#I already knew about parasitic relationships but I think that’s a step further no

[fred-george-fic]

In the Middle Pt. 2

Cedric x Reader & George x Reader (Eventually)

A/N: This is kind of a large chapter, but if I didn’t include the date, it would’ve been an extremely short chapter. So, I hope you enjoy! (P.S. As always if you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to comment or message me!)

Summary: Back to Hogwarts we go! Plus a first date with a special someone. 

Pairing(s): Cedric x Reader & George x Reader (eventually)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Slight angst? Snogging?

Masterlist:~Part 1~

Back to Hogwarts

You stand there on platform 9 and ¾ with the Weasley family, Harry and Hermione. Everyone is saying their goodbyes to Arthur and Molly, thanking them for everything they did for you this summer. As you take a step back, you see Cedric and his father out of the corner of your eye. Cedric notices you looking over at him and gives you a slight wave. You return the greeting, tucking your hair behind you hear and return your attention back to the group.

You and Cedric had been sending each other a few letters over break and since you were staying at the Burrow, George and Fred constantly teased you about it. The contents of the letters were typical chatting, mostly just a way to keep it touch after the horrors of the Qudditch World Cup. He originally sent the first letter just to make sure you were okay, but you had continued to send them back and forth.

“Y/N! Let’s go! If we want to get our booth, we have to get on now!” George yells while walking towards the train with Fred. Molly grabs your shoulder before you begin walking towards the train to stop you.

“Please do your best to keep them out of trouble, dear. Who knows what hijinks those two will get into this year” Molly says pulling you into a large hug. “And be safe yourself, you’re more than welcome to stay with us again.”

“Thank you, Molly. I’ll do my best!” You return the hug, give her a slight wave and run onto the train, finding George and Fred in your usual booth.

--------

You sit in the Great Hall, wedged between Fred and George, watching the first years get sorted into their respective houses, cheering whenever one gets picked for Gryffindor. After they get sorted, Professor Dumbledore announces that there will be no Quidditch this year, due to a special event. This causes a lot of yelling in the Great Hall, especially from you and the twins. Dumbledore quickly continues introducing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Mad-Eye Moody, who continuously drinks out of a little flask. As he continues on, he announces the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament which will begin at the end of October on Hallowe’en giving the winner fame and one thousand Galleons. But, that no student under the age of 17 will be allowed to participate.

“That’s rubbish!” George and Fred shout in unison, riling up other students around them. Soon, murmurs and shouts continue throughout the hall. Ever since they won their bet and were never given the money, the twins knew this could be their last resort for opening the shop.

“SILENCE!” Dumbledore shouts, quickly quieting the entire hall. “The rules of the tournament are final. There is no room to discuss them any further.” With that, Dumbledore turned around and took his seat at the table.

As you leave the Great Hall, you hear your name being called from behind. “Cedric?” You asked as you turned around, just in time to see the yellow and black robes rounding the corner.

“Y/N.” He said with a brilliant smile but just continued to look at you

“Yes?” You looked at him, confused on why he was just staring. You waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you alright?”

“Sorry, I just got lost in thought” He shook his head. “How would you feel about going to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

“Like a date?” You smile and look up at him.

“Exactly like a date.” He smiles back, looking extremely pleased.

“I would be delighted.” You blush. 

“Great, I’ll meet you outside your common room around 12.” He waves goodbye and turns around looking back at you with a smile before returning to the first years to lead them to the Hufflepuff common room. You could hear their murmurs about dating outside the houses and if you were his girlfriend. You hear him say “I’m working on that part” before rounding the corner.

“Did Pretty Boy Diggory just ask you on a date?” You look behind you and notice Fred and George leaning against the wall.

“We’re already becoming second best, Fred.” George says shaking his head.

“Didn’t even notice us coming out of the Great Hall.” Fred exclaims, throwing up his hands and walking towards the common room. 

“This is what happens when I don’t have two boys hovering over me.” You laugh and follow behind them.

“If you wanted that then you shouldn’t have sat in our booth during our first year.” Fred teased.

“You really should’ve planned your life better six years ago.” George retorts.

“If I would’ve know you two were this annoying, I just might have.” Your laughing continues as the boys look at you with false hurt in their eyes. “Are you two upset about the tournament?”

“Oh, don’t worry we have a plan.” They both looked back at you with a mischievous grin.

-------

The weekend came quickly, as the castle continuously buzzed with excitement over the Triwizard tournament. You, Hermione and Ginny were all up on Saturday morning. Both of them trying to help you pick out what to wear. You settled on your nicest jumper and a skirt. You thank Ginny and Hermione and make your way down to the common room to eat before Cedric came to pick you up. The moment you reach the end of the stairs and go into the common room, you see both Fred and George relaxing on one of the couches. As you attempt to walk by, they both notice you immediately.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Fred says, getting up from the couch, putting an arm around your shoulder to stop you from leaving.

“I was trying to go get some breakfast.” You say rolling your eyes, weaving out of his arm. “Do you two care to join me?” 

“Gladly” George says getting up from the couch and following you out of the common room. 

“So, Timber. Did you get all dressed up for Diggory?” Fred teased. You rolled your eyes and blushed slightly, trying to hide it.

“Busted!” Fred laughed and George followed suit.

As you walk into the Great Hall, you immediately feel someone staring at you. As you look over at the Hufflepuff table, you meet Cedric’s eyes. He was in the middle of a conversation and immediately stopped. This caused his friends to look over and notice you as well. Cedric beamed, giving you his brightest smile. You felt your face getting hot and began walking quicker to the Gryffindor table. You sneak one last glance over at Cedric, whose smile has fallen, staring directly at the Weasley twins, as his friend whispered something in his ear. You let out a sigh as you sat down at the table and began to grab a small portion of breakfast. 

“Alright, what’s wrong?” George asked, nudging you with his elbow.

“My relationship with Cedric is over before it even began.” You motion with you head towards the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric has continued his conversation, occasionally casting glances at the three of you. “He thinks I fancy one of you or vice versa.”

“That’s mad!” Fred says sharing a glance with George, that you do not seem to notice. “On the bright side, he hasn’t come to cancel your date, so you should have time to clear everything up.”

“I guess you’re right.” You play with your food, occasionally taking a bite as the boys change the subject and chat among themselves.

“What’s wrong with her?” You hear Ron ask as he sits across from you with Harry, Hermione and Ginny. You groan and the twins tell the group what had happened that morning.

“I mean; you do spend an awful lot of time together.” Harry says grabbing a portion of food. “Not that it’s a bad thing or anything! But it can be intimidating.”

“We’re a package deal!” Fred and George say in unison, both putting their arms around you.

“Yes, the host and her two parasites.” You laugh as the twins put their hands over there heart in mock heartbreak. 

“Fred, how will we ever recover?” George teased.

“I don’t know George; this may be permanent damage.” Fred replied. Both twins immediately started laughing.

“Well, while you’re trying to recollect your pride, I am going to head back to the common room and wait for my date.” You get up from the table and start making your way to the common room. 

As you got out of earshot from the group, Fred immediately turns to George “You’re just going to let this continue? I thought you had a plan?”

“She obviously likes Diggory, I am not going to ruin that by sharing my own feelings.” George states, looking over at Cedric to ensure he can’t hear.

“But Geo-” Hermione starts.

“No.” He quickly says and shrugs “As long as she’s happy, I’m happy.” The others quickly drop the subject, with Fred glaring daggers at his twin knowing that he could make her happy if he’d just put himself out there.

-------

It’s almost twelve o’ clock now and you’re waiting outside the common room by yourself. It took some convincing, but you managed to get it through George and Fred’s heads that if they waited outside the common room with you, it would only make things worse. You hear the clock ring throughout the castle signaling that it is officially twelve. After about ten minutes’ pass by before you begin to worry that Cedric isn’t going to come. You’re about to walk back into the common room, when you hear loud footsteps approaching.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” Cedric claims as you turn around to face him, noticing him holding a pinkish flower at his side.

“Is that Vervain?” You look at the flower and then back up to Cedric.

“Is that what it’s called?” Cedric looked at the flower and then held it out to you. “I was late because I asked around what your favorite flower was. Hermione and Ginny didn’t know but remembered you picking the pink ones that looked like bells.”

You take the flower and smile down at it. “That’s so kind of you Cedric. These flowers actually have healing properties, specifically for mad dog bites. Let me go put it in my dorm, just a second” You quickly run upstairs, placing the flower on your chest and meet Cedric back outside.

“Ready to go?” Cedric holds out his hand to you.

“Absolutely.” You take his hand and begin walking towards Hogsmeade.

Once you arrive at Hogsmeade, you could see a number of students walking around, going in and out of shops. “I was thinking we could go to Honeydukes first and then head over to the Three Broomsticks for butter beer?” Cedric asked.

“Sounds lovely.” You respond and make your way over to Honeydukes taking in the various colors of the shop. 

“What’s your favorite?” Cedric asks, grabbing himself a liquorice wand. 

“Personally, I enjoy the glacial snowflakes.” You say grabbing a box off the shelf.

“I excepted some type of chocolate.” Cedric laughed and held out his hand. “Here, I’ll buy them for you.”

“Or, I can buy yours.” You say walking up to the counter with a grin on your face.

“No, I got it this time, maybe you can get the next.” He pays and hands you your box of glacial snowflakes, your fingertips brushing against each other lightly. “Shall we?”

You began your walk towards The Three Broomsticks with Cedric. While walking and having a pleasant conversation. He casual grabs your hand, you try not to focus on the warmth radiating into your cheeks and you continue the conversation. “So, next time? Are you implying that there will for sure be a next time?” You say looking over at him.

“Well, I at least hope there will be.” Cedric smiles at you as you reach The Three Broomsticks. “How about you find us a table and I’ll grab two butterbeers?”

As you enter inn, you notice a few students that you recognize from different classes scattered around. You find a table in the corner and Cedric quickly returns with the drinks. “Thank you.” You say grabbing the drink from him and he slides into the booth besides you.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles and takes a sip of his drink. “I really do have something to ask you.”

“Okay, what do you got?” You had a feeling you knew what this question was going to be about the Twins, but you did your best to keep a smile on your face.

“Do you fancy either of the Weasley twins? I just- see you with them all the time and my friends say they often see you laughing and flirting” He looks down at his drink, visibly embarrassed that he had to ask such a question, but you knew it was bothering him.

“Cedric-” You grab his hand. “They have been my best friends since our first year. You have nothing to worry about. They have been there for me in the darkest moments of my life, especially their family.”

Cedric turns to face you head on. “I’m sorry. I just saw you with them today and I grew concerned. You are just the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen; so I couldn’t imagine what other guys might be thinking.”

You blushed heavily and looked back down at your hands, your fingers interlaced with his. After finishing up the Three Broomsticks, you and Cedric walked back to Hogwarts hand in hand. As you both reach your common room, you turn to face each other. “Thank you. Today has been wonderful.” You say, smiling up at him.

“Y/N, do you remember at the quidditch world cup the conversation we were having before we were interrupted?” Cedric asked, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer.

You begin blush, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes?”

“Well, there was something I was going to do.” He says and starts leaning in closer to you. Just then his lips grazed yours, softly brushing against them sending shivers through your spine. You smiled and took a step away from him. “Goodnight Cedric.” You say with a slight wave and slide into the Gryffindor common room.

Once you enter, you notice Hermione sitting on the couch near the fireplace and plop down next to her. “Someone had a nice time.” She said looking up from her book and raising an eyebrow. You sigh and lightly touch your fingers to your lips.

[blueroseblaze]

If You’ll Have Me: Chapter 1

Read also on Ao3 here

The tinkering of metal harmonized with the soft music of the radio as you and Nero continued inspecting the van. Nico had long since gone home, saddling the two of you with the rest of the work. You didn’t mind though, any time you could spend with Nero was time well spent, even while doing menial labor.

“You okay?” Nero asked as he rolled out from underneath the massive vehicle, “You seem quiet.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you replied, “Just zoning out.”

Nero nodded, not pressing the issue any further. He stood from the roller seat and discarded the tools in his hand. He walked over to the sink in the corner, using the hem of his tank top to wipe away the sweat from his brow. You couldn’t keep yourself from catching a glimpse of his toned stomach as he did. But you quickly snapped yourself out of it.

Bad look, you thought, He’s with Kyrie.

“See something you like?” Nero teased from the other side of the garage, not even turning around to face you.

You clammed up and froze. Had you been so obvious? You continued staring at him, a guilty blush creeping up your face, exasperated by his turning his head and shooting you’re a snarky wink. You snapped your head away from his direction as he continued cleaning up.

You couldn’t escape the awkward silence, even the radio did little to ease your anxiety. Until an angel’s voice broke through the air.

“Nero! (Y/N)! Dinner’s almost ready!”

“We’ll be right there!” the young devil hunter called back. He turned to you from the sink, his expression as if the previous exchange never happened, yet there was a knowing glint in his crisp blue eyes.

“You staying?” he asked.

“Of course,” you replied with a smile, “If you’ll have me.”

“Always.”

You started to freshen up yourself hocking your tools onto the nearest surface and making way for the door. Nero stayed behind to finish tidying up and encouraged you to go on ahead. You stole one last look before making your way into the house.

The warm, welcoming aroma of Kyrie’s food wafted through the house, carrying you towards the kitchen. Your empty stomach growled the closer you got to the source. Turning the corner, you took a big breath in, exaggerating your reaction only a little to alert her to your presence.

“Hungry?” she asked in the songbird voice of hers.

“You know it,” you replied, “Nero will be in in a minute, he’s finishing up out there.”

“Well in that case you want to help me finish here and set the table?”

With little more than a nod you trotted over to the cabinet and pulled down the plates, cradling them in one arm as you searched the drawers for silverware. Hands full, you stepped into the dining room. You stole a look over your shoulder back towards the kitchen, listening to Kyrie humming a pleasant tune. You felt a smile stretch across your face, not realizing you had been stock still the whole time, not until a gentle had rested on your shoulder and Kyrie’s voice cut through your haze.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” she asked.

You nearly dropped everything in your arms as your heart skipped a beat. Your eyes met hers and you noted her concerned expression.

“I-I’m fine,” you said, “Just lost in thought.”

“You been doing that a lot lately.”

“Yeah there’s just been a lot on my mind. But I’m fine, promise!” you reassured her.

She looked rather incredulously at you before removing her hand from your shoulder. Her hand lingered on you for a moment, her fingers feather light as she reluctantly pulled away. You took in a deep breath and resumed setting the table, cursing yourself for getting so distracted.

You sighed defeatedly. There’s no point in letting yourself get hurt like this. They are happy together; they’ve been happy together. There’s no room for you. They only have you around because you’re a close friend, nothing more.

You felt tears prick at your eyes as you set the last plate down. You’d been getting careless. The wanton glances and lingering stares would get you in trouble soon enough, no matter how nonchalant they seems when you got caught. You suspected they suspected you. And you couldn’t help the anger at yourself that rose in your chest. Luckily, your back was till turned to Kyrie, and you quickly pranced to the bathroom once the last piece of table wear was set. You locked the door and supported yourself against the counter, staring at the flushed mess that was your face.

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Hanging around, savoring every passing glance or soft touch, no matter the context. You had to be some kind of desperate masochist. This couldn’t go on; you would only be hurting yourself and being a burden on them. This should be the last time you let yourself feel like this. Do everyone a favor and cut yourself out. Make this last time enjoyable, then dial it back.

You gasped at the knock on the other side of the door. You quickly composed yourself and let out a sound of acknowledgment.

“You okay in there,” Nero’s voice was muffled on the other side.

“Yeah I’m fine, just finishing washing up,” you lied.

“Ok don’t rush yourself we won’t eat without you,” he said.

“Don’t worry about me help yourselves.”

There was silence after that indicating he had left. Thank god, you thought, another confrontation dodged. You worked quickly, running the cool water from the faucet, and pressing damp towel to your face to relieve the redness in your eyes. This wasn’t the first time you had been driven to tears by your near addiction to your friends, but it was the first time you were so close to getting caught. There’s no good explanation if they had caught a glimpse of your distraught face. No allergies, no bullshit reminder of some stupid thing that made you sad. If you had gotten caught there was no way you would be able to talk yourself out of it. At least not without revealing to them that you were obviously lying to their faces.

Besides, how are you supposed to explain this to your friends, your friends that you have known since childhood, your friends that you followed to the mainland from the tiny island you all grew up on, your friends that have been together for years. How are you supposed to explain to them that you’ve been in love with both of them for so long? You can’t.

Which is why this has to end. You can’t keep letting yourself hurt like this. Why can’t you just let yourself stop hurting?

After a few more minutes you were presentable, a slightly bluish still permeating your face but nothing to give away the tears that flowed down your cheeks just moments before. You looked into the mirror and sighed before opening the bathroom door.

You walked into the dining room, surprised that dinner hadn’t been touched yet despite both Nero and Kyrie sitting there, plates empty.

“Did you wait for me?” you asked.

“Of course, we did,” Kyrie exclaimed with a smile.

“Why wouldn’t we wait for you?” Nero asked, slouched in his chair with his arm hanging off the back.

You gave them a smile that expressed both gratitude and annoyance, “But I said not to I don’t want it to get cold while you wait for me.”

Nero chastised you playfully before demanding you sit down.

Dinner was great, like it always was. Kyrie’s cooking could not be beat. It was a banquette of roast beef, potatoes, and mixed vegetables, enough to feed a small army. Or a hungry Nero. You also knew she made enough for you to take plenty home with you when you left. So thoughtful of her.

“And then I punched that ugly bastard right off the side of the bridge and timed how long it took until we heard it splash,” Nero chuckled, “Those army guys were certainly impressed.”

“You’re still not used to all the praise are you?” Kyrie inquired.

The evening was filled with chatter, laughter --mostly at Nero’s expense—and just general pleasantries. You swear you could listen to either of them talk about anything for hours and enjoy every minute of it. Nero’s improvements in his weaponry and his increased proficiency with his Devil Trigger form. Or Kyrie’s new craft project she’s begging you to try with her, because she thinks you’d be great at it. You hung on every word. You wanted to savor this, because you knew this would be the last time you could indulge in such a way. This had to be it, to save both yourself and your relationship with them. Sure, they would ask questions about your increased absence and why you suddenly started turning down their invitations, but it would be healthier in the long run.

Even after everyone was full, you all still sat around the table as the food got cold just talking, laughing, enjoying each other’s company. Kyrie even brought out a bottle of wine. Despite none of you really drinking that often the evening was filled with an air of “why not?”. Both you and Nero sneered jokingly into your glasses, wine was always more Kyrie’s  anyway, but you sucked it up and indulged in the bitter juice.

The bottle was half empty by the time it was agreed to bring the evening to a pause. You didn’t need to be tipsy on your way home, you reasoned. But you did stay to help clean up the dishes and put way leftovers. Kyrie tried to help but You and Nero refused, she cooked, so you cleaned. That’s how these things worked.

Now here you were standing shoulder to shoulder with the snowy haired devil hunter. You washing, him drying. You glanced over, noticing him taking an excruciatingly long time drying off each dish or pot you handed him. He didn’t look at you and seemed lost in thought like he was contemplating something, but you chose not to ask.

That ache in your chest was starting to grow again, starting with the swell of admiration and want for his closeness but only to be poisoned by your conscious screaming at you. Asking who you thought you were to catch feelings for two people already so committed to each other. An emotional vampire, a parasite feeding off the happiness of your friends’ relationship. What kind of homewrecker were you to even think about feeling this way?

You bit your lip, trying not to feel the burn behind your eyes as you gradually reached your limit again. You focused on your task, hoping that focusing on your hands only will distract you. You didn’t notice Nero look over his shoulder, or Kyrie approach you from behind. Despite your focus on your hands, you felt the atmosphere change. You slowly lowered the soapy dish into the water and turned your head to meet the gaze of your friends.

Kyrie stood a few feet from you and Nero. You could see the nervous look on her face as she played with her fingers, barley keeping eye contact with you. She shifted her eyes between you and Nero as Nero leaned against the counter, crossing his arms securely over his chest.

You heart rate spiked, panic running through your body.

Oh god, you thought, this is it. They found you out. They know how you feel and now they’re going to kick you out. Who could blame them? Who would want to keep a desperate lonely leech like you around? They were just being nice to you so they wouldn’t hurt your feelings but now they’ve had enough. Now they’re done with you. They’re going to tell you to leave and never come back.

The voice in your head continued to berate you with scenario after scenario of them letting you down easy, screaming at you, throwing you out onto the street. This didn’t help you with trying to keep a new reservoir of tears from brewing behind your eyes that they will notice any minute now. Keep it together…

“(Y/N),” Kyrie started in her beautiful melodic voice, “Nero and I want to talk to you about something.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, “What is it? Is everything ok?” you asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Nero started, “We just have sort of a… proposal, for you.”

“Okay…?” You crossed your own arms over yourself protectively.

Nero moved so that he and Kyrie were both facing you and you would much rather be facing down a firing squad at this point.

Kyrie started again, “We’ve all known each other for a very long time, and you’re our best friend. You’re so smart and funny and kind. We don’t know what we would do without you around. We love spending time with you, and we always hate to see you leave.”

She’s just buttering you up to make this less painful… Or maybe? Maybe she’s softening you up to make it hurt that much more to get you to stay away.

It was at this point that Nero spoke up, “We can always talk to you about anything we’re dealing with and you’re always there for us. You never judged me when you found out about me being part demon. You were there when I lost my arm and when I found out about my father.”

“When we lost Credo,” Kyrie added sullenly, “You’re basically family to us we’re so close, and we love you. I know we say it a lot but I don’t think it shows how we really feel.”

You remained silent, taking in their words that warmed your heart but still left you anxious. Where was this going, really? It was true though, you were always there for them when they needed help, because that’s what friends do. You know they would always do the exact same for you. Like when Kyrie brings you hot soup and beverages when you’re sick, or when Nero patches you up if you get too close to a demon. That’s just what friends do for each other.

“When we say we love you,” Nero said, “We mean it. And not in like a family way… we…”

Kyrie took over, “We wanted to ask you, if you would like to join us.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell agape just slightly. This couldn’t be real. They can’t be asking what you think they’re asking. They probably just joined a new mainland church or they need an extra person to take care of the kids at the orphanage. There’s no way that they…

“Join you?” you repeated.

“We want you to be a part of our relationship, so it would be the three of us instead of just me and Kyrie.”

You dropped your gaze, looking down and shaking your head in disbelief. They were really asking. You couldn’t believe it, this had to be a dream. One you would wake up from any moment alone in your own bed at home.

“If you’re not interested we get it,” Nero said seeing your look of disbelief. Hopefully, he didn’t think it was offense. “We don’t want to force you into anything we just need to get our feelings out there.”

“Kyrie you…” you began struggling to express your thoughts, “I didn’t know that you were…”

“It’s never something I ever really explored but I always felt deep down, especially fpr you. Nero and I did a lot of talking and we found out we both feel the same way for you that we do for each other. There’s just something there that we couldn’t ignore any longer. So, if you want to give it a try, we would want nothing more.”

“Whoa, (Y/N) are you okay!” Nero exclaimed.

It was then you noticed that your dam had burst and the tears were freely falling down your cheeks. You stood there shaking with quiet sobs as you lowered your head and brought your hands to your face to cover your reddened eyes. You panted and hiccupped behind your hands until you felt another pair, warm and gentle wrap around your wrists, gingerly coaxing you to reveal your face. You sniffled as you met Kyrie’s worried amber eyes.

“We’re so sorry. We won’t bring it up again, I promise. Please don’t cry,” she begged.

“It’s n-not…t-that,” you sputtered, “I pro-omise…”

They were both silent as Kyrie still held your shaky hands in her own while Nero stepped aside to grab something to dry your tears with. Kyrie quietly shushed you encouraging you to calm down so you could speak clearly. You began to focus on your breathing, slow quivering breaths in and out in a broken rhythm.

You couldn’t believe it. After so long. So many years of wanting and pushing your feelings down for their sake. So many years of loneliness holding out for this exact moment, no matter how impossible it previously seemed. So long just wanting to be held by them, touched, kissed, and loved by them the way they do each other. This was really happening.  

Soon Nero returned with a bundle of tissues, handing them to you without a word but a very concerned face. It was still a few more minutes to calm yourself before you could speak.

“You…” you started dabbing your eyes as you went, “You have no idea how long… how long I’ve felt the same way. I just didn’t want to say anything because… because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I… I didn’t want to just wedge myself in and risk ruining everything… so I k-kept quiet about how I felt.”

You sighed deeply as you calmed down more and more.

“I always had a feeling. I didn’t ask because… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or scare you off. So, I just always teased you about being in love with me,” he chuckled, “I was too scared to come out with it myself. So, I just hoped you would do it for me.”

Kyrie, still standing very close to you, reached out her hand, softly rubbing your shoulder to help calm you faster. She smiled sweetly at you, that same smile you had see so many times and locked away in your inner vault to cherish when she wasn’t around, like the selfish little love gremlin you were.

“So,” she began, “What do you think? You don’t have to answer right away if you don’t want to.”

You smiled at her, eyes still red and puffy but so much happier than you were before. You took Kyrie’s hands into yours Interlocking your fingers with her, sighing with the warmth of her skin.

“I want to, I really do. So yes… if you’ll have me.”

Both of them smiled at you, Kyrie bouncing with excitement as you wiped away the last of your tears. Nero came forward, wrapping his strong arms around both of you. You buried your face in his shoulder, inhaling his comforting scent before pulling away from him, hand still locked in Kyrie’s. You looked to her, and saw the rosy blush spreading over her freckled cheeks.

