#I also felt like I was being attacked by the bees in my yard for a small part of it until my brother’s dog started trying to eat them

[wincestisasincest]

Waves on the Shore - Chapter 10: Hands of Time

Viktor x Fem!Reader slow burn enemies to lovers

x posted on ao3 // WOTS masterlist

Summary: Jayce and Viktor questioning you about your weapon (made with farm-fresh Hextech) is the only thing keeping you from going to jail for science crimes. You and Viktor are literally at each others throats lmao. Also you’re from Bilgewater because pirates are fucking rad

Notes: THIS IS SO LATE RIP TO ME. If you are unaware, I spent the week without my usual meds and having 10000 allergic reactions every time I breathed so that is why. On that note, though, tHANK YOU to everyone who told me to stop being stupid and take care of myself and stuff y'all are too nice. ALSO this one may have a lot of typos but I didn't want to delay it any further so. I will still try to update this Friday now that I am not actively dying.

Some things that you may or may not care about:

- The song that is referenced is "Leave Her, Johnny" and it is a real pirate song!!!! I've linked it if you want to listen and see what it sounds like (spoiler alert it fucking slaps)

- Also, the Demacian steel is something I made up but I based it off of damascus steel from real life it's not relevant to the story but isn't it fucking cool?

Anyway, thanks for your patience and enjoy this week's episode of Supernatural

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags: @edenstarkk, @modernamilf, @dedicated2viktor, @doctorho, @yeehawbvby, @arcaneparx, @the-lake-is-calling

Mentions of: Suicide (Jayce's attempt), dismemberment, corpses, imperialism (booooooo), kidnapping

Triggers: Panic attack, self-harm (kinda? like it's not deliberate but they end up being fine with the pain and not stopping), dead animals, animal dissection (it's the mouse), language

This was the best chance that you had.

Caitlyn told you that the market was the place to connect with the staff of Piltover’s wealthy houses. In the early afternoon, before dinner but after lunch, they would descend upon the stalls with cultivated lists of what they needed at the house, exchanging gossip with each other as they shopped.

Only upon arrival did you realize how hard it would be to actually enter one of these conversations.

They zipped the square like bees in a hive, a blur of different earth-toned lapel dresses and baskets of goods, heads absentmindedly following the chatter as their feet automatically took them to their next destination. There were signs, but no one was looking at them. There was no question about it, these people had a rhythm, and hell if they were going to let some outsider like you disrupt it.

It wasn’t all them – you considered yourself an outsider too. Even if there was camaraderie to be had, you knew that you weren’t “working class.” You’d only gotten your first real job a few days ago, and before that, you didn’t work so much as barely scrape by through leeching off of other people. These maids and nannies and butlers, however little hey were paid, still made their own living. Your living never really felt like your own.

But, this was the best chance that you had to, maybe, make it your own someday.

You’d given up on trying to fool the wealthy of Piltover. Your first week on income and you’d already had to be told that water was free and tried to haggle something that wasn’t supposed to be haggled. That, combined with the fact that you were a bad liar around rich people because you enjoyed upsetting them, meant that they would figure you out in seconds. So, you had to take the alternative route of getting one of the house staff to put in a good word for you.

You blinked forcefully. Fretting about the time bomb of winter break in the background was just another waste of time. You fell into sloppy step with everyone else, like an instrument on the off beats, hoping to god that you would naturally fall into some small talk while you were buying what you needed.

One of the stalls caught your eye. A middle aged woman with withered, skinny fingers and a thousand-yard stare attended the counter. A patchwork of vibrant fabric swaths curtained off the area behind her.

“Hi,” you said plainly, hands folded in front of you, “I need a needle and thread.”

Now that you were staying long-term, you decided to invest in clothes that actually fit, even if it meant you’d have to fit them yourself.

The woman pressed her palms into the wood table, looking you up and down, making no effort to hide her judgement.

“We don’t sell that here, sweetheart,” she grunted, “it’s just fabric.”

“Oh. Okay,” you said dumbly, “uh… thanks.”

Great start. This might take a while, you thought, turning on your heel.

“Wait, wait,” she reached her hand out, eyelids slack like it physically pained her to look at you, “we might have something.”

She crouched behind the counter, abandoning you to linger by the stall in modest banality while the rest of the world moved on without you. Snippets of conversations that you weren’t a part of flitted past your ear like butterflies.

And then you heard it.

Everything else was muffled as the honed notes of a tune you could recognize even if you were deaf passed behind you like a ghost. The person humming it kept moving, clearly not here for you.

You turned your head and saw the back of a woman, with white frizzy hair, black heels, and a black overcoat, be absorbed into the crowd.

“Excuse me,” you said when the lady reemerged from behind the counter, not making eye contact as you drifted back into the channel of moving servants.

The melody circled around your head like twine on a spinning wheel. It was “Leave Her, Johnny” – relatively foreign to anyone in the Bilge who made a halfway honest living. It was traditionally sung on the last day of a voyage, with the lyrics playfully reworded to make fun of the captain or quartermaster of the ship. It was a song for vessels where disrespect towards authority was the norm. It was a song for pirates.

You ducked under bags of produce and split conversations in half as you dug through the crowd, eyes trained on what you were pretty sure was the back of her coat and ears attuned to her fond humming. The square was too congested to run in, but you kept a quick pace and deliberate step. Her coat was growing smaller and her humming quieter.

Further into the market, you were suffocated by the noise. It felt like you were attached to the handle of a music box, getting nauseous as the melody kept going around and around and around, supplemented by talking and clacks of dark colored heels just like the ones the woman wore. But you clung to that humming like a life raft.

You were a little kid that had lost their parents, bobbing their head around in circles, looking for people who were definitely somewhere, just not here. You got on your tip toes and looked over the field of heads for a wisp of white hair. Nothing.

The music in your ears curdled and the humming vanished. She was gone.

You started to hyperventilate as thick coats whizzed past you like freight trains. They all looked the same from down here. You were sinking, getting swallowed by a wave of discordant talking and clacking, and now, your own heartbeat. Panic shot up from your stomach.

You were finally losing it, you figured. What if you had imagined it all? What if that woman wasn’t even real? Alarms fired from all the synapses in your brain, some telling you to get started, some telling you that you were already out of time, and some telling you that you were in trouble.

You inhaled, gathering up all your might to plow through the wall of people and release yourself into the other side of the market. You gulped at the air, a classic fish out of water.

Bending over, hands on your knees, you focused on the cracks in the street, weaving through the cobblestones like a stream. When you blinked, you could feel your pulse through your eyelids.

A panic attack. Or an anxiety attack. You didn’t know the difference, and you weren’t sure what you were panicked or anxious about. Everything in Piltover, everything in your life, felt so big that you couldn’t even begin to assign specific emotions to things yet. It was all under the umbrella of cautious awe; trying to look for your future felt like staring up at a skyscraper.

The melody floated through your numb skull as you regained whatever the hell you’d lost in there. Maybe sanity, maybe reason, or maybe hope. But you didn’t have an infinite supply, and soon, you were going to run out.

*****

Viktor watched you flinch again as the final holt of blue lightning exploded from the mini portal circuit with a pathetic, but kind of cute, pop. You screwed your eyes shut until the sound had completely dissipated, and just a little longer, for good measure.

You tentatively opened one eye, confirming that everything was okay, and then exhaled as you opened the second one. You blinked, your eyelashes fluttering like white flags.

“Damn it all,” you groaned, plopping into the chair you’d burst up from a moment ago.

You prodded the charred mess with your finger, soaking in the dissatisfaction. Viktor could see the smoke curl in the air even from where he was sitting – you must’ve completely fired the circuit.

Viktor hated to admit that it brought him a little… not joy, but reassurance. He was reminded that you could, in fact, fail at things like everyone else. Jayce had the same thought, exchanging a look with Viktor from the other side of the lab as if asking who should interrupt your sulking first.

Jayce took the initiative, crossing his arms casually.

“Y’know, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you mess up,” he said with a half-smile. A stranger would’ve mistaken it for pleasure, but Viktor know that Jayce wasn’t cruel enough for that. There was no malice here, he was just trying to lighten the mood with humor.

“The cannon,” you mumbled, eyes laser-focused on the clutter in front of you.

“Ah… not really your fault,” he countered.

You dragged your hands down your face.

“Don’t worry, I can fix this thing, and I’ll figure out how to…”

And the words were lost on Viktor as he put his energy into analyzing you. Your brows froze into a permanent, impatient furrow, occasionally twitching with the fretful ups and downs in your voice. You weren’t looking at them anymore, but at your own hands as they offered weak gestures to compliment your speaking. Oh, Viktor thought, this actually bothered you.

Failure bothered him too, so he wasn’t going to get on your case about it, but your reaction was… unexpected. Not unlike that time you’d covered your jail cell in equations. You were making a weak effort to stay composed as you addressed them, but the non-verbal cues gave you away.

