was so spooked when he heard a few light taps on the wooden frame behind him. A familiar light chuckle reached his ears and he turned around to see you with a smug smile carved on your lips. The cramped building felt just a bit more tolerable ever since you made your way to Eugene.

The tension that built up in Eugene’s soldiers dissipated faster the longer you were near him. Your presence was a blessing, and he stood by that statement. However, Eugene couldn’t help but slightly frown as he looked at the numerous men who still had to get treated. Carentan really did do a number on them, huh?

“As much as I want you by my side at all times, apparently being in a war doesn’t allow us to. I promise I’ll make it up to you, mon ange.”

Eugene’s reply held hints of disappointment and he directed his thumb towards his supplies and the men waiting to be treated. Yet you came closer and looked around the room before pressing an inconspicuous peck on his cheek. You leaned back to take in the slight red flush on Eugene’s cheeks before quickly crossing your arms.

“That’s what I came here for, Genie, y’know I will always try to make things a little bit easier for you.”

“If you’re saying you’re gonna help me patch all these boys up, be my guest.” Eugene lightly joked, shining blue eyes lighting up as he focused on your small grin. 

“I thought you were just an ordinary paratrooper.”

“Genie, y’know I am, I just came here to tell you that one of the medics in Dog Company offered to help us. You’re working yourself out, take a break. I think you of all people need one.”

Eugene couldn’t help but let out a soft, relieved sigh as he leaned back. You let out a chuckle as you helped him up from his seat and you could already see his tired and worn out eyes brightening up just ever so slightly.  

The two of you maneuvered your way through the building, finally making it out to the bright day. It was no surprise to say that you two spent the day laying soft kisses on each other’s skin, holding each other comfortingly in the secure enclosure of each other’s arms.

---------------

Eugene frustratingly ran his hands through his black hair, his brows furrowed and teeth clenched as another memory of you ran through his mind.

He hated to admit it, he really did but it was no secret that all hope was gone after the first week of you being missing. It was then that they knew that the world had lost an angel on that day. Eugene would’ve never allowed himself to think of that just a few days ago. Everyone had seemed to have moved on, everyone else except him.

No one actually knew if you were dead, yes, but the idea of you returning became more far-fetched as the hours dragged on into days. Eugene had always used to cling onto the small string of hope that you would come back to them. But now Eugene couldn’t help but let that hope slip through his fingers and fall into the never-ending loop of despair. 

The Cajun man would tell himself that he would soon get over it for it was just another aspect of war. The scars never really healed properly though, and once again Gene would find himself quietly lamenting on prior events in the dead of night.

Of course, he stopped that habit and learned how to choke it back down but still... It still hurt so, so, so much.

After his little dispute with Cobb, Eugene distanced himself from the company more than ever before. Many attempts were brought to bring back the Eugene Roe they once knew. The lone and quiet medic who still kept to himself but also the one who still shared a few smiles and laughs with them.

But as soon as they saw the lost and void look of the medic, all attempts would be forgotten. Then all the men could do was offer a few words of comfort before slowly walking away to leave Eugene to his thoughts. 

While he wasn’t very vocal, everyone knew what was running through his head. The young man bottled all of his emotions up, and even with a brief mentioning of your name, he felt like all of his feelings would just combust and burst out of him.

Days bled into each other and it was all but a cycle of the same thing. Eugene couldn’t be described as nothing more than a hollow shell of his former self. He could’ve been a stone statue for all that he knew. As much as he tried to steer his thoughts of your well-being, it was inevitable that maybe some thoughts would slip by.

If you were actually dead… Was it quick? Slow? Somehow peaceful? Though Eugene particularly disliked those ones, he would do anything for just a hint of closure. It was all too much to bear and it wasn’t long before his heart became so heavy that his chest would cave in.

Eugene would then quickly drift towards never ending questions if you did make it out. Hypothetical thoughts and scenarios played through his head in a loop.

If you were somehow alive, then why was it taking you so long to get back to them? If you came back, what would be the first thing you would do? Would you cry, hug the person closest to you, crack those jokes of yours, or would you take your time to look for him? Perhaps pull him into your embrace, or maybe even kiss him—

And that’s when he would stop himself. Eugene knew that if he continued to think of it, he knew it would just break him more if he ever found out that you were taken away from them.

You were a beautiful flower, the flower that he could admire and the flower that gave him happiness. Your vibrant petals and graceful stem flowing ever so gently in the wind. Yet you were plucked from the ground right before his eyes. His beautiful flower, his ange. 

The love of his life reduced to nothing but a mere memory— a dream that will never come true.

Before he knew it, faint footsteps were heard as somebody approached him. Eugene didn’t look up as he continued to let thoughts swarm his head, occupying the vacant space.

He could feel someone sitting beside him and he ever so slightly scooted away. It was only until he heard a familiar voice ring out in his ear did he look up.

“Gene?” Babe’s concerned face was evident but Eugene’s cold indifference was more.

Eugene stared at the Philly man for a few more seconds before glancing back down, his back hunched over with his hands intertwined.

“Gene… How— How are you, buddy?”

“Things could be worse,” Eugene responded curtly and Babe’s eyebrows furrowed more.

He knew what Eugene was thinking about. He was also one of the very few who could talk about you to him without getting the cold shoulder.

“Everyone’s worried about you, Gene. Can’t you see that?” Eugene only offered a small glance at his friend before turning his eyes back to the snow-covered ground.

He could feel Babe scooting closer and hear his soft, exasperated sighs. Eugene lifted up his head to give him an empty stare, as if to say for him to continue. Babe leaned his head back as he fiddled with his thumbs.

“What is it—”

“We’re really trying our best, Gene. Y’know… To make you slightly okay. It ain’t much, but you have to understand that we don’t want you... We don’t want you like this anymore.” Babe continued, lightly motioning his frigid hands toward Gene’s form. Eugene stayed silent once more and the air grew stale.

No one was around, and the sounds of Babe’s words were only amplified by the empty space. Eugene couldn’t find a response for Babe, how could he? Everything was just hard, even when they shouldn’t be. For now, it was all just too much for the Cajun medic.

“I know, Heffron.” It was all he could say to him at this moment.

“Well.. I’m glad that you do. But… For now—” Babe offered Eugene a hurried glance as he leaned his head back more.

Words were stuck in his throat and he couldn’t find it in his heart to say them to Eugene. But he needed to. And so he continued.

“Genie— I think… I think it’s best if you… Just— Forget about her for now—”

“No.”

He responded immediately. Eugene looked hard into the pleading eyes of Babe, and his face hardened for just a second before it softened once more.

“But Gene—”

“No…”

It was softer this time, almost like a leaf falling to the earth below— yet however Eugene’s husky voice held intensity. Babe didn’t even know if he heard it, but it was clear that Eugene did. The medic shook his head slightly and his vacant stare was replaced by a look that could be described as longing and miserable.

Babe got the memo and slowly got up from his spot. He offered a comforting hand on Eugene’s shoulder but Eugene didn’t mind one bit. Babe stood silently beside Eugene, offering slight comfort to the Cajun man. Babe stepped back slowly and made his way back to the main building.

He offered one last look to the unmoving figure of his friend before reluctantly continuing on his path. The loud crunching of snow that once occupied the space faded away with each second. It wasn’t long before it turned silent, and Eugene was left to his thoughts once more.

Eugene remembered a time where when he still thought of you, butterflies and warmth filled his stomach and a bashful smile would replace his previous expression. 

But now those butterflies were replaced by a sharp feeling of agony. No longer the warm and comforting feeling he once knew when his mind drifted towards you, but rather a deep, overwhelming feeling of despair that stayed forever in the pit of his stomach. 

The thin lines of his lips would turn down every time it happened. He couldn’t even breathe at this point, taking deep breaths in hopes to recover, but it never worked. If he could, Eugene would’ve already screamed out all his worries and pain until his vocal chords were raw.

The decrepit stone buildings made him trapped and the frigid atmosphere of Haguenau didn’t help him at all. But Eugene knew that it wasn’t the weather that was the problem. More or less, it just contributed to an already hopeless morning, afternoon, evening, or night. The days were gloomy and held no life and Eugene associated most of it to your disappearance.

Eugene felt at bliss whenever he was with you, for you were his small beacon of joy during all of this. You made everything more tolerable and happy that it actually was. No matter how grim the situation, your mere presence made everyone’s days brighter.  

But Eugene lost the one thing that kept him going, and he couldn’t do anything about it other than shove past it or dwell on it a bit longer. He didn’t like either options.

Eugene really had no clue as to how he’s still holding on. For someone who was realistic and almost pessimistic at times, Eugene couldn’t bear letting the thought of you returning go. As impossible as it seemed now to everybody, Eugene never let that thought falter too much.  And though Eugene hated it when a memory of you ran through his head, he made an effort to not forget those either.

It was really one of the few things that you left behind.

But now only constant flashes of memories occupied where you once were. Though he loved the silence with all of his heart, it now only served as a constant reminder that you weren’t there with him. It festered in his stomach restlessly and anything and everything reminded him of your absence.

But of course Eugene still loved you, his love for you was all but forgotten. It’s just… Almost funny how the world still manages to continue. Eugene didn’t even think that was possible, how it goes on and all. 

Even when you were gone. Eugene thought of Babe’s words and he told himself countless times that for once he should listen to him.

He just… He just couldn’t. But you—the person who always kept her head up during hard times— would’ve wanted him to move on.

You wouldn’t want him looking like this. Eugene could almost hear your concerned words and jokes that always cheered him up. He couldn’t help but crack a tight smile as he wondered at what could have been. Just when he’d thought this war couldn’t become worse, it did.

Eugene reminisced about the times he called you ‘mon ange’, the loving term of endearment taking another meaning.

He was too immersed that he couldn’t hear the footsteps coming towards him. Before he could delve any deeper in his speculations, Babe’s voice stops him. Eugene could see Babe’s figure just a couple steps away. The redhead’s face was still concerned and he waited idly before speaking.

“Let’s go, Gene.. Come inside, will ya?” Babe called out to him.

“Yeah.. Coming.”

Eugene sat in the same spot for just a few moments before he stood up. He looked back on what Babe said, maybe, just maybe— he’ll try to move on. Eugene couldn’t fathom the loss, as morbid as it was, he’d trade 10 men just to bring you back. God had other plans and Eugene wanted to scream at him for taking you too soon.

Why? Why? Why...?

------------------

It was one of those days where you and the company had time to rest and to say that you were overjoyed was an understatement. Settling on a spot that was private but still near, you and the Cajun man immediately loosened up. As the medic almost let his eyes close, you nudged him gently on the shoulder.

Eugene let out a questioning groan and as he slowly opened his eyes. Eugene’s eyes were met with you fumbling with the inside of your jacket. You were rummaging through it, looking for a certain something that might cheer him up.

Before Eugene knew it, you pulled out a chocolate bar, one that was surprisingly unbroken on smushed in any way. Eugene looked at you in amusement as his eyes glanced quickly between the bar and your closed eye grin.

“Look what I got, Genie! I found a candy shop nearby, thankfully no one managed to blast it— And I may or may not have snuck in and gotten a few bars.”

A mischievous glint flashed in your eyes as you offered Genie one of your many cheeky smiles.

“I gave some to the boys to share but I’m keeping the rest of it for us two. Genie— you have no idea how long it took me to find you so I could get you one of these. So you better be thankful.”

You scooted closer to him and you gently unwrapped the chocolate from its wrapper. You tenderly leaned on his shoulder and you can feel him lean his head on yours. You offered a broken piece out to him and he gladly took it.

Disbelief flashed across his face but it was washed away as soon as he once again laid eyes of your radiant face. Eugene gave you another small smile before popping the chocolate in his mouth. 

After finishing the piece, the amused smile he had before slowly made its way to his face again.

“After all of this, instead of checking in on yourself, you went into a candy shop to get us chocolate?”

A light teasing tone with the tiniest hints of concern coated his words and you gave him nothing but a glance. Eugene let out a breathy chuckle that was only accented by his husky voice and familiar accent. You really couldn’t help but let out one of your own chuckles while your face heated up. You then broke off another piece and handed it over to the medic.

“I have my ways—  And stop with the questions, just enjoy your chocolate, will you?” You replied, shoving more pieces of chocolate to him.

Eugene offered you one last glance and smile before looking forward and relishing in the sweet moment you two shared.

--------------

You didn’t know how long you were traveling, but it was obviously more than a couple of days. You lost a basic concept of time and all you focused on was how to get back to Easy. The snow made everything harder and you could’ve sworn you were already dead. The amount of times you almost got captured or shot were too many to count.

For now, you were just slowly relying on luck.

But you needed to get back to them, you desperately needed to. No matter how long it’ll take or how hard it’s going to be, you were determined to finally see them.

To see the boys. To see him. In times where you almost gave up, Eugene popped up into your mind. It was only then that you found the strength to keep traveling.

The crushing of the snow grew redundant and it wasn’t long before you grew sick of it. Your only support was the trees but you had already lost feeling in your limbs a long time ago. 

Small fires were made during the night but they never lasted long. You got used to the biting air of the forest but of course you would do anything to get out of it.

It took a long time to get the Germans off your tail and it was even harder staying low. The instance of you falling into a hidden German foxhole still left you in disbelief and in shock. You luckily weren’t hurt and most of the injuries you sustained were minor and didn’t need any serious maintenance.

The forest was a maze; it was a wonder that you managed to make it out. But at least you’d die of hypothermia or starvation instead of a bullet wound. Either way, you still had to find Easy.

It’d felt so long since you were separated from them in Bastogne— waking up trapped in somebody else’s foxhole and only getting out to see that all of them were gone.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and you took a coat from a German you killed a few days ago. As much as it disgusted you that you were wearing one of your enemy’s clothes, it did keep you warm. So you sucked it up and put it over the coat you wore since you came into this icy hellscape.

You took shelter in the destroyed towns nearby, and you knew you’d find them soon. It’s been so long already and knowing them they were probably already done with their mission in Foy. From what you could remember, Haguenau was the next spot. Based on the map you stole a long time ago, you were pretty darn close.  