She looked away from you bashfully before asking, “(Y/N), may I kiss you?”

You blinked wide eyed at her and felt your own cheeks heat up again, this time not from crying. You meekly nodded and stood still as she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours. They were the softest thing you had ever felt like rose petals that had been sitting on a sunny windowsill in summer. Lips slightly parted so they would fit perfectly with hers you felt the heat radiating off her skin. In the end it was chaste, she pulled away with a quiet smack of your parting. You had little experience with kissing but this one sent sparks through your whole body you had never felt before.

You were both silent after the fact, sparing each other bashful glances until Nero stepped forward, scratching at his nose in embarrassment like he’s one to do. He was uncharacteristically quiet but very characteristically shy as he placed a light hand on your shoulder. He leaned in slowly, silently asking for permission to join in. You granted it without a word, only closing the distance between you.

His lips weren’t as full or soft as Kyrie’s, but they were still softer than you had expected. You took a breath through your nose as your lips began to work against his. It felt so right, still riding the high after kissing Kyrie now Nero, your head was spinning in all directions.

Nero was the one to pull away first, and for a brief moment you followed him, wanting more. But you stopped, you couldn’t be so greedy. Your skin tingled as Nero let his hand fall form it, his calloused fingertips lingering on your skin as he went. You could feel the goosebumps rising in the exact patterns as his touch.

“It’s getting late,” Nero said, his voice huskier than it was before, “We don’t have to do anything more tonight.”

“You’re right,” you said, your arm returning to their position securely across your chest, “I-I think that we should talk about this more later.”

“Do you want to spend the night?” Kyrie asked, “You still have some things here.”

It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend the night at their place when the night got away from you and it was too late and too much of a hassle to walk home. So naturally after some time you had accumulated a small wardrobe that you just left here for such an occasion. And sweetest Kyrie, had them all clean folded in a canvas box neatly tucked away in the linen closet.

“Thank you I would but, I think maybe it would be best if I went home for tonight, process everything.”

There’s no way you would be able to sleep tonight if you were here, especially after all of this. Your mind was still racing with adrenaline, excitement, and anxiety. Those kisses gave you enough dopamine to last you a long while, you’ll still be feeling their lips on yours when you’re trying to sleep tonight.

“I understand,” Kyrie said with a content smile, “But please come over for breakfast tomorrow so we can talk things over more.”

“I will that sounds great,” you agreed, “It is getting late if I leave now it shouldn’t take me too long.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Nero offered. Ever the gentleman as he led you to the door, you both sparing a quick goodnight to Kyrie.

[theraputicwritings]

Poker Faces & Mistletoe Kisses

A/N: Wow! Two stories in two nights! I am officially on a roll! I wasn’t planning to write a Christmas story, but I got a lovely anonymous request to write a Secret Santa story. So without further ado, enjoy!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1,686

Warnings: None really except for some almost cotton candy sweet fluff

Request: Hey, could you do a Spence request? Since your masculinity one was sooooo gooooood. It's Christmas at the FBI, and the team has done Secret Santa and you got Spence, your best friend. Presents are exchanged at Rossi's mansion, and you end up being under the mistletoe with Spence when he asks you out on a date. 🎅

“One thing even a poker face cannot hide is love.”

― Tapan Ghosh

“Alright my lovely crime-fighting superheroes! Gather around the Christmas tree! It is time to open our Secret Santa gifts! And this year we’re adding a fun little twist!”

Penelope Garcia couldn’t have been more excited for the annual BAU Christmas party and it was infectious. You’d only been going for two years, but they were amazingly fun. It helped that the BAU team was such a tight-knit group, but they were also just a lot of fun. It was a good distraction from the otherwise dark world that tended to surround the team weekly.

Everyone slowly made their way to where Rossi had set up the beautiful Christmas tree. (You were fairly positive he had paid for it to be set up, but you weren’t complaining.) The room was cozy and warm, exactly how Christmas should be. It smelled like a mix of mulled wine, apple cider, and the Italian spices Rossi always used to make his traditional Italian Christmas meal.

You carefully balanced your cocktail on one knee as Spencer sat on one side of you and Derek on the other. It was the perfect you sandwich on pretty boy bread and you couldn’t have been more pleased with your couch buddies.

You smiled to yourself as you noticed that Spencer was particularly close to you. It was how you normally sat next to each other. Whether it was on the seats in the jets or each other’s couches during your bi-weekly Doctor Who marathon. It made the cozy atmosphere that much more cozy knowing he was sitting close to you.

“So what’s the twist this year, Baby Mama?” Derek asked a flirty smirk on his lips. “I know it’s going to be fun if it came out of your beautiful mind.”

Penelope practically bounced with each movement as she paced in front of the group who had all sat down on various couches, chairs, and floor cushions.

“It is going to be more fun than bingo night at the Rotary Club. Which is quite fun if you believe it or not,” she quirked. “So, the rules are each person will be presented with their Secret Santa gift. Once it’s been open, everyone will try to guess who’s gift it is. If the group is right, the gifted drinks. If the group is wrong, then the group drinks. Makes sense?”

Everyone nodded in response so she turned and started to rummage through the pile of gifts under the tree.

“First up is none other than Boy Genius, Dr. Spencer Reid himself! Here you go.”

Carefully she placed in front of him a small Christmas stocking and everyone leaned in to see what was in the gift. An awkward and shy smile crawled across Spencer’s lips as he removed the tissue paper and pulled out a deck of poker cards and a tie wrapped in ribbon.

“Oh wow, poker cards! I’m guessing someone wants to try their hand at besting me,” he remarked. You could tell he wasn’t nearly as excited for the gift but was doing his best to hide his lack of enthusiasm. Everyone else however had already started profiling the gifts to guess who they were from.

“Both gifts have a certain whimsy, playful quality to them,” Emily said as she looked up at Penelope.

“Yeah, but the cards look vintage. Maybe even antique. Some thought was definitely put into them,” Morgan added on, reaching across you to grab the box. It did look vintage and you looked over his shoulder in interest.

After a few more seconds of everyone deducing who could have given the gifts, the conclusion had been made that they were from Rossi.

“Nope,” the older man said, popping the “p” and taking a sip of his scotch.

“Well, then who gifted them?” JJ asked, looking around as everyone took a sip from their drinks.

Everyone that is… except you.

When they realized it was you who had gifted the poker cards, everyone looked shocked and it didn’t surprise you. Traditionally you were ah-mazing at giving gifts. It was your love language and you had a knack for giving thoughtful and personal gifts. A tie and a box of poker cards didn’t seem like you. Especially after last year when you’d personally made Rossi a leather-bound book full of the recipes he’d taught you that year.

After shrugging it off, everyone wondered if maybe it had just been a fluke and continued with the game. You knew better though. You had an ace up your sleeve that you planned to play later that night.

Not too long after, everyone had been given their gifts and everyone was starting to get tipsy. You weren’t too bad yet but the vodka in your drink was starting to give you the type of warm fuzzies you generally avoided. After graciously thanking JJ for the beautiful pair of boots she’d given you, you quietly stood up and escaped to the kitchen for a glass of water.

While you were helping yourself to the iced water and a few cubes of fancy cheesy you felt someone behind you. Turning, you discovered it was exactly who you thought it would be.

“Hey, Spencer.”

Spencer smiled and walked up to you so you two were close.

“Hey. What are you doing in here?”

You shrugged and held up the glass with water in it.

“Just hydrating. Trying not to get too drunk.”

Spencer nodded before starting, “Actually drinking water doesn't prevent a hangover. In fact, studies have concluded, the only way to prevent a hangover is to drink less alcohol.”

He finished his little factoid with a quirky smile and it made butterflies erupt in your stomach. You didn’t know why, but sometimes you felt like you were the only one who actually enjoyed it when Spencer quoted one of the many facts that he knew off the top of his head. His intelligence and passion for knowledge and learning made him uniquely him and you loved it about him.

“Well, it’s a little late on the drinking-less-bit, but staying hydrated during a party has never hurt someone,” you responded with a shrug.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you popped another cheese cube into your mouth.

“You know, I’m kinda surprised at your Secret Santa gift. It’s not what I expected a gift from you to be like.”

Spencer’s face turned red and you hoped your poker face hid the laugh you were failing to suppress.

“That’s because it’s only part of the gift, Spencer.”

“There’s more?” Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows.

Nodding, you put your glass down and took his hand. “Here, come with me.”

With your best sneaky, flirty smile, you slowly led him out the backdoor and to a spot you’d scouted when you’d first arrived at the party. Rossi’s property was massive, but you’d taken notice of the invasive plant covering a tree near the garden and knew it was the perfect location. Christmas lights had been strung throughout the yard and it held for quite the romantic ambiance.

Once you’d gotten settled under the tree, you turned to Spencer, pleased to see he was oblivious to what the two of you were standing under.

This was it. This was the moment you’d been planning on. You were going to reveal to Spencer your feelings. There were some anxieties about if he didn’t like you back, but you were confident Spencer reciprocated those feelings. His poker face wasn’t nearly as good when it came to relationships.

“That deck of cards is more than just your typical poker set. Yes, they’re vintage, but they’re more than that too. Open the box and see for yourself.”

Spencer tilted his head in confusion as he pulled the box out of his jacket pocket. Carefully he pulled the lid off of the tin box and read what you had written on the first card.

“52 Reasons Why I Love Spencer Reid.”

His head popped up and his eyes went from confused to bewildered to shocked to pleased to uncomfortable in a matter of seconds. It was a whirlwind for you to watch and try to interpret his emotions.

“You love me?” he asked as he took the cards out of the box. Slowly, he shifted through the cards which listed the various reasons why you had started to fall in love with Spencer over the two years that you had been working together.

“I think I do. Yeah. I don’t know if I actually know what love is, Spencer, but the feelings I have for you are more than just attraction.”

When you didn’t get a response, you started to panic.

“I’m sorry. It’s a stupid and unprofessional gift. I shouldn’t have done all this… especially if it’s going to ruin our friendship. I just needed to tell you how I feel and—“

You were cut off by a pair of lips pressing into yours. You could feel yourself practically melt but as soon as they were there, they were gone.

You opened your eyes and looked up at Spencer.

“I think I have feelings for you too, Y/N. I have for a while now, and I’ve wanted to ask you out on a date, but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship if you didn’t feel the same way,” Spencer explained as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

His hand came to rest on your shoulder and you hoped the smile on your face was cute and didn’t feel as big and goofy as it felt.

“So you like my gift then?” You asked hopefully.

Spencer chuckled as he nodded. “I do.”

“That’s good then. Otherwise, I would have felt awkward placing us under a tree full of mistletoe.”

Eyes wide, Spencer tilted his head up to confirm that what you said was true. Sure enough, the parasitic plants were covering the tree. Some of the branches were low enough to be right over your heads.

“Well, I guess we should kiss again?” Spencer suggested as he stepped closer to you and leaned in.

“I guess we should,” you agreed before pressing your lips into his.

“She was in the only place she wanted to be right now.

She was home.” Tilly Tennant

[serararku]

The Writhing Prize

This was the first time Mizuna had to actively work alongside a blind woman, which brought its own host of unique challenges. 

Truth be told, Dawn probably wasn’t the easiest woman to work with before she lost her sight. Even in the best of moods she was easily agitated and quick to anger, and it wouldn’t take much to get on her bad side. She could walk around the clinic without the use of her outstretched hands just after a few weeks, memorizing how many steps she needed to take to get around easily enough, but all it took was Mizuna forgetting to push in a chair or rearrange a table near the wall to upset the blonde she-devil. After the third or fourth time she stubbed her toe on the leg of furniture, Mizuna felt she had no other choice but to buy soft covers to prevent Dawn from hurting herself. It was also impossible to tell if she was sleeping or awake, and more often than not Mizuna suspected Dawn would pretend to rest so she could listen in on her conversations during her many checkups. 

Every tincture, remedy, elixir, potion, cupboard and drawer had two labels each- one in Doman prepared by Mizuna, and the other in Braille by Dawn. The fear of Dawn using the wrong medicine for the job and seriously injuring or even killing a patient compelled the Auri to learn the language of the blind in order to ensure she could double-check the Braille to make sure they remained accurate. On the other hand, if Mizuna needed something fetched- and she hadn’t left it where it wasn’t supposed to be- Dawn always knew exactly where to go to find it. Losing her sight seemed to sharpen her other senses as well, giving her an uncanny sense of smell, touch, taste, and hearing; she could smell an infected wound minutes before Mizuna did, applied stitches just as good as the best of them, and could rattle off the ingredients of a potion with a simple taste of a single droplet. Mizuna also theorized Dawn could listen in on conversations going on beyond the clinic’s walls- why else would she zone out so often?

Despite Dawn’s volatile temper and spiteful nature- at least from Mizuna’s perspective, she couldn’t help but watch and study her associate as she went about her duties. It had only been a few moons since her grievous injury but she had long discarded the few habits just about everyone else would easily overlook; when she read from her braille book, she no longer tilted her head to point her glazed eyes down at the pages, because she no longer needed to. Instead Mizuna would watch her silently mouth the words as if she was reading out loud, her delicate hand brushing across the dotted parchment a dozen times before she would turn to the next page. She wouldn’t even turn her head toward the person she was speaking to- unless she was angry. Mizuna would often deliberately wear different types of shoes to see if hearing her approach would throw her off, but she always knew it was her.

“Mizuna? We need to have a talk.” dreadful words escaped the woman’s lips. Words no one ever wants to hear and inspires anxiety even in the most aloof personalities. Mizuna stiffened in her seat, her attention yanked away from a particularly raunchy romance novel she had borrowed from one of Lord Isenhart’s students.

She braced herself for the topic at play, silently praying to Azim the Dawn Father that she wasn’t going to bring up her untimely outburst in Ul’dah again. “Yes? I’m listening.” 

“Mn? Well, it’s Osric.” she held up a vial full of black goo that Mizuna swore was writhing and squirming in her grasp. “I managed to extract this from him, from what I can gather it’s parasitic and while not immediately toxic, it’s not doing him any favors. I sense something sinister from this, like… like the thing that took my sight.”

The more everyone brought up that encounter up north in the Coerthas Highlands, the happier Mizuna was for missing out. “Disgusting.” She blurted out, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow at the vial. “Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s natural. But if that’s what was causing Osric so many problems, it seems you already took care of it, yes…?”

“From what I can tell, I managed to forcibly extract half of it. I have a plan for a procedure but I wanted a second opinion. Seeing as this is using him as some kind of host, I figured making him inhospitable might be enough to make it want to leave- but not only just that, we should have bait for it to want to leave on top of that.”

Mizuna slowly nodded, doing her best to keep pace with this wild conversation. “We don’t know what this thing is. It could be a parasite, or a curse. Or maybe some voidsent illness that could react poorly if we tamper with it further.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms; whatever Dawn was planning, she didn’t like it. Fumbling around in the dark is Dawn’s specialty, after all. “Let’s hear the rest of it.”

Dawn continued to explain her plan, “I managed to mix in some essence of nightshade and belladonna into a concoction that is just below lethal levels of toxicity, it should render him into a near-death state. Slowed heart rate, lowered body temperature, by all means it would appear that he was dead, even to his little guest. Then I can use some dark-aspected aether to draw it out, the same type of aether that the monstrosity had when we fought it- assuming the infectious thing came from that monster.”

“No.” Mizuna’s face hardened into a scowl. “Even if you managed to figure out Osric’s tolerance to nightshade, even if this thing behaves like you assume, and even with you casually mentioning dark aether, it’s still a far cry from a reliable plan. Nothing ever goes according to plan… and if our gamble deviates even a little bit, Osric will die. There has to be another way…”

Dawn knitted her brow, “And while we’re grasping at hopes and dreams this is the closest thing to a reliable plan. Measured and weighed. I have experience extracting this thing before. I’m glad you’re all for criticism but I’m not sure you trivializing things makes anything any better- did you have a better plan? Time is against us.” 

The Raen seemed taken aback, seemingly ignoring her question entirely. “Dawn… you can control dark aether…?”

Seemed entirely annoyed by Mizuna’s question. “If I couldn’t manage the plan, do you think I would’ve proposed it?” she brought out a necklace from her shirt, a small crystal glistened. “I’m borrowing this from a friend.” With her other hand she sparked a brilliant purple hue of aether, small specks gently floating to the floor like dark snowflakes.

Mizuna once thought she understood this woman. She believed her ability to use her own life force to empower her aether was the darkest secret she kept, but this was something else entirely. Swallowing dryly, her eyes darted from the crystal in one hand, and the umbral aether in the other; her stomach twisted into a knot, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. “Alright…” She muttered out before quickly clearing her throat. “If you’re absolutely sure you can control this… then we should consult with Osric to get his consent for this procedure.” Mizuna nervously ran her hand through her hair while shifting in her seat. “What do we plan to do with this creature once we’ve successfully removed it from his body?”

“Collect it in a vial for further research. I know how it affects him in the short term, we don’t know what lasting damage it could leave. Even if the dark aspected aether doesn’t work, we have the other half and might use it to attract what’s left…. Are you okay, you’re moving around more than usual. I know this isn’t normal but desperate times call for desperate measures, Mizuna.”

“I’m just surprised, is all…” Once again she forgot about that razor-sharp hearing. “I’ve only known Black Magi and Necromancers with the ability to manipulate dark-aether. It’s… not something anyone can just pick up.” Mizuna pursed her lips and straightened in her seat. “Alright then… shall we ring him up right now? Or should we wait to do this on the morrow?”

Dawn sighed, “Or Dark Knights. Anyway, that’s why I asked for a second opinion. I know you’re skeptical but I wanted to know if you felt it was doable… I feel confident but… I’d feel better if I knew you checked the dosage and saw some sort of sense in my plan. But if you don’t… maybe it’s better that we just scrap this idea altogether…”

She scraped her nails along the scales on her wrists as she sat on her thoughts for a moment. She didn’t know how to answer this without bruising Dawn’s confidence in her plan, but lying hasn’t exactly helped their relationship in the past. Begrudgingly, she ultimately went with honesty.

“I’m terrified of dark aether.” Mizuna paused just long enough to gauge Dawn’s reaction. “I’ve never once heard or seen it used as a form of healing. It’s out of my expertise, unfortunately, so I honestly don't know what to think of this plan. But…” She leaned forward and rested her chin on her palms to keep her hands busy without making needless noise. “If you’re confident this will work, I will follow your lead. I know you have Osric’s best interests in mind, so… I’ll trust you to lead this operation. Just tell me what to do and keep me in the loop, okay?”

“The aether is a lure. Aside from that, we’ll be using typical conjury and good old fashioned medical knowledge.” she tried to assure Mizuna. “I think we should do this as soon as possible. If you think it’s manageable. If my plan doesn’t work, we’ll need to be quick on our feet and think of another method. Otherwise we’re back at square one and tearing him open again for no reason.” Mizuna’s brow cocked at that veiled insult; that foreign object she pulled from the Dragoon’s chest was dangerously close to his heart, and she still felt justified in removing it. Instead of inciting another argument, she decided to let this one slide.

After sharply inhaling, Mizuna reached up and pressed her thumb against her temple, activating her linkpearl. “This is Mizuna Kusakari, requesting two volunteers to bring Sir Osric Slater to the operation room immediately. Requesting two volunteers to bring Sir Osric Slater to the operation room. If he isn’t in the downstairs bar, he will be in his apartment, over.”

Another nap on another couch - Osric groaned as he sat up, the message waking him from one of the rare moments of quality sleep that he’d been able to have in recent weeks. With a tired sigh he pushed himself up off the couch, taking a moment to steady himself before making his way towards the clinic - still barely half awake.

“No need for an escort...I was right downstairs.” Osric declared, taking a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Message said I was needed in the operation room?”

Mizuna gave him a gentle smile while she pushed her chair out and rose to her feet. “Yes… Dawn-... we have a plan to cure you once and for all, but it’s… a tad unorthodox. We wanted to explain it to you before we began, is that okay with you?”

“I… explained the gist of it to him earlier today… But I wanted to delay until I got a second opinion. Can you double check the tincture?” Dawn added. “I’m confident… like I said, but I’d rather not let my certainty risk Osric’s well-being.” Potions made with the essence of nightshade aren’t something one should underestimate; a single drop too much could be the difference between a deep slumber... and a permanent one. Mizuna had to reach way back in her memory to recall her experience with alchemy for this one. She poured just enough of the contents into her hand and rubbed it between her now stained fingers, checking both the quality and consistency of this nightshade tincture.

The man in question looked between the two women, loosely crossing his arms over his chest. “She did explain a majority of what she wanted to do - if you’re both in agreement then I’m fine with it. Mira had the right of it earlier - well, mostly right. I can tolerate the pain, but the sleep issues are going to lead to more issues down the road. If the two of you can remove this thing, I trust you both to remove it.” He gave a tired sigh. “I get the sense that either it’s addressed, or it gets significantly worse - and I’d prefer not to find out what that looks like.”

“Then we don’t have much time to sit around.” Mizuna pushed the cork back down onto Dawn’s nightshade tincture. “I’m going to prepare the operating room… it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” And with that, the Raen woman stepped out of the lobby, and disappeared behind the thick curtain on the other side of the room.

“Well, best case scenario you wake up and we’ll have been successful; worst case, and it’s suddenly not your problem anymore.” Dawn said in a grim tone. “It’s going to start taking a toll. I’m sure it already has. Take a seat until the room is ready…”

Osric reached up and rubbed the center of his chest, exhaling sharply before sitting down as directed. Anxiety wasn’t something that he typically struggled with, but the idea of being in a ‘near-death’ state was a bit nerve wracking. He laced his hands together - primarily to stop the shaking while he tried to think of something else… anything else - but his attention was drawn to the sound of movement behind the curtain.

That unaccustomed anxiety crept in as time itself seemed to dilate - the moment prolonging and speeding up at the same time. A reassuring hand rested on Osric’s shoulder which grounded him in the moment. He wasn’t sure whether seconds or minutes had passed, as it was difficult to keep his mind away from this imminent procedure; but when he looked up at Dawn’s soft lips and sloped jawline, he found the strength he needed to steal his nerves and keep his worries in check. 

“Alright, we’re ready to proceed.” Mizuna gently called out, causing Osric’s stomach to drop into his lap.

“Let’s go inside.” a wispy tone drifted from Dawn as she softly yet firmly pulled at his shirt sleeve.

“R-right.” Shaking hands ran over his face as he stood, stumbling forward as a sharp pain rocked through his chest - as if the damn thing knew what was about to happen. Another moment to breathe through the discomfort, and he was able to turn his attention back to Dawn. “After you…”

The room was dimly lit- not exactly what he expected to see in the heart of the Ashen Wolves’ clinic. Only a handful of candles sat on empty shelves and on top of vacant cupboards, with the large rectangular table beckoning him closer, pastel white as everything else. Mizuna was flicking the tip of a syringe and squeezing out any potential air bubbles when Dawn and Osric pulled aside the curtain to join her.

“Take your shirt off.” commanded the blind woman, before exchanging a few utterances with Mizuna. The Dragoon swallowed dryly but complied, gripping the bottom of his shirt with both hands to pull it over his head in one single motion. The same reassuring touch from earlier found his shoulder when he lowered himself onto the edge of the table. Dawn peered blankly in his direction while pulling his hand up by the wrist, “Here…” she handed him a vial, smiling warmly. “You’ll be sleepy, and it’ll be over before you know it. You’ll be dreaming and everything will be fine.” Osric wanted to be relieved by her kind words, but he was no fool; he may not feel any pain with this medicine coursing through his system, true, but he would definitely know what was happening. Manipulating a living person’s aether was never a comfortable endeavor. A furtive glance went to her as Osric inspected the vial. It was now or never, and he already said he trusted them. It was now a matter of following through. He was getting cold feet despite what he told them- going under and leaving everything to them was easier said than done. After removing the cork, a shaking hand guided the contents to his lips.

It tasted far worse than he expected.

“Lay down.” Mizuna moved to help Dawn rest the Dragoon’s body against the table, almost letting him slam down when she lost her grip due to his waning consciousness. The potion was quick, and effective, but so were the effects’ longevity; now the race against time began. A finger ran along the scar on his chest that she created the first time to partly remove the affliction; “Mizuna,” Dawn spoke, “Can you make an incision here over the same area, I’d rather not create another scar unless necessary…”

“Just breathe, Ric. Close your eyes and count to ten.” Mizuna reached over to hold his head steady. Osric looked up at her face, seeing the colors bleed and tear like a dripping painting, and before he knew it, his sight was gone.

Tha-thump! Tha-thump…! Tha… thump….! … tha… thump...

“Fifteen minutes until we pull him back. Let me know if we start losing him.” Mizuna ordered, flicking her wrist to unroll the sterilized surgical tools. She took a piece of antiseptic dressing and rubbed his chest clean, before tracing her fingernail along the thin scar and holding the skin down. “Okay… here we go.”