“Sounds good,” Jayce’s comment snapped Viktor out of his thoughts, “any idea what happened?”

“You sighed, picking up some pieces that the explosion had scattered across the table and dropping them into a pile.

“Yeah,” you said curtly, “just gonna take a little while to correct. What about those, uh… Ionians?”

Viktor returned his focus to the open mouse, raking through its exposed systems for any lead on its death. He remembered dissecting animals in one of the biology classes at the Academy, and he hated it as much then as he did now.

Even though they were already dead, the poor animals looked so tortured spread out on that table, formaldehyde fuming from their guts. It was paradoxical, how one could be reminded that this was a living being with just as much complexity as a human, and then told to break that being down until it no longer resembled anything with a conscience.

The skin underneath the mouse’s fur was stretched and thin, tearing in places that Viktor hadn’t even touched yet. He kept the conversation between you and Jayce in the background like radio to distract himself.

“What about ‘em?” Jayce crossed the room to you.

“Did you say they like… needed help?”

Viktor clicked his tongue quietly. The mouse’s intestines still had bits of cheese in it, which should’ve been impossible with everything else Viktor had uncovered.

“They do, but we don’t wanna rush things here,” Jayce said.

“Well, sure, but couldn’t you send them some aid in the meantime?”

“No can do.”

“Why not?”

“Noxus. We would alienate them.”

Viktor checked his notes again, running down the list. Flaky skin, lost hair, bloated belly, and, most importantly, tissue breakdown.

“And you’re not alienating them by helping the refugees?”

“Not at all. Even Noxians don’t like casualties of civilians – if no one is left then there’s not really anyone to have power over.”

“That’s disgusting,” you said flatly, “I hope the Ionians win.”

“That’s Noxus,” Jayce shrugged, “though, I’ll admit, I thought you’d be a bit more on board with this whole thing.”

No, Viktor mentally corrected him, Jayce thought that he knew you well enough to make predictions. Jayce thought that you were his friend.

“Why’s that?” you perched your chin on your hand.

“Prioritizes lives saved over everything else. Sounds like your brand.”

“I’ve got a brand now?” you masterfully deflected the question.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you can draw me a logo or something.”

Jayce chuckled. Shit, you were actually kind of his friend.

“You’ve seen my work?” Jayce said cheekily, and Viktor could practically hear the smug eyebrow raise.

“Uh, yeah. Every time I pass by your desk it looks like an art museum.”

Viktor noticed Jayce’s art too, when he first looked through his notes. It wasn’t a hidden talent, but it wasn’t something that he advertised about himself either.

“What can I say? I’m a creative at heart.”

“I’ll try to keep up then.”

“Psh, you keep up fine. I’ve seen your sketches – way better than most engineering students.”

“I use a ruler to get the lines straight.”

“Oh. Well then yeah, maybe stick to other stuff.”

You snorted.

Viktor was caught in a deluge of déjà vu listening to your banter. Jayce sounded just like he did when Viktor first started working with him. For some reason, he felt angry.

Exhaling with frustration, he set his eyes on his work and jerked his train of thought back onto the rails.

The mouse’s death was impossible because it had died of starvation in less than 12 hours, with a partially full stomach.

Viktor brushed the errant, ripped out pages filled with his observations of the plants and opened his notebook to a clean piece of paper.

“Pardon me,” a new voice, slick but reserved, like honey seeping down the back of the throat, entered into the room.

Something about the sobriety in it stopped Viktor’s pen just short of reaching the paper. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was, but he did anyway.

“What’s up?” Jayce asked, the intonation of his question just a little too high for it to be natural.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Mel folded her hands, casting a long shadow into the hallway.

*****

You rubbed your arms and switched the weight between your legs in front of the door, trying to retain some warmth. Viktor didn’t knock.

“It’s cold, hurry up,” you snapped, more aggressively than you intended.

He just contemplated the brass knocker and rested his hands on his cane, silent.

“We need a plan,” he determined.

“Couldn’t have talked about this on the way… here…” you faltered, instantly mesmerized by the cloud of your own breath that appeared in front of you, “Woah. I didn’t know that you could…”

You slowed down your words and just started exhaling plumes of frozen air, toying with new combinations.

“Why… if we breath out carbon dioxide then how can we see it in the air…?” you said, watching each word dissolve into the cold.

Viktor glanced at you from the side. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that you caught him off guard. He put his free hand in his jacket pocket and faced you.

“It’s not just carbon dioxide – there’s also moisture from your mouth and lungs. That’s what you’re seeing,” he explained, unusually even-tempered.

“Cool,” you hadn’t looked at him once the entire time, but you could feel his eyes on you, “so… what were you saying?”

“We’re not going in there until we’ve decided on what we’re going to say,” he said, returning to his normal, grumpy baritone, “and it’s not my fault that you didn’t bring a jacket.”

“I’m sorry, I was a little distracted,” you gestured to the door with one hand, letting the other run through your hair, “I mean, fuck, what a thing to drop on a Wednesday morning.”

“Then you can only imagine how Alex will feel.”

You crouched down, seating yourself on the stoop of the house. Elbows on your knees, you stared into the empty street. It was already relatively far from the city, as is expected for a safehouse, and the added cold weather that would keep people from going outside even in the middle of the day effectively rendered this distant edge of Piltover a ghost town.

Viktor was right, You can’t just go in there, guns blazing, and expect things to not end with you clawing each other’s eyes out while Alex processed some new trauma in the background.

“I- you should be the one to say it,” you said to the open, “I don’t think I’ll be able to do it, uh… kindly.”

“I will not be any better.”

“Yes, you will. Trust me,” you started to idly watch your breath dance through the air again, “I can, uh… hold the tissues.”

“He may require physical comfort. If so, he will not want it from the person who tells him.”

“What do you mean ‘physical comfort?’ I can like, hold his hand or something,” you looked over your shoulder. Viktor was trying to be neutral, but his lips were closed too tightly, and you clocked pent up frustration in a second.

“Can you at least try to take this seriously?” he pinched his nose. Apparently you had said the wrong thing again.

“Wha- I am!” you threw your hands in the air, “Gods, I’m not trying to piss you off right now, y’know? I just… well, I warned you, I’m not good at this stuff.”

You looked forward again before he could say something foul to your face. Instead, you saw his scuffed leather shoes in your peripheral vision as he stood on the other side of the stoop, watching the street with you.

“No kidding,” he said thoughtfully, “and… apologies. Our strategy will have to change, though.”

“Oh, great.”

“I will take care of the… physical comfort, if needed, and any additional support, but you will be the one to tell him.”

“We should’ve brought Jayce, he’s good at hugging,” you paused, realizing how weird that sounded, “at least, according to Caitlyn.”

“I’m no expert, but with children, it is usually the thought that counts for this sort of thing.”

“Uh… it’s not a thought, it’s a hug?”

“It is a physical gesture to let them know that they are not alone. Just being there means a lot.”

“Right- not an expert, a philosopher,” you bit your lip, catching yourself in an automatic insult where one wasn’t warranted, “Sorry, that was rude. You’re probably right. Are you sure you want me to break it to him, though?”

He thought for a wonderfully quiet moment.

“Practice on me,” he said finally.

“What?”

“Practice what you’re going to say on me first,” he impatiently waved you up with his hand, “Go on, stand up, it’s cold out here.”

You grabbed the railing and lazily hauled yourself to your feet, almost falling back down when you made eye contact with him.

Angry eyes were fine – they bounced off of you like a fly to a window. But non-angry eyes you could only take in passing glances or shared looks. Those round ambers, relaxed in discernment, went straight to your soul and it felt like getting shot in the chest. Your eyes dropped to your feet.

“No, no, make eye contact,” he insisted.

You inhaled softly, lifting your head and feeling the shock in your arteries again. But you stayed, your spine straight, forcing yourself to look past the pupils and get lost in the lovely golden color.

“And don’t look so constipated,” he winged, “it’ll just make him feel worse.”

“Listen-“

“I- trust me,” he paused, perfectly candid, “please. I am not trying to make you uncomfortable here. Do you believe me?”

“…yes,” you squinted at him suspiciously.

“And do you know why you believe me?” he waited for you to shake your head, “Because I looked you in the eye.”

Damnit, that was good.

“Alright, alright, point taken,” you grounded yourself to the floor.

He permitted your gaze to drift upwards for a second as you mentally prepared your little speech to Alex. When you came back down, you were ready this time, trapping his irises in your sights. They shined like rusted coins in the foggy sunlight.

“Alex, we’ve gotten word from one of the people looking for information in Bilgewater about your family. We don’t know anything about your siblings, or your father, but they found out what happened to your mother. She’s in gang custody.”

Time blurred, and Viktor’s observant eyes were replaced with Alex’s, completely nonplussed.

“Uh… I don’t have a mom,” he said.

“What?” your composure, that you’d spent all that time preparing, dropped in an instant.