If the cold wasn’t going to drive you mad then this certainly will. It wasn’t long before the sun set and night fell over the destroyed town. After finding shelter in a broken house, you immediately went to work on a small fire on the floor. The tiny pile of branches you gathered lit up into flames and a long sigh of exasperation fell from your lips.

“Holy shit— Finally…”

You brought your numb hands close to the fire and for once you actually felt warm. Maybe this time you wouldn’t have to put this fire out, maybe this time you can finally fall asleep for more than 3 hours. You continued to hold your hands close to the flames as you looked around your surroundings, flinching at every sound.

Sleep caught up to you though and you could ever so slightly feel the heavy lids of your eyes drooping, your cumbersome body slumped down against the long and your cold fingers gripped onto the fabric of your coat. You huddled closer into the little warmth that you have and your tense body relaxed.

Though where you lied was all but comfortable you couldn’t help your eyes from closing and your whole body from succumbing into sleep.

Not even a few hours later, your tired eyes open up and get used to the building around you. It wasn’t even morning, and the crack of dawn was just peeking around the corner. You let out a few grumbles into the silence and you huff, white puffs of air forming in the cold air.

The floorboards creaked as you stood up before centering yourself on the hardwood floor beneath you. The small fire was long extinguished and the burnt remains stayed on the floor. Your feet ached as if trying to get you back to settle down, even for just a few moments.

Overwhelming urges to go back to the broken down house bounced to and fro in your mind. But the strong desire to once again lay your eyes upon the company which you called family swiftly took over. A new surge of motivation flourished through you and the numbing ache you felt was soon nothing but washed out.

The cold air was just as overbearing and the chattering of your teeth was the only thing that your ears could pick up. It was slightly dark, and the sun just barely peaked over the horizon, and you longed for its rays to shine upon your frigid form. You could only long for so much though, so you chucked the thought away and carried on.

Large destroyed buildings loomed over you, and the soon to be bright sky made everything seem ominous. You brought your shivering arms to wrap around yourself, trying to take in as much warmth your cold body could offer.

Everything had a purpose in life, but you still don’t understand why life decided to fuck you up this much.

All you wanted to be back in Eugene’s arms, to hear his comforting voice, and to run your hands through his dark hair once more. You’ll do it. For him you’ll make it. Just for him to take you up in his embrace. That thought was more than enough to push you. You were so, so close. You could make it. You knew you could.

Each step was worth it and before you knew it the sun rose, the bright rays just peeking ever so slightly beyond the dead trees. This might be the only time that you’re the only one moving in the vicinity. If it weren’t for you chattering your teeth and not feeling anything in your body, this walk might’ve actually been calming.

If you planned correctly and only took a few breaks that are about 2 hours maximum, you could make it to Haguenau in the afternoon. You’ll finally see the boys and be reunited with Easy after being separated from them for more than a week. The thought filled you with warmth no coat or sun could ever give you.

But fucking damn the snow. It made everything harder than it needed to be. It was only two miles but yet the snow made it seem like 200. Hours went by and you took as little breaks as possible. Laying down on the snow with your back on a tree as you tried to reclaim your lost breath.

Things were serene almost. And by that you meant at least you weren’t getting shot at and trees weren’t exploding all around you.

Then you saw it— the ever so faint outline of what looked to be a small town. This was it, you thought. It was right there, just out of your reach. Your slow steps from before grew more frantic as you neared the grey looking town. You shrugged off your coat, you knew they would start blasting if they thought you were a German soldier.

The coat dropped limply to the snowy floor and your (E/C) picked up a few figures along the edge. It was so blurry, why was it so fucking blurry?

Shivering and huffing, you whispered words of encouragement to yourself, “Come on, come on. You’re almost there... You can make it...”

The two men you saw raised up their rifles to take aim at you, yet you couldn’t bring the strength to raise the icicles you called arms. Instead you kept shuffling forward. Your movement was sluggish and your coordination wasn’t the best at the moment, but you plowed on.

The figures held their ground and with each passing second, the cold wasn’t bothering you— it was the fear that you’ll get shot by your own friends.

Shoving the thought away, you instead focused on the town— no matter how blurry it was. Your knees and legs almost gave out beneath you, yet you somehow still found the willpower to hold yourself up. The soldiers gave each other a look as their eyes focused on your form.

Babe’s breath hitched as he recognized you. He immediately lowered down his weapon and threw his fellow paratrooper a wide-eyed look.

Your knees and legs almost gave out beneath you, yet you somehow still found the strength to hold yourself up. The soldiers gave each other a look as their eyes focused on your form.

Babe’s breath hitched as he recognized you. He immediately lowered down his weapon and threw his fellow paratrooper a wide-eyed look.

“Jesus Christ, lower your fucking gun, Lieb— It’s (Y/N)... It’s (Y/N)!” Heffron yelled vehemently into his friend’s ear.

Liebgott also dropped his gun, he squinted his eyes at you and his jaw grew slack. He was left in shock and all sorts of emotions shone throughout his face in the matter of mere seconds. A look was shared between the two men. After a brief moment of standing still to take the moment in, they broke out into a sprint.

Your body collapsed into them as they reached you, their two arms hoisting you up as you could only pick out a few words. (E/C) eyes grew weary and tired, and you simply let fatigue take over your being.

Liebgott and Babe grew increasingly worried and it wasn’t long before they panicked. They shook you hard and your chin was tilted up to meet their faces.

“She’s freezing—”

“Yeah no shit, Babe. C’mon we need to get her back into town and get her to Roe—”

Everything was fading but your chapped lips stretched into a faint grin. You could faintly see their faces, and you have never been any happier to see a person this much. Babe’s hand cradled your head as they slowly brought you up. Liebgott carried your limp body and brought one of your arms to hang over his neck.

The two men hurried so fast into the town and you couldn’t pick up anything other than fragments of sentences. Your eyes drooped and your teeth chattered unbelievably hard. Your head was pounding and everything was just a cacophony of various sounds, nothing made sense.

“She— passing out—”

“—here the— is Roe— Bring h— over here—”

Roe… You recognized that name. Genie, your Genie— Everything was such a blur, it was all chaos in your mind. But you’re here, and you’ll get to meet Eugene after how long. It was worth the wait, you’re going to finally see him.

Whatever was going on didn’t matter anymore and you tuned out the distant shouts and ruckus. Your eyes fluttered shut and your expression was nothing but content, after all, you had a certain Cajun man in your mind. The whole world went black and you inevitably passed out in the arms of Liebgott.

-------------

Everyone in Haguenau was utterly shocked when they caught wind of what happened. Others were in glee, some relieved and happy, but the majority was shrouded with a thick cloud of doubt and disbelief.

Questions were thrown left and right but no one could find a definite answer. All words that were about to escape were cut short at what was to come.

Rumors were turned into facts and all who rejected the idea could only gawk at the sight. Multiple eyes rake over the two men frantically yelling and running like their lives depended on it. But their focus was immediately averted to you— the weak soldier in the arms of Lieb.

It was hectic and no one knew what to do next, but the shouts of the fiery-headed man brought them out of their daze.

Desperate cries for the medic rang for a few moments and then after what felt like an eternity, the Cajun man arrived. It’s an understatement to say that his heart stopped as soon as his eyes ran over your unconscious form.

Caught frozen in the moment it was only when Martin practically shoved him into your direction did he start moving.

Nodding stiffly with his cerulean eyes blown wide open, almost everyone in the area rushed to the building where all of Roe’s supplies laid. The door busted upon and could’ve flown off it’s rusty hinges at that point, but everyone’s nerves were wrecked to oblivion.

The shuffling and the jagged huffs of air you released filled the air. They laid you on the wooden table in the center of the room, gingerly plopping your body on the rough surface.

Cold. You were so cold and barely hanging onto an inch of your life… Eugene felt himself grow more rushed and panicked with every move he took, yet he still proceeded each step with the precision and stability any medic wished they had.

He remembered to treat you with the utmost care and gentleness and carefully shrugged off your soddy coat. Removing his own, he dressed you his dry and warmer coat.

“Blankets,” Eugene uttered while looking into Lipton’s eyes

Lipton was too busy fretting over your being and when Eugene said the word, and he couldn’t make out a word. “Roe, what?”

“Sir, just give me blankets, please,” the medic practically keened.

The First Sergeant let out a hum of acknowledgement before rushing off to God-knows-where to get the blankets Eugene so desperately and quietly pleaded for. As soon as Lipton disappeared behind a corner, all of Eugene’s attention was on you.

Requesting hot water, Roe immediately soaked a towel in it. Removing excess moisture before letting it cool down for a few moments, he placed the warm towel on your neck. He poured out all his medical knowledge into action, he needed to keep you alive. Eugene needed to.

He couldn’t lose you again, he wouldn’t allow it.

His mind processed so many things, like how you suddenly appeared after everyone thought you… Thought you died. Appearing out of nowhere, collapsing, and in severe need of warmth. Nonetheless, you were alive and breathing. You were back and now all his answers have been answered.

With the heavy weight lifting from his chest, a new weight arrived and took its place. Right now, all he needed to do was to get blood circulating through your body and to keep you warm.

He just hopes he can deal with the emotions that would later come, and he most definitely hopes that you’ll make it out of this just alright.

“Roe. The blankets,” Lipton returned and in his arms were a heaping pile of blankets which would be more than okay.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Eugene thanked curtly as he took the heavy pile off his hands and placed them on the cold stone floor.

“Of course, Eugene,” while Lip had addressed him, his eyes were still glued at your shut eyes. The fatherly compassion in his face made Eugene feel warm for just a bit before taking a glance at your serene expression.

Eugene’s hands grabbed about four and laid them across your form, and he took two more to make a makeshift pillow. Tenderly raising up your head, he placed it under and let out a sigh in relief as he finished treating you. The soft rise of your chest reassured him that you were sleeping well, the frigid temperatures of your skin subsiding and returning to normal.

You’d be alright, you just needed to rest and wake up and Eugene couldn’t wait more for that moment to arrive. Loosely dropping the blanket he held tightly in his fist, Eugene made his way over to you. Everyone had crowded around the table but made space back when Roe told them to make room.

Everyone had crowded around the table but made space back when Roe told them to make room. They mimicked his actions, and stepped closer like before. They were all so nervous, but they all held caring and content looks in their eyes.

As time passed, more and more of the men left the building to go to their bunks. But every time they left, they made sure to spare you one last glance before retreating into the afternoon.

Soon enough it was only him, Babe, Lipton, Speirs, and Winters left in the building— the commanding officers talking amongst themselves while throwing concerned glances at you. Heffron opted to stay on the other side of the table, biting nervously at his fingernails.

“(Y/N) will wake up soon, right?” Heffron questioned, his voice quavering ever so slightly and Eugene turned his eyes to him.

Babe’s eyes were so filled with hope that Eugene couldn’t help but agree too— his own orbs begging for everything to be alright.

Everyone in the room kept watch for as long as they could, but it was only so soon that they had to attend to their own duties. Lipton definitely made sure to give words of encouragement and comfort to the shaken medic and soon he left with Winters and Speirs, the latter offering a stable nod of the head whilst leaving.

“Don’t worry Roe, (Y/N)... (Y/N) will be alright, she’s strong. (Y/N)’s stronger than anyone I know.”

“You… You think so?” The Cajun man carefully began as his dexterous hands took off his helmet to run his fingers through them.

“I know so.”

Lipton placed his glove-laden hand on Roe’s shoulder, the gesture made the tension in his body lessen by just a bit. He gave a salute which Eugene returned and he wistfully watched his company return to their prior business.

With just the two of you left in the building, Eugene let his walls go down and he collapsed on a nearby chair. Both of his hands flashed up to sink themselves deep in his ebony hair, the sniffling of his nose overtaking the silence. It’d been so long since he last cried… It’d been even longer since he saw you…

The salty tears blurred his vision but he hastily rubbed them away, the rough fabric taking them off and clearing his sight.

He dragged the wooden chair closer to you and his hands reached out hesitantly to caress your face. Eugene delicately moved stray strands of your hair away from your face and the back of his hand rested on your forehead to check your temperature.

A melancholy look was glazed over his gray-blue eyes and he slowly retracted his hand away from your forehead. Now that the dust had settled, the realization hit him, and with that came the many thoughts.

You were alive, that was obvious enough, but he couldn’t over the fact that you were. Eugene felt immensely relieved that you were, he wouldn’t be able to live if you weren’t. But seeing you limp in Liebgott’s arms left him frozen as if he was being taken back to your abrupt appearance just about two hours ago.

Eugene’s pale hand found its way on your warm cheek, with you subconsciously nuzzling yourself into the palm of his hand— the action making him weak. You had always used to do that and a tender fondness washed over his once tense features.

All in all, he was completely overjoyed that you were here— even if you weren’t conscious, you were still here. If Eugene’s mind wasn’t keeping him busy, he spent his time checking up and taking care of you.

“I just… You’re back..” Eugene drawled out, even if he knew you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Maybe it was better that way…

He had to choke back tears as he continued, emotion pouring out with every word, “I missed you— I missed you a lot actually.”

Even without anyone listening, Eugene acted like there was— with no one there to judge him, he spoke with utmost passion. It had been long subdued and held back, and in those short moments Eugene had spoken more than he ever had in the past days. His fists were aching from how hard they were clench, appearing ghostly white as he continued spouting heartfelt words from his lips.

“I love you, (Y/N). I was so scared that I lost you, I love you so much, mon ange…” Eugene held your still hand, and there you remained serenely resting.

The words hung in the air, dissipating into nothing as seconds passed by. His term of endearment used to feel heavy on his mouth whenever he had said it, but now at this time— it felt right, it fit.

Eugene’s nerves were utterly wrecked, but your presence was the best thing that has ever happened to him. Two weeks, two weeks since Eugene thought he lost you in Bastogne. But he stopped worrying because all of his prayers were answered.