Dawn kept a hand along his neck, feeling for a faintest of pulses. His core temperature seemed to be dropping as well, just as planned. His slowing circulation would also slow and stem the loss of blood, especially if they managed to avoid nicking any arteries. Mizuna ran her knife down the scar and cut through his chest like it was the first stroke of a painting. Just as she expected, the slowed heart rate kept blood from making a huge mess; a cut this deep would have sprayed the woman’s face in almost any other situation. While she worked her magic figuratively, Dawn went at it literally; she removed her necklace and wrapped the chain of it around her hand, holding the soul crystal tightly within her palm. She drew from its deeply embedded and fathomless aether, her eyes glowing a bright blue as she examined Osric’s form; now she could see Osric- the real Osric, his silhouette shimmering and brimming with life against the backdrop of absolute darkness. Her plan was to use the stone’s aether to convert to her own life force, and then use it as fuel to see the aether around her. Beneath the myriad of dancing colors and twinkling lights she saw it- a black parasite slithering about in liquid form through his chest cavity. A burst of purple aether fought to escape her fist, exuding dark aether as she held it above his incision.

“Come on…” Dawn goaded the infestation, “Come get it…” she continued.

The infection didn’t seem to move, but instead embedded itself deeper into his chest and around his heart as if to preserve itself as best it could. 

“It’s… it’s not taking the bait…” Dawn said with a tone riddled of reserved distress.

Mizuna shot Dawn a glare, and in between bated breaths she said, “Describe what it’s doing.”

“It’s… wrapping itself around his heart, as if it’s… trying to keep itself warm or… tie itself to his vital functions. Either it’s trying to preserve itself through basic biology or it’s trying to keep us from extracting it- both are dangerous implications…” she reached for another vial she kept on her person, the other half of the parasite squirming within. Her hand trembled as she stared at the object in her grasp, bright blue eyes slowly shifted to regard Mizuna. “I think I have a plan…”

“Spit it out, we’re running out of time.”

“Self-preservation… that’s what’s motivating it. I have half of it right here, and if we give it a more suitable host than it has right now…” her eyes darted back to the thing around Osric’s heart. She brought the vial up to her lips and smirked.  

Mizuna hissed at the woman, her scowl twisting into a grimace. “Stop! What are you doing?!” She almost leapt across the table and grabbed Dawn’s hand. “Your aether is fading enough already- and you’re the only one who can remove it!”

Her thumbnail pressed against the cork, ready to pop the top off any second. “If you don’t have a better idea here in the next few seconds, this is the only thing I can imagine might work. My internal aether manipulation is clearly better than Osric’s, and if I bring this thing into myself, it will attract the other half out of pure survival instinct. A healthy host, making itself whole again- Do you have a better plan?”

“The greatest surgeon in the world can’t operate on themself. If this thing latches onto you, it won’t ever let go until you’re killed.”

“Then you’ll have to remove it for me. Or I live with it and control it better than Osric can, we don’t have many options here and the clock is ticking.”

Mizuna swallowed hard before speaking. “Give me the vial. I’ll be the host.”

“You have ten seconds to explain to me why that’s a better idea and why you’d be a better host.” Dawn shot at her.

The woman shot Osric a worried glance- his eyelids were flickering and his fingers were twitching; this parasite was wrapped around his heart and hindering it from beating. “Because I’m healthier. My aether is perfectly normal- which means we buy everyone more time if I take it. You will be unhindered to remove it from me, and Osric can recover enough to help us. You’ve shaved epochs from your life already- this one last sacrifice may use up what’s left.”

“... Why waste a full life when you have a fraction of one right here?... Bottoms up.” she popped off the top and drank the contents. She heaved and retched a couple times, her free hand grasping at her throat. She gasped for air but found no purchase as she struggled to swallow down the ichor. After pounding at her chest and forcibly swallowing, she found herself grounded enough to focus and do what needed to be done. She took the soul crystal in her left and used it as a rudimentary blade to carve into her other hand, creating an open wound. She brought the hand onto Osric’s laceration and watched- the infestation kept still on his heart for the longest moment before twitching and loosening its grip. It now swam across his chest to reunite with its other half.

Her associate watched helplessly from the other side of the table, her face deadpanned as she seethed. It was too late to do anything about it now, so she was forced to go along with it.

“Ugh… Hng… Nng!” she sounded out as she felt the infestation slide through her wound. The other half seemed to be aware of what had transpired and directly tied itself to Dawn’s heart as well. This answered her question as to whether there was true intelligence or purely an instinct for survival driving the infection. The two were simply halves of a whole disconnected.

Mizuna muttered in the native language of her tribe. “You stupid little girl. Blind, and deaf, and stupid.” WIth nothing left to do, and Osric officially free from his affliction, she lifted the syringe she had been preparing and jammed it into his chest. With hardly any blood flow, injecting the antidote directly into his heart was the only option she had left.

Tha… thump… tha…. thump…! Tha-thump…! Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha-thump!

“... Don’t you dare say a word of this to anyone…” Dawn stared at Mizuna. For a blind person, she looked piercingly straight into her eyes. The Raen woman clasped her hands over Osric’s ears, ensuring he wouldn’t catch the tail-end of her comment when he started coming to.

“If you’re so eager to kill yourself, there are better ways to go about it.” Mizuna hissed, shaking her head. “I hope you have another genius scheme up your sleeve to get rid of that thing. I won’t be helping you throw your life away next time.”

Dawn felt an irritation overcome her; hate welled in her heart from perhaps the stone or the discomfort within her chest now- regardless, her dislike for Mizuna seemed to amplify itself exponentially. “You’ll help me if I tell you to, and you’ll keep my secrets if I tell you to. Or I’ll tell everyone how you lied about your application, how you don’t have a residence, and sleep in the sewers. I can smell it on you, no matter how many times you bathe yourself, the stench still sickens me. Every. Day. How are you going to get a job if I let everyone know about the unclean healer who’s lost everything and has nothing to give or lose anymore? Nothing to live for… nothing to offer.” her voice hatefully rasped out.

"Lied?" Mizuna repeated, grimacing. "You read my application, did you? What makes you think the Isenharts don't already know? Because they didn't tell you?"

The woman slowly blinked, biting back what she really wanted to tell Dawn; two outbursts would only make this clinic unmanageable, even if their relationship was already torn to pieces. "Tell who you like, Ms. Aethwyn. If you think insults and blackmail will make me do your bidding, then you've greatly overestimated the control you have over me." Sharply she inhaled, realizing she was squeezing Osric's head between her hands. "And for the record… I still have plenty to live for… like Osric- a man who deserves better than a hateful woman like you."

Dawn’s eyes widened, her hands moved to cover her mouth. What did she just say to Mizuna? She just knew she felt so angry. But she was cruel in her words and her mild distaste for the other healer had festered inside exponentially until it burst; it wasn’t Mizuna’s fault but she couldn’t stop feeling so overwhelmed by an emotion she wasn’t used to being bombarded with. She couldn’t see Mizuna’s scornful expression but she could almost picture it. Dawn shook her head to try and regain some bearing; she wanted to apologize but she had neither the words or time. It was too late to take back any words spoken. Quickly, she uttered a small incantation under her breath to heal her hand before Osric regained control over his mental faculties.

The Dragoon groaned, eyes shifting and moving under his eyelids as the antidote did its work. Slowly it brought him back to consciousness, and his gentle stirring caused Mizuna to release her death grip on his ears. His head turned from side to side, fingers wiggling as he started to wake, eyes slowly opening.

"You're awake." Mizuna beamed, folding her trembling hands behind her back. "How are you feeling, Ric…? Better?"

“A...a bit.Still out of sorts…” He blinked, trying to focus on the two forms near the bed - his vision still foggy. He attempted to lift his arms, finding the limbs still too heavy to shift, and settling for turning his head to try to look around the darkened room. “...Where is it? The...thing? I know you pulled at least some of it out before and I’d...like to know what’s caused me such grief the last few months.”

Dawn was turned away, her hands shaking as she was trying to catch her breath. She wrung her hands and kept them close to her chest. She turned her head in Mizuna’s direction, and she didn’t know what to say- she was quickly drained of her concentration and strength, and all she could muster was a bit of a stressed, apologetic, and pleading look, with guilt and tension seasoned in nicely to top it all off. She just needed time to burn the thing inside out with holy magic, at least, in theory she thought she could. But if Mizuna caused a scene she worried it wouldn’t help anyone. Alas, she was still at a loss for words- she could make up a story like she planned but Mizuna was right there to contradict her on the spot. She also had no right to ask that of Mizuna- to go along with a story, not after the way she spoke to her- she was sensible enough to know that. She decided to choose her words carefully.

“We… have it stored, in a container for now. We might be able to get more information from it now without it hurting you anymore… and I can start working on destroying it.”

“You need to worry about recovering.” Mizuna plucked the needle and thread from her toolbag and pinched the cut on Osric’s chest closed. “I’m going to give you some medicine to help you sleep. Hmn…. perhaps a bottle of brandy would be more appropriate? You can finally rest easy now, and soon you’ll be back on your feet, Ric. Speaking of which…” The woman pierced his skin and began threading the needle again and again. “Once I know you’re fully recovered… how about I grant you permission to leave the Goblet? I’m sure you’re dying to stretch your legs.”

“Bourbon might be the better choice...but I wouldn’t turn away decent brandy.” He offered Mizuna a tired smile before his gaze shifted over to Dawn, despite the woman being turned away. “I...feel different - so I know it’s not there…” He paused, taking a moment to flex his hands, the heavy feeling finally lifting. “But I’d still sleep better having seen it - is that not a possibility?”

“You can’t see into the container. And we don’t want to let it out, unless you wanted it right back where it started. Rest.” Dawn looked over her shoulder and gave a smile. “I’ll leave you in Mizuna’s capable hands. I need to give Hadriel back something important I borrowed for the operation...” she moved fluidly from the situation. Mizuna clenched her jaw shut as she watched the woman slip out behind the curtain. Her face was still flushed green and her tail lashed back and forth behind her, but she held her tongue and her temper for Osric’s sake.

The last thing he needed was to get roped into their feuding, and she certainly didn’t want him to take a side.

“Drink.” Mizuna insisted, pressing a vial into his flexing hand. “Let’s get you to a warm bed… we’ll talk all about this ordeal in the morning.”

Osric’s gaze followed the blonde woman as she disappeared from the room before turning back to Mizuna once again. With a wince, and with significant effort, he managed to sit up before drinking from the vial as he’d been instructed to do and handing the empty container back to Mizuna. “...As you say - you two are the professionals. Which way to the beds? I feel like I could sleep for another few hours…” He trailed off, glancing back towards the curtain again. His chest felt lighter and he certainly felt better, but he could shake the nagging feeling that something still wasn’t just quite right…

His focused attention didn’t go unnoticed by Mizuna. She furtively watched him in silence from the corner of her vision, as her stomach churned and twisted. “How can he love someone who treats him so poorly? Do they have a history? Or is it something more… simple?” Thinking about it only made her headache worse, and she wasn’t eager to dwell on it for much longer. “Ric…” She started, unfolding a collapsible wheelchair and setting it near the side of the table. “I’ll take you there. Come.”

With a nod the Dragoon shifted from the bed to the wheelchair, exhaling as he relaxed against the back of the chair. “...Thank you, Mizuna.”

---

Collaborated with @dawn-aethwyn​ @osric-slater-ffxiv​

[mwolf0epsilon]

Do you have any bendy and the ink machine headcanons?

Boy Anon, do I ever! A lot of them are still under the works, so I'll focus on the characters that I've thought most about.

Joey, Henry, Sammy and Norman.

---

[[MORE]]

--Joey Drew--

Came from a heavily Catholic and strict family that wanted him to either pursue a career in medicine or law. He had a rough time getting along with his family since they didn't encourage his creativity, and the religious beliefs they force-fed him from an early age had a bit of an impact on the themes he had an interest in.

Due to his background and bizarre interests Joey was a bit of a loner and misfit as a kid. Henry Stein was his only true friend since childhood, so Joey was a little protective of him. This protectiveness became an unhealthy possessiveness as they grew up.

He and Henry actually started the studios in their early thirties. Both were job hoppers for a while, adrift and unfulfilled. Once Joey figured out how to use their combined skills and creativity to make a profit, the nightmare that was Joey Drew Studios came into being.

Joey rejected Bendy's original design because he saw demons as entities of mischief and misfortune. The more cutesy kind smile simply didn't convey the chaotic energy Joey associated with such beings. Boris was also reworked to go from a naked intelligent wolf to a goofier/dumber one wearing overalls. Henry wasn't particularly happy with either change but went with it to please his friend.

Alice Angel and the Butcher Gang were also designed by Henry, but Joey disliked the idea of adding a female counterpart to the show, and wasn't particularly fond of the much nicer original concepts of Charley, Barley and Edgar. He would alter the concepts later on to better fit the themes he employed in the show.

Initially they worked alone but, when they began working on Boris' debut episode, Joey realized they needed something to add a certain flair to their work: Music and better filmwork. In a matter of weeks a team of two became a team of four with the hiring of Samuel Lawrence and Norman Polk.

Ever since Linda started dating Henry, Joey began feeling like his best pal wasn't giving 100% to the studio (and to Joey himself). As such he began to give Henry more and more work to ensure he devoted his attention to the cartoons. This ultimately lead to Henry quitting.

Joey was angry when Henry married Linda, thinking his friend had chosen "some girl" over their bond. He refused to go to their wedding due to this "betrayal" and has held a grudge since.

During the rise and decline of the studio, Joey went from charming his way out of trouble and into people's hearts, to downright criminally manipulative. The employees that managed to quit, often found themselves blacklisted from the work market, and those who stayed knew Joey could destroy them with the right words. It's why so many stayed in the end...

When the Ink Machine didn't work the way he wanted and he found himself stuck with the responsibility of fixing what he'd done, there had been a fraction of a chance for redemption on Joey's part. Joey considered giving his soul to the Ink Demon so it'd end the nightmare for good. However upon finding the wedding invitation Henry had sent him all those years ago, Joey had a change of heart for the worst. After all what soul could be better to fix the demon, than that of its original creator?

--Henry Stein--

Henry Stein didn't know what he was getting himself into when he met and befriended Joey Drew. He'd always been the soft-spoken friendlier of the two, so their dynamic as friends was pretty well rounded up, until Joey became obcessed with becoming successful, as well as his overprotective nature slowly evolving into a controlling possessiveness.

Henry came from a pretty average family. They weren't exactly well-off but there was never a day or night without food on the table. He grew up aware of the value of money and how to spend it wisely, a skill he never got to employ at the studio because Joey had full control of finances. He had a feeling the studio was doomed to flop and was actually quite surprised to hear it chugging along "just fine" after he'd left. The various scandals didn't surprise him.

Henry was a little hurt when Joey declined his invitation to his and Linda's wedding, but he assumed his childhood friend would get over it. He was terribly wrong.

His original concepts for Bendy and Co. were of a cute little devil trying to do good to ascend to heaven, a fatherly wolf that would help the little devil darling, an angel sent to test the devil's intentions as a moral compass, and a trio of friends that would often be a part of Bendy's various trials. Joey's redesigns and reworks of their roles never really agreed with him, especially when he made the kind Charley, amicable Barley, and playful Edgar into villains.

He was drafted to fight in the war and came back with a slightly paralyzed face. He's ashamed of the slightly permanent lopsided smile on his face, as he always thought of it as an ugly smirk and a reminder of things he'd much rather like to forget. His vision was also slightly damaged so he wears very thick glasses, and he has a slight limp.

Joey's letter gave him hope for rekindling their broken friendship. He really thought Joey had finally come around and given up on his childish grudge. He was horrifically mistaken.

Henry is 67 in-game. Coupled with his injuries from the war and you get an old tired man that can neither run fast or see too well. His stubbornness is the only thing keeping him alive and going, that and his desire to return to his wife and kids.

--Samuel Lawrence--

He was raised in the South by his very strict Catholic father, and his kindly mother. He ended up moving to the big city with his father at age 11, after his mother died of tuberculosis. His mother having been the kinder and more patient parent meant that Sammy didn't have much of a good influence growing up, as his father wasn't particularly abusive but had strongly bigoted views that rubbed off on him. His father remarried when Sammy was 24 and, although he had a strong dislike for his step-mother, he tried to be patient with her as per his father's wishes. This dislike grew into animosity when she'd berate him for the smallest things, like calling him a sissy for pursuing a musical career, or even the way he kept his hair. He was upset when she became pregnant with his younger step-sister, feeling like he'd be dragged into providing for his aging father, witch of a step-mother and a kid he might not even get along with.

Sammy was genuinely upset when his father passed away, as it meant he'd lost who he considered to be his true family. He was forced to spend more time with his step-mother, and often cared for his little sister as a result (growing very fond of her in the end). When his step-mother died in a freak accident, Sammy became his sister's official caregiver. A chore he felt had been forced upon him, but that he took on nontheless because he didn't feel right just dumping a two year old into an orphanage. It was the need to provide for himself and a baby that ultimately lead to him falling into Joey Drew's clutches.

Originally there were three other candidates for his position at the studio. Sammy was picked due to being younger and easier to manipulate.

Although not the easiest person to get along with, Sammy could be respectful when he tried. His upbringing made it very difficult to look past race and sexuality, but later on as his sister grew up she urged him to try being nicer to other people. This ultimately began to fail when the studio began to descend into madness, especially around the time Buddy was hired.

For his sister's seventh birthday Sammy made an odd request to one Shawn Flynn. He wanted to gift her a Bendy doll that didn't have the unnerving grin painted on. Shawn provided him with a doll that was a blend of Bendy and Boris, which Sammy's sister named Seamus the Singing Demon. That little doll's odd composition stuck with him, even if he can no longer remember it...

He had a very strange relationship with Norman Polk as a result of working closely with him. They weren't exactly friends, but one couldn't exactly call them enemies either. Sammy's upbringing made him unjustly ruder towards the older man, and Norman's own odd behaviour made him hard to trust. At the end of the day they had a sort of fragile respect for one another's work. This respect couldn't save Norman from his terrible fate however...

He knew Henry for less than a year but he respected his fellow content creator. Later on Sammy often wondered if the co-founder wouldn't have been the one more worthy of keeping the studio afloat.

His romance with Susie Campbell was genuinely beautiful. At first he found her cheery disposition to be annoying, but her respect and kindness towards him eventually grew on him. His affection towards her was noticeable in comparison to how he treated others, and Joey knew to exploit it later on. When Susie left, the already stressed and overworked Sammy was left further distraught and vulnerable due to his personal life slowly getting messed up as well.

Sammy's transformation can be considered an outlier within the twisted studio. He wasn't put through the Ink Machine like the others, having instead ingested the corrupted ink in a freak accident. The amount he swallowed wasn't enough to transform him, but it was just enough to alter his mindset like a parasite. At the urging on the ink he took to consuming more and more of it, until he transformed into an abomination that was neither man nor toon. If any of the studio's workers could have their changes reversed, Sammy is a good candidate as, perhaps, one could purge the tainted ink from his system.

Sammy has very rare moments of lucidity which he spends trying to recall his fading memories. This often leads to him reverting back more quickly because his inability to focus on them distressed him enough that he falls back into the ink's grasp.

Sammy doesn't eat the soup he stockpiles, even if he craves it. He can't stomach regular food anymore, as it upsets his inky stomach. If he were to try he'd end up getting violently sick. The contrary can be said for ink however, and he sustains himself on the stuff. His memory issues and loss of identity are likely linked the the copious amounts of ink he's still consuming on a daily basis. He's the easiest person for the ink to control.

--Norman Polk--

Norman liked to consider himself a lucky guy. He grew up in a pretty poor neighbourhood and had to scrape by to get his education. He was a clever individual and often considered a bright man. With enough hard work he felt like he made his relatives in Louisiana proud. Turns out Joey Drew didn't like bright individuals...

As one the oldest member of staff (he was 46 when he started working at the studio) he was often the voice of reason in the earlier days, alongside Henry. Most of the newer staff didn't mind him at first, but when Norman's odder behaviours became more noticeable people started finding him either creepy or hard to trust.

He butted heads with Sammy several times, disliking the younger man's racist comments towards him. Being forced to work together so closely and a little outside urging helped them kinda resolve that tension. But their truce was a fragile one that amounted to nothing when Sammy was driven insane by the ink.

He was married and had a daughter. In the current game timeline he has several grandkids. He also has several nieces and nephews, one of which is friends with Sammy's sister (much to the latter's initial dislike).

Out of the first core team, Norman considered Henry a friend, had a weird feeling about Joey, and bickered heavily with Sammy. Later on he grew to enjoy Wally's mischievous personality, Shawn's rambunctious self, Susie's sweet disposition, Jack's skittishness and Buddy's friendliness. He felt like he failed them when the studio went to hell.

As the Projectionist Norman is deaf and visually impaired, needing his light to see movement. He used to be able to talk with the speaker on his chest, but his screams for help eventually short-circuited it. Early on he wasn't aggressive towards other creatures, which proved to be an exploitable weakness. He became uncontrollably aggressive out of fear and being a constant target of other monsters.

Before the Ink Demon kills him in every cycle, Norman recognizes Henry inside the Little Miracle station.

[lxveille]

What about on a crowded street at 9 with Jihoon for the flash fics~

title: impulseword count: ~ 1770warnings: jihoon struggling with zombie instincts (so, like, technically cannibalism ???) but Everything is Fine i promisea/n: zombie!au. technically a sequel to caveat but probably understandable on its own.

Jihoon is dead.

Kind of.

Undead is the closest word Jihoon uses himself, as he fumbles at trying to explain how he actually survived the car wreck. He’s not sure what the term is for ‘divine intervention’ when it’s coming from a witch. 

You prefer re-alive. Though ever search engine comes back saying you should use reanimated instead. Unless were curious about some poorly reviewed sci-fi film. The trouble is there’s a lot of films that come up no matter what keywords you enter. You’re beginning to suspect that the wave of zombies in popular media might actually be some kind of elaborate scheme to bury any results that point towards it happening in real life. The query ‘real life zombie’ isn’t much use either; pulling up science articles on parasites with zingy titles. 

So you’re left on your own with a difficult question.

It’s the last question you thought to have to answer in your lifetime:

Would you date someone even if they had to feast on living flesh to survive?

The only thing odder, really, is how quickly the answer occurs to you once you finally close out the internet and sit down with yourself. 

There is a strange pros and cons list that gets written that night. Admittedly, you’re not sure what to make of ‘murder??’ and ‘what happens the next time he eats you out’ on the con list – but ‘you love him’ turns out to be a pretty powerful pro. 

You wonder if Jihoon had made any kind of list when he was deciding whether or not to try to stay with you after his change. It’s the kind of question that would make him scrunch up his shoulders and blush if you asked him. Or, it would have made him blush back his blood still pumped. 

It’s a lot to process. But you and Jihoon find a rhythm that seems to work. Affection weaves itself back into your lives carefully. Friends see it as him finally opening back up to you after a traumatic event. To be fair, it’s not that far off. Though it underestimates exactly how much adjusting it truly required of you both. 

And as the two of you patch together a new version of your relationship, others take it as a cue to start inviting you both out with them again

Jihoon can still eat the same meals as before, but it’s only for a cover of normalcy. In all the bustle around the table, your friends don’t seem to notice exactly how little time lets any meat rest on the grill for. Amidst the two to three conversations crossing through the large group, your eyes catch his with sympathy. He manages a small smile back, and you aren’t sure what to make of the twist in your throat. Tonight was meant to be a return to normalcy. Instead, it feels now more than ever that the secret is burning on your tongue. 

When the meal has ended and everything is paid for, you find yourself letting out a sigh of relief unintentionally. 

“Tired already?” Seungkwan asks as he pulls on his jacket. “It’s only just nine.”

“Yeah, well, you know,” you fumble with filler words, “It’s been a long week.” 

“That’s the whole reason for going out,” Mimi jumps in on the conversation, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “You’ll wake up if you get to the bar,” she suggests with a grin. You protest only for Seungkwan to second her idea. 

“I think we were both planning on an early night, guys,” Jihoon comments without looking up from double-checking he has everything in his wallet. At his voice, Mimi’s look shifts to one of condolence. You wonder how long everyone will drop questions out of pity for what they think he’s gone through. You wonder what looks they’d give if they knew what really happened.

“If you guys change your mind you can always text us,” Seungkwan relents as well.

Mimi doesn’t unwind her arm from you until the group of you have exited the restaurant. With the sun down, the autumn chill is all the heavier in the air. “Let me know if you need anything,” she says to you privately before saying goodbye. With a wave back at you, she joins the others in heading down the crowded sidewalk. 

You drift to Jihoon’s side, and take a moment to glance between him and the group of familiar backs heading further and further away. “Maybe you ought to tell them you’re trying a raw diet, or something,” you comment, only a fraction serious with the idea. 

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Then they’d just invite us to some trendy salad place instead,” he responds. He doesn’t look your way; eyes following the paths of random strangers as they pass by.

“A nightmare,” you joke, and slip a hand into his. His skin in cold, and it takes him a moment to react at all to your contact. When his fingers do intertwine with yours, they do so with more pressure than you anticipate. It feels as if he’d rather be forming a fist. You tilt your head to try to get a better look at his expression without moving in front of him. His jaw is tense, and his lips don’t match with the laugh he’d given moment before. 

“Jihoon?” you prompt, trying not to summon too much worry. “Are you okay?” 

That question seems to knock something into his head, and he nearly snaps his head as he turns to look at you. “Yeah.” His tone is not convincing, though his hold loosens a bit. As if he’d only just realized how tightly he’d grasped back. “Let’s just go home.” 

You nod. You imagine he means his apartment, but there’s every chance he means both of you parting ways. Even with the truth out, there’s still times he recedes into himself. Admittedly, part of you is grateful that there’s parts he wants to keep from you. You’d walked on him halfway through satiating his hunger once, and it wasn’t a sight you were keen on seeing again. 