“I have a dad and a pop,” he explained, “no mom, though.”

You looked at Viktor, who just shrugged.

Alex’s room was small, but it was all his. A twin sized bed, a desk, a chair, a bookshelf, and a dresser were all cozily pushed against one of the walls, with just enough space to walk through and not feel squished. Viktor sat by his side on the bed, while you straddled the desk chair.

The safehouse was run by an old married couple – who also happened to be retired Enforcers – that had already gone through kids of their own, so they were uniquely prepared to meet a 10 year old’s needs. The cover story was that he was their grand nephew staying in Piltover over the winter, which you liked, because it meant that he could still enjoy a social life, even if it was highly supervised.

You weren’t his guardian, so it really was none of your business, but you made a point to inspect his living conditions early on and you were not disappointed.

Now, though, the smallness of the room was stifling. Like there was a much bigger world waiting just outside, and you didn’t have access to it. You were missing the bigger picture here, like you were characters in a play that someone else had written.

“Well, then- who the hell did Mel’s informants find?!”

Viktor had begun skimming through a piece of paper while you were busy being frustrated. You didn’t know what it said, but it looked like Mel’s elegant handwriting.

“Female, late 20s to early 30s, five and a half feet tall…” Viktor blinked, breaking his monotone to mouth the next phrase quietly, like he needed to confirm what he was reading, “left hand replaced with a hook.”

“Oh,” you tsked, “well, the hook is helpful, but that doesn’t narrow it down too much in Bilgewater of all places.”

“Alex,” Viktor set the notes in his lap for the moment and addressed the boy, “your sister had her left hand replaced with a hook, did she not?”

“My sister’s not a grownup.”

“But she did have her hand replaced?”

“Yeah… so what?”

“Just a theory I have – would you be able to provide me with a detailed description of your sister? As well as your other family members?”

“The Enforcers already did that,” he kicked his legs restlessly.

“Yes, but this is for my own purposes,”

You furrowed your brows at him. What fucking purposes? It was strange, certainly, but what piece of information did he think the Enforcers would’ve missed out on that was essential to his own investigation?

Either he didn’t even think to explain it to you or didn’t care to hear your opinion, because he calmly waited for Alex’s answer.

“I would be willing to, eh, grant a favor if you help me,” he offered when the kid didn’t say anything.

“Anything?” Alex drew the word out, sounding a little too excited.

“Within reason and provided that the Enforcers have no objections.”

Alex cartoonishly pretended to think it over, putting his hand to his chin and humming to himself.

“Help me do my house chores after I tell you,” he said curtly, “take it or leave it.”

“Sold,” Viktor answer, just as curtly.

You sighed and gave up on trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. You were familiar with the concept of exchange – in fact, it reminded you of how you made your living in Bilgewater – but it was odd to see Viktor in that position. He fit it well.

“You may leave, if you wish.”

Alex didn’t answer, and you turned to check on them. Oh, shit, Viktor was talking to you.

“Uh, you sure?”

“You can also stay if you are interested. But I can handle things by myself from here,” he hand a hand in his pocket, freezing with resignation when he didn’t find what he was looking for, “Could you hand me a pencil?”

“Sure, yeah… paper too?” your hands ghosted over the different coloring utensils and blank sheets of parchment. There were open books here or there that Alex seemed to be copying the drawings from, adding his own spins on them.

“Please.”

“And, uh, I think I will go,” you added as you retrieved the items, turning around to pass them to the bed, “I’ve got that thing to fix. I’ll let Jayce know.”

“I will likely not be back tonight, so one of you must dispose of the remaining formaldehyde.”

You nodded, accidentally making eye contact for what felt like the millionth time today when he took the pencil from your hands. It replaced whatever curiosity you had left with the restlessness in your legs that finally compelled you out of the room.

“See ya, Alex,” you said from the door.

Back in the street, the cold was a punishing reminder of how stupid you were for not bringing a jacket. Thankfully, your conscience was preoccupied with an even bigger act of idiocy – gods you had put up with all that shit from Viktor because you thought that it was to Alex’s benefit, only for it to mean nothing.

You weren’t sure if he would use it against you, but he had seen it, and there was nothing good to overshadow that. You felt like the victim of some cruel joke, getting tricked into everything that you swore you’d never become – first, a Piltover lapdog, and now, a little bitch. You had to stop letting up so easily.

They paid for your services, not your personhood, and you could not forget that. And yet, you were oddly grateful to Viktor for sparing you from, perhaps, a worse fate.

Hell, he didn’t even have to come with you in the first place, but he did. When you asked, he had no questions, issues, or complaints, he just said he’d need a minute to clean up his work and get his coat. He’d taken the extra time to show you how to do this without permanently traumatizing the kid, even though that wasn’t part of the arrangement. And now, he was staying to help do the dishes and letting you get off with nothing, even though coming here was your idea.

You probably owed him something for that.

*****

Yes, Jayce was getting to see many sides of you today.

First, he’d witnessed a mistake, something he’d forgotten you were capable of doing. Then, he’d seen you ask Viktor of all people for help, and apparently be persuasive enough for his partner to instantly agree. And now, you’d come back and he was getting to study you as you silently lost your mind over a pile of Viktor’s terrible handwriting.

You’d explained the situation to him as briefly as possible when you returned, and then promptly made a beeline for Viktor’s notes as though you’d completely forgotten about all the stuff that you needed to finish. Jayce wasn’t going to stop you. If anything, he was curious.

But, over the afternoon, your irritability had grown, only getting worse the more you tried to tamp it back down and focus. You were a whole orchestra of ticked off – sighing, clicking your tongue, scratching your scalp, stamping your foot – and as it finally neared the end of the day Jayce was pushed to ask the question he’d been simmering on since you started.

“Heimerdinger tells me you can’t read,” he said from the other table, making you flinch but getting you stop the slightly grating drumming of your fingers, “so I don’t know what you’re trying to find in there.”

You relaxed into the seat of the chair, giving your poor eyes a break and cracking your knuckles.

“Word travels fast, huh?” you stretched your neck.

“Here? Yeah.”

“I was… well, y’know, Viktor is stuck there, so I was looking through his stuff to see if I could,” your shoulders drooped, “help or something? I don’t think he likes to be behind. But, for the life of me, I cannot figure out where he left off.”

“What’ve you got so far? Maybe I can help,” he said good naturedly. And he meant it, even if you both had better things to do at the moment.

“Something about the aging and de-aging of Vitamin C in organic material. I dunno, chemistry has a lot of words, I was never great at it,” you pursed your lips, “but you don’t need to help, I’ve wasted enough time today.”

“Uh… what?” Jayce raised an eyebrow, stopping his own task – carefully layering different kinds of Demacian steel over the circuits surrounding the transistor.

Jayce was quite pleased that his early interest in forging was making a return in his career. He remembered leaning about Demacian steel back when he was a kid, reading under the covers at 2 am when he thought his mom was asleep. It was made through a special process, where the blacksmith would weld pre-existing steel and iron in a forge with little to no oxygen. As a result, the metal absorbed carbon from the hot charcoals that created crystalline-like nanotubes in structure, which gave it flexibility and sturdiness suitable for Demacia’s finest blades.

And, apparently, it was exactly what they needed to fortify the transistor’s design.

“Well, y’know, I already broke the test circuit this morning…” you crossed your arms, “…with an explosion.”

“Oh, that?” he chuckled lightly, “That’s been bugging you a bit, hasn’t it?”

“Well, no one likes not doing the thing they’re supposed to.”

“Of course, but,” Jayce set down his tweezers, “you know that we’re not like, pissed at you or anything.”

You blinked, as if you just remembered he was there.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sure you’ve got a bunch of ‘em,” you shrugged, “it’s just an inconvenience.”

“Actually, that’s the only one we have,” Jayce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “so, we do still need to fix it. But, more importantly, Viktor and I make all kinds of mistakes while we’re doing this stuff, so, y’know, you’re allowed to do that too.”

“Oh,” your eyes shifted, “yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“I mean, you’ve seen us screw up before. Big time,” the corners of his mouth twinkled fondly, “What, you think we’re that hypocritical about it?”

“No,” deliberation pulled at the end of the word, “I think I’m just getting used to the whole, like, ‘job’ thing.”

“I don’t believe that you’ve never had a job before.”

“Well, I sorta have. I did gig work, y’know, like, short term stuff. Where you get in, fix the thing, get paid, and then leave. Mistakes, uh, don’t go well there, because if you inconvenience your employer you might get paid less. Hell, I fyou mess up really bad you get your ass beat.”

“People would beat you up?” Jayce raised an eyebrow.

“Well, not me,” you put your hands to your chest, “because I didn’t make mistakes. But other people, yeah.”

“That’s… kinda brutal.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “but I guess I understand why people were so defensive of their stuff. Because, like, if I didn’t fix the beer tap then the bartender can’t work, and then we both won’t be eating at night,” you paused, “not to say that there aren’t assholes who do it just because they can. But it depends.”