With his back to the old wooden chair, he observed the light pouring out from the dusty windows— almost golden even though it was a bit too early in the afternoon for it. Eugene felt tumultuous and he tried his hardest to come to terms with today’s events. Tilting his head down he folded his hands and shut his eyelids. With a final look to your passed-out figure, he let out an affectionate smile.

It wasn’t long before Eugene too fell into unconsciousness— his mind being transported to dreamland with you in his head.

“I love you, mon ange,” he mumbled quietly, just hoping you could hear him even in your state.

The soft smile on Eugene’s face was prominent then.

----------

The early afternoon light turned dark, the light—even filled with smoke—shone its pinkish and golden hues through the grimy windows of the brick buildings. It wasn’t long until the evening colors turned into ones of navy blue and soon dark cobalt, the moon shining dimly in the sky. Eugene was still passed out, arms crossed and as still as he could be.

No one decided to bother the medic, and anyone who decided to enter the building anyway decided to do so quietly. A menagerie of people checked up on you and Eugene through the hours, but nonetheless people were sparse. With no patrols, wounded, or future assignments, Eugene could stay in that building for as long he wanted to.

His helmet rested idle next to his chair, and the room looked like a moment frozen in time.

The lantern casted a yellow glow throughout the space, shadows playing on the medic’s face and the edge of the room. And that was where you found yourself, wrapped in blankets, in an unknown rickety building. Nonetheless you were warm and you were thankful for that.

Yet you still felt fuzzy, like static was making a home in your brain. You softly let out a groan, your shoulders sore and your skin tingling.

“Shit… My head…” you brought a shaky hand to your temples and the pile of blankets fell off your torso and pooled in your lap.

The old wooden table creaked with each movement and you didn’t notice the sleeping figure sitting on the side of you. The corners of the moon could barely be seen from the angle you were in, and your tired digits clenched around the thin fabric that was splayed out in front of you.

You were in… That was right— you were in Haguenau. You made it, saw Babe and Lieb and inevitably passed out. That was all in the morning, it must be. Just how long have you been passed out? It must’ve been half the day.

Your weary (E/C) eyes glanced across the room, taking in your surroundings. With the dim lantern light bathing you, it was quite hard to make out anything. Turning your head slowly left and right you jump out of your skin when you see a body just beside you.

Your eyes widen swiftly, your mouth agape. But looking closer, it wasn’t just anybody. Bringing your palm to your chest to calm your turbulent heartbeat, you gazed at him— to assure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating.

It was Eugene— good God it was Eugene.

Gathering your thoughts, you leaned forward, slightly wincing at the slightly numb and uncomfortable feeling of your abdomen and legs. Your eyes held want and need, you never wanted someone so badly. A strong urge to just throw away the regard of your own safety and bounce into his arms was tempting, but you knew better than to do that.

You’d simply pass out again, and if you were to die right here in this moment, then so be it. One glance at the ebony locks that were lightly tousled, the same ones you loved to run your (S/C) hands through, was enough to make your heart weak.

His closed eyes just radiated like unexplored waters, and even when sleeping he held such a refined grace and elegance.

This must’ve been the longest sleep he’s had in days, and while you had gone through considerably worse these few days, your heart panged at the thought of him not getting enough rest.

“Eugene…?”

It slipped out suddenly, you didn’t even mean to utter anything. But his eyes opened before you could even register the fact that you did speak.

Ever the light sleeper or even borderline insomniac, Eugene bolted up. Stormy blue orbs revealing themselves and his whole upper body staggering up at the sudden noise. While soft, it was clearly abrupt, and so it woke him up immediately.

At first he thought it was one of the boys, maybe one of them telling him to come back to the bunks or something similar. But when his head lurched its direction at the door, no one was there.

Blinking away his grogginess, he saw you. Awake. Right in front of him.

Even though it was you who needed the most rest, you made the first move. Steadily balancing yourself on the table with your legs hanging loosely on the edge, your head tilted and your eyes glassy. Eugene Roe didn’t want to cry, he wanted his first moment with you to be happy.

But tears don’t listen to the silent pleas of broken soldiers. And so they fell on his trousers, wet droplets plopping gently on the fabric.

With a blink on an eye, the moment was cut short by your sudden movements. The flickering of the lamp illuminating your tired face as you plopped from the table with a wince. The patter of your feet as you trekked the small distance which separated you and your lover. The longing in your heart ceased, but even with Eugene there your heart seemed to crave more once again.

Chuckling dryly through his tears, Eugene took off his gloves, “Ain’t this the part where I tell you to keep resting?”

The first thing he says to you and it’s one of his stupid jokes, Gene mentally reprimanded himself but when he saw you smile he didn’t think it was such a bad idea anymore. The first laugh you had in such a long time bubbled in your dry throat, you softly coughing after the act.

Eugene stood up with a concerned look in his eyes, only stopping himself when you held your hand up.

You were the first to break, as you collapsed yourself onto Eugene’s chest as he stood up. Eugene’s tears were long gone, but yours were only starting. You sobbed silently as you clutched his uniform. You grabbed at him fervently, hoping to find leverage.

With your hands running intensely around his body— just wanting to touch any part of him. Any.

It’s been far too long and you just wanted to hug him so tight you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Two weeks may not seem like much, but in war two weeks felt like an eternity. A lot occurred in those two weeks—Eugene Roe broke and snapped and you almost succumbed to Mother Nature. But it was good now— no Germans, no missing lovers, and no more fucking snow. It was almost unbelievable, like a dream.

The absence in your heart has been filled, but you wanted to stay whole for as long as you can— so you held onto him like your life depended on it. With trembling fingers and quavering breath, you feverishly embraced him, and he too returned your hold with as much fervor. You missed him, you missed him too much.

“Welcome back, mon ange...”

“Well,” you gestured to the old building and walls enclosing you both, “This certainly doesn’t look like heaven.”

Gene only lightly smiled, his eyes focusing on your face. He took it in, desperate to keep your figure in his head. He’ll never forgive himself if he doesn’t remember the exact planes in your face for even a moment. You stood there too, dazed. You had only just woken up and yet you were already straining yourself, but for Gene it was worth it.

The comedic and light moment left as quickly as it came, getting washed away by the somber atmosphere like a powerful tidal wave. Eugene was the one who went out to hold you this time, but it was none at all like yours.

His hold was secure and controlled, although you could tell he was practically yearning to hold you intensely like you did with him.

While not the passionate hold you gave him, it held as much love and adoration. Eugene didn’t need words to express his happiness, relief, and sorrow for he was quite literally the human embodiment of ‘actions speak louder than words’.

Everything was so ephemeral, with the blink of an eye it could all vanish. But the love that you held for Eugene said otherwise. Oh you pleaded internally that someone will let this be the lifetime where you spend an eternity with him. That finally this will be the time where you won’t have to worry about no longer having Eugene by your side.

Tears sprang up from your eyes again, tumbling down slowly on your cheeks, “I thought— I thought I was never going to see you again. I… I thought I was going to die Gene, I r-really did, I was so close…”

“I thought so too, but we’re here now.” he wiped your tears away with a swipe, his cold lips pressing kisses on your forehead.

“Wha-what if I didn’t see you, or if I took a wrong turn? And the last thing I would see would just be snow and not you—”

With a soft but firm look on his features, he shook his head as if to say ‘no more’, “(Y/N)... I would walk around for miles to find you if I could.”

You clamped your mouth shut and nodded with each word from his mouth, and you buried your head deeper into his hold. The dank room seemed much brighter with you in his embrace, the whole town seemed to light up in fact.

Everyone has such expectant and hopeful faces and they were immensely glad that you were back with them. Cold as you were then, you still managed to be brighter than the sun. Eugene could honestly go on for hours listing all the beautiful adjectives he could use to describe you.

Eugene held you as if he had no intentions of ever letting you slip from his secure grasp. If there was no tomorrow, he should at least enjoy this sacred moment while it lasts— to forever savor it and reminisce about it when his time comes.

You begged anything to let this fleeting moment last, to forever be one with the one you loved most.

“Never let me go, Genie.”

“I won’t…”

“Please?”

“I love you too much to lose you again...”

With a word or with a sentence, Eugene could make you feel anything. And with that uttered statement, he made you feel at peace. A compassionate look that held a million unspoken words was bestowed upon you, for a fraction of a second you could feel him pressing the faintest of kisses on your lips.  

And for the first time in this chaotic unfolding of events, you felt happy.

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Author’s Note: Well here it is, my last fic before I go. But thank you for making it all the way to the end of this long fic, I love y’all so much. I hope y’all will have a good day and I’ll be sendin’ some good vibes 😩💕

[anarchy-lives-eternal]

First of all, I’d like to apologize if you don’t like OOC fanfics or Charlastor fics, please ignore this one if that’s the case! So basically, this is about if Charlie and Alastor had been human and grew up together. This is entirely based on if Alastor was Demiromantic (which actually falls under the Aromantic umbrella) and had fallen in love with Charlie towards the end of their schooling/early adulthood. It is set so that they were born around 1904/1905. But anyways! I’m giving away the whole entire plot! Don’t mind me! Some warnings do include: References to violence/murder, OOC-ness of main characters, and there is some r-rated language. There are almost zero references towards, ahem, adult activities, or even really any kissing. Mostly references cuddles and hugs. Also, if anyone wants to suggest a name for this, please do so. Again, wasting your time! Sorry! Let’s get this show on the road!

A Charlastor AU

Alastor was angry. He was sad. He was grieving. He stood at his wife’s funeral, his smile was in place, but it looked more like a grimace than anything. Her friends and family had come, as well as his.

“She left this world far too early.”

“Taken away before her time.”

“She was far too kind for this world.”

Alastor couldn’t agree more. Charlotte, or Charlie as she preferred, his wife, his confidant, his world, was gone. They had grown up together, even though they came from wildly different backgrounds. His mother had been the Magne family’s head chef, and they had allowed her to bring Alastor along, saying that they had a daughter of the same age, and they could even play together.

Alastor had been a shy child, though, so when he first met Charlie at the tender age of 5, and she had immediately declared him her “bestest friend”, well... he had hid behind his mothers skirts. She had pushed him back out though and urged him to get to know the little heiress, telling him that he couldn’t spend all his time with his mother, and he knew well enough he wasn’t allowed in the kitchens anyways, “Too many knives, dear.”

So, he had been pulled out of the house and into the lavish gardens by the little girl wearing a frilly pink dress, that apparently she hated.

They had spent the entire day and the days to follow together, and when the time came for them to go to school, they both thought that they would be separated, only for Alastor to be invited to attend the school Charlie was going to go to. When he asked his mother, she said that Charlie’s parents had offered the scholarship as a “perk” of working for them. (Later on, Alastor would find out that Charlie’s mother, Lily, had seen the school Alastor would be attending and immediately denied it, saying there was no way any friend of Charlie’s was going to go to such a run down school)

And so the trend continued through their adolescence, until it was time to graduate. By this time, the two were nigh inseparable, and Alastor, despite his best efforts, had fallen in love. It wasn’t until his first broadcast a year and a half later that he finally got the courage to ask her out for a date. And only because he had found out the hard way that Charlie had a jealous streak a mile wide.

Alastor had laughed at his own idiocy, “Darling, why don’t we go out dancing tomorrow night?”

Charlie peeked up at him, her cheeks a rosy hue from her embarrassment, “Like a date?”

Alastor grinned, his chest warm, “Yes, Doll. A real date.”

And the rest was history. At least to the rest of the world.

You see, Charlie was the only person in the world who knew the identity of the New Orleans killer. And not only did she know who he was, but she literally helped him get away with murder. After all, she loved him.

She also created his cause: only ever kill the ones who were dirty. Abusers, rapists, dirty cops and dirtier officials.

She had helped him bury bodies or clean up blood on multiple occasions. She had even acted as a lure for others. She had been the one to come up with the template for his victims when he had admitted to her his desires to hurt others those years ago, “We can’t control your urges, Al, but we can aim them in a more... proactive direction.”

The 1930’s were rife with crime, if the FBI were to be believed. Just last year they had come out with a Bulletin, trying to get the public to speak up. They also had a fancy new lab for solving crime. ‘Oh well’ Alastor thought, ‘37 victims in and they’ve yet to even come close to me. Then again, I had Charlie before.’

Another wave of grief washed over him. He felt actual tears roll down his cheeks. Finally he was asked to speak.

Alastor cleared his throat, speaking was his specialty, but now it seemed so hard, “Charlie... she was my entire world, my confidant, my only love, and my.. partner-in-crime. She never deserved this. She was always so happy! Her smiles even outshone mine! I just want her back, if I’m entirely honest. I’d give anything to hold her again.” He turned, a blood red rose and a fist full of dirt clutched in either hand as they finished lowering her, he kissed the rose and tossed it down, then threw the handful of dirt as well. At that moment, something about Alastor seemed to fracture. After that day, no one ever saw him without a smile again.

Charlie

She awoke in a strange, gray room. Surrounding her were 3 forms, their faces indistinguishable, “Charlotte Rose Magne, you have been brought before us for judgement. Do you repent for your sins? Do you accept Lord Jesus Christ as your savior?”

“Repent? Repent for what?”

“For aiding in the murder of 37 individuals.”

“You mean taking horrible people off the street? For loving my husband?”

“If you shall not repent, to Hell you shall be sent.”

Before anything else could be said, three gavels slammed down, and Charlie could feel fire burning her soul. As she fell, she changed. Horns grew from her forehead, curling backwards, her sclera turned blood red, and her iris poison yellow. She lost all color, turning porcelain white. Her canines sharpened and she could taste blood in her mouth. She landed on a strange ground, everything around her was red, and there was a set of wrought iron gates in front of her. She picked herself up, walking forward.

So this was Hell. It was nothing like what she expected. Demons walked the streets, from all the eras thus far. She looked to her left and saw her reflection, ‘Well this just won’t do.’ She felt a strange tug as she concentrated on changing her appearance to that without the horns and eyes. There. Once her eyes had changed to black with yellow sclera and her horns were gone, she looked like an actual doll. She grinned.