Conversation doesn’t come easily as the two of you start down the sidewalk. It doubles down on the sense that he’d been less than honest when he claimed to be fine. You listen in on halves of sentences of passersby, half hoping to overhear something funny that could be used to break the odd tension settling between you and Jihoon. 

Halfway down the third block, someone’s side knocks against Jihoon’s shoulder in the shuffle of it all. It’s the kind of thing to make either one of you scoff or complain. He doesn’t do either. He jerks to a halt instead, catching you off guard. His fingers dig in against the back of your hand, forcing your fingers to flex. His head is turned away from you, seeming to watch the accidental offender carry on their way. 

“Come on,” you say, and try to give an encouraging tug. His arm stays stiff. Nerves boil up inside you, searing with the thought that something is wrong. “You wanna go home, right, Jihoon?” 

He looks to you. The expression he has makes you want to pull your hand free and run. In the movies, zombies eyes become red, or the veins on their faces run dark in warning. There’s nothing nearly as obvious on Jihoon’s face. But you can see it all the same: an angry hungry, pulling at him like mad dogs at the ends of short leases. 

You don’t run. You take a few steps, fingers still linked with his. “It’s okay,” you tell him. He follows your lead without a word. Once you reach the corner, you take a quick look in each direction before heading down towards the least populated street. Your path sways towards the inside of the pavement, drawing to a stop with the two of you underneath the awning of some store already closed for the night. 

He releases your hand and nearly throws himself against the wall. His fingers curl at the brickwork, looking ready to claw the building to dust. “I’m sorry.” You watch him carefully, keeping an eye out for anyone else coming down the road. “Would it be easier if we got a taxi, or…?”

Jihoon turns around, shoulders pressing tight against the wall and eyes screwed shut. His hands are in his hair now, nails at his scalp. “I don’t know.” 

It hurts to see him in this state. Hurts enough to dim the fear that should be taking hold of your heart. You step closer to him, desperate to console him. “It’s alright. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get back to your place and…” you begin, reaching out for one of his arms. 

In an instant, his grip is around your wrist instead. His eyes on you, sharp and dark and restrained. “You shouldn’t,” Jihoon warns. What of is not entirely clear. 

“You don’t have to deal with this on your own,” you manage out the flurry of words. It’s the reasoning that makes accepting what he is now easier. It comes out like a default, still convinced he’s the one who needs help in this instant. 

His hand pulls you closer slowly. Before you can process what’s happening, your hand is by his face, the tip of your thumb between his lips. His gaze is steady on your face as your nail scrapes against his bottom teeth. Incisors press down against the fleshy underside. A pinching feeling hits your brain and has you tugging your arm away from the sensation. Jihoon is stronger than you, and it isn’t until he lets go that you can pull your hand to your chest. 

You look for damage, and find nothing more than a sheen of saliva on the end of your thumb. You know, though, that the whole of that damp skin could be gone now if he hadn’t been holding back. 

Still, he’s hissing curses regretfully.

You stay back this time as you try again, “Please. If we get a car you can get back to yours and eat faster.”

“Why won’t you go?” he asks. The frustration in his voice stings, even if you believe it isn’t truly meant for you. A lingering ache in your fingertip keeps you from closing the space between you. 

“I already told you.”

Jihoon closes his eyes again and takes a few slow, shaky breaths. “You’re so dumb,” he mutters towards the cement. When he looks up at you, though, there’s something like relief in his gaze. 

“I’ll get us a cab.”

[agentkatie]

Family

For day three of @cullenappreciationweek​ - in which Shepard is the worst patient ever.

1,155 words, Cullen x Shepard (ME/DA crossover), established relationship fluff. Rated M for Shep’s liberal use of the word ‘fuck’.

- - - - -

Shepard was, quite possibly, the most melodramatic patient in all of Thedas.

Not that she wasn’t unwell; she was the sickest Cullen had ever known her, a stomach bug keeping her away from work during the day and up all night, and - though he’d never dare say it to her - she looked absolutely dreadful. But she’d never been one to suffer in silence. Or do anything in silence. She lamented her weakened immune system repeatedly and at length, cursing some beef from Antiva despite no-one else who had eaten it being sick, muttering vague and frequently incoherent threats about the cook between heaves.

At her insistence, she’d quarantined herself away in the quarters she’d slept in before they’d been together, but he still made a point of attending her regularly — because he wanted to help her as much as he could, and because he knew she’d only complain more if he didn’t. So, even after a long day around the War Table, he collected a meal for her from the kitchens and brought it directly to her containment zone; he knocked on the door once, only to be answered by a long and pained groan.

“Mollie?” he whispered, pushing the door open a fraction. “I brought you some dinner.”

“Don’t waste your food on me,” came her croaked response. “I’m dying.”

He rolled his eyes, stepping into her darkened room nonetheless and placing the tray of food next to where she laid curled up in bed. And it was hard not to feel sorry for her when she looked so utterly pathetic; he brushed the sweat-drenched tendrils of hair from her brow before placing a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the small whimper of protest she made. “You should really go to see the Healer.”

“I don’t need to hear about the imbalance in my humours,” she grumbled, picking morosely at her bread roll and tentatively chewing on a few crumbs. “But I did go to see Stitches.”

“Stitches doesn’t count, Shepard. He hasn’t healed someone off the battlefield since before the Blight.”

“Well, regardless of his recent caseload, he figured out why I’ve been so sick — and the bad news is that I’m probably going to die, and the worse news is it’s going to be a long and drawn-out process.”

“You aren’t going to die,” he told her, vindicated in his dismissal of her choice in consultation — though immediately curious as to what else was said. “What does he think is wrong with you?”

“He says I’ve been infected with a parasite, and you gave it to me.”

“I haven’t given you anything,” he scoffed.

“Have too,” she argued, propping herself onto her elbows and staring at him defiantly. “And in nine months it’s going to forcibly expel itself from my body like that scene out of fucking Alien.”

“Right; tomorrow you can go to a proper— wait.” He stopped abruptly as he retraced her words, and the first hint of a smile tugged at her lips. And even after the - many, and long - conversations they’d had about it, it seemed like far too much to ask; the very idea of it once something he’d thought himself too broken to have. But that had been before she’d stormed into his life, and changed everything. Now, with her, anything was possible. “Nine months?”

“Well, probably more like six or seven now, seeing as I’m apparently ‘more oblivious than a blind nug’.”

His heart broke into a frantic scatter of beats, but still he needed her to say it; needed to know he wasn’t misunderstanding her humour, or willing a wish to be truth. “Are you trying to tell me that you— that we are…”

“Are probably going to be the worst parents in the world; yes.”

She broke into the broadest smile he’d seen from her in a week, bringing back all the joy and light and laughter he loved; he grinned back at her, a small part of him unable to believe this was truly happening even now. “We’re having a child,” he said, the words on his tongue strange and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Actually,” she said, a little awkwardly now, “Stitches told me that I’m having an unusual amount of sickness for - uh - for a single pregnancy. And twins run in my family, so…”

“We’re having twins?”

“I don’t know yet,” she told him firmly. “But… maybe. He says he won’t be able to tell for another few months, but—agh!” She cut off mid-sentence as Cullen launched himself at her, throwing his arms around her and pulling her tightly against his chest — because they’d already been a family but now they’d be even more, and because everything good in his life was because of her. “Cullen, no, I’m gonna—”

She managed to wriggle out of his grip just as she began heaving again, grabbing her sick bowl just in time; he held her hair and rubbed her back as she emptied what little she’d eaten from her stomach, collapsing him against him with an anguished groan when she was done. “Oh, fuck this for nine months.”

“You’ll have to stop swearing so much after they’re born. We can’t have their first word being ‘fuck’.”

“Fuck off.”

He laughed, a little shakily, pulling her against him more gently, trying to force down the unbidden wave of anxiety in his gut; to focus instead on his joy, and the feel of her in his arms. For despite how much he craved it, he just couldn’t shake the fear he wasn’t allowed to be this happy; that he didn’t deserve any of this, or her.

“It’s going to be alright, isn’t it?” Shepard asked quietly, as though she could tell from the way he held her exactly what he was thinking. Or perhaps she couldn’t tell, but merely felt the same; because she knew, as well as he did, if not better, the fragility of what they had. “We’re going to be alright, right?”

“Of course we are,” he told her, willing himself to believe it too. “We can do this. You can do this.”

She softened then, relaxing further into him, the tension in her flickering but not yet quite ready to fade. “I love you,” she murmured against his chest, and those simple words were enough to calm the brewing storm within him — and perhaps, he hoped, they were all they needed.

“I love you more,” he told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Ugh,” she protested even as she tightened her hold on him. “Don’t be sappy.”

She remained in his arms for the rest of the evening, arguing with him on names and guardians and whether she could still spar whilst pregnant — and by the time she’d fallen asleep against his chest, he knew in his heart they could do anything, so long as they faced their future together.

[Writing Masterpost]

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Wedding preparations; queen x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay guys here we go, these next few chapters are very near and dear to me because just last saturday (yep on May 4th) my sister had gotten married and I was so honored to be apart of it as one of her bridesmaids along with all her friends.  She really married a great guy and I’m happy for them. Now that all the stress of the wedding is over, I feel like now is the time for these next chapters to be published. I wish my sister and my new brother in law the best of luck as they now move to Nashville and they both get better jobs so that they can spend more time with their baby girl.

Anyways enough rambling I’ll leave you all too it and thank you all for being so patient with me, this semester has really been kicking my ass as of late, I still got one essay and 2 finals to do but that’ll all be over soon and then it’s 3 straight months of writing YAY!!!!! Hopefully I do better now that I’ve managed to do some writing throughout the semester and that I don’t get caught in a rut like I did all throughout last year. Anyways enjoy everyone :)

Taglist:

@onebigfangirlworld

@mr-badguymercury

@queens-rose-garden

@naturalswifty89

@starswin

@labessieisallama

@dj-lowkey

@isabella-bby

@geek-and-proud

@5sos-wdw

__________________________________________________________

The next day I was on the phone with Jack who had apparently tried to call me repeatedly after getting a message from Deacy about all that had happened the past couple of days.

“Yeah love I got your message.”

‘Oh that’s good.’

“Yeah I even heard about the one where you said you’d bring Jensen and Jared to come over and beat the shit out of Freddie.”

‘I knew I should’ve pushed harder to come with you.’

“No, no love there was no need for you to come. There wasn’t any point of you coming here along with me to have only 5 days up here and then end up going back to America.”

‘I know. But you know I love you right (y/n)?’

“Yeah, yeah I know you do.”

‘I really do baby.’ I smiled and then I said.

“Well I—I’ll call you tomorrow.”

‘Okay babe, love you.’

“Love you too.” With that I hung up the phone and smiled softly.  I heard footsteps coming from the kitchen to the living room where I was sitting on the couch, I looked up to see John coming with another piece of cake.

Veronica had offered to make some cake samples for the wedding.  Even though I told her it wasn’t necessary, she refused to take no for an answer and wanted to at least see if I would go for a wedding cake that she could potentially make instead of having me waste money on a cake.

“Another cake sample; chocolate Zuccotto.” He said as he sat down in front of me on the foot stool.

“Do I really have to try another one?”

“You don’t want it?”

“I mean I’ve already had nine samples already and loved every one of them, I feel like if I eat another bite I won’t find a wedding dress in my size anymore.”

“Well I’ll just tell Veronica she’s too good of a baker for your wedding then.” He said as he set the cake aside.  I playfully shoved him with my foot which made him chuckle.  “So you talked to Jack?”

“Yeah. Yeah he just got the yes from some more family members, a few friends and his cousins have agreed to be his groomsmen. Have you told him that you and the guys agreed to be in the wedding?”

“Yeah Brian got a hold of him last night after you went to bed. And I told him I’d agreed to be the best man. Have you talked to Veronica about the Matron of Honor position yet?”

“I was planning on telling her later today when me, her, Nique and Chrissie go out dress shopping.” He nodded.  “Have you gotten a stylist yet?”

“Jared’s wife Gen is actual a professional hairstylist and runs her own beauty salon so she’s gonna help with my hair and makeup.”

“And how about a song for you and Jack?”

“Not yet. Honestly I don’t know if there’s even a good enough song that could really help express my love for Jack.”

“You’ll find one love, don’t worry about it.” He said as he rubbed my shoulder.  I nodded and that’s when I noticed the time and I said.

“Oh shit I better head over to the bridal store; I promised the girl’s that we’d meet right at the doors when it opens at 10.”

“Well I won’t keep you and I’ll just see myself out.”

“Thanks for bringing the samples over Deacy. Veronica’s lucky to have someone like you.”

“Nah she was stuck with me.”

“Hey, she loves you immensely.” I shoved him again as I grabbed my purse and we both went out the front door.  I locked my house up and Deacy and I cheek kissed each other goodbye and he went home while I went downtown towards the bridal store to meet up with the wives of Queen.

I managed to reach the store with about 10 minutes to spare.  Already I saw a crowd of women trying to be the first ones inside.  Reason for that being was because today “Monique’s Bridal shop boutique” was having a 25% off sale on all her designer dresses.  I parked my bike and tried to look over the crowd of women who were pushing and shoving people out of the way.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!” I could hear Dominque cry out.  I soon saw her wiggle out and managing to peek out from the crowd and she held out her hand. “Quickly take my hand before I lose my spot!” I took it and she pulled me in.

Much like Roger, if anyone tried to push us out of the way, she would snap at them like a defensive lioness and tell them to literally ‘back the fuck away you harpies’ or my favorite, ‘you push this girl back, then your dress won’t be the only thing people will look at’.

We finally reached the front doors where Chrissie and Veronica helped us in and I said to them.

“God is it always like this?”

“When you have a sale like this, I’m afraid so. It was the same way back when I married Brian 10 years ago.” Said Chrissie.

“Okay ladies now remember, keep these whistles on you at all times, and if you see a potential dress, blow and hold that dress closer than you could ever imagine.” Veronica said as she handed out whistles for the three of us.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda extreme V?” I asked.

“Aww first time brides are so cute.” She said. She stroked my cheek and said as she cupped it, “Listen sweetie, deals on wedding dresses like this don’t come around very often. It’s a miracle we managed to pick a shopping date that this sale actually began on. Women will do anything to obtain the dress they need, even if it means using extreme violence.”

“For real?” I asked.  All three of them nodded and that’s when one of the employees came up to the door.

“Alright ladies, this is it; as soon as that door unlocks, you run like hell.” Dominque said.  The woman took out the keys and lifted them to the lock and I could hear the click, then like a broken dam with water spurting out everywhere, every single woman raced inside and went for the first dresses they could find.

I ran further into the shop towards a bunch of dresses that were on hangers and looked through them.  They were either too puffy of the sleeves, or too long of a train.  I browsed and browsed until finally I seemed to have found the right one.

“Oh my god, this is it. I’ve found the one.” I went to grab it when I felt someone else grab the dress at the same time.  We were both tugging on it till finally I was pulled to the other side of the rack where a woman in her late 30’s early 40’s stood with short red hair and green eyes.  She was tanned but I could see some early stages of wrinkles showing up.

“Well seems I’ve caught a little parasite with this dress.”

“Excuse me?” I snapped.

“Darling no offense but if you think you can pull off this dress, you might want to check the doll section over there. They might have one that’s for such a tiny thing like you.” Wow the girls weren’t kidding. This woman was really starting to piss me off.

“No offense giantess but if you tried on this dress you might not be able to hide those giraffe legs of yours.” She glared down at me and pulled on the dress and sneered.

“Let go of it you little brat.”

“No you let go bitch!” We tugged it back and forth till finally I grabbed my secret weapon and blew on the whistle and it pierced the air.  I kept blowing it and blowing it till finally I heard Chrissie’s voice exclaimed.

“Oi! I think she saw the dress first.” The woman turned towards the three women who were now standing behind me and that’s when Dominque said.

“So I suggest you release that dress less you want to wake up with barely any teeth left in your mouth for that perfect wedding picture.” The woman glared down at me and I only smirked up at her as she had no choice but to release the dress and walk away.

“Wow Dominque, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act this defensive.” I told her.

“Well when you’re in a relationship with Roger Taylor, you pick up on a few things. So you found one?”

“Yes, I think this is the one.” I said as I held it up.

“Now hold on love, first rule of wedding dress shopping; never go for the first one unless is absolutely the one for you. Now Chrissie and I managed to find about three others that would be perfect for you. So let’s try them on in the backroom.” Said Veronica as she placed an arm around my shoulder and guided me to the backroom.

Chrissie and Dominque stood guard of the remaining dresses while Veronica was in the changing room with me trying on the dress that I had picked out.

“So how did you like those cake samples I had made?”

“Oh V they were delicious. All of them, I don’t think I can pick just one.”

“Well don’t worry love, you’ll choose one. At least you and Jack both agreed on chocolate cake, now we just need to find the perfect brand of chocolate.”

“Maybe you could fly out to America and let Jack have a taste of some of your samples.”

“One step ahead of you darling.” As she tied up the corset part of the dress, I felt like I was being constricted like a snake as I gasped out.

“Can’t breathe!”

“See this is why we try things out. They may look good but sometimes it doesn’t mean they feel good.”

“I just didn’t expect it to have a corset setting though. And this was such a beautiful dress too. Now I feel like a complete idiot for almost rumbling with that woman when this dress wasn’t even going to fit me. What if we never find the right one?”

“Hey now don’t you say that. We’ll find you a dress, I promise we will find you one. Let’s try on the one Dominque found for you.”

Dress after dress after dress and they were either too tight, too long, or it just didn’t feel right on me.  We spent god knows how long in the shop for trying on practically every dress we could find.  It was then we decided to tag-team search; Dom and Chrissie went together while Veronica and I teamed up and we began the search again.

As Veronica and I went through almost every rack in the store, she gasped and said.

“(Y/n) come here quick!” I raced over to her and she held out the most beautiful wedding dress I had ever seen.

“Oh my…..”

“Let’s go try it on, quick!” She took my hand and blew her whistle for Dominque and Chrissie to hear as she raced me back towards the changing rooms.

After getting the dress on, Veronica first stepped out and I slowly followed behind her with the dress and matching veil on and the three of them were in awe.

“Oh my…..(y/n).” Dominque cooed.

“This is it. I feel so beautiful in this dress.” I whimpered out.

“You look beautiful in it sweetie. Let’s get it and then we’ll make an appointment with a tailor to make any adjustments.” She helped me out of the dress and we got Chrissie and Dominque to meet us outside while Veronica and I bought the dress.  As the cashier rang up the price I thought it was a good time to ask her now.

“Hey V.”

“Yes love?”

“I want to ask you an important question.”

“Sure what’s up?”

“Well you’ve already done so much for me for this wedding already and since I don’t really have friends my own age anymore since I became the Rock Angel. I was wondering if you’d—would you like to be my Matron of honor?” She looked at me with a shocked expression before it broke off into a wide smile and she embraced me and said.

“I’d be happy to darling! Thank you so much for asking me.” I smiled and hugged her back.  The cashier congratulated us and Veronica paid for the dress.

I tried to convince her not to but she wanted to because as the Matron of Honor she wanted to make sure that everything was perfect and that she could handle the big payments while I handle the little stuff.  Of course I’ll let her have it for now but later on down the road we’re gonna come to a compromise.

After buying the dress and asking Dominique and Chrissie if they’d be willing to be my bridesmaids, they both agreed and were ecstatic to be a part of my big day.

Once getting the dress, we decided that after a stressful day of trying to get the dress, we all went to the pub in celebration for finding the perfect dress and for finally finishing picking my bridesmaids as well as officially having a Matron of honor.

By nightfall, I arrived back at the house with the dress and put it in the closet until it came time for me to head to America to help out with the remaining preparations for the wedding.

That night I tried to fall asleep but all I kept doing was tossing and turning.  Something was stirring in my head as I began to dream a million dreams after the day of my wedding.  

Jack and I buying a house, living away from society, having a large family, owning a huge property of land, or even a small cottage whatever it was we agreed to have in the end.

Finally looking at the clock to see that it was only 12:35am I decided to head down to my studio as the perfect wedding song finally came to mind.

*3rd Person POV*

Brian, Roger and John arrived at their Rock Angel’s house just to check and see how things were going since they didn’t get an update from either her or their wives.  They let themselves in as Roger called out.

“(Y/n)?! Oi (y/n) you here love?”

“She might still be asleep.” Suggested Deacy.

“Maybe, or she could be downstairs in the studio, let’s check down there first.” Brian stated.  The three of them walked down the basement stairway that led to the recording studio that was down there and low and behold they saw their girl lying at the control booth with papers scattered around and about a dozen cups of coffee mugs surrounding the studio.

“Some things never change.” Said Deacy.

“That girl I’ll tell you what.” Stated Roger. They walked over to her and Brian knelt down and stroked the hair out of her face as he whispered.

“(Y/n), c’mon love time to wake up. Open those beautiful (e/c) eyes of yours.” She quietly stirred and moaned but like the flutter of butterfly wings, her eyes opened.  “There she is.”

“Asleep at the control again I see love.” Said Deacy.

“What time is it?” she groaned as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“Almost 11 in the morning, did you even try to get any sleep last night love?” Roger said as he came up behind her and gently gave her shoulders a gentle massage.

“I couldn’t sleep at all, so many things were running through my head and then a song came up that I just had to work on. But I guess I must’ve fallen asleep working on it.”

“Poppet if this is for your new album put it aside, it can wait. Can’t have the future bride looking like a corpse as she walks down the aisle.” Said Deacy.

“There’s no album. This song is for the wedding. I—I came up with a song for Jack and I’s first dance as husband and wife. We’ve been having trouble picking a song, but then last night it hit me. So I tried getting to work on it as fast as I could and hopefully ran at least one full take of it before I fly back to America and get too busy with the rest of the wedding planning.” Brian took one of the pieces of paper and read over the words and said.

“Mind if we hear a bit of it?” she nodded and then stood up which caused Roger to stop massaging her shoulders but she quickly thanked him for it as she grabbed an acoustic guitar before sitting by the grand piano bench.  

“I mean it’s not much and I’m still working on some of the words but here’s what I’ve got. First; I imagine the opening to be like a string opening of a cello or maybe several violins before coming in like this,” she then began picking at the acoustic guitar strings.

She then began singing the acoustic notes as she then switched and played the first few notes on the piano before returning back to the guitar and began to sing what she had.

I close my eyes and I can see

A world that's waiting up for me

That I call my own

She then scattered out notes since she didn’t quite have the words right for the continuation of the song until she came in at the bridge.

They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy

They can say, they can say I've lost my mind

*Scatters*

We can live in a world that we design

She then started up the full chorus and sung it loud and proud.  As she sang it with such finesse and rawness, the boys began to see that she had a special vision for this song.

'Cause every night, I lie in bed

The brightest colors fill my head

A million dreams are keeping me awake

I think of what the world could be

A vision of the one I see

A million dreams is all its gonna take

Oh, a million dreams

For the world we're gonna make

She then played the piano for a bit before stopping.

“That’s all I’ve came up with. The rest as you can see are just various rubbish lines that I may or may not use.”

“Well I don’t think these upcoming lines are rubbish.” Deacy said as he took one sheet and read out loud, “‘Special things we compile each one there to make us smile, on a gloomy day’”.

“Thanks Deacy.”

“This song is promising, and I know Jack will like it. You definitely have a vision and if you’re willing, we can help you with the lyrics you’re having trouble with.” Said Brian.  Her eyes widened and she said.

“You’d—you’d really do that for me?”

“This isn’t out first rodeo love, just leave everything to us.” Roger said as he rubbed (y/n)’s shoulders once more.

“Wait, wait what do I do?”

“You have the best job of all, and that’s getting some sleep.”

“What no? No I can’t I—I have to make sure this song is perfect and no offense guys not that I don’t trust you but don’t you think that I should guide you through on what I want for this song?”

“Yes, but at this point you’re running on hardly any sleep and over 12 cups of coffee that have long passed your system. At this rate you look more like a corpse bride and we refuse to allow you to push yourself than what you’re already under.”

“But I—”

“No buts. The only but I want to see is yours walking upstairs to your room and said but getting into bed and getting some sleep.” Roger stated.  She looked at the blonde drummer who looked down at her daring her to speak up against him.  Before she could say anything, Brian spoke up.

“He is right about one thing (y/n),” she turned towards the curly haired guitarist and he continued, “We’ve known you long enough to know that you’ll continue to work until you drop. This song shouldn’t be the sole focus at this point. With all the upcoming stress you will be facing for this wedding, you need as much sleep as you can get. We’ll try and work out the song and we swear to you; we’ll only change a lyric or two. We won’t change the vision that you have for this song.” She groaned and that’s when Roger acted.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her out of the studio.  Once they were at the top of the steps, Roger then picked his daughter bridal style and carried her the rest of the way up to her master bedroom.

He set her down on the bed hearing her soft mumbles, probably future lyrics to the song or saying that she needed to finish the song. Had to finish it.

“We’ll finish it love, together. For now bride to be, go to sleep.” He kissed her forehead and stroked through her hair and proceeded to sing ‘Hey Jude’ as a lullaby to her, and within no time at all, the Rock Angel was fast asleep.  Roger softly chuckled and whispered to her, “Sweet dreams, my lion cub.” He lightly kissed her cheek and tucked her in before leaving her room and heading back downstairs to the basement studio.