“Ah, well,” Jayce said genially, “mistakes are part of the process here. So, as long as that mistake isn’t fatal, you don’t need to worry about getting paid.”

“Every mistake used to be fatal,” you reflected, gruff but not malicious, “or, at least, that’s how it felt. Like you’re hanging on by a thread.”

“It’s good that you’re still here, then.”

He smiled kindly at you, but you just looked lost. Not scared, not worried, just lost, like you were trying to piece everything together and weren’t sure where to start. You stared straight through Jayce and into oblivion.

“I guess I am,” you said, “but I’m lucky.”

Your eyes dropped in a quiet memorial to those who weren’t. Jayce bent his head, trying to keep your focus from underneath your contemplation.

“We’re all lucky,” he said, “doesn’t mean that we don’t deserve to have good things happen sometimes.”

“I don’t think it’s really about deserve,” your pupils twitched back up, “cause, like, everyone deserves a decent living. But that hasn’t happened, so we’re not even close to deserve yet. It’s about…” you brushed your thumb over Viktor’s writing, “it’s about winning this stupid fucking rat race. Like, asking yourself how much you’re willing to lose for a shot at rising above what you were born with. And people like the kind in Bilgewater, who don’t have much to begin with – they aren’t exactly dying to stick their necks out.”

“Yeah,” Jayce found himself nodding somberly, “I mean, survival was never an issue for me, but I get it. Trying to build something for yourself is always a game of risk. And it shouldn’t be.”

You arched an eyebrow, filled with the same reticent curiosity that Viktor had when he stopped Jayce from ending his own life. As if you were asking: “Really? With all this privilege, you’re upset because you lost a game that you knew you shouldn’t have been playing?”

And he would answer that, if he can’t make things better with his privilege, then was it really worth anything in the first place?

Obviously, he couldn’t say any of that to you. No one knew about his almost-suicide except for Viktor, and he would like to keep it that way. It wasn’t his proudest moment, even if he could justify his sadness. His pride was wounded, his dream was shattered, and he was an emotional wreck. Any way that he tried to process it in his head would have his failure come out on the other end, screaming at him that he was a waste of all his “gifts.” Altruistic, smart, wealthier than most, and all he did with it was get kicked out of school for not being careful enough.

But now, he was living proof that he wasn’t a waste. And, even if he didn’t like that it happened that way, his mistake lead to the best decision in his life.

“That’s where I’m having trouble,” you said finally, resting your chin in your hands, “because staying here, well, it wasn’t risky. It was so easy, and I feel like I’ve gone around, like, the rules of life or something. It’s just a bitch to tall take in.”

A switch flipped in Jayce. He got up from his chair and slid into the one across from you, putting his hands on the table to demand your full attention.

“Pen,” he said earnestly, “the rules are fucking bullshit. And I say this as someone who has spent my whole life benefitting from them and screwing with them – nothing has to be this way.

“I know that,” you rolled your eyes with dubious coyness, “like, obviously getting your hand cut off because you were fishing in a part of the bay that pirates owned isn’t the state of nature. But, y’know, they don’t care, and when they catch you, you’ll still get your hand cut off.”

“Not in your case, though,” Jayce patiently withdrew his hand, speaking in short sentences to encourage your rambling.

“Exactly! Like, whether I stayed or I left, I would still get to keep my hand, so to speak. Any consequences were personal preference but none of them were really bad. It was just… a choice. And I feel like this entire time I’ve been waiting for someone to cut that hand off.”

“I mean… that was kinda the point. We wanted to make it easy.”

“Yeah,” you snorted grimly, “and, I do appreciate that, even if I still don’t entirely understand it.”

“I mean, we had the resources to do, so we did,” he shrugged, “and you’re proof of concept for our whole ‘making lives easier’ thing.”

“Seems like you made Viktor’s life harder,” you grinned dryly.

Jayce bit his cheek. Of course you didn’t know what Viktor had said, you weren’t there, he told himself, but still he was caught off guard. He’d have to correct you.

“He was your biggest advocate, actually,” Jayce said.

“Uh…” your chuckled awkwardly, “are you sure about that?”

“Not that I didn’t also want you to hang around,” Jayce added, “but I was ready to let you leave when you made it clear that you wanted to. But Viktor, he was determined. He took care of most of it – the stipend, the Enforcers, hell, he even spoke to Heimerdinger about it.”

“I- wow,” you faltered, thoughtfully picking on your thumb’s cuticle, “I didn’t know that.”

“You left quite the impression.”

“Yeah,” you tilted your head to the side, looking out the window, “I guess I did.”

The darkness outside came alive with the moonlight, dropping gentle hues of blue across your face. The wind viciously rapped against the glass, but the brass handle never even shuddered. Jayce felt safe, in a way, like he could wait out the entire winter in here as you sorted through your thoughts.

You were on the verge of some big revelation, he could feel it. Barely breathing but mind racing as you tried to convert everything you’d learned today into something practical. Jayce was excited for it, even – you could realize the importance of their mission, you could see how much you could do if you really put your mind to it.

A warning tap of your fingers queued him back in as your mouth parted.

“What were we talking about again?” you quirked one side of your mouth goofily. Perhaps not today, Jayce thought.

“Ah, y’know what, I don’t really remember either,” Jayce sighed, trying to play off his disappointment, “I think it’s time to call it a day.”

He’d long since broken from the trance of his work and the exhaustion was starting to hit him.

“I’ll be here a little longer,” you said, standing up and wiping your hands on your pants, “Viktor asked me to clean up the formaldehyde if he didn’t come back.”

Jayce considered helping you, but you were deadest on doing something to make up the time that Viktor had lost. If this was that moment, then it could be all yours.

“Right,” he stood, grabbing his coat, “don’t forget to lock it when you leave.”

“I won’t,” you said over your shoulder as you organized the notes near the edge of the table.

Jayce rolled his shoulders through the sleeves of the coat and opened the door, taking one last look at you milling about the lab, completely unbothered. He felt like he was missing something.

“Good night, Penny.”

You didn’t look at him.

“Good night, Jayce.”

*****

It was colder by the time Viktor left Alex’s house, but somehow, with the heat lamps warmly leading the way back to town, the street actually had some life in it.

Viktor didn’t know what to expect anymore. He thought that he had some grasp on his own work, but every turn just gave him more questions and told him that his previous answers were wrong to start with. He wasn’t a detective, he was a scientist, and while he thought that those two professions weren’t that different once, he was beginning to reconsider.

Either this kid was miraculously connected to everything, or this conspiracy was bigger than anyone realized.

If that woman actually was Alex’s sister, the implications were disastrous on every level. Whether or not the pirates did it on purpose, they were aware of what they had done. Then, it would only be a matter of time until they figured out how to control the portal’s biology-altering effects, if they hadn’t already.

And what if they had? What did that mean for everyone else involved? Were Alex’s family also hidden in plain sight, and Mel’s informants were simply unable to identify them? Or, even worse, they’d already died but were so beyond recognition that no one thought to mention it.

What about Myrna? Alex claimed that he’d seen her associating with the gang before – had something awful happened to her? So awful that Iron Leg was compelled to attack the moment that he caught wind of it? And why was his first move to attack Piltover, of all places?

Footsteps began to ripple on the pavement as he returned to the more populated parts of town. People were still sparse, but the occasional shop owner leaving for the day or family being shown out the door after dinner would pass by.

So, Viktor concluded, he could not go insane at this very moment. Bad for publicity.

He craned his neck to see over the tops of the buildings, finding the window of Heimerdinger’s office – the highest window the Academy had – lording over the city like an eye. Heimerdinger would be losing his mind if he knew what Viktor was uncovering.

Viktor looked a few stories lower, landing on the floor that the lab was. You and Jayce had, no doubt, gone home for the evening, but even then, you’d spent the entire afternoon without him. You’d be the best of pals by now.

Viktor exhaled, shoving his free hand in his pocket.

He was being overdramatic. He knew that Jayce wasn’t that type of person, and he knew that if you wanted to spite him, then you would be more direct about it. But that made it all worse, because, once again and without even trying, you were exceeding him in what was supposed to be his thing.

He kept telling himself that it would be okay – you weren’t competitors. But the resentful nausea quelling in his stomach didn’t believe him. Maybe you had been trying, he thought. Why else would you beg him to come see Alex with you only to leave the minute that you got the chance? You clearly didn’t like being around him, with how nervous you got. Did you know that he would agree to stay?

And he’d fallen for it so readily, because he couldn’t bring himself to refuse something so… honest. If you needed him so badly that you overcame your own ego to ask him, then it must’ve been important. At least, that’s what he thought.

You were so confounding, but his recent state of mind was starting to make him wonder if he was the crazier one here. At what point did his speculations about you become his fault?

“Oh!” a kind voice collided with his shoulder, knocking him off balance as he breathed in sharply.