Looking around some more, she noticed there were demons selling drugs and murdering others out in the open. It was obvious to her that everything goes in this place. There is one thing she is certain of, though. She needs some kind of protection.

There was a commotion to her right, a building that looked like a jazz lounge stood, and in front of it she could hear two demonesses arguing, “you can’t just up and quit! You’re our only Canary!”

Mimzy, I do believe I just did! Now enough with this jive, I’m off to bigger and better things!”

Charlie decided this was her chance. She knew she had a great voice, Alastor and others had always told her so. She felt a pang of grief and pain. Alastor...

She pushed it aside. She needed a job to survive now. She would just wait for her husband. They wouldn’t be apart forever.

“Excuse me! You’re Ms. Mimzy? You own this lounge?”

The demoness turned to her, “Yes, that’s me. What do you need?”

Charlie grinned, using the charm that her husband had taught her when she wanted something, “Why! I’ve heard quite a bit about this place and I would just love the chance to audition for a singing position. I’m told I have quite the pipes, and you seem to have found yourself in need of a canary!”

Mimzy looked Charlie up and down before hefting a heavy sigh, “Fine, at least you’re a looker. Let’s go. Hopefully you aren’t a trip for biscuits.”

Charlie just kept her smile at full blast. She was taken into the clip joint and straight to Mimzy’s office, where she was given a list of songs to pick from. She chose Blue Skies by Irving Berlin, as it was one of her favorites.

As she sang the song, she watched Mimzy’s face go from doubtful, to elated, to downright giddy. When she was done, Mimzy jumped up, “Why I never! What a talent! You can count yourself hired. What is your name anyway? You never told it.”

“My name, Ms. Mimzy, is Charlie.” She said, adding a flourishing curtsy.

“And what kind of demoness are you? I was a Lady in White until they finally got a hold of me and sent me down here.”

Charlie didn’t know how, but she knew the immediate answer, and her grin widened, “I am a siren. If I wanted, I could entrance all those around me. Make them do what I wish. But no worries, Ms. Mimzy, you’ll not have to deal with that unless you ask it of me. I prefer to just let things lie.”

Mimzy laughed, “Oh, but I wouldn’t mind at all if it brought more patrons in. What with that new lounge down the street, patronage has been on the fritz lately.”

“Well then, Ms. Mimzy, I do believe you have yourself a new Canary!”

And thus, for the next year, Charlie would sing at The Black Silhouette, and business was booming. Charlie would use a siren song once or twice in a night in order to draw in patrons, and Mimzy paid her extremely well. By the end of a year, Charlie had more money than a couple overlords with how much she made the lounge. Mimzy ended up having to buy a bigger building just to keep up with the intake of patrons.

There was one incident that became the reason Mimzy knew why Charlie was in Hell in the first place.

One of the men her husband had murdered, a serial rapist if she remembered right, had come to The Black Silhouette with a pally or two and recognized Charlie right away. After all, she’d actually lured him into the trap, and considering his pastime, had wanted a personal hand in bumping him.

He’d made a huge scene, of course, so Charlie had to deal with it personally. Killing him again in front of all her patrons had admittedly been a tad bit thrilling. Unfortunately that nagging guilt had nipped at her heals again. She pushed it down. He was the real monster. Still, she wished her husband was here. He’d enjoy doing the dirty work so she could keep her hands clean.

When Mimzy had asked what that was all about, Charlie had a simple reply, “Why, I used to help my husband murder people of course! He was one of them. Even had a hand in it myself, though I usually prefer not to do the real dirty work.”

She had grinned the entire time. As her husband used to say: smiles are power. If you can smile through anything, then people will always move out of your way.

Charlie missed her husband dearly. Her heart ached every day. She hated the pain, but she also hoped that he didn’t join her too soon.

“Charlie! You’re on in 1 minute!” She grinned.

Alastor

Hell. He was in Hell. The crown of his head still ached where his horns had come in, his smile still ever present, only now his teeth were sharper. There was a constant pain in his stomach, and he knew it would never be relieved. Wendigo. That word crossed his head and he knew it to be true. He stepped through the gates and into Hell’s streets. He didn’t expect to find his wife. She was probably sent up top. The grief struck again.

Truthfully, Alastor had only gotten angrier and messier once his beloved departed.

He would have kept going though, if not for the hunter. That fucking hunter. Those fucking dogs.

As he passed by a Jazz lounge called The Black Silhouette, the door opened and a voice he knew all too well came lilting out, curling around him and soothing something inside him that he didn’t realize until that moment needed soothing.

His head whipped to the side, and he immediately made for the doors to the lounge. He passed the Bouncer and as he caught sight of her, his lungs stopped working.

Up on stage was his Charlie. His doll. His partner-in-crime. She was beautiful in a sparkling red floor length dress, her blonde hair longer now than he remembered, but still gorgeous as ever. She looked like a porcelain doll.

He stood for minutes as she finished, heading backstage. He rushed to go find her. He had to.

Charlie Charlie Charlie.

He was stopped by a small woman, “You may be a fan, but no one is allowed back stage to go see her.”

Alastor felt rage at being held back from his beloved. Red sigils started dancing around his being, smile becoming sharper, “You will not stand between my wife and myself. Move.”

The woman looked shocked, but not by his power, but by his words, “Wait. You’re her husband?” She narrowed her eyes, “What is your name. I’m the only one she’s ever told her husbands name to, so I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Ah. So Charlie trusted this woman enough to tell her his name? He supposed he could play along then. Wouldn’t want to upset Charlie, after so long apart, “Alastor.”

The woman looked at him closely, “Very well. Her dressing room is the third door on the left. There are no names on the doors so people can’t just see who’s in where.”

Without another thought or word, Alastor rushed forward. He got to the door before bursting through it, forgetting for the moment all the manners his mother taught him.

He watched Charlie whip around, her eyes red and yellow, and a vicious smile on her face. Until she caught sight of him, “A-Alastor? Is... that really you?”

“Why hello Darlin! Wasn’t expecting to see you down here!” His heart wouldn’t stop beating.

Charlie let out a watery laugh as Alastor stepped through the door, shutting it firmly, “I refused to repent when they offered, and I knew you wouldn’t, so I got sent here. I managed to run into Mimzy right as I arrived. Her Canary had just flew the coop and she needed a new one so I offered right then and there. After all, I had a lavish lifestyle I was quite used to.”

Alastor chuckled, “Darling, you hated that lifestyle.”

Finally neither could take it and Charlie was in his arms, and he finally felt whole again.

[rayroute-clear-saeran-text-sound]

The Making of Ecstasy (Saeran x Reader)

Not sure if this is a little long for tumblr, as I’m not used to writing on this platform! Will this get slept on? probably. This is based off of Casual and Deep stories’ prologue bad end, apologies if it’s ooc. Of course my first piece on here had to be Saeran, who else would it be?

You were the only one in the intelligence room at the moment, and although it was dark, it was nice and peaceful. The usual furious clicking of keys was absent, instead replaced by the dull hum of computers and the light scratching sound of your pen against paper. Luckily, the dark circles under your eyes were hidden in the shadows of the room. The only light available to you was the minute amount cast from the several monitors you were staring at. Not that it mattered, what you were doing had no importance considering the logs existed permanently within files Unknown had stored. In other words, if your work was illegible, it wasn't the end of the world. Unknown would only punish you for it if he was in a bad mood or if he had a killer headache. You were tasked with making hard copies of every single chatlog from the RFA chatroom, a job given to you with no other purpose than keeping you busy, tired, and irritated. 

"MC is so gullible..." You murmured to no one but yourself. Unknown had originally tried to get you to play the role of party coordinator for the RFA, but you weren't having it. You did show up to the apartment, but you had ignored everything he told you and wouldn't step inside. Unknown somehow decided that you would make a good assistant, and you only agreed because he had you at gunpoint at the time. Now you were living at Mint Eye with Unknown, so numb with tiredness that you stopped caring if you lived or died. You weren't considered a believer yet, as you hadn't taken any elixir. You saw how it made Unknown feel, and you wanted no part of it. Sure, you may not have the freedom to roam around Magenta, but at least you had your sanity. If you wanted to go somewhere, you had to have the permission of the savior and be accompanied by Unknown. It wasn't as if you had grown to like Mint Eye and Magenta, it was more that you had gotten used to it, which meant you had become comfortable with it on some level. Your eyelids began to flutter shut as you closed the last chatlog, job done until another one opened at one point or another. Just as your head began to drift slowly into a light cat nap, you felt fingers dig into your shoulders tightly and suddenly, causing you to jolt up and scatter your papers everywhere. You whipped around to come face to face with a pair of mint green eyes that held mischief.

"Did you miss me, princess?" You huffed as you bent down to pick up the papers on the ground, holding back the urge to strangle him in order to make that laughter stop right in his throat. 

"These papers all are out of order now, I hope you're happy, Unknown." He shrugged, obsidian eye tattoo catching your attention as always. 

"I don't care." He took the stack of logs from your hands and threw them haphazardly into the filing cabinet that he put all of your work in. In actuality, there was nothing really of value, just a lot of Zen bragging about how handsome he is. You had grown to hate the RFA as well, probably because of how much time you had spent around Unknown. Naturally, he had rubbed off on you. He was the only one you were allowed to see after all. Your eyes analyzed his face cautiously, as there was a vague, worrying excitement in his features that you had yet to place.

"What's up? Are we going somewhere again...?" You couldn't help but become equally hopeful at the prospect, you didn't get to leave Magenta very often.

"No. Savior gave me a special assignment, and I need your help." You raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Her special assignments usually meant cleansings, and you hated those. You mainly helped to restrain the unlucky souls who were the subject of the ceremony, and whenever Unknown was the one doing the cleansing, it was a bloodbath. Everyone at Mint Eye knew him to be ruthless, and you supposed it worked to keep everyone in line. It still didn't change how scarring they were to be a part of, and how much they scared you. You found yourself wondering if he would ever do those things to you, but you figured not. The most he had ever done to you since becoming his assistant was yell at you or smack you, and usually not very hard. That was all when you first started, and since you had been with him for a while, he had become softer with you. Unknown smirked at you, sending a slight shiver up your spine. You didn’t get much time to wonder how how he always had that effect on you. "Relax, it's not a cleansing. We're making a batch of elixir." You asked yourself why he needed your help, as he was perfectly capable of completing the task himself; he did it all the time. You thought it was a bit suspicious, but figured that he was asking for your company in the most indirect way possible.

“Fine. I’m your assistant, I have no choice in the matter, right, Saeran?” His eyebrows quirked up at the use of his real name, bringing you to cast your eyes towards the floor. “I mean, Unknown.” He shrugged, black jacket slipping farther down his shoulder while he cracked a grin.

“Whatever. Let’s just go get this done.” He seemed rather upbeat, which was odd to you. “You know the drill.” You nodded curtly as he placed his hands over your eyes, his gentleness surprising you. The not knowing aspect of everything killed you every time you walked out of the intelligence room, but you had grown used to the disorienting feeling of the unknown. You used to take short and nervous steps whenever you couldn’t see, but now you would take long and sure strides, knowing full well that anyone would move out of your way and that Unknown wouldn’t let you get in harm’s way; you were his assistant after all, so if you got hurt, it should be on his own accord. That was his fallacy anyway. As far as you knew, Magenta was big, but it seemed to take ages to get to the lab. “Stop.” Unknown’s voice was strong and commanding, and you of course listened without question. He finally uncovered your eyes, and you had to blink several times in order for your eyes to adjust to the harsh contrast in lighting. He was digging out his ID that doubled as a key card for the more secure and private rooms of the Mint Eye while you were still stuck on why he wanted you there.

“Unknown, are you sure I can be here?” The large and bland metal door made you nervous, and you had no idea what was behind it. You knew deep down that the savior had no idea you were attending the crucial task, and you were vaguely able to grasp that Unknown didn’t want her to know. 

“Tch. Of course.” His eyes screwed shut as he faced away from you, turning his attention on the door. “And don’t call me that!” Your eyes narrowed in question, as you were absolutely sure you had called him Unknown. “Call me Saeran...at least for the day.” 

“Um...okay.” Another red flag went up immediately within your brain. He was contradicting himself, something that had you wondering if you should run back and get his medication. When he began to heavily oppose himself it usually meant he was going to have an...episode. In actuality, you weren’t sure how to describe them. It was almost as if his persona was splitting apart. That, or he would have one hell of a headache. He swiped his card and the light on the handle blinked green three times, granting the two of you access. He swung the door open, holding it open for you with a smug grin.

“After you, princess.” You entered wordlessly, concern for him still in the back of your mind. You never liked seeing him in immense pain. You weren’t stupid, you could tell when someone was innocently being exploited. Not only did you want to get yourself out of Mint Eye, you wanted to get Saeran out as well. But, that was an issue to solve another day...perhaps in another life. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of everything. You had made plenty of cult jokes during your time at Mint Eye, but somehow the image of a large, witch-like cauldron was no longer funny now that it was presenting itself right in front of you. There were countless cabinets, the contents a mystery. Saeran closed the door behind him, leaving you alone with him in a room that smelled intensely of hallucinogens. In college, you had tried them once and vowed never again. However, you were more than familiar with them because of your roommate. “You’re going to want to grab the jars with the blue and green stickers, and the bottle with the pink sticker.”

“Yeah, sure.” Saeran dragged a large bowl out from somewhere, along with tools to blend and mix. It seemed the two of you were only making a small batch, which brought you circling back to the subject of why he needed your help. You hopped up onto the counter to grab the required items, and by seeing them through the jars, you could identify them well. “You use peyote and mushrooms in this?” You felt your stomach sickeningly sink, and were definitely glad you had refused any elixir given to you. 

“Huh? I guess.” His reply seemed to give off the impression that he had no clue about any of the ingredients in the elixir, he only knew how to make it. 