*My POV*

By the time I woke up, the sun was still out and when I turned to look at my clock I saw that it was 4:15pm.  I also took notice that beside me was a plate of pizza. I smiled softly knowing that the guys must’ve ordered in so I took the pizza and as I took a bite, it was still pretty warm so it must’ve been very recent that they ordered it in.

I ate up the pizza and felt like I had died and gone to heaven then once that slice was gone, I hoped they at least saved me another slice because now I’m beginning to feel the nipping of hungry chew at my stomach, you know that feeling when your stomach feels like it’s chewing on itself when you’re so hungry.

I walked back towards the studio and I could hear the distinct chatter of the boys.

“But see if we come in at 16 then that changes the entire tempo of the song.” I heard Brian say.

“But for a brief moment, then we can go back into the original tempo of it.” Roger’s voice said.

“I don’t think she’d like that, we’ll just ask her if it’s what she wants. I’d hate to be blamed for ruining her vision.”

“Well thankfully you don’t have to wait anymore.” I spoke up.  The three of them turned around and Deacy said.

“Well someone looks well rested.”

“I feel well rested. Thanks for always looking after me guys.”

“No thanks are needed lovely.” Said Roger.

“So,” I hopped off the last couple of steps and walked towards them and said, “What have you boys done to my song?” I was then given my sheets of paper by Brian and the four of us went over the song.

“And you said that by the end of the chorus you wanted the piano?” asked Roger.

“Yes, I’ll take over from there at that point. I think the acoustic won’t come back till literally the end.”

“Okay done.”

“Hey, can I run something by you guys?” I asked.  Their attention turned towards me and I continued, “So for the second chorus, I can’t decide whether to go up or down. I mean not to sound conceded, but both sound sexy and chilling. It’s been bugging me for days now.”

“Hmm, I think I might have an idea.” Said Brian.

“Lay it on my Bri. At this point I’m desperate. I’ll do anything except have a recording play over during the reception.”

“How about we make this a duet? Roger can assist you during the second chorus.”

“A duet?”

“He’s right. You both blend well with your voices together, if you guys can do what you both did for ‘Shallow’ I think it’ll do good.” Deacy confirmed.

“Rog?” I turned towards him.

“I don’t mind.”

“Okay let’s take it from this part. Now which word are you thinking about doing the blending of both high and low note?” asked Brian.

“At the word ‘take’ towards the bottom just before the chorus ends.” I answered.

“Okay so you’ll go down (y/n) while Roger goes high.” We both nodded as Brian sat by the piano and began playing the tune and I sang the last two lines of the second verse before both Roger and I came in at the second chorus.

Our voices blending perfectly together with my low alto range and his raw high range that he’s known for in Queen.  And when it came time for the divide, Deacy reminded us of who was going up and who was going down.  When the moment came, Deacy pointed down to the ground in my direction while he pointed up towards Roger’s direction.

As I heard the note that I had imagined, I literally had goosebumps going up my arm and shivers went up my spine.  As I sang the last part of the chorus for my solo, I literally squealed.

“THAT’S IT!!!” And then like clock-work and after resting, the bridge suddenly came to me as I began playing the piano and singing the bridge that was coming to me like the flick of a switch.

The boys kept track of what I sang so that I wouldn’t lose it and as the workshop continued the song was slowly coming together until it was finally ready.  I was now in the booth running the full track of the song and once it was done, the boys smiled at me from the opposite end of the booth and Brian said.

“Beautiful darling.” I smiled and was overjoyed.

Dress; check

Song for the bride-groom dance; check

Location for wedding/reception; check

RSVP checklist; check

Bridesmaids/groomsmen/matron and best man; check

Song for the Father-daughter dance; check, check and check

The check list for the wedding was coming along greatly.  Within the next few days I then flew back to America to help with Jack and the two of us continued to prepare for the wedding.

Months passed and it was just a week before the wedding.  The boys and their families flew out to America to get settled into the hotels they were staying at as well as the show up for any duties that they were required to do in order to help decorate the venue.

We had actually gotten a lot done in such a short amount of time.  Currently I was up in Jack’s bedroom at his place.  Veronica and Laura were with me, Laura was watching as her mum was currently working on my eyebrows, doing a home-style doctoring of them.  I was holding the mirror while she used the tweezers to pluck out my furry eyebrows and make them look nice and thin before the wedding.

“C’mon now love stay still.” I groaned and whimpered in pain as she plucked hair after hair of my left eyebrow.  She apologized every now as well as saying she just needed a couple more.  Finally the torture stopped. “Sorry love.”

“Not too much arch V I don’t wanna be like,” I then mocked a fake gasp as I raised my brows as high as I could “The president and the Queen of England are having a steamy affair.” The two of us giggled and she said as she came back towards my face.

“Okay wait, wait, wait watch out let me get this one now.” She then pulled the hair out and I groaned as I rubbed around it trying to ease the pain as Veronica continued, “From furry to fierce girl, Jack won’t know what hit him. Don’t you think so Laura?” She cooed at her daughter.

“You look like a princess auntie (y/n).” she said.

“Aww thank you baby, say want me to do yours next?” I said as I tugged her into my lap and playfully tickled her making her squirm as we heard a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Veronica called out.  Opening the door was none other than Deacy.  “Hello my husband.”

“Hey Deacy.”

“Oh Veronica’s day spa?” he teased which made us laugh.  “Veronica love, we should be getting back to the hotel. Brian was just putting the boys into bed.”

“Yeah you’re right. Let me just talk with (y/n) about a couple more things and I’ll meet you down in the car.” Veronica said.

“Very well, but you better be in the car in the next 5 minutes.” Said Deacy as he walked up to his wife and the two of them kissed each other’s cheek. He then came around towards me and kissed my cheek and said, “Goodnight love.”

“Night brother of mine.” I said as I pecked his cheek back.

“Alright you c’mon along. Maybe you can be an example for your mother and your aunt.” Deacy said to Laura as he picked her up. She tiredly rubbed her eyes and let out a soft yawn.

“Goodnight Laura-bear.” I said.

“Night-night auntie (y/n).” she said as she leaned up against her daddy’s shoulder.  Deacy wrapped his arms around her and carried her out of the room.  I smiled warmly and said to Veronica.

“You both are just too damn cute together. I swear it’s like you both were meant to be.”

“Ehh he’s alright.” She teased which made me playfully shove her making her laugh.  “Nah John’s great. When I was pregnant with Robert I was so scared he wouldn’t want anything to do with him because we were so young, but he popped the question right then and there and vowed to stay by my side for every morning sickness, every appointment and every milestone for not only him but for every child we would have in the future.”

“And you both have made 4 perfect little angels. I only hope Jack and I can be just like you guys.”

“Sweetie, a word of advice. Just be you and Jack. Your story may have some similarities to John and I, but never try to follow our example. You both make your own stand and your own marks in life. Believe me even John and I have made mistakes in the past. Not every couple is perfect, no matter how it seems on the outside. But I do hope you and Jack find happiness together. After all you’ve been through, you deserve this honey.”

“Yeah.” I sighed heavily and said, “I just wish they were here to see this day. I bet my dad would be a blubbering mess right about now and my mum would be frantically trying to make sure everything was in place.”

“They’re always watching you sweetheart. When someone we love leaves us, they’re never really gone. And I know they’d be so happy for you right now. Just like we all are.” She stroked my cheek and we both hugged and kissed each other goodnight.  She walked out of the room and soon her and Deacy left Jack’s home and soon enough Jack had come into the bedroom.

“Hey love.” I said with a smile.

“Hey baby.” He said as he came into bed and pulled me close to him.  His arm wrapped around my back, drawing random patterns along my spine while I cupped the side of his face as the two of us lay there face to face of each other.  “Can you believe in one week we’ll finally be husband and wife?”

“It seems like it was only yesterday when you popped the question before millions of people at Madison Square Garden.”

“I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

“And I can’t wait to call you my husband.” He smiled and leaned forward and kissed me softly.  His free hand cupped the side of my face, his thumb brushing across my cheek and as we separated and pressed our foreheads together.  “So, you got your bachelor party assembled?”

“Yeah, Jared and Jensen are taking me up to a lodge up in Colorado this weekend along with the rest of the groomsmen.”

“Promise not to have too much fun and end up falling in love with a hot ski girl?”

“She won’t even compared to you. Promise me you won’t fall in love with a male stripper?” I laughed softly and said.

“Don’t worry, the girls will keep an eye on me during our spa retreat in Huston.” Jack then reached over and turned out the lights and the two of us cuddled together before finally falling asleep.

[sugarless--girl]

Day 8: Silent — Monochrome

A vampire hunter and a vampire seek solace from the silence with each other.

Read on AO3

The night was silent as the duo rode their horses up to a cottage. It appeared abandoned like the rest of the village, most likely due to the fact that the surrounding area was filled with spirits. But while humans were afraid of spirits, spirits were afraid of vampires. They were the only beings capable of tearing into the ghostly phantoms. Something most people didn’t know.

“That house looks the safest. It’s further from the village so nothing so nothing should sneak up on us.” Blake said breaking the silence.

“Yes, let’s rest there.” Weiss agreed but feel silent once more. She didn’t know what to say. All words were escaping her.

The sticks broke underneath their shoes as the two walked up to the cottage door. Those were the only noises Weiss could hear. Not even a cricket chirped. That’s how you knew something horrible had gone down in the village. The oppressive silence would’ve overwhelmed Weiss had Blake not been with her.

“You can come in.” Blake said opening the door to the small cottage a bit wider for Weiss to step in. The white-haired vampire stepped inside daintily.

Well as daintily as she could, considering her exhaustion. Weiss hadn’t had any blood to drink in the past few days. Neither of them had the time to hunt for any animals and thus Blake had to eat whatever spare food they had.  Weiss could go few days without drinking any blood but it’d leave her tired and sore. Unfortunately, she couldn’t rely on Blake like she usually would have as the women had to stay strong in case they ran into any dangerous creatures.

This unfortunately, had been the case and now Blake was sporting a large gash on the side of her torso from a wyvern. It had been a quick battle and Weiss had felt useless once more—they had been attacked during the day and she was only a normal human without her usual vampire powers. Thankfully, Blake disposed of the wyvern. The cut was shallow but they both knew cleaning was a priority or else Blake could potentially end up with an infection.

Weiss surveyed the place as Blake unloaded their bags from their two horses. The place seemed safe enough for their horses so they let them wander. There was a stream running nearby so they could also clean up. Weiss felt grateful for this—she missed the luxuries her privileged life once provided her. She knew she was lucky in that regard as her father only became a successful merchant on the backs of many laborers so it was a guilty sort of luxury.

Not that she had to carry that guilt any longer. Her father hadn’t taken so kindly to Weiss being turned—treating her as though it had been her fault for all of this. Perhaps, if Winter was around it wouldn’t have escalated to this, but she wasn’t. She was up north, doing lord knows what. So Weiss ran away before she could be forced into it. Better to choose to abandon her family over getting disowned. At least this way she’d had some control of her outcome.

Weiss had been lucky to run into Blake. It had been a stroke of luck, really. There weren’t many people that sympathized with vampires very much and Weiss didn’t blame them—she was all too aware of the level of destruction vampire were capable of. The cruelest not simply content take another human’s life as they enjoyed toying with their victims. Weiss only wished that Blake had been around the night that she turned.

She shook away those thoughts. Blake’s wounds needed to be tended. “I’m going to get some water from the stream. Hurry up and undress.”

Blake raised an eyebrow but didn’t say much else. Weiss turned around quickly before the other woman started undressing—Blake no doubt planned to tease her about her wording but she walked out of the room before the raven-haired woman said anything.

Weiss walked to the stream, stopping by their horses to check up on them. The fear of the future gripped her at every turn. Perhaps, what scared her most wasn’t what could potentially happen in the future but rather the thought of separating from Blake. It wasn’t a sustainable relationship. Vampires were a parasitic blight and needed to be exterminated—lest they go crazy with blood-drunkenness. The white-haired woman was terrified to become one of the raving monsters that she and Blake had encountered on their travels. She had yet to meet a vampire that hadn’t gone insane. Was it only a matter of time for her? Or was it possible to avoid it, altogether?

It was disconcerting to be left alone. Blake was all too aware of what the silence meant—what fears it brought upon a man. Spirits liked to drive their victims insane with the silence and Blake was still bound to the same rules as the rest.

She finished undressing and sat on the side of the bed in only her undergarments. The pain on the side of torso was a dull ache but nothing too painful to make her uncomfortable. Weiss’s terrified expression kept flashing in her head. Blake would’ve been lying if she said it didn’t warm her to see the other woman care for her so deeply. She could’ve sworn she’d seen pinpricks of tears at the corner of Weiss’s eyes. The hunter knew that Weiss had abandonment issues, so it could’ve been simple as the fear of wanting to not be left alone. But Blake had the hopes that it was something more.

Just as Blake finished folding up her clothes, Weiss walked in with their water-skins refilled with water. She smirked slightly when she noticed the other woman carefully avoiding looking at her figure.

“Clean your wounds with this; I’ll go get the bandages.” Weiss said, breaking the silence as she handed Blake a damp cloth.

Blake set to the uncomfortable task as Weiss prepared the bandages. The raven-haired woman was sorry to see the silence settle before them once more. They normally were a bit more talkative then this but the tension was set between Weiss’s shoulders. Weiss was truly shaken up from the wyvern attack, wasn’t she?

“Hey, I’m done.” Blake called out. She wasn’t really as she only haphazardly cleaned the wound but she couldn’t stand Weiss’s lost expression. Better to get scolded by Weiss for doing a piss-poor job of cleaning her wound than deal with the silence any longer.

“You’re hardly finished! You haven’t cleaned here have you?” Weiss said as she grabbed the cloth from Blake. “Give me that. I can’t believe I have to clean your wounds for you.”

Blake smiled as the girl continued her rant a bit longer. It was cute to see Weiss so worked up like this—part of the reason she enjoyed pushing her buttons so much. The other part being that the silence didn’t have its place in the cottage anymore. Even when Weiss finished her rant, the air didn’t feel silent. Weiss’s presence had taken its place. And for that, Blake was grateful.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes, I am but no thanks to you.”

“Thank you your majesty. However could I survive without you?”

“I don’t need your attitude!”

“Seriously, Weiss. Thanks.”

Weiss’s face dipped as she mumbled a ‘welcome.’ Blake smiled once more and got up to redress, albeit not as heavily as before. She planned to go immediately to sleep once she finished putting up the protections. “Will you go get the horses? I’ll take care of the rest.”

Weiss nodded and got up. The white-haired woman’s side ponytail swished as she walked away. Blake saw the tension set in her shoulders once more. She sighed. Blake knew that she couldn’t push the vampire into talking but she’d try her best to at least comfort her.

They finished their respective tasks quickly. Both took a quick bath in the stream as they agreed upon waiting until the morning to clean themselves properly. The water was frigid but it was better to clean off all the muck. It was worth getting the bandages wet to feel normal again but Blake could already anticipate the vampire scolding her for letting it get wet in the first place. Her lips twitched in amusement at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Weiss asked suspiciously.

“Ah, nothing. Just thinking about you scolding me for getting my bandages wet.” Blake admitted.

“Well, I would but I’m far too tired for that.” Weiss said with a sigh

“Same. Let’s just try to get as much rest as we can.”

There was only bed so the two would have to share. Nothing unusual as they had been in the same position before but Blake was aware that she wasn’t the only one affected by the close proximity. Weiss got in first as Blake preferred to be closer to the door—she said it was because she was paranoid but the real reason was so she could protect Weiss. Something she planned to keep to herself.

“Hey Blake?” Weiss whispered, her voice sending up chills up the hunter’s spine.

“Yes?”

“What—what will happen after we get to your friends?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to part ways, right?”

Blake frowned. “You want to leave?”

“No! I mean, not really…..I just wasn’t sure if—“

“If I wanted you around?”

“Well, yes.”

Blake paused. Was this what had been bothering Weiss? “I figured we’d stay together for a while—until you found your sister that is. Then you could decide what you’d want to do next.”

Weiss didn’t say anything but she got closer to Blake snuggling into her. Blake wrapped her arm around the other.

“You’re warm.” Weiss murmured. Blake simply pulled her closer.

[scripted-dalliances]

Rest In Peace: Chapter Two

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 2

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

                                                 “Ut Vidi, Ut Perii”

                     “When I saw you, how I perished.” -Virgil, Eclogue VIII

Oh.

Laura doesn’t know what to say to that. She had presumed his reason was about her being dead. Of the possible rancid taste or scent of her…she had planned to tease it out of him but ultimately pop a mint before the big move. She had even expected it was due to him being awkward about Shadow being so near.

She did not expect this.

“Got a crush, asshole?”

Sweeney sniffs indignantly, “Fuck off, cunt.” Then later adds, “Maybe.”

She laughs at that, she really does.

“I am, in your constant -and loud- opinion, a dead bitch.” She leans up, placing her small hands on his chest for support as she does. Under her palms she feels his heart, quick paced but daunting with every assured beat. “I have kicked you through walls, nearly popped your balls from the sack and oh yeah, a walking corpse because you killed me but you still caught feels? You are one sick puppy.” The nickname slips out without too much thought, but honestly she isn't surprised that it pisses him off. Unlike Shadow, he doesn't take it like a cutesy nickname, unlike her ex-husband, he knows an insult when he hears one.

“Ain't no fucking puppy.”

Laura, still perched on him with all the grace and dignity of a queen on a throne, nods. “Yeah. No. Puppies are more enjoyable. You're more like a tick, one with like, the plague or some shit.”

“Oh, yeah keep whispering sweet nothings, dead wife.”

-and just like that, he is giving her that insufferable smirk, all teasing and delighted despite or maybe even because of her un-creative insult.

“I'd never thought I would have to kink shame a leprechaun, but here I am. Don't get a boner about me insulting you, weirdo.”

Mad Sweeney chuckles darkly to himself, all low and twisted, and if she was alive she thinks she might even like it. “Ain't your half assed insults, love. And I ain't a corpse fucker, as pretty and pleasant as you are with half your guts on display.”

Laura doesn’t even bother hiding her confusion. In her vast knowledge of the workings of men, their actions tended to really boil down to two things. Their dicks and pride, and everything else derived from those.

Even love. 

Shadow had loved her because of what he thought she was, what he could build for her (never mind that she was bored and borderline suicidal) and she had even enjoyed that to a point. Playing a role, hoping he would break it. Help her become someone better and new.

Just as she had hoped he could bring her back to life.

She is not unaware of the bitter irony that is her shitty afterlife.

“Then what is it?” She finds herself demanding. Curious despite him being an insufferable prick with a matching smile about it. Like it's cute that she can't imagine the reasons.

She can't. She has nothing to offer a man, she is dead. She was broken long before that. She has no warmth, no heart or softness; she never has, she has lied and tricked her way into people's affections. Like the gods of death painting and sewing her up to look like a real girl.

Truth was, she has only ever been this: a bitch, bored and cruel, who only ever felt anything when it hurt. Who did more in death than she ever did with life. Laura was empty and cold, even before they scooped out her insides and buried her six feet under.

“A girl cuts the head off an ancient and powerful god to save a boy, and that boy might get some ideas.”

Laura huffs in laughter and rolls off him. Joining the idiot on the floor, who looks over as she makes herself comfortable. Hands resting on her stomach, legs down and out. She feels her death more now than ever, in this position with the growing silence and stillness. So she breaks it.

"Don't get any ideas then, idiot."

"Oh, why not? Go about slayin' gods often do ya?" Sweeney counters, tone false and sweet as if he was flirting badly and knew it. She suddenly wants to twist his flesh between her fingers just to make him stop, but just as easily, she lets the urge slip out of her. She's growing tired of this. Of only feeling alive when she's tormenting him. Or when he's doing the same to her.

It's a toxic game, forged by two people who are broken in the same way. Like fucked up puzzle pieces that have lost their original shape and now only fit to each other and nothing else. They exchange barbs, crass truths and hard hands, and to anyone else it's impossible to stand. Anyone else, and they would hurt, and flinch away from that pain.

Sweeney and Laura are just two insufferable kids, pressing their thumbs into each others bruises to get that ache and reaction, because no one else wants to play that fucked up game.

For a second she feels alive, he gets his earned punishment, and in any other relationship this kink would only happen behind closed doors and probably involve a safe word or two. And a ball gag.

(Laura's brain supplies x-rated images of herself bent over his lap, his hand covering her whole ass, each smack hard enough to leave her pale flesh red with soon to be bruises, just as easily as she can picture herself in mile high heels walking across his back as he curses her out.)

She is well aware of their twisted natures, their shared broken edges and only kind of exhausted at pretending she isn't. He is her killer, she his victim, but it is not roles they fit or play well for long.

After all she 'stole his coin' and is holding it hostage until she gets what she wants. He calls her a cunt and she breaks his hand and then calls him a dickhead. Both of them are total assholes to each other, and so neither can stand too tall on the moral high ground for long.

Worst yet, neither of them are willing to walk away from this. Not without a fight.

He has tied himself to her just as much as she has to him. For better or worse, it's his hand she's got a fucking death grip on because like hell she's letting him go.

(She refuses to do this alone.)

But there's a price, with never letting go and it's paid in revelations.

At all times she is exposed, from her bitter mouth to her rancid guts. The worst of her is unwillingly on display, and he doesn't ignore it. He complains, pisses and moans and laughs at her but she does the same back.

How could she not?

This is without a doubt, his lowest. He is without luck, weak and hides not an ounce of how much that ruins him. Everything about him that would shine, is buried in her like a bullet and she isn’t giving it back any time soon. Just like her, he's missing a vital piece of himself and the world tears them asunder, for daring to be without it. Just as unrelenting and vicious as a hungry vulture would rotted meat.

How dare you be less than what you have always been. How dare you stand and be without faith or luck.

Better souls would forgive each other, learn and heal.  Better people would want to rid themselves of such poisonous actions and words, that got them screwed in the first place. To let death take her, to ask for forgiveness, to let go of the past.

-but that's not who they are.

As much as she hates to admit it, they are matching pair in that regard.  

They will never forgive, they will never fully recover and they don't want to.

They would rather let this pain become gangrenous, let it twist and boil, let it dig in like a parasite and replace the pieces of themselves they've lost. It's this pain that fuels them, to push on and keep going because fuck the world, fuck the blood they've unwillingly spilled to earn their place in it. 

They will not bend just for the spite and salt of it.

She wants her life back, but she doesn't want to do it with false promises. She doesn't want to be tricked and conned into some life long affair of faith, to surrender herself, heart or soul. She doesn’t want to sacrifice some other innocent idiot, or shove some different magical relic into herself in hopes no one down the line wants it back. Laura wants what is her's. Nothing more, nothing less.  

-and she isn't stupid. She knows she only got this chance because of a magical coin accidentally given to her by a man who didn't want her back. That without it, she'd be nothing but road kill…

The image of the ice cream truck, on it's side. Window busted through and how she awoke on warm pavement with Sweeney above her flashes through her mind.

Holy shit

"You gave me the coin back."

Sweeney doesn't answer, and she continues. Tilting her head just enough to catch his expression. Haunted hazel eyes that are glued to the ceiling like it holds the lucky lotto numbers.

"When the truck flipped, and I went through the front. I was a mess, like...splat." Laura uses hand gestures to further her point, "-and I remember that, but not hitting the ground. Which wouldn't be weird, if I wasn't already not alive, and it's not like I got brain damage or something. So. From my perspective, I crash, I tumble out and then blank. Come to your ugly face above mine touching my tits."

"I did not touch your tits!"

She smirks, "Bet you wanted to."

"Fuck off."

"It's okay to admit it. I mean, I've got a decent rack, right?" Dead or not, she did.

"For the last bloody time, I did not even look!"

"Ah, but you did put that coin back, didn't you?" Silence again is the answer she's looking for, because he's never silent unless she's right. "So. You gave me a second...maybe third chance I didn't deserve and still tried to get Ostara to help me.”

Sweeney grunts in response. He is mad, she can tell, that she has figured this out. His dirty little secret.

“Then, for whatever reasons I haven't figured out just yet, totally stepped up to Odin to defend me...for like half a second before he kicked your ass, but I'm choosing to ignore that bit." Laura positions herself onto her side, “I’m starting to think you liked me before I slayed a god to save your skinny ass.”

He still refuses to even look at her so she takes her time looking at him instead.

There hasn't been much want to check him out, in the start of their adventure. All she knew was from what she noticed first. That he was tall -stupidly so- and ginger. With a smart mouth that pissed her off and hands that could wrap around her throat.

Now, she adds that he's also got freckles everywhere (and she wants to count them, connect them…probably into a shape of a dick), a wide chest with matching shoulders, that probably makes other women swoon with lust. That he weirdly smells like cloves and the best kind of beer -despite knowing that he hasn't showered in days- all with a jaw line that makes her want to trace with her fingertips because it looks sharp enough to cut her.

Everything about him seems like an exaggeration of a man; his height, his build and his hair. Large and not in charge, but that's only when he opens his mouth and then it becomes pretty obvious under all the flash and very nicely built body, is a rotten fucking attitude. Just like her.

Laura smirks to herself, aiming to poke a bruise she knows is a mile wide. This is who she is after all. "What is it really. Guilt because you killed me? Need someone to spank you, while you confess your sins and tug one out?"

Sweeney's expression hardens, and his lips form a mulish pout. "Ain't that."

"–because I'm well aware that it wasn't you. I mean it was. But I'm gonna go and firmly place the blame on Odin. Hey, speaking of, do gods have a hell? Like for themselves?"