An older woman, with white hair in a neat low bun and sea green eyes. A thick black overcoat draped over her blue lapel dress.

“Apologies, dear! My eyes aren’t quite what they used to be,” she smiled.

“Quite alright,” Viktor forced a forgiving smile of his own, “I was distracted, myself.”

“Well, then, I hope we both make it home without another incident.”

She carried on forward, falling into a content hum. Viktor watched her go over his shoulder, and he could’ve sworn that he’d heard you humming that same song earlier this morning. Small world.

Damnit, he was thinking about you again.

He shook his head testily and continued on his way. Enough about you, he thought, he was going to put at least one thought to rest tonight, and maybe, finally, get something done here. He had to find his notes again, and maybe revisit one of his plants.

He had to go back to the lab.

*****

You were not mentally well.

You weren’t too proud to admit that to yourself. But, alone in the lab, no patrol officers stalking the halls and no Jayce to make you think twice, it didn’t matter anymore. You could let loose, and no one would see it. You could yourself to fucking snap. You realized now that this had been a long time coming.

It started after Jayce had left, when you picked up a cup of cleaning fluid so violently that you crushed it between your fingers. It gushed over the sides and creeped down your knuckles, ponderous as a waterfall, over the open cuts and scrapes that you always had. It burned, but you didn’t move, didn’t stop it, just let the pain sear through you nerve endings. Finally, a feeling that you could fucking process.

Because you couldn’t process everything else, gods, you really couldn’t.

You should’ve figured it out when you’d fucked up the cannon, you thought, as you dumbly through the cup in the trash, missing it by a few feet. You moved like you were drunk. Your limbs weren’t your own anymore, your own fucking life wasn’t even your own anymore. It didn’t belong to anyone else, but it certainly didn’t belong to you either, you thought as you slapped the cleaning fluid off your hand with a paper towel.

Breathing got harder, but you didn’t care. You liked it, almost, because it meant that you were doing something.

Or maybe you should’ve realized it when you met Alex, you continued as you half sat half fell on the floor. You’d ruined his entire fucking life and you weren’t even trying to. Before you’d even agreed to stay, your normal survival, the thing that you had always lived on, were fucking over other people. It was all your fault, because this was where you were now and you couldn’t deal with that shit.

The wind was too fucking loud, it sounded like one of the gods themselves was whistling in your ear as they watched you shrivel up and die.

That woman this morning, gods, you’d lost her, if she was even fucking real. You didn’t even know why you wanted to find her so bad, maybe you just wanted a single fucking scrap of what you’d left behind, but she vanished. Maybe you wanted the reassurance of knowing that you and Alex were not the only pieces of Bilgewater in Piltover, so that way, if he fucking died because of you and then you finally lost your mind, you could find solace in someone else.

You were restless and weak at the same time. You wanted to throw something, so you unsheathed your knife and gracelessly chucked it across the room so hard that something in the hilt broke. Then, you held your own arms so hard that your nails dug into your skin and the tips of your fingers were warm with blood.

Oh, and Viktor. Viktor Viktor Viktor. Advocating for you? Was he fucking insane? Wasn’t he supposed to know what this kind of thing was like? Did it even fucking matter what you said to him when he was just going to advocate for you in the end? Did your hatred mean anything?

You made a mistake today.

You made a mistake and there were no personal consequences, because personal consequences didn’t fucking exist anymore. You were on a new level, a big player who made big decisions, and yet it felt like you’d fucking lost everything.

Your mistake postponed the fate of those Ionians. Decided whether they would stay or leave. Whether they would live or die. Did they even want to come here? Did you want to send them here? What if they ended up like you? Washed away by the fucking weight of everything, separated from all that they knew, getting to decide whether they would stay and defend their country or leave it behind? Would it even be saving lives if they ended up like you? Because you were fucking dying here.

You smelled the formaldehyde that you hadn’t cleaned up yet. Formaldehyde. Corrosive to carbon steel in liquid form. Corrosive to Demacian steel.

You were going to end it. You moved like a robot, shaking the bottle of formaldehyde and standing above the half-finished circuit. It would melt the steel, fuck the wires, and seep into all the cracks that it wouldn’t. You didn’t know how you would justify it. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to think about it anymore, didn’t want to fucking choose for other people when you couldn’t keep your own head above water.

You wanted it to fucking die. Maybe then you could breathe again.

“Wha- you’re still- what the hell are you doing?” a Czech voice said in the doorway.

You turned. Viktor.

Fuck.

~ End Notes ~

i'm not sorry for the cliffhanger die mad abt it

End credits song (don't worry it is NOT as depressing as it sounds i promise): "I Think I'm Going To Kill Myself" by Elton John

(btw I'm thinking about throwing together a playlist with all of the songs i'm putting here and maybe others??? keep an eye out)

[quaememinisse]

Daddy to The Rescue

Theme: Dad Bucky, Hurt/Comfort, Love

Author’s Note: Bucky saves his daughter from a swarm of wasps while hiking. I guess it was inspired by that little scene with that dumb bitch Karli Morgenthau. She looked like an innocent little kid at first that Bucky was about to rescue. I can’t remember all that happened in episode 3. I need to re-watch. I was far too baked. As usual, this little one shot is based on my series: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799851/chapters/6284765

Christina’s blood curdling scream causes both Bucky and Cherise’s hearts to lurch. Immediately, Bucky starts to run up ahead on the trail where Christina is visible, now flailing her little arms around as if to swat something away.

           “JAMES!” Cherise’s yell elicits a physical pain in Bucky’s chest as he glances over his shoulder, nearly snapping his neck, to see the woman trying as best she can with little Theodore in her sling, to catch up. The baby begins to cry, and once Bucky has ascertained that nothing catastrophic has happened to his wife or son, his legs never halt in propelling him towards his daughter. He reaches her long before Cherise ever would have, whether she was carrying their four-month-old or not. Hearing Christina screaming for her mother and father is the scariest noise he’s ever heard. And he had heard people take their last breath beneath the weight of his own palm. He’s close enough now to tell that Christina must have stepped in a wasp’s nest. Little red welts are already surfacing on her delicate skin, and he doesn’t hesitate to thrust himself inside the swarm, each sting unnoticeable to him. All he can hear is buzzing and his little girl screaming for dear life. He swoops her up into his arms after tearing the shirt off his back to cover her head and prevent the vicious creatures from getting into her nose and mouth.

           “JAMES—!”

           “Stay back—it’s bees!”

He can hardly see for a moment as the wasps start attacking him even more. A stream that he had noticed about five minutes prior sparkles in the campestral distance. At breakneck speed, he runs for it.

           “Hold your breath, baby,” he says frantically, pressing his panting mouth to where Christina’s ear is hidden beneath the fabric of his blue t-shirt. She’s crying, clutching him.

           “Hold your breath, Stina—when I tell you to,” he says desperately, loudly. Once in the air, just before the splash, he rips the shirt from her face and tells her again to hold her breath. Christina’s eyes are wider than Bucky has ever seen them before they’re both engulfed in a cold depth. The soldier kicks his legs like crazy, angling backwards several yards down the stream, hoping the child is keeping her breath held. He’s not under for more than ten seconds before he lifts her headfirst out of the water, breaching the surface and frantically looking about to see whether the swarm is still near them. Thankful that there’s not a wasp in sight, he can hear Christina whimpering.

           “James?! James?! Christina!”

The baby crying because Cherise is screaming is even more distressing to Bucky. He can hear Cherise not too far in the distance. He pulls Christina out of the water, eying her stings. The damage is significant and her face is starting to swell up. The greatest fear he has ever felt consumes him as the six-year-old cries uncontrollably. Cherise finally makes her way towards them, hurrying and trying not to further antagonize Theodore, who is wailing.

           “Oh my god! Oh my god! Stina!”

Cherise catches a glimpse of the child’s stings, Bucky heaving, wet, and topless, also stung in a number of places, the redness very visible against his pallor in the high noon sunlight.

           “It hurts!” Christina cries, reaching for her leg where the stings are the worst, her little hands trembling.

           “Hang on, baby—I’ve got you,” Bucky promises reassuringly, though he’s more terrified than he lets on. He glances up at Cherise, who is eying them both with panic. Bucky picks Christina up quickly, starting towards the path.

           “We gotta get to a hospital right now,” he breathes. He’s just thankful they hadn’t spent more than five minutes on the trail before this happened. Cherise nearly trips trying to keep up with Bucky. He turns around to look at her fearfully, telling her to be careful, asking her if she has any water. Cherise hands her insulated bottle to Bucky and he pours the iced water contents over the stings on Christina’s leg, all while making his way to the car. Cherise is crying, though Theo has calmed down. Christina is still crying, clutching the soldier’s metal arm.

           “Daddy,” she wails.