“Do you...know what those are?” You asked tentatively as he continued to prepare your work station. He shrugged. You took a sniff of the bottle, and the pungent alcohol smell made the liquid in question easily identifiable. “ And methanol?!” It was not at all surprising that he was always wrecked after taking the stuff. It was a wonder how he wasn’t dead from how much he was taking on a regular basis. “Saeran…” 

“It’s fine! It’s the elixir of salvation, it’s necessary...”

“Salvation isn’t supposed to be pain, Saeran.” If he heard you, he was ignoring you. You wanted no part in the actual making of the elixir, you only watched as he skillfully mixed the drugs and chemicals together with other hazardous ingredients until it came out as a toxic chemical punch with an unnaturally vibrant blue hue. Once he was done, he turned to you with a teasing glint in his mint green eyes. “Uh oh...” You murmured to yourself, despite feeling your lips curve into a slight smile.

“Why don’t you be the taste tester?” He held one of the bottles that he had funneled the batch of elixir into out to you. It did look a bit mesmerizing, the way the light reflected off of the heart shaped glass, the liquid inside looking as if someone had bottled neon signage.

“No.” You shook your head, pushing his arm away.

“Oh come on, I need to know if it’s good!” You knew he was joking by the way his words were broke by giggles. You were glad that he felt comfortable enough alone with you to relax a bit and let loose without being violent. 

“No, and that’s final!” Your own giggles tumbled out past your lips.

“Okay, fine. It’s probably for the better. Once you have the elixir, you can roam wherever, and then you won’t be mine anymore.” Your eyebrows furrowed in both concern and confusion, as he had immediately snapped back into a deadly seriousness. He stayed as silent as a grave as his eyes raked over your frame, finding they’re purchase on your face. A bad feeling began to settle in the pit of your stomach. You knew he had been acting strange, and at first he seemed to settle, but now there was an unsure look in his eyes that didn’t necessarily scare you, but it did worry you a bit. 

“Are you...” You trailed off as Saeran took a step toward you. You responded by stepping back, but for every movement back, he advanced forward. You weren’t afraid that he would hurt you, not at that moment. However, it didn’t stop you from being intimidated. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt your back bump into a counter, and at that moment you were trapped between Saeran and the counter. There seemed to be a storm brewing in his eyes, and you had a feeling the downpour was about to begin. “Saeran, what are you doing?” Such a simple question seemed to be a tablespoon of baking soda added to the vinegar that was Saeran’s emotional well, as he exploded. 

“You...you won’t leave me, right?!” Despite being taken aback by his sudden prompt, you were going to respond. However, he didn’t allow you the chance. “You can’t!” His voice cracked as tears pricked his eyes. “You and my savior, you’re the only ones I trust.” He dipped his head, bleached locks falling into his eyes while he put all his weight on his palms, which rested on the counter on either side of you. He began to throw himself into a dizzying spiral of repeated doubts, begging you not to leave him. You were caught like a deer in the headlights, heart hurting from hearing his broken words. Even though you wanted to leave the Mint Eye desperately, you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. Not without him. He’s told you all of his stories of betrayal, and you wouldn’t do that to him too. Even though you would both annoy each other, you cared about him and his well being when it really came down to it. 

Is he having an episode...? You thought to yourself as he continued his breakdown, his body shaking. You would always fetch his meds without question whenever he had a headache, usually before he ever snapped at you that his head was pounding and that he needed them. You felt so close to him, because you honestly were, you had been close to him after becoming his assistant, you were by his side at almost all times. So naturally, you would just know something was happening before it blew up into a huge problem. What you just couldn’t grasp was why he was so suddenly begging for you not to leave him. 

“You can’t leave me, okay?!” He was all but sobbing, wiping the tears that were threatening to spill with his shoulder. 

“What? Saeran, if you need your meds, I can run and get them if it’s your head that’s the problem-”

“Agh, no! You’re the problem!” He snapped at you, cutting you off. Admittedly, you felt a little hurt by his words, which was the first time since becoming his assistant that his sharp tongue had truly stung you. He saw your expression shift, and you thought you saw a flash of panic in his eyes. “It’s-” He huffed, shutting his eyes tightly and then looking at you once more. “You make me feel so damn complicated!” You bit your lip as the counter continued to dig harshly into your back. You could feel Saeran’s body pressed flush up against your own, as well as a fierce heat that rose to your face. 

“Saeran, I...” In truth, you weren’t sure how to respond. He made you feel equally as complicated. Did you love him? You thought so. Deep down, behind all of the trauma, you knew there was a good person. You wanted to confidently tell him that it would be okay, that everything he was feeling was natural, and that he deserved all of it. Hell, even spill your own feelings. However, all that managed to slip past your lips were incomprehensible and incomplete stutters. You didn’t have to stumble over your words for long, though. Saeran roughly slammed his lips onto yours, in an attempt to get across all that he didn’t know how to say. You were thankful, as your words were failing you as well. You moved your lips in time with his, hoping he would get the message. He seemed to regain his confidence as you two parted.

“You’re mine, and only mine.” He growled huskily in your ear. You knew that getting him out and away from Mint Eye would be a challenge, but you hoped that maybe this would be a step in the right direction. 

“Yes.” You spoke that single hushed word, and that was all Saeran needed. He pressed his lips against yours once more, with as much unbridled energy as before. He smirked against your lips, slipping his hands underneath your shirt, running his hands up your sides. You shivered as his fingers danced along your skin, still continuing to kiss him back. Just as he swiped his tongue gingerly against your bottom lip, the door to the lab was opened and the sound of someone awkwardly clearing their throat bounced off the floors. Saeran immediately distanced himself from you, face flushed as red as his tank top. You cast your gaze to the floor, unwilling to look at the believer who had interrupted the rather intimate moment.

“Unknown, the savior is looking for you.” The believer’s eyes darted around the room, never once catching Saeran’s. The believer was equally embarrassed of the scene he had just walked in on, judging by his blush that rivaled Saeran’s.

“Yeah, sure. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll make sure I’m the one doing your next cleansing.” The believer nodded quickly and briskly left the room, leaving you two alone once more. The mood had been killed, but it was probably for the best. It sounded as if he was needed elsewhere, anyways. “C’mon, let’s go. I’ll walk you to the intelligence room.” He once again placed his hands over your eyes when you were out in the hallway, leaning in close to your ear. “We’ll pick up where we left off later.~” He chuckled lowly, continuing to guide you through the many corridors of Magenta.

[crassussativum]

ooc- Enemies and Allies: Chapter 11

(Another short chapter but it went through two partial rewrites and then a whole rewrite when I finally convinced myself to pace a thing. You’ll see.

Chapter 11

Four days later, Mav docked them at the station again. They didn’t need to resupply as far as Crassus knew but then again Mav’s stock of grenades were probably near to depleted. At least he almost hoped they had been. Who habitually carried more than seven grenades? Of course on the off chance they were going to encounter more Geth, maybe he would start carrying some too.

Mav put the ship into standby as it ran a few diagnostics and cracked his back in the seat. “I’m gonna head to see the pets.” He said. “You can come too if you wanna but I ain’t gonna make you this time.”

“I’ll come with you,” Crassus said after a few moments.

The smaller turian flashed him a grin. “So you did have fun with Ailuros?”

“It would be a lie to say otherwise.” He drawled and ran a hand over his fringe. He had had fun, more than he’d thought he would.

Mav laughed and for once it wasn’t that skin-crawling one. “I’m glad you enjoyed him. Ailuros is… yeah, he’s always been good to me, too. He might even be a little sweet on me.”

“Have you be seeing him long?” Crassus asked.

“Somewhere between seven and eight months,” He said. “Since I’ve been posted here and found that place.”

He flicked his mandibles. “You haven’t been out here as long as I thought.”

“Nah,” Mav shook his head. “Long ‘nough but not that long.”

“What were you doing before?”

“That’s above your clearance level, big guy.” He snorted as he got up from the pilot’s chair finally. “But don’t worry none ‘bout it. C’mon, let’s head out.”

Crassus flicked his mandibles again but Mav probably wasn’t wrong about his clearance level, the little peak he’d gotten at the smaller turian’s dossier had been nothing but black lines. It had hardly been worth the attempt to read. His own might as well be public record in comparison.

…

Ailuros had a black eye and a swollen mandible and he seemed skittish, looking back at the door as he closed it behind him. He wasn’t dressed in white today but in blue pants and a ragged dark colored t-shirt. To Crassus he looked a little like one of the duct rats on the Citadel: skinny and crinkled and childlike. His mandibles pulled up to his jaw in disapproval.

“What happened?” Mav wasn’t pleased either, his voice low and threatening, his crooked mandible flared.

“It… just someone that thought he was a real master.” The boy sighed, threw his arms around Mav’s neck and hugged him.

“Are you alright?” Crassus asked as he watched Mav hug him back with utmost care, stroking over Ailuros’ fringe.

“I’m fine, really. I hit my panic button and Baast and the bouncer threw the guy out. He’s banned now, thankfully. ...Mavi, you’re squeezing too tightly.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Mav let him go and flopped back to couch. “Where’s Baast?”

Ailuros sat between them. “He’s caught the flu.” He chuckled a little. “I don’t know how he can kick so much ass feeling like shit, but he did.”

“I’m glad he was there for you, baby.”

Crassus hummed his agreement, catching eyes with Mav over the top of Ailuros’ head. The boy looked terrible, exhausted and worn with the bruises. He certainly didn’t look as alluring as he had the last visit. He looked like he needed a good long break, a hot drink and a sweet snack, and maybe a good warm blanket.

“Y’know, I’m hungover as all get out.” Mav said suddenly, the lie clear in his tones. He put his arm over the back of the couch and his fingers brushed Crassus’ arm in a clear follow my lead signal. “Honestly, baby, I ain’t feelin’ up to playin’. Why don’t we just have an easy visit and you can just tell your boss whatever you wanna tell him?”

Ailuros glanced at him sideways and then let his head fall to rest on Mav’s shoulder. “I would like that a lot.” He hummed with a smile. “Spirits… I’m glad it’s you two.”

“Us two?” Crassus asked as he propped his feet up on the coffee table to get comfortable.

“Mavi you lie so bad it’s funny,” The boy chuckled again. “And you’re straight-laced, Crassus.”

Mav chucked. “I ain’t that bad a liar. Big guy is that straight-laced though.”

“So you thought telling me I look like shit and you don’t wanna fuck me was gonna hurt my feelings?” Ailuros poked Mav’s chest.

“I don’t think it’d hurt your feelin’s… You do look like shit, baby.” He grinned a little. “I don’t wanna fuck you cuz you look like you need a break. And I didn’t say it that way cuz I was raised better.”

Ailuros laughed again. “So yeah, I’m glad it’s you two.”

Mav leaned back on the headrest of the couch. “I’m glad it’s us too.” He said.

Crassus watched them. They were roughly the same size but all tangled together, Mav looked bigger and he was still idly petting on Ailuros’ fringe. He wondered if it wasn’t Mav that actually felt sweet for the boy, it sure seemed that way. He felt a little like a third wheel on his end of the couch.

Mav poked his arm with a talon. “Hey, you must have some vids on your omnitool, yeah? You sister’s still a kid, right?”

“Ah… She’s fourteen,” He said, his mandibles working along his jaw a little in confusion.

“That’s a kid.” Mav said. “You got vids on there or what, big guy?”

“I do, yes.” He said.

“So queue a couple up.” He spelled out. “Two or three should give Ailuros plenty of time to relax.”

Crassus nodded his head after a moment and shifted so he sat closer to the both of them.

“I’m so for this idea,” Ailuros giggled. “But this would be way more comfortable in the bed.”

“Y’know,” Mav chuckled. “It definitely would be. C’mon you two.”

[lv-bites]

    hello, i decided to attribute funny tumblr captions to several of my artworks

[gararmstrong]

Goodbye Eorzea

It’s been sometime since I posted Journal.  Unfortunately, this will probably be the final chapter in the book of Garinn Armstrong.  

The trip East with Mitsu was exactly what I needed.  Spending two weeks bonding with a close friend as we explored the East was a much needed vacation.  I helped conquer her fear of the ocean, and it made me smile to see her swimming among the deep coral and shipwrecks.  She got scared when a whale passed, but we made progress!  I was so proud of her.  We then went to Yanxia, the Azim Steppes market, and finally back to Shirogane.  There she was met with an Elezen, who offered her a deck of cards and told her what her future had in store.   Seems she would be heading to Ishgard and learning from the Astrologists in the near future.

Unfortunately, the damage had been done.  Divorcing Ivory followed by being forced to step down as the Free Company Leader of the Black Garden was one of the worst weeks of my life, and it seems was unrecoverable.  Funny that one lead to the other, but fate was determined to see me lose both I guess.  When I returned I tried to re-acclimate with the free company, but it seemed it was just too late.  Cliques had formed, and honestly, I didn’t feel a part of any of them.  If I had cat ears and a tail maybe things would have been different, but I cannot change the past.  Everything was made more relevant when a Miqotess Fighter Snarls joined the FC.  She was immediately included into the Miqo-clique as they took her off to do events and missions.  I was not asked to go on them.  Yes, I was jealous.  I have always wanted to be a part of something.  My whole life I have been the outsider, and I guess these days are no different.

“This isn’t a family Garinn.  These aren’t your friends.  This is a business.  Everyone is here to get paid.”  ~ Emeline.

Emeline was right of course.  It was a business.  Thing is, if I was going to lead these people into battle and die for them, then I wanted to do so among friends and comrades.  

So quietly one night I packed my bags, and while all were asleep the next morning I left.  I left a note for the officers, left my keys and link-pearls, and departed.

I was right.  Out of 50 people I once called friend, how many reached out to me after I left?  3.  One being Kat wondering what happened.  We got into a huge fight, and that was that.  Certain people never reaching out to me hurt.  A lot.  Again, it’s in the past.  When you break ties you see where the true bonds of friendship lay.  