He sighs, "No, cause if there was, it be here. Listening to you go on."

"Don't make me kick you in the balls.”

He gives her a manly snort in reply, one that seemingly comes from deep within his chest as he sits up and fishes out a crumpled up cigarette packet from his pocket.

He offers one to her, more out of habit than anything, that she takes and lights with her lighter (that she stole from him) and hands it over. Watching as he mirrors her actions, and slips the stolen piece back in his pocket.

She is mentally making plans to steal it back when he starts talking again.

“Its not guilt. Not really. Not what…what I think it means to your lot.”

“And the giving me the coin back part?”

He inhales and exhales. Buying a bit of time.

“Part of it, I suppose, but ain't all of it.”

Laura rolls her eyes, “Way to explain fuck all, Gingerbread.”

Quick as wild fire, he becomes furious. Suddenly standing and glaring down at her like he wants to burn her down to ash with just his eyes and nothing else. It’s powerful and violent enough of a reaction that even she takes pause.

“What the fuck do you want me to say? My life ain't some easy by the by poem you read on the back of a bleedin' cereal box. I was a king. I was a bird, and a mad man. I was all of these things and more, but saying them to you, do they have any meaning to them? Do you understand or even believe them? No.” He sneers, and she frowns deeply. Thinking about her reaction in the ice cream truck and knowing he's right.

Hating that she can't defend herself.

“Just as reading all these damned books is fuckin’ useless. You could read them all but it doesn't make a lick of difference to your state of being. You have a limited scope of understanding. By nature of what and who you are. Even dead and crawling out of your own grave hasn't changed that. You'll feel no heart beat from me like your lover boy, kiss or no kiss, Laura Moon. So don't even bother trying to test ya little half baked theory.”

He has called her cunt and bitch a thousand times over, but never before has he insulted her to this level.  With so much truth and venom. Never has it been so painful to hear. Laura likes to pretend she isn't affected, but she is.

For a long, drawn out moment they merely look at each other, poised at the edge of some great cavern of suffering. His. The one that is fathoms deep with age and unknown truths that as he so rightly stated, she can not understand. It seemingly grows wider in their combined silence.

Slowly, the massive angry fire in his hazel eyes fades and he turns his back. Stalking from the room, from her without another word.

Laura remains, lost in thought.

>

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Eighteen: Thalia

Love Bites (But Not Literally!)

             Saying Thalia’s insides felt jumbled would be like saying you might want to wear sunglasses if you’re going to look directly at Apollo’s chariot during his peek time.

           They finished up their separate forts. Axel had removed their door barrier and tried the door a few times to see how thoroughly the Lemnians had barred it. Considering they heard something being bolted into the door, she imagined facing these creeps was becoming more and more of a heroic task set out for two other heroes, maybe child of Hephaestus or Athena. She wished Annabeth were here. She could think of the tragedy the children of Dionysus would write about them now, titled: Lieutenants of Artemis and Kronos, Murdered by a fandom.

           They discussed pretending to have fallen in love with Phil and Hypsi. Thalia even tried, excited by the prospect of wringing the guys’ neck. Apparently, such inspiration made her flirtation come across as disingenuous and “homicidal” to Hypsi and Phraxa. Pft. They’d never flirted at a concert before.[1]

           So, Axel and Thalia sat on either side of half-a-massage table (that had been split in half for makeshift shields) with a sheet from the cabinet pinned to the ceiling as high as Axel—with his six foot Oh-My-Gods inches—could reach.

           Not that Thalia found his height attractive, but being around preteen girls didn’t lead to the most vertically advantaged tent making.

           Earlier, Thalia had been pondering out how to tell Euna that Artemis said girl-to-girl relationships were still a no-go, something that both made Thalia happy—since girl-to-girl romances should still be considered romances and taken seriously—but also disappointed, since Thalia was interested in Euna and wasn’t sure how she felt about potential loopholes. That already left the Lieutenant of Artemis questioning her feelings on being a huntress.

           Of course, she was terrified for Euna. Euna had seemed… broken when they spoke at Camp Half-Blood, and—despite Axel’s assurance that time moved differently here—time could also be moving differently on whatever path that psychotic talking head was taking Euna.

           “Time,” Thalia demanded.

           There was a small tear in the sheet where the ends met the top of their table divider, making a tiny hole in their oh-so-impenetrable wall. Axel hesitated, then slipped his hand through, so his wrist was visible.[2]

           Like last time, she kept telling herself it was to check to see how far away Euna could have gotten. It was, she growled angrily, eyes flicking to that stupid half-empty glass of pink liquid before looking back to their divider.

           This was not to look at his hand or touch it.

           His index and middle finger were missing most of his nail. Although the healing springs must have cleaned up the blood and wound, it was weird to see a fingertip with scarred skin instead of a nail, especially with how long, sharp, and feline his other nails were. (When checking the time previously, she’d made him lower the Mist on his fingers, since she accidentally cut herself on one.)  

           That must have hurt way more than he feigned.

           Thalia took his hand to twist his wrist into better view. She wanted to annoy him, to make him complain that she was being childish or bratty, to get into an argument and agree how much they disliked each other.

           He was in mid-comment, “—ventilation shafts are way too small to squeeze through.” He did little more than grunt when she bent his arm further. “No secret passages found on your side?”

           Stupid Axel with all of his stupid plans and ability to stay focused.

           “Nope, fresh out of secret passages. Any other brilliant ideas?” she snapped, hoping it sounded mean instead of desperate.

           Eleven minutes had passed. Thalia’s head felt like it was swimming. This feeling could get worse? Hypsi said this would become unbearable in fifteen minutes!

           His laugh sounded pained. “Thalia—”

           “Lieutenant,” she tried to distance their names, but felt like her comment had come out weaker than she wanted.

           “Maybe it’s because Luke told me how you used to flirt with him, but you’re really bad at pretending to hate me.”

           Thalia growled in anger, “I told you that I didn’t drink that stupid potion—“

           Axel squeezed her hand. Her heartbeat skipped to see that they’d enlaced their fingers, without her even realizing they were moving. His calluses were rough, like hers and the gentle pinch of his remaining claws was comforting, reminding her of the cute paws on Artemis’ silver wolf pack.

           The wolf pack.

           The Hunt.

           A dulled sense of panic made her tremble.

           “Thalia,” Axel said gently, “Even without… current circumstances—” She could hear him squirm on his side of the table. “—we’re still friends. You pretending to hate me or be mad at me isn’t going to help. Though… you might undo the healing spring’s work if you keep bending my wrist like that.”

           He tapped his two fingers without nails against the top of her hand.

           “I don’t have to pretend to be mad at you,” she whispered, glaring at his hand. She tried not to think about how he was seated on the other side. They’d agreed to stay on opposite sides of the rooms. That worked when they were searching around for other potential exits. Also without intending to, they both sat as close as possible once they were done searching.

           Thalia clenched the grip on her bow with her other hand. Axel had instructed her to shoot him with a knock-out arrow if he tried to come to her side of the room, with the warning that he’d had much more of the potion than she had. But, what if she came to his side of the room? Would he be able to fend her off when he’d run away from Hypsi like a little kid?

           Not that she would admit to drinking any of the potion. Or having any problems. She just wanted to go over there and sock him in his dumb, ruggedly handsome face for almost dying by the hands of a hidden monster and almost drowning and getting them into this mess.

           “Axel,” she said.

           “Leonis Caput,” he offered.

           After hearing his chuckle, she realized he was teasing her for the “Lieutenant” thing. “Shut up,” she said.

           “Yes, Lieutenant.”

           “I’ll break your wrist.”

           “I’m sure you will.”

           She rolled her eyes. “You asked about why I didn’t side with you guys, uh, during the Titan War.”

           “Yes…” his voice was soft again.

           Thalia frowned. She wished she could play with her choker, but knew she should keep her hand on her bow.

           “When I woke up from being a tree, Percy was the first person I saw. He brought me back. He and Annabeth updated me on the years I’d missed and taught me how to be a person again. They told me about how Luke had sold his soul to evil or whatever. Camp Half-Blood was the first safe place, outside—outside of being with Luke and Annabeth… that I could call home. It was safe. Before that, I was always running and hiding, either from my mom or other monsters…”

           She took in a shaky breath. “Even if I wanted to fight against my dad, or how the gods treated their children, Luke’s path wasn’t the way to do it, and I couldn’t turn my back on my new family. How would you feel if Pax joined Camp Half-Blood?”

           “I’ve been trying to convince him to for months now,” Axel said, sounding defeated. “As he’ll tell you, he’s like a parasite that’s impossible to get rid of. And he knows I’ll never join Camp Half-Blood.”

           “You guys are so weird,” she said and sighed. “You won’t join Camp Half-Blood, but you’d become a hunter or join the legion?”

           “The legion was different…”

           Thalia felt a spike of resentment tighten her chest. She knew for whom Axel wouldn’t mind compromising his beliefs. Normally it made her happy to think of Reyna finding a guy who properly cared about her…

           “And I still think being a hunter would be incredible,” he said.

           She snorted. “How long before you fell in love with Lady Artemis?”

           “With you around?” he teased. She could see the sheet tremble as the shadow of his other hand traced the cloth. Then he flinched and withdrew his hand. “Sorry. This is…” He cleared his throat. “Difficult.”

           Thalia felt her cheeks get red. “At least our wall has a hole in it.”

           “Yes, so we can plan our escape,” he said with that same hint of amusement from earlier.

           “Our super successful escape that doesn’t result in us being captured by non-combat creeps,” she grumbled. “Augh, this is just embarrassing.” Thalia checked the time again, groaned, and pressed her face against their enlaced hands.

           Axel let out a soft noise. “Thalia, don’t…”

           “Hey.”

           “Mm?”

           “It’s been thirteen minutes,” she said. While she knew time was moving faster in their section of Tartarus—or the Labyrinth?—than outside, it felt like Kronos was making each second take forever as one last middle finger to Thalia—or at least a slow moving “second” finger.

           Axel swore under his breath. She could hear him pop his cheeks, a cute, self-conscious noise. His nails dug into her hand for a tense moment, piercing her skin, before he released her and stood up. His silhouette loomed behind the sheet, the shadow of his ears perked and alert.

           “Axel?” she asked uncertainly, lifting her bow.

           “I’m going to try to get them to open that door,” he said, lowering his voice. He picked up the second half of the table—propped alongside the one they’d been leaning against—and lifted it up as a shield. Thalia flinched as a piece of their boundary line disappeared. “This is around the time they thought we’d break, and, even if they don’t believe you with Phil, Hypsi seems to think I looked at her.”

           Axel took a step forward. With the second half of the table gone and the sheet too short to touch the floor, his feet and the animalistic arches of his calves came into view. Thalia could feel her heartbeat pounding in her head. She thought about the humanoid monsters she and the other girls tracked down.

           Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Axel, do you think you could survive if a huntress hunted you as prey?”

           He stepped to the edge of the sheet and half-peered around with a devilish smile. “After we get out of here, you’ll have to find out, huntress, won’t you?” His golden eyes glistened. “I should warn though, it’s hard to force a predator to stay prey.”

           Axel began to push the sheet back and froze. One of his towels was coiled around his shoulders, the other wrapped around his waist. Now that she was looking at it, the spa garb and table-shield made him seem weirdly domesticated, like Disney decided he looked too militaristic with his lion pelt and leather skirting and replaced them with some last minute, bad CGI cover-ups. She found herself staring—as she’d struggled not to before—at the horrific scarring along his hip and that annoying V indent of muscle along his abdomen.

           Stuff Thalia might have typically observed with the same interest as a math review book, at least as a huntress. That’s what she kept reminding herself, though his presence made it difficult not to think about how attractive she’d found Luke or Apollo before she joined the Hunt.

           Axel cleared his throat, puffed up his cheeks, popped them, and looked away. The hand he had on the sheet trembled. “Tha—Lieutenant. I need your help making this sound convincing.” His voice was low as he took a difficult step away from her, towards the door.

           Thalia reflexively leaned forward. She was terrified to realize that she’d let go of her bow upon seeing him. She scooped it back up, slung her quiver over her shoulder, adjusted the towel she’d wrapped around her chest for extra coverage, and approached him as casually as possible.

           Each step felt like it came with little Huntress of Artemis chastity road signs of Danger this way! and Hot Man Ahead! Proceed with Caution and maybe speed readers that just said SLOW DOWN in place of a mph.

           Was he having as many problems as she was? He looked so calm.[3]

           Keeping her bow between the two of them made Thalia shake with effort. This whole thing was so stupid!

           “How can I help?” she choked out.

           Axel was trying to keep his eyes on the door. His shoulder and back muscles quivered as much as his hands. He walked up to the entrance. “Assuming they open the door, we need to strike fast—”

           “Yea, I know the combat plan, Cat Breath. How can I help with Hypsi?” she hissed.

           “Stand here.” He vaguely gestured to the wall beside the door. A good tactical spot for sniping anyway.

           Thalia complied, trying her hardest not to touch him as she got into position.

           He chuckled painfully. “Normally, I don’t let emotionally compromised people go into battle.”

           She rolled her eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

           Again, Thalia told herself to wait on pummeling Axel until after the potion wore off. She had so much excess, pent-up energy, she was in perfect condition to wreck Phil and the Lemnians. Smashing people’s faces in was the perfect distraction from… this. Something to use as a strength and not to mark her as “comprised.”

           “You’re not the one I’m worried about bursting into Mayan love poetry,” Axel said.

           Thalia choked on a laugh. “You have Mayan love poetry memorized? Who are you? Apollo? Is there even that much of that?”

           Thalia pictured Axel reciting a romantic haiku and giggled.

           Axel mumble something in Mayan before saying, “Shut up.” His cheeks were bright red as he glared at the door. “Hypsi!” he called, much louder.

           “Axel!” Thalia hissed wearily. He never said what else she could do to help.

           Axel balled his fist, pressed it firmly against the doorframe closest to her, and leaned down until his head was about six inches from the door. With how he’d leaned down, if he turned to her, their faces would be at the same height. If he took one sidestep to the right, or if she ducked under his arm to tiptoe left, Axel’s arm would be positioned perfectly at the crook of her neck, and his face…    

           Thalia went silent. If her cheeks could get hotter, she was pretty sure they could melt the door down.

           While they still weren’t touching, this was the closest they had stood since taking the potion. They’d agreed to keep more distance…

           Thalia was annoyed to catch his cinnamon-chocolate scent.

           “Don’t hit me until this is all over with,” he whispered, “Me crying out in pain or being interrupted might shatter the illusion.”

           Shuffling sounded outside the door. There was some whispering. Thalia wondered what the Lemnians had been doing this whole time, though couldn’t focus on it while staring at how Axel had braced his arm.

           “What?”

           Hypsi’s voice was shaky, like she’d still been crying. If Thalia could have broken her eyes away from Axel, she’d have rolled them at the Lemnian’s tears. Sure, get really upset that a guy you tried to force to love you didn’t really love you. (Shocker.)[4]

           Axel took a deep breath. “I know… we haven’t known each other well for very long,” he said, loud enough to project through the door, but quiet enough not to blow out Thalia’s ear drums. “And I know these emotions are sudden, and that… that I shouldn’t want you, that I shouldn’t feel this way… and that they’re coming from… from magic…”

           Thalia wanted to flick Axel’s nose. Maybe she’d been out of the romantic business for a long time, but this didn’t sound the best way to woo a girl. When they got back to camp, she’d have to tell Piper and Calex to give him pointers, else he was doomed.

           Then she noticed how his eyes kept trailing to her.

           He wasn’t talking to Hypsi. Thalia swallowed. His arm was straining against the wall to keep from touching her, just like he was struggling not to keep eye contact.

           “You were right. This… is unbearable. I’m slipping. I just want to touch you, to give you the hugs you never got when you were feeling insecure or vulnerable. To remind you of how amazing you are for handling all the incredible things that you brushed off as being part of your family, or being who you are. I know you don’t need me, and you already know you’re strong, but I…”

           Axel’s voice broke.

           Thalia’s stomach felt like it decided to dive into a trampoline park without her permission.

           “Sorry,” Axel whispered to Thalia. His jaw clenched. While keeping his fist firmly against the door—as another barrier, Thalia realized—Axel leaned his head to the side, pressing his forehead to her shoulder.

           Her breath caught. Thoughts clogged to a halt. She tried to think about Artemis, about her huntresses, the wolves, the camping, the wild, Luke—she tried to think about how much it hurt to have someone she loved so much betray her and become a monster—

           She tried to remember this was one of her friends, someone Reyna had a thing for, someone she didn’t want the troops of Artemis to hunt down in vengeance and that didn’t need her death (by the hands of a vengeful goddess) on his conscience. What would she do if this were happening to a friend? Maybe one of her sister-huntresses reaching out for emotional support to get through some horrific trickery?

           Thalia awkwardly patted Axel’s shoulder, in the best, most platonic there, there motion she could muster. And to not curl against him and ask for that hug, since she definitely didn’t want or need that.

           And he’d been talking to Hypsi to get out of here. Not her.

           Thalia glanced at his wrist. They were at the fifteen minute marker. For a startled moment, she realized her eyes felt warm and wet.

           “Yes?” Hypsi said softly on the other side of the door.

           “I need out of this room right now,” Axel’s voice was still soft, but it was enlaced with an inner, threatening growl.

           Whispers erupted on the other side of the door. With how close she and Axel were, and how excited the Lemnians were talking, she could make out what they were saying.

           “Phil! Phil! It worked!”

           “I don’t know, Hypsi. What if he’s faking it like the girl?”

           “No—that’s almost verbatim how Medea’s How To pamphlet said he’d feel. I mean—yea, he knows he drank the potion, and it came with the warning of amorous side effects may vary—“

           “I don’t know…”

           “You’re just sad the girl’s potion ended up being a dud.” That was Phraxa.

           “Either that, or she just realized you’re too gross to like even with a love potion,” Hypsi’s voice was lighter, the tears were gone. She sounded hopeful.

           Maybe this would work.

           “Come on,” Phraxa continued. “The lightning rods are installed in the hallway, so the girl can’t hurt us. If he’s a Mayan sorcerer, he can’t perform magic without any fire. We’ve got the nets all set up. If they end up still rejecting us, we’ll just hack them into pieces and toss them into the river—”

           Axel punched the door, making a thud loud enough to make Thalia jump.

           “Hypsi, let me out. I can’t handle being in here any longer,” he said. The undertone of his voice took on that gravely quality.

           Hypsi giggled. “Oh! He sounds impatient!”

           “I’ll get the drill,” Phraxa said.

           Thalia guessed the noncommittal grunt came from Phil. “Okay, fine. Everyone else, stand by to decapitate a hero if they come out fighting.”

           There came a cheer from at least five or six other voices.

           The door shuddered with the sound of some power tools.

           Axel and Thalia released sighs of relief.

           He turned his head to look up at her. They should have been getting ready to rush the Lemnians. They may have been outnumbered, but both Thalia and Axel agreed these weren’t exactly primed warriors. Even if they were, they’d rather go out fighting than be captured (again).

           Ready to be decapitated? Axel mouthed, nuzzling against her shoulder. The hairs of his goatee tickled her skin, making her heart leap.

           She wanted to tease Rather that than hear your Mayan poetry, but she couldn’t bring herself to tease him. Maybe to knock his lights out for all those… nice and horrifically inappropriate things he had said (though, only to trick Hypsi, right?) but she couldn’t do that yet since she needed him conscious for this fight.

           The door gave a loud thump as it came loose from some exterior barrier. The knob jiggled.[5]

           “Oh, jaguar warrior, you locked the door,” Hypsi sang.

           Axel stood up straight, his eyes glistening with excitement. He squeezed Thalia’s shoulder and picked up his table-shield and makeshift table-leg-club.

           Thalia felt like a normal girl would be offended by how easily he’d withdrawn from her shoulder, since the love potion must have taken full effect. However, Thalia could sense the same thing he could while she prepped her bow with an arrow: beating the snot out of these jerks would be the most romantic outing either of them could possibly go on at that moment.

           Axel carefully unlocked the door. “Ready for me to take you, Hypsi?” he asked.

           Thalia could see him choke back a laugh. She did the same at the double entendre.

           What they saw when they opened the door was not what they were expecting.

           One moment, they could see Hypsi standing there—looking relatively normal in her chiton, though she was now armed with two daggers—with two people in imposing mechasuits behind her. One held a crossbow trained on the door, the other held a net gun. Phil grumpily leaned against the wall, almost out of sight, gripping a sword.

           Looking at the suits, their table-shields felt a little unprepared.

           Before the door was open enough for Axel to lunge forward, someone down the hallway screamed in alarm.

           A familiar voice let lose a crazed, boisterous laugh. “Trying to use love spells on me?”

           The person in the mechasuit with the net gun repositioned to whatever bigger threat was down the hall.

           Axel didn’t have a chance to take advantage of the distraction. A silver greyhound with ruby eyes slammed into the mechasuit, knocking Ms. Net Gun to the floor.

           Before the person with a crossbow could fire at Argentum, Thalia shot a knockout arrow at the second mechasuit. While it didn’t damage the armor, it did ruin their aim, their cross-bolt harmlessly slamming into the wall.

           The second mecha suit didn’t have a chance to reload as a golden greyhound knocked them to the floor.  

           At the same time as this onslaught, a golden bolt struck Hypsi’s shoulder from down the hall. She went rigid, noticed something, and sprinted out of sight, all while shouting, “Wait—fly! Your wings are so beautiful! Nothing could compare! My love for you, I must declare!”

           Thalia was ecstatic that Axel hadn’t burst out like that.

           Phil was half-way through drawing his sword when a tall boy with a black scarf and a red-and-black beanie nailed him over the head with one of the pink punch pitchers. The glass shattered, spilling the love potion all over Phil’s head. Before waiting to see if that was enough to take out the creepy Lemnian, Calex followed through with a solid punch to the side of Phil’s head.

           Phil crumbled onto the floor.

           Calex dusted off his hands on his Camp Half-Blood sweater and unslung his golden bow from his back. He beamed at Axel and Thalia. “Hallo! Lovely day to be seeing you in an inter-dimensional plane.”

           He poked his head back into the hall to shout, “I win! You’ve gotta get rid of this rubbish.”

           Clatters and panicked shouts came from the location.

           Reyna just sounded annoyed when she spoke back. “There’s a lot of it,” she sighed, then, louder, “Aurum, to me! Argentum, stand guard!”

           The golden greyhound took off down the hallway while the grey one stood by the door like one of the Lemnian sculpture sentinels. From the looks of it, one mechasuit wearer was unconscious and the other had crawled away.

           Calex returned his grin to them. “We had a running bet on who would find you first and who would need to find your gear. The first bloke we threatened at the front said they were in two different places.”

           Axel clapped Calex’s shoulder, beaming with—Thalia blinked—pride? Thalia suddenly felt like she was intruding on a moment where a commanding officer distinguishes a soldier for his bravery, or, really, a moment of bromance.

           “Thanks, Calex. And you used to be worried that you wouldn’t be a commendable hero.”

           Calex glanced away in pleased embarrassment, noticing Thalia. His eyes widened, and he glanced from Thalia to Axel. He took a step back, pointing between the two of them in confusion.

           Thalia felt her chest constrict again. Yea, it was taking every fiber of her being not to walk up and bump her shoulder against Axel, but it shouldn’t have been that obvious. There was no way Calex could tell—

           They were both mostly naked.

           Thalia felt her cheeks go bright red again. Another boy on the Eye Gouging to-do list.

           An understanding hit Calex, making him snap his fingers. “Ah, right. Love potion. But, how did you two—and why—?”

           The smile fell off Axel’s face. “Fix us,” he hissed with more desperation than she’d ever heard from him.

           Thalia felt dumb for forgetting who Calex’s father was.

           Calex put a hand to his beanie, examining them. “Um, I’ve never… taken away someone’s—”  

           “Do it,” Thalia snarled, taking a threatening step towards Calex. The motion brushed her shoulder against Axel’s, sending a tingling sensation down her spine. Axel went rigid.

           “Can’t you two…” Calex shrugged. “Wait it out?”

           “No!” they both said at once. If they tried that, Axel would be spouting out Mesoamerican sonnets and she’d end up killing him, since there was only so much punching he could handle once she resorted to that to avoid hugging him. And to save his self-respect, since no one should know love poetry.[6]

           Calex tentatively touched his bowstring, giving Axel a critical stare. “Aphrodite tried to seduce you, mate,” he said skeptically, “and you can’t handle a love potion?”

           Thalia was about to yell at Calex to hurry up, but paused.  “Is that why she cursed you?”

           Axel frowned. “Better story to tell when we’re not under the influence.”

           He turned back to Calex. “I hated Aphrodite, and she wasn’t a brave, beautiful punk warrior that I’d been told amazing stories about since I was fourteen,” Axel hissed. “And the Leonis Caput wanted to murder Aphrodite, not go on some weird date-hunt thing because he knows she’d be into it.”

           Thalia’s head spun, trying to gauge how old Axel was and exactly how often he had conversations with a murderous cat-creature in his head. Good reason to join the huntresses of Artemis—when all the guys you like end up being partially possessed. “Luke had been telling you stories about me since you were fourteen?” she asked.

           Axel puffed up his cheeks and popped them. When the jaguar warrior blushed, Calex looked like he couldn’t decide if this was hilarious or disturbing. “Right,” Calex said, pulling back his bowstring. “Let’s shoot you two.”