           “It’s gonna be okay, baby,” he insists, kissing her forehead as he scans the parking lot for their car. For a moment, his heart sinks into his chest. The keys aren’t in his pocket. But Cherise immediately unlocks the car and starts to put Theodore in his seat. Bucky finds himself thankful that Cherise had picked up his backpack when he started running towards Christina. He didn’t even notice himself dropping it. Had she not picked it up, he’d have had to run back down the trail just to retrieve the keys. He pauses to double check and make sure that Theo’s car seat is buckled in properly, Christina huddled in Cherise’s lap, clutching her mother and crying, swelling up more by the moment. Fearing that soon her throat will close, Bucky starts to drive. He had seen a sign for a hospital not far from the hiking grounds, and he floors it. He barely stops the car before Cherise rushes towards the entrance, Christina in her arms. Bucky finds himself panting as his hands tremble and he unbuckles Theodore’s seat completely instead of picking him up out of it.

“You’re okay, buddy,” he says, the baby having begun to fuss. He makes his way right after Cherise, clutching the baby’s seat, not even bothering to lock the car. He’s in soon enough to see a team of nurses rushing Christina away on a bed, Cherise following.

“You’re gonna be okay, Stina,” Cherise explains reassuringly. Bucky rushes alongside Cherise. Christina is crying for her mother, clutching her leg. The couple only makes it up to a set of doors before they’re told they have to let the doctor handle things. Bucky gently places Theo’s seat against the wall and grips Cherise’s shoulders.

“She’ll—she’ll be okay,” he says, but the way his lips quiver momentarily makes it known that he’s not sure about this. Cherise’s eyes widen as she scans Bucky up and down. Finally, the soldier can feel the pain of the stings. But they’re mild compared to the pain he feels for his daughter. Cherise’s hand is trembling as she cups his cheek and he winces. His jaw has been stung, his forehead, his neck, just about everywhere. Yet, he wasn’t swelling up and he didn’t look nearly as bad as his daughter. Before Cherise can utter another word, her gaze travels skywards a moment before she suddenly loses balance.

           “Hey—whoa,” Bucky breathes, catching Cherise before she can make contact with the linoleum. He calls for help loudly and Theo starts to cry again, startled by the noise.

           “Cherry? Cherry,” Bucky calls, holding her head in his hands. Before Bucky knows it, a nurse is directing him to let her head down gently. She starts shining a light in Cherise’s eyes and the woman is awake again.

           “Where’s my baby?” she mumbles weakly, her eyes half open.

           “Is this your child right here, ma’am?” the nurse asks calmly. Bucky begins to feel a chill. He hadn’t noticed until now that he’s wet from head to toe. He’s on his knees clutching Theo, rocking to try and get him to stop crying, and pushing his flesh hand through Cherise’s hair, calling her name. She seems disoriented.

           “Sir, you’re damp. Let me take the baby. You’re going to need some attention, too…sir? May I have your boy—?” He remains completely focused on Cherise, begging her to wake up and look at him, tapping her cheek. He feels a pair of hands begin to encircle Theo.

“Don’t touch him!” Bucky barks immediately, hardly having heard the nurse speak at all.  The nurse jumps back and Bucky closes his eyes a moment. Someone drapes a blanket over his shoulders.

           “I—I’m sorry…Please help us,” he utters.

             He can’t look away from Christina, having finally managed to step away from a doctor after they realized he wasn’t in nearly as poor shape as his daughter. In fact, he was beginning to heal. Cherise is sitting by the bedside, holding Theo, his face hidden beneath a blanket as she nurses him. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of Christina, either. The parents keep watching to see that the girl is continuing to inhale and exhale.

           “Are you okay, babe?” Bucky asks. Had he not caught Cherise when she fainted, she’d probably be concussed. She takes a deep breath that she doesn’t let go of for several seconds.

Initially, she hadn’t looked beyond her peripheral vision at Bucky and had mistaken him for a doctor, as they had put him in a set of dry ceil scrubs, seeing as he had lost his shirt and gotten soaked in the whole incident.

           ‘Today was supposed to be…so much fun.”

           “I’m just glad you’re all okay,” Bucky explains, stepping inside and staring down at Christina. Her swelling has gone down significantly and she’s sleepy under sedation. She had started to fight the doctor when she tried to address the stings and had to be kept still. Christina didn’t enjoy being poked and prodded at, and both Bucky and Cherise knew it was necessary, but they didn’t like that it had come to this. The child was screaming for mom and dad, trying to get away, it had to be done. He gently caresses the top of Christina’s head, his eyes watering.

           “I should have been paying attention,” he says angrily, more to himself than anyone else, “I should have told her to stop running ahead—”

           “It’s not your fault, James,” Cherise says genuinely.

           “I’m supposed to protect her—I should’ve goddamn seen—”

           “You did protect her. And you couldn’t have stopped this from happening, James. She’s stable now. That’s all that matters. She’s lucky you saw that stream and got to her when you did.” He sighs, his arm whirring. Cherise gazes up at him, nodding his head in the negative, his eyes closed and his fist clenching at his side.

           “We’re not going hiking again,” he says with finality, looking over at Cherise. She knew he meant this. It wasn’t something they were going to have a conversation about.

           “It’s bad enough this happened to Stina…If you had stepped into that nest with Theo—” Bucky stares hard into space a moment, furious with himself. Cherise is merely relieved. Both their children are alive and okay. It could have been worse.

           “James.”

His arm continues to whir erratically.

           “…Bucky.”

He sighs and his shoulders finally drop as she utters his name again calmingly. If he hadn’t been there, Cherise isn’t sure she’d have known what to do. Her eyes water for a few seconds as Bucky gazes at her with such apology that it touches her soul. She starts to burp Theo, having pulled her shirt back down and removed the blanket. The baby boy is completely content, unaware that his sister nearly died just an hour or so prior. He makes his way over to Cherise and kneels in front of her, holding Theo’s socked foot.

           “Are you okay?” he asks again. Cherise nods. Theo coos, and the sound eases Bucky a bit more. He kisses her knee lingeringly, smooth from under her shorts. He breathes a sigh of relief. All he wanted to do was pack them all back into the car and take them home. He finds himself thankful that he thinks so fast. He had never been stung by wasps before, but knew exactly what to do. He glances at Christina again, her stung up face rather red. His heart lurches. If he had reached the child just a few seconds later, she might have swallowed a handful of the stinging bastards and died. He’s thankful, for once, to be fast and so strong. So unnaturally strong. He might have drowned with his daughter in that stream if it weren’t for his super strength. He only hopes that she makes as speedy a recovery as he already is. Though Cherise can tell how terrified he was, he doesn’t ever say it. She knew. He wouldn’t show her that.

           Christina moans. Her hand reaches for her face. She winces, and her little nose wrinkles until her whole face contorts into pain. Bucky is at her side immediately, holding her hands away from her face. He scoops her into his arms.

           “Don’t touch the stings, baby—you gotta let them heal,” he says sweetly, caressing the top of her head and repeatedly moving her hands away from where she reaches for the injuries.

           “Shhhh,” he breathes soothingly. Christina relaxes a bit as Cherise makes her way to the door with Theo in her arms, stating that she’s going to go get the nurse. Theo’s eyes catch Bucky’s on her way out the door and for a moment, he swears the infant smiles at him. For a moment, Bucky smiles himself. Though Christina is uncomfortable, he knows she’ll be okay. He thanks himself wholeheartedly, burying his nose in her hair. She still smells the way she did when she was born. Something sweet, something reminiscent of Cherise. A few tears escape Bucky’s closed eyes.

           “You’re okay, baby.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

i think you’ve realised some lists, but could you link your friends to lovers lists? 💞 thank u so much !

ABSOLUTELY NONNY!

God It’s euphoric being in a great mood!! It’s felt like 80 years since I’ve felt this happy. It’s gonna go away the second it rains again, but ANYWAY.

YOU KNOW WHAT? I’m feeling generous so I’ll post this today and I’ve had the list “ready to post” for a few months. Here’s a part 2 list to my other list since I’ve enough to do it :D

FRIENDS-TO-LOVERS Pt. 2

See also:

T-RATED Pt. 1: Friends To Lovers Fics || [MOBILE LINK]

Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Friends to Lovers Pt. 1 [FULL POST] || [MOBILE POST]

Closeted by Sexxica (E, 2,762 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped in a Closet, Panicking Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Coming in Pants, Awkward Conversations, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending) – An improvised hiding spot and a bit of accidental voyeurism leave John and Sherlock in an awkward position.

Better Late Than Never by sussexbound (NR (T), 3,021 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4 / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock POV, Love Confessions, Drunk Sherlock / Sober John, John Takes Care of Sherlock, First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil) – He suddenly wants John Watson out of his bedroom, out of his flat, out of his life, because he has been lying to himself these last few months, he realises. He doesn’t want John here, not with the way things are. He doesn’t want 221b Baker Street to be nothing more than rest stop John returns to on his journeys between women. He doesn’t want to play co-parent if Rosie is going to be snatched away from him and placed in the arms of whatever nameless woman du jour John lands on next. He doesn’t want to keep being so careful, so generous, so, so…

The General Idea by agirlsname (T, 3,022 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement, Promise of Forever / Proposal, POV John, First Kiss, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Crying / Emotional Sherlock, Love Confessions) – After twenty years of friendship, John is used to Sherlock acting weirdly. But the news Sherlock finally brings himself to deliver change the carefully built dynamics between them, and John realises it's time to act.