I saw them from time to time and had pleasantries, but nothing deeper.  The exception being Saterra.  We saw one another often at the Proving Grounds, and she showed me she was one of the special ones.  I ended up joining another free company by the name of Chimera.  They run the Jeweled Cyprus, a bar, restaurant, and spa I had been to several times and enjoyed.  It was nice to have a much more casual atmosphere, running jobs occasionally and helping to run the bar.  Most of the free company was Xaela, and I wondered if they had accepted me by mistake haha.

And then everything changed around Starlight Festival time.

Because....I met her.

Her name is Sophie.  She was sitting around the steps of Uldah talking to one of her friends.  I don’t know what pulled me to her.  Well, now I know it was fate.  But, at the time I decided to walk up and introduce myself.  She beamed at me and introduced herself, but she said she was busy.  I asked if I could leave her a linkpearl, and she said yes.

That night we talked.

For hours.

And kept talking the next morning.

The two of us became inseparable as we seemed to talk to one another non stop on those little pearls.

Eventually she came over, and we continued to hang out and talk.  About what we loved: adventures, life, our goals, our hobbies.  With each moment we clicked more and more.  Hours turned into days.  Days into weeks.  At some point we figured out we were dating when I kissed her lips.  There is just something about her that seems so different to everyone else.  I know this has turned into quite the sappy post, but you don’t know how happy she makes me.  How lucky I am to find her.

As her and I spent the days enjoying life together, I noticed something else.  All of the friends I had among Eorzea, all the connections.  Those link-pearls had grown silent.  It was a bittersweet moment to realize this.  On the one hand I felt bad I was losing all these friends I had accumulated over the past year.  On the other hand, if they only talked to me when I reached out to them...well how deep did those bonds of friendship go?  Honestly though, I didn’t care, for I had found Sophie.

By spending so much time with her I had somewhat abandoned the rest of Eorzea.  I still fought in the Proving Grounds, and the Wish Fight nights.  And lost, badly.  The PG even threw me a bone with a championship fight against Bremwyda as they moved to a new format.  I lost, and Brem shaved my head as her trophy.  Losing the fights and friends, I felt my connections and wanting to be on this continent dwindle.  I was fumbling for a purpose, a goal.  Anything to keep me here.  But, it wasn’t meant to be.

So I talked it out with Sophie.  To sell everything I owned, buy a boat, and sail it to the Ruby Sea.  I asked her to come with me, to enjoy the rest of our lives raising my kids on the ocean.  She agreed, and made me one of the happiest men alive.  

While most of my friendships may have faded, there were a couple that still burned brightly, and hopefully would forever.

Her name is Gal, and she has been one of my friends since the beginning.

A paladin turned Red Mage turned Blue mage turned Violet Mage.   We have gone on adventures and enjoyed life together, and I hope she visits me out on the Ruby Sea one day.

So rather then sell my Medium House and sit on a pile of gil I didn’t need, the obvious choice was clear.  I invited her over and showed her the empty building.  I then handed her the keys.

“Garinn, I can’t afford this house!”

“I am not selling it to you Gal.  I am giving it to you.”

She stared at me in disbelief while the keys clinked into her hand, and with tears in her eyes gave me one of the biggest hugs she ever had.  I know the house is in good hands, and she will enjoy it as much as I did.

Sophie and I are sailing East now.  The twins are asleep in their cribs, and the holds are stocked with trophies, memories, and food.  I look forward to a life of Blue Skies, fresh fish, and relaxation.  Should Ishgard ever go to war, or face a national crisis, I will be called back to service.  Until then, you know where to find me.

Goodbye Eorzea.

Garinn Armstrong: Dragoon, Healer, Fishermen, Chef, and Gladiator.

Best body in Eorzea.

(OOC: Thanks for the fun and all the memories friends: @gal-the-violet and all the others to list.  The game just isn’t fun anymore.  I am enjoying all this new found free time :) )

[cate-dad-novak]

LFRP Novak Stevasch

full name.  Novak Stevasch

pronunciation. No-vak St-e-va-sch nicknames.  Novak, Cat Dad height.  6 fulm, 10 ilm age.  25 zodiac. libra languages. Eorzean.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

fur colour. Gray and white eye colour.  Pale blue (left), Milky white (right) skin tone. Same as fur color body type. Muscular but yet lean, built like a male dancer accent. None. dominant hand. Right. posture. Free flowing scars. Three total scars on his the right side of his face. Two of which are about 6 ilm or so on the right side of his maw. The third being about 3 ilm over his right eye covering the lids. tattoos. None. most noticeable features. A braid on the right side of his mane, that has some jewelry braided in it. Little black tuffs of fur on the top of his ears. Also his two canines hang out over his bottom lip. He is a little more fluffy than some of his kin.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth.  The Rak’tika Greatwoods birth weight / height. Medium first words. “Da.” siblings. Two sister (dead) parents.  Father and Mother (unknown status) parental involvement. None

ADULT LIFE

occupation. Dancer, almost gypsy like. Though he personally out of his family does some bounty hunting on the side for extra gil and a way to use his dancing for combat. current residence.  Lavender Beds, given to him on a bounty job on the Source.  close friends. [ verse dependent ] Sophie, Larkin relationship status. Single. financial status. On the poor side compared to where he was on The First driver’s license. You need those? criminal record. Clean for now vices. Messing up a dance in front of crowd a few time, taking too long on a Bounty, and feel like he had to ALWAYS be happy. MISCELLANEOUS. hobbies to pass the time.  Reading and learning on ways to get home,dancing to keep his skills up. mental illnesses.  Depression (Hides it with a smile) physical illnesses.  None. left or right brained. Right. fears. That everyone he has ever loved is dead, getting too close to some to lose them, never going, not making any friends, failing those that he allows to get close. self confidence level.  Very high, he is a dancer after all. vulnerabilities. Failing or feeling as though he has failed those that are close and dear to his heat.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation.  Heterosexual romantic orientation.  Heteroromantic preferred emotional role.  submissive  | dominant | switch |  unsure preferred sexual role.  submissive  |  dominant  |  switch |  sex repulsed libido. Average, maybe? He tends to not show his desire too much. love language. The little things. He is not one for grand items or events.  relationship tendencies. He is physical in terms of showing how he feels to those that get this close to him, though mostly he will do little things to cheer someone up. 

RP HOOKS & INFORMATION.

from the first. Novak is from The First and was brought to The Source against his will. So if you ever had a chance to see a Ronso family preforming as you did your own traveling you would have seen him. A fully sighted boy.  bounty. If you are a bounty hunter like himself, you may have seen him at the boards getting jobs for the day or week. He is not a well known hunter when it comes to his hunts. Sometimes if there is nothing on the board he will buy his time by doing a dance or two by his apartment. sweets. Novak has a sweet-tooth that seems to have no end. If you sell, offered him a any form of sweets you already got his attention enough for him to talk to you.  ~ etc. how to contact me: In game is one the best ways to get my attention. Tumblr DMs do not hurt as well, and if we get to talking I am willing to give out my discord. OOC details:   -I am open to ALL if not MOST rp styles. I do have lines I will not cross. Anything dealing with hurting children in any shape or form. Another being rape or sexual assault. That is where I draw the line for most the rps I do.  -I am central time when it comes to where I live. I find myself being online in evenings. I am open to chat but I am not always the best at it because I just suck at texting.  -I have commitments that deal with real life, and sometimes that means I will be away from the game for a week to a few months at a time. I do make an effort to be chatty and be online, though I cannot make promises about if I will have the time. -Lastly, I have a learning disability. Which makes English, my first and only language, difficult for me. If you notice any typos, please say something. If my grammar is off, please let me know. Be tactful about it. That will help me learn and grow with rping.

[olympivnshq]

congratulations mona ! you mentioned cat called artemis and L lost her heart immediately. mine followed suit about 10 lines later. there is an ache in HELEN that you showed through your writing in ways we had imagined, but not quite delved into the way you did. we were curious to see what applicants for her would make of whether the trojan war was a result of an affair, or a pure abduction. we’re glad you picked one route and stuck to it. we’re excited to see how helen fares in the midst of the gods who started it all with your first faceclaim choice: ROSIE HUNTINGTON WHITELEY. 

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  OOC INFO.

hi hi! i’m mona, i’m currently in the gmt+2 zone, and i actually own a cat called artemis :)

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  DEITY  —  GENDER. AGE RANGE.

HELEN OF SPARTA —  FEMALE. 28-32

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

HEDY HATHAWAY, ACTRESS/SOCIALITE, UPPER WEST SIDE, MANHATTAN, NY

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ AESTHETICS.

classical statues, paintings covered with dust, a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench, the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea, the sensation of velvet against skin, pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor,  rose petals, old perfume, gold and pearl jewelry, fields of roses and peonies, hazy afternoons & warm vanilla ,gold highlight & shimmer, lost momentos, soft wind, sad smiles, warm hugs, choral singing somewhere far away, sun shining through big windows and flowy chiffon curtains, gentle and loving touches, dancing with your eyes closed,  equal parts mysterious and electric.

☆ﾟ*・ PLAYLIST.

i. will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful? will you still love me when i’ve got nothing but my aching soul? // ii.  housewife, beauty queen, homewrecker, idle teen. the ugly years of being a fool, ain’t youth meant to be beautiful? // iii.  helen of troy is that your name stupid girl, stupid game - she cries all day, cries all night // iv. when i’m dead and gone, will they sing about me? dead and gone, will they scream my name? // v.  mama said, you’re a pretty girl, what’s in your head it doesn’t matter - pretty hurts, shine the light on whatever’s worse, perfection is the disease of a nation // vi. in the land of gods and monsters i was an angel, living in the garden of evil // vii. she’s made of outer space and her lips are like the galaxy’s edge, and her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place // viii. can nobody hear me? i’ve got a lot that’s on my mind,  cannot breathe, can you hear it, too?

☆ﾟ*・ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

helen of troy has always been defined by her face, a face that launched a thousand ships and started a war, and yet no one ever seems to care about the girl and soul hidden behind that mesmerizing face. beauty is a curse, a burden that comes in a disguise of a gift from gods, and helen knows this better than anyone else. she only has a face, but not a voice. she spends her whole life being controlled by various powerful men, ushered into their companies and later beds. there’s no one more alone in the world than helen of troy as she’s trapped in gilded cages and kept as some exotic bird. there are only those who wish to use her as a tool, such as her parents, husband and even the cruel gods for their little games of war, and then there are those that judge her and try to put all the blame on her, paint her as a whore, seductress and bringer of destruction in their songs, tales and poetry. but next to paris, she feels safe, understood for the first time, like she can finally make a choice in her life. and she does, she finally is allowed to make choices, she’s on a quest to enlightenment and a better life, a life in which she can decide what she wants. helen wants to have her voice heard and she wishes is to be free. she’s mostly been passive her whole life, unable to speak or take matters into her own hands, but rather she must follow the strict protocols and obey the rules others have written for her. yet helen isn’t a cruel woman despite all the loneliness and abuse, but she’s hopeful and free-spirited, always carefully waiting for the perfect moment to flee. if she could, she would trade her face with any other lady or princess, just so she could have a normal life.

a life filled with beauty, wealth and splendor was once again bestowed upon helen or rather hedy, but it all came with a very similar price indeed. hedy was born in a family filled with successful and ambitious people; a famous businessman for a father and a wealthy model for a mother with a keen eye for the finer things in life. as their only child, hedy had always struggled to live up to the high expectations of her parents, had always tried her best to make them happy while completely pushing her own happiness aside. from an early age, her mother started taking her to pageant shows, modeling and acting auditions, wishing to make a profit on her strikingly beautiful child; from a charming baby to a stunning toddler and teenager, people were practically climbing over each other to get a piece of hedy and make her their new shining star. hedy didn’t like any of it really, even in a room full of people and photographs she always felt profoundly alone, yet she never really had much courage to speak up to her parents. instead she would sneak out at night or when no one else was around and attend painting courses, cooking lessons, even parties, anything and everything that made her feel alive and less lonely. when she first got into the acting business, she had expected to finally be recognized for her hard work and not just face. but of course, she was a fool for thinking that. no matter how hard she had practiced or worked, she always got picked for similar roles, the beautiful damsel in distress, the pretty girlfriend of the main hero, the bond girl, a stunning girl without a name, the provocative but stupid blonde bombshell. her parents however were entirely pleased and so was the media and her fans. but her parents didn’t stop there as they went a search for a fitting husband. almost one year ago, she got engaged to a businessman who’s practically 15 years older than her, and while she does wear a pretty diamond ring on her finger just to please her parents, she knows that she will never marry him. among her peers, she’s known as a bit of a heartbreak among her peers, but that of course is only a facade as she wants to find someone who will truly love her for what she is and not just like her for the way she looks or what she owns.  she’s learning how to be more independent and free, she’s learning how to grow and escape her parents’ shadow. she’s also become an advocate for women’s right and equality and with the help of other women, she’s learning how to love and respect herself, and never let anyone again use her as a puppet. most do see her a joke, a young, wealthy and beautiful girl like her simply cannot be unhappy, she is not allowed to be unhappy. they all claim she has everything, judge her at every possible opportunity, but hedy won’t let them get to her this time. she will fight for herself. she’s not happy, but she wants to find it, and she’ll try to seize it. one step at a time.

answer these questions: 1. are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it?  she is more likely to stand with the pantheon, but truth be told, now she’d be quite indecisive. sometimes she feels as if the gods are simply playing with her for their own sickly-sweet entertainment. 2. what is their stand on mortals? she is a mortal and she’ll always be more fond of her own kind that the gods.