           A burst of grey energy exploded to life on his bow. The volatile vortex tightened and solidified into a scarily thin, black metal arrow.

           Calex paled. Sweat broke out on his brow as he struggled to pull the bowstring to full draw. He took aim, point blank, at Axel’s heart and paused.

           Axel didn’t flinch. He kept his eyes locked on Calex’s. One of his hands slipped down to link a pinkie with Thalia’s.

           This felt wrong. Thalia suddenly wondered if they should be reversing the potions effects or if the potion just wanted her to think—

           “This is a bad idea,” Calex said, his arm shaking. “A leaden arrow might… might make you incapable of being friends. And…”

           Calex dipped his point to the floor. Slowly, he relaxed his arm. The black arrow dissipated into smoke.

           Argentum growled.

           “Calex,” Axel said in a tone similar to the greyhound.

           Thalia felt the same, wanting this over with. Not that it should matter, but the crashing down the hall had stopped.

           Calex shook his head. “We can’t have you two hating each other on this trip. Let me try something else. I think I can… hyper accelerate the effects? It might make you feel like rubbish for a bit.”

           Axel nodded. “Just… please don’t not shoot me this time.”

           This time, when Calex drew his bow, the bolt was fiery white and gold, sparking madly. There was no hesitation or struggle in Calex’s stance. This seemed natural for him. He drew his bow and immediately fired.

           Axel may have mentally prepared himself to be shot.

           Thalia hadn’t.

           The arrow split. The second half arched and struck Thalia in the chest.

           For a moment, she thought Calex’s arrow would be fatal. Because the arrow had glistened like a mirage of light, she thought it wouldn’t hurt.

           The force of the impact made Thalia stumble back. Her chest felt like someone had jammed a knife into the impact spot and twisted it to crack open her ribcage. Instead of going through her or vanishing like she thought the arrow would do, the arch of light liquefied and burrowed into the wound, like a flaming snake that wanted to fill her insides until they splintered.

           Everything shook. Thalia felt like she’d been hit with a falling anvil. Emotions stuck on fast-forward: the months of seeming isolation with the huntresses, the guilt and shame of wanting to betray Lady Artemis and abandon the way she honored Zoe, her once-tranquil solitude turning into a maelstrom of loneliness and ache, finally reaching the catharsis of getting over Luke’s treachery while crumbling under the distance between she and Axel and the fact that they could never be together and the pain of knowing he only wanted her because of some stupid love potion and what could have happened if she’d joined Luke’s side of the war and the confusion and—

           Thalia could hear Axel collaps to his knees.

           She crumbled soon after.

           Tears streamed down her cheeks. Thalia clutched at her chest, wishing she could tear the liquefied arrow out.

           “Holy Maiden Artemis,” she gasped, “Love bites.”

           From the brief glimpse she got of Calex, he had slung his bow over one shoulder, leaned against a wall, and folded his arms. “You two still want to thank me?” he asked, watching them—with some concern—withering in anguish.

           Axel had curled into a ball, but managed to withdraw one hand for a thumps up. “Thank you,” he choked out.

           Thalia nodded in begrudging agreement. She couldn’t imagine living all of that in real time.

           The pain eased. Her breathing returned to normal as did her heartbeat. When she glanced over at Axel, she no longer had that annoying butterfly feeling or empty wanting. Instead, she saw an embarrassed friend straightening out of a crouched position with as much dignity as he could muster.

           And fumbling to grab his towel when it slipped to the floor.

           Thalia was relieved that her genuine reaction was, “Axel! Gross!”

           Axel gave her a relaxed smile once he was covered. “Sorry to offend your eyes, huntress.” He stood fully and offered her a hand. “Things don’t need to be weird between us, right?”

           Thalia snorted. She glanced at Calex, who had respectfully become engrossed looking down the hallway. She took Axel’s hand—glad again that it felt no different from taking that of a huntress—and said, “Just don’t tell anyone I gave you CPR, and we’re good.”

           Axel blinked as he helped her to her feet. “You gave me CPR?”

           Thalia scowled, feeling her cheeks redden form embarrassment that had nothing to do with the potion. He was joking, right? “You didn’t know!? Between the drowning and the electric shock—why do you think I’ve been calling you Cat Breath all day!”

           After Hypsi and the others completely disarmed them, Thalia hadn’t trusted Hypsi or the others to touch Axel and her electrical surge was what made him need CPR. But—she thought he’d politely pretended not to remember.

           “Is… my breath that bad?” Axel asked, cupping a hand over his mouth to check. He frowned self-consciously.

           Thalia remembered his soft scent of spices and chocolate, but she wasn’t about to admit to that, especially after the day’s events. “Yes,” she said firmly.

           “Leonis Caput, you need a tracking device on your clothing,” someone said from the doorway.

           Thalia jumped when Reyna jammed Axel’s clothing, lion pelt, and weapons into his arms. He startled.

           Reyna turned to Thalia. “Huntress,” she greeted, offering Thalia her clothing and weapons in a much gentler fashion. Aurum trotted up, proudly shouldering their supplies packs.

           There was no anger in Reyna’s voice, but, from the scarily controlled tone and hardened expression, Thalia suspected Reyna knew everything that happened, or Reyna thought she did.

           Thalia took a deep breath. Reyna wasn’t an idiot. If Thalia judged her humor correctly…

           “I had to give Axel CPR because he got his ass kicked by a slime pup. Would you say Cat Breath is an appropriate nickname for him?”

           A terrified moment of silence passed, but Thalia knew Reyna was awesome. There was no way—

           Reyna’ face cracked into an appreciative smile. She looked relieved.

           Axel looked mortified, clutching his towel to himself as Calex choked back a laugh. “I—um—”

           “Get dressed, Cat Breath,” Reyna commanded. “We need to make up time in our hunt for Euna.”

           “I—” Axel started.

           Calex patted the stunned boy’s arm, then dragged him out the hallway to find a different changing room. “Looks like you’ve got a new name for the rest of the trip. Let’s see if it catches on the surface world.”           

               The moral of this story is, don’t consume food or drink from strangers in their creepy Grecian bathhouses. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

So Many Footnotes:

[1] Jack disclaimer: Depends on your concert. Metal heads? Utter gentlemen and gentleladies that know how to have a good brawl. Punk concerts? Prepare to be punched in the dick.

[2] Mel immediately called out what play-within-a-play this is referencing. Our conversation, “A lion keeping them apart.” “Despite wanting to be ly-ng on each other!” Pax *cry laughing* Jack *applauds Mel’s pun*

[3] MelBetaComment: “Just don’t look too far down.”

Jack: *ehem* “I can neither confirm or deny Mel’s assumption until I’m several oceans away from a certain Mayan warrior.”

[4] I’d like to think, “Shocker” is one of Thalia’s favorite expressions.

[5] Definitely wrote “the door knob giggled” in my original draft. Mel took it literally and was quite confused.

[6] False. Jack should know love poetry *wink*

[sserpente]

In a heartbeat (Chapter 9)

A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I just couldn’t let you suffer so much. So, without further ado… here is the next chapter. Enjoy! ;-)

Find all chapters on my masterlist!

This shouldn’t bother you. Loki was a god, Valkyrie was just that—a Valkyrie. They were perfect for each other, strong, fierce, confident… you couldn’t have possibly thought for even a second that you’d stand a chance of winning more than just his friendship? Hell, Loki wasn’t even a friend, to him you were probably nothing more than useless luggage he had to carry around on this goddamn planet.

The first sob escaped your lips after Thor announced their departure. Loki did not come back inside. You were glad he didn’t—the pain of seeing him again now, imagining how he had been snogging that gruesome Asgardian woman stung in your heart like someone had shoved a glowing dagger inside it.

How was this even possible? How could you feel this broken and hurt? You barely knew the God of Mischief, hadn’t known him for longer than a couple of days and still… the tears wouldn’t stop rolling. Not when you tried to finish what was left of his breakfast, not when you tried to lie down and rest for a while and not even when you peeked outside in the hopes of finding something interesting or useful.

All those tears… all those tears for a man you couldn’t have. Crying shamelessly into the silence of the plane wreck, you buried your face in your hands. You came to one decision. Loki mustn’t ever learn about your feelings for him. Your ridiculous, unreasonable and dangerous feelings that were all but painful, annoying and as unnecessary as your presence here on Sakaar.

And then the anger came. The urge to toss Valkyrie down an abyss, to rip out her flawless hair and wipe that smug grin off her face grew with every second you dried your tears with your jacket, cursing your absurd feelings once more. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Maybe you should just leave on your own, abandon this fucked up place for good. Thor made no effort to get you back to Earth, after all, which was understandable, given he had to save his own people and still… you wanted to knock him over with his broken hammer for neglecting your desire to return home.

It felt like a warm summer day, when everyone was hot, drinking ice cold water—but no one around willing to share some of the soothing liquid with you. Sighing, you examined the back of your hand. The wound was itching, the scratches reddened and still a little bloody. If only you were back in that apartment they had given Loki… you could take a shower.

Why on Earth hadn’t you thought about that before? All of a sudden, you felt dirty. Not just because of your excessive crying session and snot you had had to wipe into your jacket rather than a tissue but also because of your damn feelings that clawed at you like nasty parasites.

Those feelings for this mischievous man you wanted to hate—but couldn’t, even after seeing him… no. Stop thinking about it.

You were tempted to just leave the plane wreck, ignoring the promise Loki had wrung from you and find his quarters to enjoy a warm bath. It was partially your doing the Grandmaster was so fond of him, after all. You might as well draw an advantage out of your fucked up situation.

But you were scared. Scared to run into some more scrappers, scared to be sold, scared to be killed. No. Staying here was for the best. Even if it took hours of boredom and pain.

It did take hours. Hours, in which you kept forcing back tears, pacing up and down until you were sure to have left a trace on the ground and then finally, lying down again, trying to sleep. It would not come. Instead, with every minute that passed, with every inch the sun disappeared a little more behind the endless piles of debris, concern rose deep inside your chest.

There was still no sign of them, still no sign of Loki. What if something had happened to them? With a start, nerve-wrecking concern mixed with your heartache, memories of you lying next to him awakening and bombarding your body until your mind begged you for release.

When you closed your eyes, you could still feel his strong arms around your waist, protective and possessive, luring you into safety. You wanted to be the one kissing him, the one making him moan in pure bliss.

Who had initiated this kiss? Loki himself? Valkyrie? Upon their first meeting, it had seemed like they loathed each other. They probably still did, so what was this? Part of Loki’s crazy plan? A love-hate-relationship that did no good to anyone? No, wait… you didn’t want to know, not really.

Not if all that it did was causing you more agony and—

The tortured grunting in the distance made you halt and hurl to your feet. Your vision went black for a second but you ignored the dizziness overcoming you when you staggered outside, the ability to breathe leaving you for a full thirty seconds at what you saw.

Valkyrie was limping. A bleeding wound decorated her forehead right above her right eye—she didn’t seem weakened, instead, she was on fire. Furious, screaming, disgusted and indignant. Her words were but a blur to you, almost as if deafness took over, for all you focused on only the fraction of a second after was Loki.

Tired and exhausted, he climbed up the piles of debris towards you—towards the plane wreck—and let himself fall on his provisory bed without a word. He barely made it as he was panting and coughing, holding back cries of pain. Had he even noticed your presence?

He was injured too. His right hand was covered in nasty burns, bleeding heavily and already forming blisters. A shocked whimper escaped your lips.

“W-what happened?” You didn’t pay much attention to Thor and Valkyrie once they were close enough as well, instead rushed over to Loki’s side and knelt down before him. His hand looked even worse up close. Resisting the urge to gag when the smell of burned flesh filled your nostrils, you bit your lower lip and watched him close his eyes to restore his energy.

“We got surprised by that stupid dog…” Valkyrie started, shooting Loki a disgusted glance.

“Dog? What dog?”

Loki growled. “Fenris. Hela’s wolf. He was guarding her source of power.”

“Yeah, only he was merely a distraction.” Thor tossed in. He too was covered in blood, dirt and grime, yet he seemed hardly affected by the recent events. “With the fire demons, the wolf was the least of our problems.”

“Forget the fire demons!” Valkyrie suddenly shrieked. “Your adopted brother is a monster!”

So this was what this was about. Not the fight. Not the probably failed mission that had almost killed them.

A monster? Your heart stung as if the Asgardian had plunged a dagger into the muscle, only this time, the drowning sadness you had pitied yourself with for the last couple of hours, made space for an undying and seething rage.

“What are you talking about, Valkyrie?”

“He is a Frost Giant.” She spat.

Loki hissed. “I saved your life! And Thor’s! The fire would have swallowed you up as a whole!”

“We would have made it. Somehow. You’re a monster. All the grief and pain your race has brought over Asgard after I left… how would you let someone like him rule our people?” She said then, turning to Thor for a moment. “I can’t believe we… you can consider yourself lucky I didn’t kill you then and there.”

A Frost Giant. You remembered the stories. Rulers of ice bringing cold and death over Earth, centuries ago. Forerunners of Ragnarök. So Loki wasn’t Asgardian after all. He was a Jötun, he… he could turn blue and create ice and snow with his bare hands.

“I am honoured you let me live.” Loki replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He was still in pain—it was prominent in the tone of every word he spoke. But there was more to it than that.

What difference did it make? With a start you recalled what you had seen before their departure. Valkyrie kissing Loki like her life depended on it, losing herself in his touches and the sensation of his soft lips… how could all of this be insignificant now just because he was of a different race? Humans had brought a lot of pain to their own planet too in the past. They still did now and yet, here you all were, falling for each other.

He was still the man you had, against all reason, developed feelings for.

“You enslave people for a disgusting old geezer after leaving the place you have sworn to protect and now you threaten Loki for saving your life with his abilities?! What the fuck is wrong with you, Valkyrie?!” Fuming, you rose to your feet and clenched your fists.

His pain was yours. The anxious glistening in Loki’s eyes was barely visible but when you had looked up at him, you noticed.

“Get the fuck out of my sight before I scratch out your eyes.” You spat through gritted teeth. Valkyrie instantly took a threatening and combative step forward, only to be held back by Thor who sensed she would indeed attack and make you pay for your bold choice of words and Loki… Loki simply stared, his hand still aching and taking up most of his attention, though you could tell he still listened to every single word being exchanged. If he was impressed by your tantrum, he did not show.

Valkyrie mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand before she left the plane wreck again, stomping off to her ship. No one dared stop her, not even Thor who knew they could still use all the help he could get.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, kneeling down once more to carefully examine Loki’s hand. You knew he had extraordinary healing abilities, yet the process seemed to slow down whenever you laid your eyes upon his injury.

“It will heal, little minx.”

“I know. I mean Valkyrie. She had no right to say that. I’m sorry.”

The God of Mischief frowned, surprised by your words. Leaning back just a little, he settled for a nod.

“If she can’t accept who… or what you really are, no matter what it is, she’s not the one.” You continued, enhancing his confusion. “I mean… I saw you kiss.” You explained quickly.

Loki smirked weakly. “We did a lot more than kiss over the last two days.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words punching you in the guts mercilessly, mocking you as they did.

“You… you had sex?”

“Several times,”

“Oh.”

He had slept with her. Loki had… he might as well rip your heart out. What was that about being his pleasure slave again? Right now, in this very moment, you longed for your shared lies to be real. Would it hurt less then? Hardly.

“Now, don’t act so coy, little minx. It was just sex but I doubt she will go near me again after today.” It was just sex. Sex with a real Valkyrie. No feelings? No strings attached? Your tongue itched to ask him and pry into that personal matter even further, your lips, however, seemed to be glued together as you recalled how Valkyrie had called him a vain would-be royal. Had she changed her mind? Or was she simply as attracted to his looks and cheeky attitude as you were?

In the end, it was shame that held you back. Shame that although you felt sorry for Loki and the spiteful words Valkyrie had said, whatever they had been seemed to now have ended before it had even properly begun… right? Was it okay to be glad? No.

No, it was absolutely not okay and yet… you didn’t feel guilty. You were actually beyond happy about it.

A/N: I told you to be patient. There’s no need to worry…………. or is there?

[erinvanzyl-blog]

Beyond Illusions

My battle with fear & anxiety began in August of 2014, just a handful of weeks after I got married to my best friend and high school sweetheart. I had been suffering with pain in my stomach (which I later learned was from a parasite) and was in the early stages of visiting doctors to discover the cause. Everything else in life was humming along. My business was doing well, my children settling into their new routine and Ash and I were enjoying making a home together. We both put on some weight (early marriage bliss definitely to blame) and life was exciting.

Then...

11th August 2014, I woke to breaking news of Robin Williams suicide. My heart sank and felt like it was wrenched apart. He was a familiar face, someone I had been a massive fan of all my life. Memories from childhood of popcorn, movies & laughter; his hilarious persona, warmth and friendly face. It stayed with me for days. I thought about it constantly and couldn’t seem to shake it. I was overwhelmed with sadness and grief over someone I didn’t know but felt a connection to. I thought to myself “how could he feel so miserable’, ‘how could he take his own life’, ‘how did people not know and come to his aid’. To be completely honest, this was the first time in my life where I thought about the reality of death. I found myself so deeply and profoundly touched by this tragic event. I had never really been here before, at this level of pondering the meaning of life and dying.

I started to think about death from the moment I woke and could hardly sleep at night. I thought about the plane that went missing earlier in the year. I kept my eyes on all the news. Little William Tyrell went missing and all of a sudden I was surrounded by all the horrific things that were taking place around the world. I started having panic attacks and night sweats out of my control. Frozen with fear. I felt anxious about everything. Driving down the Wakehurst Parkway had now become a nightmare and filled me with dread. I noticed every tribute and cross placed along the road where there had been fatalities. The panic inside me was so real and so dominating. I dwelled on how people had died and how their families must have felt and I would get completely overcome with worry about my children. I was so gripped by fear, I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything. Small daily tasks felt heavy and overbearing. I didn’t know how to cope. My health was up in the air and I didn’t want to go there, I didn’t want to know what was wrong. I was so afraid that I was terminally ill as that was my frame of mind and a scenario I had already constructed in my head. My world felt like it was crumbling around me. My honeymoon to NZ was around the corner. I felt more and more anxious and more and more paralysed by fear as the date got closer. I was going to be leaving my kids for 6 long days. The smallest details about the trip bothered me. I pulled up the flight path on my maps at least 10 times a day to look at the journey over the ocean. Why did it have to be a 3 hour flight? What if our flight went missing? What if I never saw my kids again. It was all too consuming.

Ash had been supporting me the best way he could. He was super encouraging and really tried to understand but when I looked at him, I knew, he didn’t get it. How could he. I could not share the extent to which the fear had gripped me. I had to tell him that it was impossible for me to go on the honeymoon. At last a tiny moment - a deeper fear that outweighed the storm I was facing - a fear of upsetting or disappointing him. He said he understood and that we could take the trip at another time but as I looked into my partners eyes, I faced a minute glimpse of reality. I was more afraid of hurting him.

Having never gone through anything like this before, I decided to open up and talk about it with my mum. After letting it all out and hearing myself talk about it, I felt more at ease. She too, shared a time when she had had a similar experience of fear when she had to leave us in South Africa when she had to fly to Australia to check it out before we immigrated.This made me feel worlds better about the trip. Enough to call Ash and say that we would definitely go. She expressed that what had helped her was prayer and knowing that fear was a spiritual attack. 

My nightmare was far from over. Facing the almost unbearable torture that was my mind, I got to New Zealand, trembling the whole way. I remember thinking as we landed ‘ok so I didn’t die on the way here, maybe I’ll die on the way back!’ Much of the trip is a blur and as much as I hate to admit it to my husband, a horrible experience that was endured from start to finish in terror regardless of the most beautiful surroundings. We were road tripping from the top to the bottom of the South Island over 5 days and every time I got in the car, I was petrified. I won’t go into how tough the whole trip was as you can already imagine. I was losing the fight against my thoughts. No matter how hard I fought, with what felt like vengeance, they hounded me further. On our final day, we were travelling to our last destination before flying home when we were stopped by police only to hear that there had been a fatality on the road just ahead and we were redirected. A young female tourist had been speeding and had lost control of her vehicle. I don’t have to tell you what a mess I became. This was now a war and I was on a battlefield.

The flight home was agony. My head was screaming ‘you are going to die’ ‘you are never going to see your family again’ all the way!!!! We experienced turbulence which resulted in a longer flight time and I can tell you that in those moments, I wanted to die to escape the panic. We didn’t hear from the captain to let us know that we were behind schedule so in my mind, I had already created a whole scene and decided we were going missing, the pilot was taking us far out to sea and that was that. We were going to be another MH370.

Ash comforted me as much as humanly possible. I still don’t know how he was so chill.

When we landed all I could think about was seeing my kids faces. I had survived and all I wanted to do was hold them.

The onslaught of torment continued. I’ll fast forward to the Martin Place siege in December. Well, apart from it being the most horrible thing to witness (I was glued to the television all day) my two brothers were working within a few hundred metres of the building where the siege took place. Just a bit too close to home. Just one more traumatic event that stays with me even now.

I wanted to draw a picture for you with real stories and examples of how anxiety and fear can spiral out of control and come out of, what seems, nowhere. Pinpointing exactly or being 100% certain about the initial development of the fear & anxiety for people who suffer with it can be very difficult. There are many triggers. Mainly physical and emotional trauma. Looking at my circumstances at the time and on reflection, I believe I know how it all unravelled. My body was under immense physical stress with sickness that I was yet to know about and I had unresolved emotions about a previous traumatic relationship. These underlying issues, I feel must have played a part. The sadness that came from learning about the death of a great man was enough to tip me over the edge and caused a reaction. Our mind is so powerful and we only have to lose control over our thoughts for a small amount of time for it to run away with us captive to it.

Healing my mind only commenced when I decided I had had enough and that I wasn’t going to let this thing beat me. I remember having to say it to myself. Like ‘that is enough Erin, you are tougher than this.’

That was honestly my first step forward. My second step was writing about it which became it’s own kind of therapy. When I wrote about it and read it out aloud, it seemed so silly and far fetched, almost like I was reading about someone else. It dawned on me how it had evolved and how I had allowed myself without really knowing it at the time, to get carried away with these ugly thoughts. I had made choices to watch tv, listen to news and create in my mind, a reality of darkness and gloom. Looking at it from a distance really helped me see it in the light. Writing about it saved me and spun me in a different direction. It allowed me to breathe again and opened a tiny gateway, a space for new thinking. Little by little, I started to feel myself again. I wrote and wrote until the big yucky things in my mind became so small on paper. I had to write that I accepted the fact that I was not in control of my fate or the fate of loved ones. I had to come to terms with the fact that horrific things happen in the world and I can’t change that.

I was faced with mortality and the terrible truths of life and decided I was going to be okay with it all. I realised I had grown even further (down a road of healing and toward recovery) for having been through this ‘attack’ and saw that the healing process from my previous relationship with a psychopath was still underway (Mind matters). I decided I was going to learn from this experience and knew in my heart that there was a reason, that I was going to get to really understand the importance of and how powerful my mind, my thoughts, the way I perceive myself and my self worth are in making or breaking me. And now I do. I trust me to be in charge of my mind and take control of my thoughts when they are not serving me. I have continued to study and learn about the mind and our ability to transform our thinking and therefore, our emotions. I recognised that this battlefield of my mind was preparation for the next one I was going to face. The journey of restoring my health.

[tcbusinessmarketing]

Brigitta Beer Inspires Clients with Food

At Lifeblood Marketing, we get inspired by the businesses in our community and how they interact with their clients. This week, we’re thrilled to talk about Food Effects and its natural nutrition services with owner Brigitta Beer. Food Effects offers a variety of services from Live Blood Analysis and food intolerance tests, to strategic nutrition and supplementation consultations. The focus of the company according to Brigitta is to show her clients what’s going on in their bodies and help them live the healthiest lives they can through good food and a balanced lifestyle.

When speaking to Brigitta, it is immediately clear that her clients come first. Her extensive knowledge, careful research and personal experience with her own health and wellness is always used to empower each individual client that comes to her for help.

Read below to find out more about Brigitta’s own journey in discovering health and what her clients can expect when they visit Food Effects for the first time.

Fast Facts about Food Effects:

Brigitta has helped over 500 people find a healthier lifestyle through analyses, nutrition and supplementation guidance and food-first training.

She began her career as a fitness trainer, and then became inspired by the importance of what we put in our bodies through food and supplements and chose to pursue courses in holistic nutrition.

Brigitta loves helping people, period. She works with clients from all walks of life and health, some who are looking for extensive and consistent help in managing ongoing health issues, and others who feel healthy but want to help maintain that through yearly visits.

She is open for business both online and in person! Food Effects is able to offer many services and consultations online through video chat, but the most important test that Brigitta recommends each person begin with, the Live Blood Analysis, must be done in person.

How did you first get into holistic nutrition and wellness?

“I always had an interest in nutrition, I loved reading articles and books about clean eating, the best foods for your body, etc. and I was a huge foodie! I love cooking and creating in the kitchen and feeding people is my love language. But at the same time, I also had a very rocky relationship with food. I became very obsessed with my eating habits and my exercise routine. It controlled my thought processes and my exercise habits, every day. I thought it was normal to be living in ‘diet culture’ and that all women lived this way. It was controlling and even though I was ‘healthy’, my relationship with food was not.