Nothing So Sweet by alexxphoenix42 (E, 5,275 w., 1 Ch. || Shopkeeper AU || Beekeeping, Sussex, Alternate First Meeting, Awkward First Time Sex, Self-Consciousness / Body Insecurity, Fluff, Hand Jobs) – In an alternate universe, Sherlock is busy keeping to himself, tending his bees, and selling lovely jars of honey when a soldier limps into his life quite unexpectedly. Part 1 of The Sweetest Things

Caffeine and Adaptive Programming by DemonicSymphony (E, 5,540 w., 1 Ch. || Androids AU / Bond Fusion || Android Sherlock, Coffee Shop AU, Pining John Hinted Bond / Q, Toplock) – Sherlock is a coffee shop android slowly falling for a regular customer. But he's not supposed to be able to feel emotions.

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

Sometimes When We Touch by kedgeree (M, 7,755 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Kiss/Time, Inappropriate Giggling, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Virgin Sherlock, John Whump, Touching) – John might be touching Sherlock a little more often than is strictly necessary. Sherlock probably hasn't even noticed. Right...?

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street by earlgreytea68 (M, 10,388 w., 2 Ch. || Post TRF, Halloween / Ghosts, Pining Sherlock, Ghost Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Angry Sex, Ghost Sex, Love Confessions, Open / Ambiguous Ending) – In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Silhouettes by allonsys_girl (E, 28,585 w., 7 Ch. || Canon Compliant, POV John, Heavy Drinking, Sad/Depressed John, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, Foot Jobs, Blow Jobs, Infidelity, Cheating, Drug Use/Abuse, Anal, Switchlock, Rimming, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John find comfort in each other's arms, but as ever with these two, it's not your typical relationship. It's fluffy at the beginning, gets deeply angsty in the middle, gets porny at the end.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways, Needy Sherlock, Wings) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 97,884 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 24 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[redassassin]

i thought you were dead

word count: 1822 this is an old ask from a while ago, but i lost all the actual asks when i deleted my account! the prompt was “i thought you were dead.”

Everything changed after the Supernova. Relationships, politics, leadership, society. The Renegades were still in action and had expanded greatly with the sudden increase in powers. The city was built up from the ruins of the battle, and life changed with it. People switched jobs, their powers granting them advantages in certain fields. Some joined the Renegades, excited to put their new powers to use. Others left the Renegades, eager to pursue a more normal life after years in their workforce. 

Crime rose alongside the Renegades. Prodigy criminals were more dangerous and more powerful. Many people who had scorned the Renegades and prodigies, feared them, were found bitter and angry to suddenly become the thing they hated. 

Sketch’s team remained in the Renegades, determined to help the organization as it changed with time. They all became figureheads for the Renegades organization, working closely with what remained of the Council to improve the lives of every citizen of Gatlon and assist in their transition to the life of a prodigy. 

While Nova could admit that she liked Adrian, her life was too chaotic to remain anything but good friends with him. She often caught herself stealing small glances at him, glaring at other girls that would flirt with him when their team went out, or reliving every single one of their kisses when she lay on rooftops in the early hours of the morning, watching the stars. But they were friends, and Nova didn’t want to risk that just because she couldn’t get her own feelings under control. They were all too unstable to pursue proper relationships. The Supernova and all the events leading up to it had taken too much a toll on all of them. 

________________________________________________________________________________

Even though patrol was exhausting and dangerous, it was Nova’s favorite part of the day. It gave her a strange sense of normalcy to be back on patrols, just like everything was before the Supernova. Although, now that she wasn’t worried that her identity would be revealed with one tiny slip, she was actually enjoying being a Renegade, especially now that the Council listened to her. Not only did they pay more attention to her ideas, but they took suggestions from the general public on how to help with the transition, on how to make their daily lives safer, and even on the fates of some of the Anarchists and former villains from the Age of Anarchy. Of course, the final decision was still up to the Council, but the people liked to be heard. 

Sketch’s team was chasing Shockwave, a prodigy criminal that was a strange cross between the Detonator and the Sentinel. When he snapped, a ball of energy formed in his hand, either stunning anyone unfortunate enough to come across him, or sending walls toppling upon contact. Shockwave sent a volley of tiny energy spheres back at them as Nova and Adrian chased him down main street, and away from the drugstore he’d just robbed. Nova pulled ahead of Adrian, determined to reach him and send her power through the exposed skin at the back of his neck. But the villain sped up, smirking triumphantly back at her as another energy sphere was sent hurtling towards her. Nova dodged it, before realising that he hadn’t been aiming at her, but at the wall a couple of feet to her right. The ball hit the wall, and it began to crumble, threatening to topple on to Adrian, who had been a few yards behind her. 

“Adrian!” Nova screamed in horror, as he stopped in confusion, before turning his head up towards the sound of cracking stone. She began to run for him, but it was too late. Adrian, frozen in shock and fascination, disappeared beneath the fallen building. 

Nova let out a scream of desperation so shrill that even Danna flinched from her position at the end of the block, having just emerged from her swarm of monarchs.

“Insomnia? What happened? Where’s Adrian?” 

Nova didn’t answer, sprinting to the collapsed wall and picking through the rubble for any sign of Adrian. She can’t lose anyone else. Especially not Adrian. Anybody but Adrian. She flinched at the implications of her thoughts, that Adrian’s life was worth more than someone else’s. 

It was to her. She can’t lose Adrian. A life without Adrian—she can’t imagine it. 

She paused. Waiting for her thoughts to catch up to her, trying to process the fear and hope and utter terror coursing through her veins. 

Nova was in love with Adrian. Completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with him. And she refused to believe that he was gone. She continued to tear through the wreckage, tossing aside what she could lift, nudging the larger pieces as far as she could. Danna appeared beside her, silently helping her lift away one of the stones. Nova gasped as her hand brushed against something wet and sticky. Blood. Her heart clenched as the image of Adrian lying under the rubble, bleeding, dying. Dead? She pulled one more stone away, and gasped as her eyes found the red and grey material of Adrian’s uniform. Danna was by her side in an instant, helping her pull Adrian out of the ruins. Danna raised her wristband to her mouth, requesting medical assistance and updating the rest of their team on Shockwave and Adrian, ordering Ruby and Oscar to continue the search. Danna rested a hand on her shoulder whispering words of reassurance, ensuring her that Adrian would be okay, but Nova hardly registered them. 

Nova sat beside Adrian, cradling his head in her lap. He was unconscious, but breathing steadily. His face was covered in tiny scratches and bruises, his hair covered in a fine layer of dust. The blood had come from a gash on his leg, still bleeding profusely. Nova cut a strip of fabric from the leg of her uniform, wrapping it shakily around the wound. She didn’t even realise she had been crying until she noticed the spots from her fallen tears. Wiping her eyes, Nova examined Adrian’s face. He looked calm. She would have thought that he was sleeping if not for the current situation. Hesitantly, she rested her hand on his shoulder, tapping him gently. When he didn’t wake, she shook him, harder than she had meant to, but Adrian groaned as his eyes flickered open. 

“Nova?” Adrian croaked, his voice rough from the dust he inhaled. He coughed, and the sound sent such a flood of relief through her that a small sob burst from her mouth. She buried her face in his chest, clutching at the material of his uniform. 

“Nova, are you okay? What’s wrong, are you hurt?” Adrian began to sit up, shifting them so that she was cradled against his chest. 

Something inside Nova broke. “I thought you were dead.” She whispered, her sobs dying out. Adrian’s hand found its way into her hair, running his fingers through it as his other hand rubbed her back. 

“I’m fine, Nova. We’re superheroes. We all get hurt sometimes.”

“If you say it’s in our job description to worry people sometimes I am going to punch you.” 

Adrian laughed quietly, and the sound sent a rush of relief coursing through Nova’s veins. Adrian was okay. 

“I’d probably deserve it.”

Nova hadn’t felt that helpless since Adrian had cared for her after Honey’s bees and wasps had attacked her. In the moments after, when Adrian had carefully bandaged every sting, she had realised that they might be okay. And when he confirmed that he still cared for her, she knew, that if they lived through the rest of the battle, they would. But everything had fallen apart after the Supernova. Nova wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but she regretted it. She wanted him back. A couple of times she thought that she may have caught Adrian watching her with the same wistful expression that she recognized from her own face, but always passed it off as wishful thinking. 