☆ﾟ*・ SAMPLE PARA (OPTIONAL)

’’ – miss hedy, miss hedy,’’ a man in a black suit calls, steady hands gripping a white phone ready to capture her every word and motion. she snaps out of her beautiful reverie, forgetting almost for a few brief moments that she’s supposed to be answering inquires and not imagining that she’s on a sunny beach somewhere with warm sand tingling beneath her toes. ’’yes?’’ she looks up, blue eyes steadily focusing on the impatient man. ’’this year you were once again named as one of the most beautiful actresses in the world, tell me how does that make you feel?’’ when she hears his inquiry, she sighs, chest trembling with disappointment.

didn’t anyone come to ask at least one single question about the movie? she asks herself, unwilling to face the truth. is that all she is? a pretty face that’s meant to be ranked with the others? a girl only born to be on display? she can almost hear the cry of thousands of women across the world, women only valued for the way they look, now for what they truly are. ‘’i’m honored. really. next question please.’’

an older woman from the audience raises her hand and with a soft smile she starts to form her question, and the more she talks the more hedy can see that her smile isn’t genuine. ‘’recently, the young and beautiful margo vera has been compared to you, from your similar career paths to looks, it’s sometimes hard to ignore the resemblance. do you see her as competition, miss hathaway?’’  she refrains from rolling her eyes, knowing that such behavior doesn’t suit a proper lady like her. in that instant she wishes they could all just leave her alone. hedy’s cherubic smile falters, but her lips are still curved upwards. ‘’no, of course not. why would i?’’

‘‘so are you saying that she could never match your looks?’’ the woman immediately jumps, searching for tiny pieces of flesh that she can fest upon like a true vulture. ‘‘no, no, i think she is extremely beautiful. i wish her nothing but the best. i’d even love to work with her,’‘ but what she wants to say is, i hope she’ll be more beautiful than me, i don’t want this, i don’t want this beauty, i’ve been carrying it all my life, but it’s too heavy for me. i want more from life. don’t you see that beauty isn’t everything?

‘‘with the recent beauty standards in the industry, do you think…’’ another man starts, but hedy stops him with a wave of her delicate hand. ‘‘that’s all for today. thank you all for coming. see you next time…’‘ she announces wearily.  the wave of flashing lights before her is almost blinding.

–you look so beautiful today, smile for the camera one more time, miss hedy

– smile, i love your face

–hey over here, over here, stay for another question

it’s always like this. she’ll never be free.

☆ﾟ*・ ANYTHING ELSE?

pinterest board <3

[geminiamethyst]

Reunion. Chapter 7:

Warning: I may have accidentally made the characters ooc. For those that have a problem with that, I do apologise. Another heads up is that there is a lot of emotion once again in this chapter. You might need tissues for those who are susceptible to tears.

If you’re not up to date with the story, please read the other chapters. Links to them are at the end of the chapter.

This is also the last chapter of the series. I know, it’s sad, but all things must come to an end. Sorry. But make sure you read the end of the chapter to get a snipet of what’s to come soon.

Other than that, please enjoy the chapter.

Snufkin felt like the world around him had become frozen. Time had seemed to stretch dramatically to him. He had never thought that he would ever see a member of his family in a million years. When he had found out that he was abandoned, he had always assumed that his family would stay out of his life permanently. But now his father was standing right there before his eyes. Whether it was a dream or reality, Snufkin wasn’t sure. Even so, he wanted to make the most of whatever time he had to get to know the man standing in front of him. Looking at him, Snufkin could tell that Moominpappa wasn’t exaggerating when he told the traveller how similar they looked. From the wide brimmed hat to the travel worn clothes, Snufkin could easily tell how much resemblance there was between them. If anything they could almost be mistaken to be twin brothers if it were not for a few noticeable differences that Joxter had, such as the red nose, sapphire blue eyes and the bear black hair that was decorated with some thin grey hairs, signifying how old he was.

“Hello Snufkin.” Joxter said, snapping Snufkin out of his shock. Joxter scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little awkward. “I know that you probably don’t know me but-WHOA!” Joxter was cut off by his own cry of surprise as Snufkin suddenly charge tackled him into the most emotional, desperate hug he had ever given anyone. Joxter had to take a step back as he had almost fallen over from the way Snufkin had hugged him. Feeling fresh tears coming to his eyes, Snufkin wept into his father’s chest, shaking from all the emotions that he was overwhelmed by. Shaking off his shock momentarily, Joxter wrapped his arms around the sobbing boy, his arms felt strong despite his worn out appearance. He looked over at the Moomin family. Moomin was wiping his eyes, trying to get rid of his tears. Moominmamma didn’t seem any different. Tears were streaming down her face as she fumbled around her handbag looking for something to wipe her tears with. Moominpappa was the only one who was fighting back the tears. Joxter gave him a look as if to ask “does he know?”. Moominpappa nodded, trying to not make it like it was Joxter’s fault. Joxter looked down at the shaking and sobbing boy in his arms. He ran his gloved fingers through his hair. This was partly his fault. He didn’t think that he would cause his son to go through all of this emotion and pain.

“Shhhh. It’s alright.” He whispered, kissing Snufkin’s forehead, trying to give him more comfort. Snufkin tried to speak, but the lump in his throat threatened to choke him every time he tried to let out so much as one word. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, all that he was doing was let out squeaky sobs that made him cry even more. His fists were pearl white from holding to his father tightly, his fists clenched tighter than a wench on the man’s old coat.

“Hush now. It’s alright.” Joxter repeated, his voice almost sounded as deep as a cat’s purr. He continued to hold the boy close, one hand used to run his fingers through the boy’s messy brown hair, while the other was used to rub his back. After what seemed like hours, Snufkin’s sobs turned into whimpers. He loosened the hug, looking right up at his father, streamline tears making rivers down his face. “It’s alright.” Joxter raised his hands and brushed the tears away. He looked right into the boy’s eyes and saw the emotional damage that had been done. He felt like literally punching himself in the face just for making the boy go through so much. He had never thought that these events would make the traveller go such a terrible downward spiral. Now he knows that he has to fix everything, he felt like it was the only thing he can do to help try to get Snufkin back to normal. There wasn’t any harm in trying, at least, that’s what he thinks right now.

Snufkin looked right up at the man in front of him. Joxter’s eyes were fully of regret, sadness and a hint of joy. They also seemed to be focused on something, as if he was trying to plan out what it was that he was going to say next. Telling by the moon reflecting off of a couple of streamlines on his face, he had been shedding some tears himself. As the man brushed the tears away, Snufkin looked down. He felt really embarrassed. Here he was, with his father, and he was crying profusely like a little kid. The longer he stood there, the sillier he felt. However, Joxter didn’t make any notion that he was embarrassed for him, nor did he seem disappointed in him. Instead, he just gave him comfort by wiping away his tears and offering him a smile.

“You are so much like your mother.” Joxter laughed a little, wiping away the last of the boy’s tears. Snufkin laughed a little at that, making him feel a little better. Just the comment about his mother made him a little more happy. Snufkin wiped away the last of his tears with his sleeve.

“Well it’s about time you showed up.” Moominpappa scolded, slapping Joxter on the back, emitting an exclaim of shock from the man. “We thought you’d never come.” Moomin stood next to Snufkin, both watching the fathers talk.

“Oi, oi. Of course I was coming. Sorry I took so long.” Joxter winced, a little annoyed.

“It’s not me you should be apologising to.” Moominpappa exclaimed.

“Can we have this conversation another time before you bore me to sleep with a scolding.” Joxter moaned, almost acting like a schoolboy being told off by a teacher. The boys watched as the adults bickered a little before they started laughing. Both fathers stopped what they were doing instantly. Joxter felt a small smile creep to his lips. He had never heard his son laugh before so it felt nice to hear it for the first time. Moominpappa looked at his friend. Telling by the look on his face, Moominpappa knew that he was ready to be a father again. He only hope that it doesn’t go wrong. As soon as the boys had stopped laughing, Moominpappa started to lead his son away. He thought it would be best to leave the reacquainted father and son to get to know each other better alone.

“Pappa?” Moomin asked, unsure of what’s going on.

“It’s best if we leave them alone. It’s less pressure on both of them.” Moominpappa whispered.

“Moominpappa?” Snufkin called out to the father. Moominpappa turned to look at the traveller. “Thank you.” Moominpappa smiled and tipped his hat at the traveller. Moominmamma approached the two, with the blanket that Snufkin had dropped in the excitement.

“Try to stay as warm as possible. There is a chill in the air.” She advised as she gave Snufkin the blanket back. “And if anything goes wrong, we’re in Moominhouse when you need us.”

“Thank you, for everything.” Snufkin smiled before a hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I promise, nothing bad will happen to him.” Joxter reassured the family. He started to gently pull Snufkin away, encouraging him to walk a little. Snufkin looked back at the Moomins. Moomin waved at him, wishing him luck. Snufkin discreetly waves back before facing forward. He didn’t know why but he felt a little more uneasy. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was tired after staying up so long or the fact that he was with his father. Either way, the feeling of uneasiness grew more and more awkward as neither father nor son said anything to each other.

“How are your burns?” Joxter suddenly asked out of the blue.

“Hm? Sorry?” Snufkin asked, not catching what the man had asked. He was so lost in his own world that he didn’t quite hear what he was asked.

“Your injuries, how are they?” Joxter asked again, expressing concern. ‘At least he’s confirming that he worries, like he expressed in the letters. But there’s still so much that I need to ask him.’ Snufkin thought, trying to settle his nerves.

“I’m fine. I mean, the burns don’t hurt as much as they used to.” He answered, absentmindedly brushed a gentle hand over his covered cheek.

“I’m glad. I was worried sick when I found you and you were unconscious.” Joxter sighed out of relief.

“What about you though? You got hurt too.” Snufkin asked, noticing the visible plasters on the man’s face.

“Hm? Oh, these? Pffft! I’ll be fine, I’ve had worse.” Joxter smirked, a spark of amusement flashed in his eyes. Snufkin watched as his father suddenly sat down on the bank of the river. Joxter looked up at him. “Why don’t you sit down? You look like you’re going to fall dead on your feet.” Snufkin wanted to protest, but he really did feel exhausted. He looked back up at Moominhouse which wasn’t too far away. At least he’ll be able to run back there easily if anything goes wrong. However, right now everything seems to be alright, nothin felt too out of the ordinary. But anything could happen. Snufkin watched as his father just sat there silently. His blue eyes watched him carefully, almost like a cat focused on something that had caught it’s attention.

Snufkin hesitated, but eventually he sat down, giving up to the exhaustion he felt in his legs. He sat down as silently as he could, not wanting to disturb the night’s melody too much. He felt a little uncomfortable. He could sense some tension in the air. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was with his father on his own and didn’t have some support from Moomin, or the fact that he didn’t know where to start with asking questions to get some answers. Though it could be from both.

“Do you hate me?” Snufkin finally asked, meekly, feeling desperate to get an answer.

“Come again? Speak up son, your dad’s hearing isn’t what it used to be.” Joxter said as he turned to Snufkin, a hint of amusement was detected in his voice.

“Do you hate me?” Snufkin repeated, a little louder and clearer.

“What makes you think that?” Joxter exclaimed, shocked and surprised by what the boy said. Snufkin looked down, feeling ashamed, unable to make eye contact with his father. He pretended that a loose thread on his sleeve was much more interesting and started to fiddle with it. He felt stupid for asking that, but he felt like he needed to get it out of his system. However the tension to him seemed to become more intense as the silence between them grew. Snufkin debated whether or not to answer, when Joxter answered his question. “Snufkin, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Then why…?” Snufkin tried to ask, but he lost his voice. Would it really be best to ask this?

“Snufkin, I won’t shout at you or hurt you in anyway. Whatever it is that you want to get off of your chest, it’s best to do it now, or it’ll make you feel even worse then you already are.” Joxter gently, but sternly, encouraged the boy, trying to make him feel more comfortable.

“Then why was I abandoned?” Snufkin asked straight away, this time not holding back, looking at his father dead in the face. Joxter’s eyes widened. He suddenly looked away, now feeling ashamed himself. Snufkin looked at him carefully. Did his father regret what he had done? Is that why he is unable to look at the boy in the face? What could have possibly happened to force the father to do such a thing to his own child?

“It’s not something I like to discuss lightly.” Joxter suddenly answered after being silent for a short while. Snufkin watched him, listening intently to his every word. “I mean giving you up was the last thing I wanted to do, but I felt like I didn’t have a choice.”

“But, everyone has a choice. You could have chosen to keep me.” Snufkin suddenly snapped impatiently. Joxter looked at him in shock. “Stop messing with my head. Why was I abandoned? I won’t ask again.”

“Calm down. I was getting to that.” Joxter spoke up, trying to calm the tired and frustrated traveller down. Snufkin took a deep breath, feeling stupid. He could tell that Joxter wasn’t happy discussing what happened but he kept trying to push him into doing it and it wasn’t helping with the situation. Seeing that the boy had calmed down, Joxter continued. “It was at least a couple of days before I regrettably gave you up. It was late, everyone was sleeping when I heard this awful noise. It was like something out of a horror book. It still haunts me sometimes in my nightmares on a bad day.” Snufkin watched as his father looked right at the river, the reflection of the moon almost making it look like moonstones, the stars almost looked like glitter in the water. The man next to him was almost in a daze, his eyes almost seemed to cloud over. He shuddered a little as he told the rest of what had happened. “I went to the nursery where you were sleeping. And, much to my horror, you weren’t alone.”

“Someone was there?” Snufkin asked, almost dreading the answer. He had a horrible feeling that the story that Joxter was telling was the exact same thing that he had experienced in his nightmare.

“Yes, and they were…hurting you, badly. If I hadn’t gotten them away from you…you probably wouldn’t even be alive today. You were extremely lucky.” Joxter answered. His fists suddenly clenched tightly at the horrible memory that he was telling out loud.

“You knew them, didn’t you? Who were they?” Snufkin asked cautiously, being carefully not to upset the man even further.

“Someone I really hope you don’t have to meet one day. Why do you think I never made contact with you here? Because if they were here in the valley too, there was a chance that they’d come after you again. I couldn’t take any risks. The same reason for why I abandoned you. I didn’t want to, but I had to. I was too scared to go to the police, in case they wouldn’t believe me, because after that night, I never saw them again.” Joxter explained, watching the river absentmindedly. Snufkin didn’t feel like pushing the subject even further. He had a feeling that whoever it was that wanted him dead was more than likely somewhere else, otherwise they more than likely would’ve attacked him by now.