Finally, I saw this control as a problem and something I wanted to change. Even that first step of changing perspective made me feel so much more free. There was this release of control and calorie-counting that really propelled me to a healthier mindset, which was huge for me! Over the years of working through my own health, I realized just how ‘imprisoned’ I was in that strict-diet mindset. It was groundbreaking for me to come out of that way of thinking and I knew I wanted to learn everything I could about health, fitness and nutrition, so I could support and then share this new, more empowering and freeing way of thinking about and consuming food. I wanted every woman to know that diet-culture was not normal. It was a revelation for me in 2013 when I realized this wasn’t the way it had to be.

Food is so much more than calories in and calories out… It is medicine

So, I first started learning to be a personal trainer, as I wanted to let women know they didn’t need to spend an hour on the treadmill to burn calories, and to tackle the diet mindset behind that as much as the action itself. But as I was working through the modules of the program, I realized that I wanted to have an official nutrition component to be able to help my clients even further. I put the personal training on hold and pursued a twelve month diploma program with the Canadian School of National Nutrition. I fully expected this to be what I already knew about clean eating and food, but just in a more official capacity. It turned out to be so much more. This course introduced me to the concept that food is so much more than calories in and calories out; it is medicine. Food can heal and food can damage. I was absolutely hooked from this holistic nutrition training and that began my career as a registered holistic nutritionist.”

Can you explain what a typical appointment looks like at Food Effects and when people should come to you?

“A typical appointment for a first-time client is a lot of me getting to know them, their health concerns, and their diet and lifestyle habits. I strongly encourage them to book a Live Blood Analysis for further insight beyond symptoms. This test is more common in European countries, also Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa, but more and more natural health practitioners in North America are starting to see the value in it and are using it as an assessment tool. The history of live blood analysis actually goes back more than 100 years! This isn’t new science, however new scientific studies support the theories from these prominent scientists from the late 1800’s early 1900’s.

One small droplet of blood tells us so much about how the body is doing. When a client comes in for a Live Blood Analysis, we do the testing together in that 90 minute appointment. The client should be fasted for around 4-6 hours and well-hydrated. It is a very small prick of the finger and I take a sample of live blood and also eight samples of dried blood. Then, in that same session, we view the live blood sample on a large screen together in my office, and I talk through and explain what I see. The live blood sample is a sign of what is in the body ‘right now’, over the last hours/days/weeks. We review this together and I can note nutrient deficiencies, yeast/bacteria overgrowth, PH balances, gut health and digestive function, liver stress, and more. 

My ultimate goal to my clients is always to say, ‘I love you but you’re doing great so I don’t need to see you again’, because they get what they need, have made changes for their health and move on!

The dried blood is also examined to see what story it tells. This is a more long term look at the body and indicates oxidative stress, parasitic behaviour, adrenal stress, bowel concerns, and deeper chronic conditions. I see different things in the brightfield and darkfield viewing of the live blood versus the dried blood, then put the puzzle pieces together – the body is a system and everything works together!  I talk through each finding with the client, and at all times they can ask questions or clarify points in a very helpful, empowering way. Most of the time, I find my clients have these ‘Aha!’ moments, where I read something in their blood that lines up with how they have been feeling or something they have been discussing with their doctors. After looking into and discussing the findings from their blood samples, I can make nutritional recommendations to help with any symptoms they expressed or any deficiencies I found in their blood. I’m food-first always, so I try to make as many recommendations through food as possible, but am always able to back that up with supplementation recommendations as needed. We discuss a follow-up visit in 4-6 weeks to see how the changes are going for them and to plan next steps in their health journey.

As for who should come for a Live Blood Analysis? Everyone and anyone! I have a variety of clients across the board, in all ages, who have greatly benefited from this service. Some of them suffer from digestive issues with food, or chronic pain and illness and are looking for ways to help their bodies be as healthy as possible. But I also have clients who feel great, and just want to check in every year or so to make sure their bodies are as healthy as they can be. One of my favourite clients turned 90 this year and always feels in top health, but he comes once a year to see how his body is doing. Live Blood Analysis and holistic nutrition in general is not just for those who feel unwell. Preventative care is incredibly important. If I can help find issues in the body before they become so serious as to need long term medication or surgery, and slow or resolve them through proper nutrition and food choices, then that client has a much better opportunity to live a healthy, fulfilling life. My ultimate goal to my clients is always to say, ‘I love you but you’re doing great so I don’t need to see you again’, because they get what they need, have made changes for their health and move on!”

What’s your favourite part of the job?

“All of it! But ultimately the success stories from my clients. I never get tired of receiving those texts or emails from my clients that say ‘oh my gosh, things have already changed’ a few days or weeks after our session. I get inspired by my clients choosing to change their health with food and nutrition. Change can be scary and seem impossible, but when they choose to try and choose to trust me, I take that so seriously and care so much about getting to the bottom of their health. Some clients can have layers of health problems that take time to solve, but that just gets me more and more invested.

I’ve always loved asking the ‘why’ behind things… I got kicked out of a math class because I kept asking the teacher why we were solving an equation a certain way. Luckily, I’m in a profession where asking why someone’s body is behaving the way it does is a benefit. Personally, I have seen how much asking that question matters. I had an enlarged swelling on my neck from the age of 15. Most of my doctors ignored it after the thyroid test came up normal, so I just ignored it along with them. Finally, I was with another doctor over 10 years later, and she refused to ignore it, even when I said it was no big deal. It turned out that the lump was cancerous and I had to have surgery to have it removed. Asking why is incredibly important and I truly am so grateful to be able to do that on behalf of my clients, every day.”

Tell us about the future plans you’ve been considering for Food Effects:

“I will be honest, it’s been difficult during COVID_19, with social distancing and having my business closed to in-person consultations and testing. Everything I do is based on relationships, so I’m thrilled to get back to meeting with people in my office and in the community teaching about food. My vision all along has been hands on learning; inspiring people to learn by doing. I’m not a proponent of specific diets or eating plans as everyone is unique, but I can help inform anyone through teaching about pantry staples and long term, sustainable changes to their eating habits and food choices. I want to educate people on how possible it is to live healthily for whatever food works for them, whether they are vegan or follow a ketogenic plan, and help them decide if how they are eating is really serving them and their health goals. Doing workshops around nutrition and how we can best care for our bodies with food is something I’m very excited about. I’ve done a few already, and once things settle down, I’m really looking forward to growing that aspect of my business and showing people how much food they can prepare at home in their own kitchens, and why it matters. 

Food is for the soul as much as the body and I cannot wait to take the stress and complication out of cooking and nourishing our bodies through hands-on education.”

Follow Food Effects and Brigitta to get nutrition tips and suggestions, delicious recipe and food ideas and empowering and honest discussions around health and wellness:

Food Effects Website: https://foodeffects.ca/

Food Effects Facebook: @foodeffects.ca

Food Effects Instagram: @food_effects_nutrition

Just like Food Effects, in-person business interactions are starting back up again for many business owners, but we know it isn’t ‘business as usual’. Do you need help discussing plans or ideas? Lifeblood is always here to grab a virtual coffee with you and discuss the options for your company. Reach out any time!

Have a community story or a business that you’re loving? Share it with us! Email Carmen@lifebloodmarketing.ca or contact us on Facebook at Lifeblood Marketing, we love hearing from you!

[sunshineknight5]

Twinkie Chronicles 1

Oh hey, Pinkie Pie day was a thing, have some fluff

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

Twilight’s steps echoed down the hall of Canterlot Castle as she hurriedly walked towards the reception hall.  The guards gave a short nod as they opened the door for the approaching princess.

“They’ve been expecting you ma’am.”

“Thank you sirs.”

She pensively paced through the doors towards the royal sisters, glancing around nervously.at the occasional guard strolling through.  It was Celestia who first broached the silence.

“Something must indeed be weighing heavily on your mind for you to rush to see us with so little warning, though if Equestria is not in the balance perhaps you can sit and visit with us a while.”

“Visit with you perhaps, some of us have actual work to be done.” Luna added, gently prodded her sister with her wing.

“I’m afraid this visit is going to have to be a short one, I promised I’d be back for dessert, and you know how Pinkie is about promises.”  Twilight shuffled her hooves anxiously.  “Can we go somewhere more private?  This is something of a personal matter.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow curiously.  “Very well, let us continue in my study.”  She graciously stepped down from her throne and began leading through the castle halls, though Twilight needed no help finding the room she frequented as a filly.  A wave a nostalgia ran through her as sat down on one of the many pillows in the cozy room.

“Tell us Twilight, what is both urgent enough for immediate attention, but not enough as to be cause for alarm?  Were you jealous of your brother and have also come down with child?” Luna asked with a mischievous grin.

“What, no!” she sputtered.  “Though... Pinkie is involved.”

She paused, allowing Celestia’s gentle smile to renew her courage.

“Pinkie... has begun manifesting unicorn magic.”

The royal sisters could not have looked less surprised had Twilight spontaneously grew a second horn before them.

“Are you sure?” Celestia asked.

Twilight nodded.  “Yes.  It’s only basic telekinesis,no stronger than a school filly, but it’s definitely the same.  She’s even begun grasping the basics of magic theory instinctively!  I can’t find any records of anything like this happening and was hoping you might have some sort of answer.”

“This is certainly strange, but not completely unprecedented.”  Luna began.  “Princess Bluebelle had exhibited similar symptoms.”

“Bluebelle?”

“Ah, yes, you’re probably more familiar with her later name Bluebond.”

“...Princess Bluebond!?  The same one who started the great Cloudsdale reconstruction?”

“Indeed, the one and the same Twilight.  I see you are beginning to connect the dots as well.” Celestia jumped in.

“Does this mean Pinkie is... becoming an alicorn?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not.  These are strange times we live in now after all, and Pinkie has been no stranger to the inexplicable.”

A wicked gleam shone in Luna’s eyes.  “Yes, for all we know this is merely a side effect of dating the princess of friendship.  We should compile a comprehensive list of your previous suitors.”  Her catlike grin widens further.  “I’m sure it will take quite some time to work our way through it.”

Twilight’s face flushed red with consternation.  “Just because I haven’t been spending my time on my dating life before now doesn’t mean I’ve never thought about it Luna.”

Celestia forcibly cleared her throat.  “My sister’s crassness aside, I feel it’s best for now to simply say nothing on the matter.  It’s too soon to say if she is at the brink of a metamorphosis and it would be best not to give her false hope.”

Twilight sighed in defeat.  “I guess you’re right, I can’t stand seeing Pinkie disappointed..Still, I’m glad this probably isn’t some strange disease or parasite.  I’ll tell her you weren’t sure either.”  She paused.  “The most convenient lies are the ones that are true I guess.  Thank you for your time princess.”  She began to make her way to the door only to stop short of it.  “Before I forget, Pinkie said to tell  you she has a great marble cake recipe she wants you two to try next time you visit.  Let’s just hope this one fits on the table.”

Twilight’s departure left the room quiet for only a few moments before barely restrained laughter poured out of Celestia. “You’re awful.”

“You’re still laughing.”

“I’m awful.”

“Then at least we can be awful together.”  Luna stretched her wings as she got up.  “I think I’ll set some time aside tonight to visit Pinkie, she may offer insights Twilight cannot.  Or at the very least have a fun dream to visit after a long night.”

“I believe that would be wise as well.  Sometimes she gets herself so wrapped up in her worries that she misses what’s right in front of her.  By the way, we got a basket of fresh blueberries today, would you like me to use some in breakfast in the morning?”

“That would be lovely.”

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

Luna was prepared for many things as she entered Pinkie’s dream.  Cotton candy clouds.  Ice cream mountains.  Giant candy golems fighting to save Equestia.  She was not, however, prepared for something so orderly.  Before her stretched a grassy field overlooked by a large hill with a dozen Pinkie Pies flying through the air in formation while a dozen more appeared to be working spells on the ground.  Order was relative here.  On top of the hill was an alicorn Pinkie adorned with simple gold jewelry set with purple gems.  Luna spied a familiar star adorning her necklace as she landed next to her.

“If you’re looking for the real Pinkie, she’s down there watching the Pega-Pinkies.  Their job is to recreate all the flying she’s seen, ya know?”

“Self-aware dream constructs, huh?” Luna mused “It would seem you have a much clearer understanding of the situation than I gave you credit for.  I presume the ...Uni-Pinkies are recreating magic then?”

“Mhmm, they’re having a bit easier time with it though than the Pega-Pinkies.  She doesn’t know what wings feel like awake after all.”

“And what’s your job in all this?”

“To stand here and look fancy.”

Luna stared blankly at her.  “...Is that it?”

The alicorn Pinkie took a couple steps forward and stretched out her wings dramatically.  “I guess to be specific I’m ‘The Pinkie Who Could Be’.  I remind her why she’s going through all this trouble by standing here all princessly.”

“Many have dreams of being rulers of Equestria, but this is the first I have heard of such aspirations from you.”

“Oh, she doesn’t want to be a princess of Equestria, she just wants to be Twilight’s princess.” royal Pinkie turned and paused.  “Don’t let Twilight know though, she’s not always the best with these things.”

“Have you two not been together for over a year now?  I knew she had no experience with lovers before, but surely such thoughts would’ve crossed her mind by now?” Luna asked incredulously.

“Tell me about it,”  royal Pinkie snorted “I said we should just propose ourselves, but she’s afraid of scaring Twilight away.  What’s she got to be afraid of?  We’re already living together.” she said, stamping her hoof in frustration.

Luna chuckled.  “Perhaps the honeymoon?”

“Nah, she’s got that well and covered with all those awesome freaky fun time spells she’s been learning.  For someone who’s never had another date before she sure knows-” Pinkie’s sentence was swiftly cut short by Luna’s hoof.

“As, um, fascinating your relationship with my sister’s star pupil is, I don’t understand how it’s connected to being an alicorn.”

“Because alicorns are strong.” princess Pinkie stated.

Luna gestured for her to go on.

“Right, context, teeny-weeny bit important there.  Don’t usually need it when you talk to yourself.  Ever since Twilight became a princess, she’s saved me dozens of times.  I don’t wanna be her damsel in distress, I want to be her partner.”  Her voice began to soften.  “But I don’t have wings.  I don’t have magic.  I;m not even strong enough to shove those meanies away from her.  That’s why I decided last year I’m gonna train myself to be faster, stronger, and smarter so I can finally be able to protect her for once.  And not just Twilight, I wanna protect all my friends, including you Luna!”

“Me?” she asked quizzically.

“Yeah!  I was really sad when you told us what the Tantabus really was, you could’ve talked to me about these things, I’d listen.  I’m sure Celestia and Twilight would’ve too.”

“I-I see...” Luna stammered as the weight of the words sank in.  “I’m afraid there isn’t much time left before sunrise, so there isn’t any more time to talk tonight, but... I hope to see you again soon, my friend.”

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

Celestia cheerfully hummed as she sat a stack of blueberry pancakes on the table as Luna dragged herself in.

“Was it hard last night?”

“No harder than usual.” Luna yawned.  “If anything it was more enlightening than I dared hope it be.”

Celestia leaned in.  “Oh, how so?”

“Turns out she’s actually been secretly trying to become an alicorn for a while now, to the point of image training in her sleep.” She paused to take a few large bites.  “She thinks, these are really good, she thinks the best way for her to protect Twilight is to be an alicorn like her.  Doesn’t even want a crown, just a ring round that hoof.” She said while devouring the meal in front of her.

She paused for a minute while allowing everything to settle

“She... she called me her friend Tia.  I want to help her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s said that for a while now.”

“Yes, but it’s different in the dreamscape.  I can feel the sincerity of ponies words in their dreams, how much truth they are weighed down with.  It has been a long time since I felt so blindsided by someone treating me not as royalty, but just another pony like they are.”

Luna stood up and gently looked her sister in the eyes.

“I can’t ignore someone trying so hard just to help our ponies.  Will you support me in this sister?”

“As a princess, I must warn you that nurturing such power could be quite dangerous for Equestria as a whole,” Celestia drew her sister in a close embrace “but as a pony, nothing warms my heart more than knowing one of the mares who brought you back to me is aspiring to such greatness.  You have my blessings to train her as you see fit.”

[lousylvrefiction]

Hello readers! To my chagrin, I realize we Authors Speak writers posted not one single post in the month of July. I, for one, didn’t realize I’d missed my day to post until it was long gone. Some of us were more on the ball than that, but just had a crazy calendar and didn’t make it. I hope this month is better, and I’m going to kick off August by posting on time. But… (isn’t there always a but?) because my calendar has gone crazy this month, I’m recycling. Don’t get me wrong! This post is completely right for the day!

Let me explain.

As you may have realized, I like to talk about other authors’ books. A few years ago, on my sylvre.com blog, I did that by featuring “lessons” at Gay Romance University. In 2014, I made a lesson about Anne Barwell’s book, Shadowboxing, the first book in her World War II historical Echoes Rising series. Read on to revisit that day in class!

Why is this the right post to republish today?

Because today, the final book in the series has been launched at DSP Publications! Happy release day, Anne, and congrats on creating a series truly worth the read.

Okay, then! Let’s go to school!

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(Get your textbook, and the rest of the series at this DSP Pubications link.)

here: Please take your seats people, we want to get started…. What’s that? Boxer shorts? Certainly they’re allowed…. Yes, sir, briefs, certainly. Sure, speedos are not only allowed but encouraged. Be comfortable, but do pay attention in class.

Even though Kristopher Lehrer’s last name means ‘teacher,’ as we examine the early pages of our textbook, Anne Barwell’s novel Shadowboxing, it is Kristopher who is most in need of schooling. Oh, he is a learned man, it’s true—a physicist working on an important, possibly world-altering project. Unfortunately Very Important Projects often become the clouds where a scientist’s head is most comfortable. Kristopher’s attitude, as the novel opens, is reminiscent of the fearless forward motion of a horse with blinders.

To illustrate, consider this: Kristopher’s friend—the man that could have been his first true love if Kristopher had been honest—is Jewish, and in World War II Germany the yellow Star of David he must wear means that he is in danger every time he steps out in public. And, though David is a respected physician, he can no longer practice medicine for the same reason. Yet when Kristopher meets him for coffee he has no clue why his friend is upset, or scared. Read along in your text (or look over your neighbor’s shoulder if you haven’t yet picked up your text). We look at what happens when David challenges Kristopher’s naivety, beginning on page eight.

“Have you any idea what kind of people you are working for?” David spoke quietly, as always, but there was an underlying tone of fear in his voice that Kristopher didn’t remember hearing before. David’s emotions were always controlled; it was something that Kristopher had envied. “Have you any idea of their real agenda?”

Kristopher snatched his hand away, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating. Why had David come to him? Surely he couldn’t have presumed to use the closeness they’d once had to further whatever agenda he had? “I’m a scientist, David, trying to make the world a better place, just as you are. We are working for the advancement of science and for the good of the Fatherland.” The last sentence came out sounding like the mantra it was. Any doubts that Kristopher had were always dealt with efficiently when he repeated those words. While he knew the potential danger of the device they were working on, the chances of anyone considering utilizing the catastrophic component of it were remote.

“You always were naïve, Lehrer.” David raked a hand through his hair and replaced his glasses, adjusting them when they slipped down his nose. “Wake up and take a look at what’s going on around you before it’s too late.” An edge of desperation and fear sharpened his voice as he lowered it to almost a whisper; it sounded as though he was talking about the end of the world.

“Too late? Too late for what?” His earlier fears of being used vanished at David’s tone. Kristopher’s voice rose in pitch, all attempts of hiding his conflicting emotions lost as he tried to desperately work through his rapidly escalating confusion.

David shook his head, unwilling to say more, his eyes darting nervously around the small Kaffeehaus before his gaze settled on the man who had entered several minutes earlier. “I have to go. I’ve said too much already.”

“Wait!” David was already halfway out the door before the word was out of Kristopher’s mouth. He pushed his chair back, ready to follow his friend, then hesitated, suddenly unsure as to what had just happened.

A week later, dining at home with his sister Clara (whom he loves and depends on) and his father (with whom he has a strained relationship), he is shocked to hear that David has disappeared, and clueless as to why such a thing had happened. What’s more, he is just as dumbfounded when Clara says (on page 11)…

“Poor Kristopher.” Clara rolled her eyes. “You’re so involved in your work that you haven’t noticed what’s going on around you.” There was no teasing in her voice now. Whatever this was about, it was something very serious. “It’s because he’s Jewish, of course.”

… as he is when his father says…

“They are Jewish, Kristopher. What other reason is needed? Better that they are rounded up and sent somewhere more suited for their place in the scheme of things. We must not lose sight of the fact that the Jews are nothing more than parasites interested in taking control of the economy for themselves.”

We, the readers can take our first lesson from this, and the downhill spiral of father-son relations that follow. Please take this down in your notebooks. It will be on the test:

The longer you keep your head stuck in the clouds of denial (about anything, really), the more it hurts to pull it out.

Our next unit of study follows Kristopher as he goes about his work the next day. The clouds around his head have been disturbed, but not quite dislodged. Feeling cranky and a little wooly due to a poor night’s sleep, he enters his boss’s office when the boss is out, and rather clumsily knocks a pile of papers on the floor, and reads this sentence on one of them:

Cue ominous music.

We look forward to putting these plans into reality. Such a device will ensure the continued success of the Fatherland during this war against our enemies.

Kristopher’s head falls from the clouds with a mighty thud, which hurts and can’t be ignored even by a dreamy physicist.

Gott im himmel, as my very German mother would have said. Here Kristopher had been, believing he was working on nuclear fission for peaceful purposes, and suddenly he realized he’d been living in a lollipop world.

For a number of minutes, our scientist is unable to think straight. He knows what he saw, but he’s unsure of what he might do about it, or even how to keep from getting in trouble for standing in his boss’s office with his pants down (figuratively of course, because that would be far too weird).

But a guard comes along, Obergefreiter (Sargent) Schmitz, and helps him organize his brain and move his body, thank goodness. Of course, at first, Kristoffer is afraid that Schmitz will actually contribute to his danger, but he soon realizes he was lucky the Obergefrieter came along. He leaves the office that day still waffling about what to do. Like most ordinary Germans of the day, he loves his country and has some significant blind spots about it—a phenomenon not unknown at any age of the world in just about any country, including all of those where readers of this blog might be living today. But you don’t become a leading physicist if you are slow-witted. Once Kristopher’s sight is forcibly cleared, he cannot escape the truth about the leaders of the Nazi regime and what their intentions are.

After much soul-searching, presumably some hand-wringing, and a few horrid nightmares, Kristopher Lehrer confronts his boss… and is told in no uncertain way to mind his own business. The encounter goes from bad to worse. (You can read about this in home study, chapter three of the text.) When he is discovered in the room with his dead boss by the same Obergefreiter Schmitz, he figures his number is up.

Thank heaven for pleasant surprises, large and small. When Schmitz asks Kristopher if, as smart as he is, he can come up with no better plan than to threaten the guard with broken glass, here’s what happens (at the beginning of chapter four).

“My plan? […] I don’t have a plan. […] Do you honestly think I would be standing here waving a piece of broken glass if I had a plan.”

“Good point,” Schmitz admitted.

[Text elided by blogger… er, I mean university professor Lou Sylvre. Kristopher says:]

“Have you come to hand me over to the Nazis?” Whatever happened he didn’t intend to go easily.

The corner of Schmitz’s mouth turned up in a half smile before he shook his head. “I’m here to help you, Herr Dr. Lehrer.”

“You expect me to believe you?” Kristopher wished the desk behind him would disappear into thin air, although it still wouldn’t be of much help as Schmitz was blocking the path to the only door. “I know you’ve followed me for the past week.” He noticed the slight look of surprise on Schmitz’s face with a degree of satisfaction.

“You need to trust me, Dr. Lehrer.”

You may guess that Kristopher isn’t so sure that’s the best course of action, but like people everywhere when they’re in danger and want to trust someone, he looks for a way to do so.

“Give me one good reason.”

“The Nazis will be here in, Schmitz said, consulting his watch, approximately ten minutes. Either you trust me, or you tell them what you’ve just told me. I doubt they will believe your story.”

His voice softened. “I do.”

Now, students, you may have guessed that the Obergefreiter isn’t really the Obergefreiter. His real name is Michel, and he’s not even German. And his interest in Kristopher, like Kristopher’s trust of Michel, soon weaves into a whole new feeling. After negotiating much hell and highwater together, Michel soothes a startled, overwhelmed Kristopher in his own native tongue.

“A l’aise, Kit. Je suis ici… Ssh, tout est bien.”

Yes, Michel is there and all is well for the moment. There’s a whole lot more trouble to face, more evil to evade, more heroes to meet—all kinds, German, foreign, soldiers, everyday people. But Michel does whatever he needs to do to keep Kristopher alive. And since this is Gay Romance University, it isn’t giving away secrets to let you know, that once Michel has seen to the matter of Kristopher’s continued existence, he gets the opportunity to use a little French term of endearment.

“It’s all right, mon cher. I love you. I’m not letting you go.”

That is the end of our lesson, today. If you are interested in learning more on the subject, click the cover image above for a link to the blurb and purchase links. (And while you’re there, check out the continuation of this beautiful story in book two of the Echoes of War series, Winter Duet.

I thank Anne Barwell, Kristopher, and Michel for the privilege of treating the serious story of one of the world’s most painful times with a bit of irreverence. Truthfully, the heroes in this story are a reflection of all the real life heroes on every side of that war and every other, especially the quiet ones not lauded in headlines. They all deserve our gratitude, and I take no such service or sacrifice lightly.

Thanks for reading, everybody! If you’d like to check out or revisit the rest of the GRU posts, just go to