“My mother, was she okay with it?” He asked hesitantly.

“No, it took some convincing. She really didn’t want to let you go. She was scared that something would happen to you. A year later she begged me to go find you. I promised her I would.” Joxter sighed, remembering every word that the mother had said the moment he suggested about giving Snufkin up. She was crying and begging him to find another way until she eventually gave up. He also remembered when she begged him to find Snufkin so she knows that he’s alright. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the photograph. He handed it over to Snufkin. “Here. You deserve to know what she looks like.” Snufkin took the photograph and looked at it. He noted how happy the parents looked. They looked so happy that nothing else would bring them anymore joy than something so small and fragile as a baby, especially one of their own. Snufkin looked at the woman. She looked so bright and cheerful. She also looked familiar…

“She looks a little like Little My.” He thought out loud.

“Well…where do you think Little My got her stubbornness from?” Joxter asked a little uneasy. Snufkin looked at him in shock as he connected the dots.

“Wait! Little My, is my sister?!” He exclaimed. Joxter scratched the back of his neck feeling a little awkward.

“Better make that older half sister. She was born two years before you and I’m not her father.” He briefly muttered.

“Older?! Do you have any other surprises for me?” Snufkin exclaimed, not quite believing what he was told.

“No, no. Not at the moment.” Joxter laughed, scratching the back of his neck. Snufkin shook his head a little, still not quite believing that the small girl that he knew was his sister, especially since she was apparently older than him. “Now I can finally tell your mother that you’re okay. I mean, look at you. You have come a long way since your run in with the Park Keeper when you were a kid.” Snufkin suddenly looked up at him. His movements were so sudden that he thought for a mere second that his head snapped off of his neck. How could Joxter know about that. The only people that he had told were his friends. No one else knows about that day. It was the one thing in his life that he was partly proud to have experienced that day, but at the same time a small part of him wished that the Park Keeper had never chased him.

“How did you know about-“ Snufkin asked before he stopped suddenly. “Oh my-it’s you. You were the one that saved me.” Though it wasn’t a question, Joxter nodded, confirming the boy’s suspicions. “Hold on. If you saw me back then, why didn’t you stick around and say you were my father?”

“I didn’t know who you were. Besides, I followed the Park Keeper to make sure he wouldn’t try to come after you again. By time I realised who you were, it was already too late. When I got back to where I left you, to make sure you were alright, it was morning and you were long gone.” The father explained, regret was detected in his voice. He looked over at Snufkin who was fiddling with the thread on his sleeve again. He suddenly noticed that the boy was shaking and he was trying to conceal his teeth chattering from the cold. “By the Booble Snufkin!” He suddenly snatched the blanket that Snufkin had under his arm and wrapped it around the boy. “Try to keep yourself warm before you catch something.” Snufkin watched as Joxter wrapped the blanket around him. His mind was so focused on the information that his father had given him that he didn’t realise how cold he was until the blanket was wrapped around him.

“But what about you? Aren’t you cold?” He asked, concerned about his father’s wellbeing.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not as susceptible to the cold as you are it seems.” Joxter told him. Snufkin wasn’t too convinced. The man in front of him was starting to shiver now. He lifted one side of the blanket, inviting Joxter to sit next to him so he could regain some warmth too. Joxter looked at him in a little bit of surprise. “You’re not going to stop until I get under there, are you?” Snufkin didn’t answer him. He only stared at the man next to him, waiting until he caved in. Joxter rolled his eyes, but he complied. He got under the blanket and pulled Snufkin towards him gently. Snufkin rested his tired head on his father’s shoulder. He felt like he was going about to drift off to sleep at any moment. The emotional baggage that he had been carrying around on his shoulders all day was putting a strain on him to fall asleep, especially after waiting for so long for his father to turn up.

“Dad? Promise me something.” He muttered, half asleep. “Promise me you won’t leave me again.” Joxter looked down at the boy. He felt tears come to his eyes after hearing Snufkin called him “Dad” for the first time. It felt good, fantastic even. It also meant that their relationship as a family was starting to rebuild itself.

“Don’t worry, Snufkin. No matter what happens, I promise I’ll be right there for you, even when you can’t see me.” Joxter whispered. Snufkin felt a small, tired smile creep to his lips. Finally, he had gotten some answers that he always needed answering when he was a child. A lot of it was still a mystery, but for now, he just wants to enjoy the rest of the night that he had with his father. “I warn you though, I might disappear for a few days from time to time, but doesn’t mean I have left the val-Snufkin?” Joxter stopped talking when he realised that Snufkin wasn’t responding to what he was saying. He looked down to see that Snufkin had fallen asleep. Joxter chuckled lightly as he shook his head a little. The irony is that he started to get tired too. Being careful not to wake up Snufkin, he untangled himself from the blanket and wrapped Snufkin up in it again. He carefully lifted him up, holding him close. He didn’t let go until he reached Snufkin’s tent and placed him on the ground. He grabbed the old blanket that was next to him. He recognised it instantly. It was the same one that he had given Snufkin that day when he rescued him from the Park Keeper. He could hardly believe that the boy had kept it all this time. He settled down next to Snufkin and wrapped the blanket around both of them. He held Snufkin close once again, letting the boy use him as a pillow for his head. This allowed Snufkin to hear the man’s heart beat, allowing him to go deeper into sleep. Joxter remembered when Snufkin was a baby and he couldn’t go to sleep, he would stay awake until he either listened to a song Joxter played on the harmonica (the same one that he left Snufkin with when he regrettably abandoned him) or when he heard a heart beat from either one of his parents. Looked like the old trick still works. Joxter kissed Snufkin lightly on the head, happy to do this once more.

“Goodnight Snufkin.” He muttered before he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Finally, for the first time in a long time, things were starting to turn out alright.

THE END.

For now…

It watched the father as he carried the sleeping boy back to his tent, deciding it would be more comfortable for him to sleep there. It smiled darkly as it watched him retreat into the tent. Finally…now the fun can begin.

TO BE CONTINUED…ON HALLOWEEN…

Chapter 1: HERE

Chapter 2: HERE

Chapter 3: HERE

Chapter 4: HERE

Chapter 5: HERE

Chapter 6: HERE

Sequel: HERE

[corvvii]

Another Interview with Leonnaux Altoix

1. What is the name you go by?

“Leonnaux, though most of Alizarine refers to me as ‘Leon.’ I don’t mind it, really; it certainly has a ring to it. Funnily enough, my girlfriend actually refers to me fully as ‘Leonnaux,’ barring any pet names! At the end of the day, it comes down to preference and how willing one is to navigate bullshite Elezen names, I suppose.”

2. What is your real name?

He hesitates. “Leonnaux Altoix.”

*OOC Note: Lie detected. His real name is Leonnaux Declurais. He uses an assumed surname to distance himself from his family back in Gridania, and make himself feel closer to his long-missing father.

3. Do you know why you are named that?

“Why is anyone named anything? I suppose my mother just liked the name, I suppose. As for Altoix... I’m not sure where it comes from.”

4. Are you single or taken?

“I’m in a relationship, aye. Her name is Edda Vincents. We’ve not been without our difficulties, particularly erm... Recently, but that comes with the territory, I think. I do my best to support her, when she’ll let me, and I’ll love her always.” Mushy as it is, a big grin breaks across his lips and he gives a stern nod.

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“I’m versed in magic, if that’s what you’re asking. Namely, I practice arcanima, and would consider myself reasonably skilled at it, although I struggle with the, erm... Putting the theory into practice occasionally. Other than that, I’m skilled with arcanima, and... Well... I don’t think that qualifies as a power, really...” He trails off in a huff.

*OOC Note: Leon has the Echo (visions only), but he doesn’t know what it is. These visions are also liable to make him very, very sick, and he has no idea what causes them, so as far as he’s concerned at the moment they’re just an unfortunate medical condition.

6. What is your favorite food?

“Um! That’s actually pretty tough. I would wager... Uh... Well. At the moment, I really like these pastries that they sell in the lobby of the Sultana’s Breath...”

7. What’s your eye color?

“Blue.”

8. How about your hair color?

“Black.”

9. Have you any family members?

“... None that I’m on speaking terms with.”

10. What about pets?

“I have a cat, uh... Though I guess she doesn’t really belong to me so much as I plucked her out of an antique shop and now she kind of wanders around The Goblet and visits me whenever she either finds something interesting or wants attention or food. She has a cute little hat--oh. I also have a copperfish. But that’s not interesting.”

11. Now tell me about something you don’t like?

“At length? I think I’ll spare you the trouble... I despise people who put their bloodthirst before anything else. They ought to know better than anyone that lives have weight; to believe otherwise is to paint yourself as a psychopath. I’m also not particularly fond of tribal people, oh—But Edda would get onto me if she knew I said that out loud. And before you say anything: yes, I’m a Duskwight. No, you don’t understand the intricacies of why we are regarded as we are.”

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like?

“I enjoy... Studying. Gambling, from time to time. Reading drama. And drinking. Spending time with Edda... Chewing the fat with my coworkers... I’ll listen to a good bard from time to time. That shite takes me back; had things been different, maybe I could have been the one up on stage...!”

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“Physically? Emotionally? Physically, I struggle to think I could hurt anyone. I’m hardly a grisled warrior like Ben or Jin. Some harm to body may have resulted, a few times, from spells I’ve cast, but I try to keep my spells benign. Emotionally? ... Certainly.”

14. Ever killed anyone?

“No, and I refuse to allow myself to be responsible for taking a life, even by proxy.””

15. What kind of animal are you?

“Caw?” He does a remarkable impression of a crow.

16. Name your worst habits.

“I have been told racism. Drinking, occasionally to excess. But I will not have it said that I’m not principled.”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“Not many, being an Elezen.” He pauses. “What? Fine. I suppose I look up to a few people; Edda chief among them, but of course I’d admire her. Beyond that, I suppose Madison most times and Khada some others. I haven’t been in a position to be mentored or otherwise subservient to another in a very long time. That is not to say I’m not open to being taught a few things, but it makes coming up with people I look up to difficult... Considering the kinds of crowds I tend to run with. Of all my endeavors, Alizarine is the only one that is clean.”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

“You’re asking about my sexual preferences, right? I’m happily taken. But if I weren’t, I think I could see myself as easily with a man as I could a woman.”

19. Do you go to school?

“I never went to school. I was taught how to read and do basic maths by a family friend, and then everything else I know, I taught myself.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“Uh... The idea of getting married is... Not altogether unappealing, but I don’t think I’m ready for such a major step. As for children... I would make a shite father. So no.”

21. Do you have fanboys/fangirls?

“Do I have any what?”

22. What are you most afraid of?

“... Being alone again, I suppose. Before Edda, and way before Alizarine, I was pretty much... A shut-in? A recluse? I didn’t mind that life at the time, but I feel so much... Better now that I’m not. Edda pulled me out of some dark places. I don’t want to go back to them.”

23. What do you usually wear?

“Things so marvellously stylish that you will wonder how I afforded them! The boots are Fen-Yll.”

24. Do you love someone?

“As we’ve been over a few times: yes.”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

“What the fuck kind of question is that? I’m an adult! The last time I would have wet myself would be as a wee bab.”

26. What do you think is the worst act someone can commit?

“That’s a toss-up between murder and sex crimes. Selling off people as if they were livestock is also horrid. I have my hands in a few untoward things, but you will never see me with a finger in any of those pies.”

27. What class are you? (high class, middle class, low class)

“... Upper-middle? I’m no member of the Syndicate, but I’m hardly poor. I own property. I run a research company. I’m comfortable.”

28. How many friends do you have?

“... Uh...” He starts counting on his fingers, then seems to reconsider. “A few.”

29. What are your thoughts on pie? Cake?

“Both are excellent, especially apple pie and apple cake, which I promise exists. My mother used to make it for us all the time as kids using faerie applies she’s pick from these trees on the—Oh, I made myself sad.”

30. Favorite drink?

“Alcoholic? I fancy myself a bit of a mixologist these days, so I’ve come up with a few interesting combinations that I enjoy. Chief among them are Gold Court cocktails, on sale frequently at The Cloak & Dagger. I also like the restaurant’s titular cocktail... As for non-alcoholic, lassi is good. Fruit juices. Water. I don’t sit down and drink milk, really, but sometimes I get... Cravings?”

31. What’s your favorite place?

“Home. Or The Brimming Heart, in the Goblet.”

32. Are you interested in someone?

“I’m in a relationship! Of course I’m interested in her!”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

“Ask Edda.”

34. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“A lake... Because the water is calmer, and I’m not a strong swimmer...”

35. What’s your type?

“I’m not sure that I have one, honestly. I’m in a relationship, but I think anyone who was kind and willing to tolerate my bullshite for more than five minutes would have had a chance.” He laughs. “If—and this is a big if—I ever have to find out if I do, indeed have a type that I’m habitually attracted to... You’ll be the first to know. But for now, my type is Edda Vincents.”

36. Any fetishes?

He turns bright red considering the question, then shakes his head.

37. Seme or uke? Dominant or submissive?

“I don’t know what the former two are... Is it a Hingan thing...? Uh... As for the latter...” He’s still bright red. “It depends on the mood?”

38. Camping or indoors?

“Indoors.”

39. You are trapped on a desert island. What 5 items do you take with you if you can?

“I would avoid being trapped on the desert island in the first place! Other than that... My linkpearls, my grimoire, a quill, a map of the realm, and...? Ugh! This is hard.”

40. You have found a genie! What are your three wishes, not counting getting more wishes.

“I would wish for the power to bring those who have wronged the people I care about to justice. Uh... Wow, that sounds deep but it’s really not. Let’s go money, happiness, food. that works just as well. Right?”

Tagged by: @solennelagarde Tagging: @celestial-benediction, @celesiel (for vio!), @khadamoks, @oroniri (for either Dali or Kubo you pick!!) @larhaya (for Irha), @rashkgeilt, @lazarusffxiv, @streetgardener, actually all of INK and any members of Ebonguard who haven’t done this interview meme and/or have a Tumblr. :>