“Nova?” She turned her head, looking up to face him, and the kindness and worry and caring in his eyes melted her heart. She wanted to kiss him. But, she had been the one to break up their relationship all those weeks ago, and she knew that it had been hard on him. 

But before she could weigh the pros and cons of her decision and determine how much Adrian might hate her if she did, he was leaning down, his soft lips brushing against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into him, her arms winding around his neck. 

Nova shifted in his arms a little bit, deepening the kiss, and Adrian hissed as she elbowed one of his bruises. The situation was so familiar that Nova almost laughed, but instead she pulled away from Adrian, asking if he was okay. Before the words could come out of her mouth, Adrian cupped her cheek and pulled her mouth back to his. 

Adrian broke away after a few minutes, his eyes shining. 

“Promise you won’t put me to sleep this time?” Nova gaped at him, landing a light shove on his shoulder. 

“You promised you wouldn’t bring that up. I didn’t want to stop that kiss and you know it, there’s no reason to keep bringing it up.” 

Adrian kissed her cheek, his eyes full of laughter. “I need some way to blackmail you, you’re already better than me at so many things. I need ways to distract you.”

Nova considered what he’d just said. “Well, you can always use the time I tried to assassinate your dad and take down the Renegades.” Her tone was joking, but her eyes betrayed her. 

“The Council also tried to execute you just for the purpose of pleasing Genissa. I think you’re even.” 

Nova opened her mouth to apologize, something she found herself doing whenever someone mentioned her past. 

“Don’t apologize, Nova. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, and you’re no different.” He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. The touch felt so intimate that Nova felt her face flush down to her neck. 

“I love you.” Adrian started, his eyes snapping to her. It took Nova a second to realise that the words had come out of her own mouth. She shrank away from Adrian, the surprise on his face eating away at her soul. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, it just slipped out,” Nova began to slide out of his grasp, moving to sit beside him. “You don’t have to say anything. The medics should be here soon. I’m going to go watch for them.” She stood up, turning away from him, her face burning. 

“Nova?” She tensed preparing for the rejection that was sure to follow. Just because he kissed me doesn’t mean he loves me again.

“I love you too.”

tag list: (this is my old tag list lmk if you want to be put on or taken off!) tag list:@obssesedwithliterallyeverything @red-eyes88 @onecannotbebrave @renegadesmarissameyer @somanyfandomsonly1username  @everhartartino

[vintagevalentinex]

Decode, VIII

Hey guys it’s been a while!  I hope you like the next installation!  I have much more planned so I hope to be doing some more frequent writing in the very near future!

Special shout out to @thedoctorlivesthroughbooks and @rowdyhooliganism for letting me ramble to them! xx

P.S. I know my theme on the blog is wonky right now, bear with me.

Decode, VIII by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1280 words

Was that…did you just go on a date?  A successful one?

You leaned your back against the door, listening to the soft footfalls of Mycroft disappear down the hallway.  A warm smile lingered on your face.  It felt as though you were living a cliché, something that would be in a cheesy romantic comedy.  You had never thought that there was someone out in the world that you could actually carry on an engaging conversation with, let alone someone that you could find yourself attracted to.  

Were you attracted to him?  

Hmm…He was quite obviously intelligent, hell, one of the most intelligent men you’d ever met. That certainly was important to you. It was needless to say that if you were to ever have a partner they would have to be able to keep up with you intellectually, and it seemed that Mycroft enjoyed keeping you on your toes. He had an aura about him that exuded a quiet authority that you found absolutely fascinating.  Though he was older than you, he was certainly handsome. He was tall and lanky, and no matter what his pest of a brother said about Mycroft’s “diet,” you quite admired his form.  He wasn’t muscle-bound; something that turned you off directly.  You’d seen the way that heavily-muscled men parade themselves around as if they were a pillar to fitness, seemingly only interested in their percentage of body fat.  With the exception of his height, Mycroft was physically unimposing; not in a way that evoked weakness, but in a way that suggested he took care of himself, but also liked to indulge moderately, like most humans enjoying doing.  Mycroft had striking angular features that only added to his attractiveness.  It somehow made him seem even more astute; the angles seemingly having to time or patience for curved lines.  His dark hair complemented his eyes to near perfection.  His eyes.  If you had to pick one singular feature, his eyes were the most attractive to you.  They were the loveliest shade of dark blue, as if they were darkened by wisdom and secrets. The first time his gaze had turned to yours they were cold, calculating, figuring you out in mere seconds flat.  But tonight, there were so much different, where there was coldness, there was now a curiosity, where there was shrewdness, there was a glimmer of sincerity.

Suffice to say, it was becoming glaringly obvious that you were becoming attracted.

Peeling yourself from the door you laid your things on your bed, pulling nightclothes out of the dresser drawer.  Padding into the bathroom, you laid your things on the counter.  Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you finally looked up at the mirror, the blood leaving your face immediately, your hands grasping tightly at the counter top.  There was the code that you had been deciphering for the Scotland Yard, in what appeared to be blood, on your mirror.  You took a step back, visibly shaken as you frantically looked at the characters.  Heart racing, you dash out of the bathroom, grabbing your cell phone and purse, making a bee line out of the hotel room. You sit in a corner down the hallway, your hands shaking as you type hurriedly on your phone.

[12:13am] Help [12:13am] Not safe

You held your phone in both of your hands, trembling, as you rocked yourself, hoping that he wasn’t too far away.

Breathe in. Hold.  Breathe out.  Breathe in. Hold.  Breathe out.  You repeated this cycle over and over again and yet your heart continued to race.  You shut your eyes tightly, thankful that the hallway seemed to be quiet for the night.  You couldn’t also bear the embarrassment of someone seeing you in this state.  Your face was stained with tears, your shuddering form not letting up, not even a bit.  This was all too much.  You wanted to scream loudly, not caring that it would wake nearly everyone up on the floor.  It felt as though you were out of your body, and you were utterly overwhelmed.  You were too out of it to hear the soft footsteps quickly coming towards you, your body caving in on itself, making yourself small. The footsteps stopped in front of you, but you were too overcome to even will yourself to look up.

“(Y/N)…”

You sniffled, slowly looking up, Mycroft’s voice willing you to do so.

“That’s it.  I’m here.  You are safe.  You are safe.  There you are. Try slowing down your breathing…”

You swallowed heavily, closing your eyes, listening to him continue to drone on, being the safe, logical constant that you needed in that moment.  As you opened your eyes you were met with the concerned, yet inquisitive eyes of Mycroft Holmes.  Gathering whatever energy you had left, you pointed toward your room.

“In my bathroom, on the mirror…”

Mycroft gave you one last look before heading towards your door.  He pulled out a card from his jacket (you weren’t even going to yell at him for having access to your room at this point) and entered.  You slowly stood yourself up; brushing the imaginary dust and dirt off of you as he quickly exited your room, coming towards you.

“It appears to be the same code you’ve been deciphering.”

You nodded, your eyebrows furrowing.  How the hell could he be so calm right now?!

“I took a photo and have sent it to Inspector Lestrade.  Come along, I am positive that he will want to speak with you.”

It was difficult to move, your feet barely wanting to shuffle as you move sluggishly down the long hallway.  You flinched as you felt a feather-light touch at the middle part of your back, your head whipping towards Mycroft in near confusion.  He continued to look ahead, as he lead you toward the elevator.  If you squinted you swore there was the ever so lightest dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“We haven’t all night, (Y/N).  Do keep up.”

If you weren’t so shaken and exhausted you would have laughed outright.  As you slid into the familiar back seat of Mycroft’s town car, you seemed to calm down significantly, the further away from that room, the better. The both of you sat in silence…err…as silent as it could be with Mycroft typing furiously on his cell phone.  You looked up at the street lights, the soft yellow glow soothing you.  As the car approached the precinct, you turned to Mycroft, speaking softly.

“Thank you.  I…I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I am glad that you texted me, (Y/N), though I wish it were for something more positive…”

He allowed himself a small smirk.

“I want you to know that no harm will come to you.  I have put you in this mess and I will see to it that you are kept safe.  You have my word.”

You opened your mouth and closed it a couple of times, not knowing what to say, settling for looking at him gratefully.

It baffled you at how quickly he was able to calm you down.  You struggled your entire life with panic and anxiety attacks like this and it usually took you hours, sometimes days until you felt better.  And all he had to do was speak, and suddenly you feel as though you’re in your body again.

Mycroft knocked with purpose on Lestrade’s  office door, hearing a muffled reply.  Swinging the door open, you were both met with the distraught look of the Detective Inspector, wringing his face with his hands.  He looked up at Mycroft warily, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“Professor…I think you may want to sit down.”

Next Part!

[nei-ning]

Four dreams from last night. 13.4.2021.

1. I was stung by a bee. I don’t know why and that’s all what I remember from this dream.

2. I was in the market with mom, heading to cash register when I noticed a shelf with Fazerin Sininen (Fazer’s Blue) chocolate and realized I hadn’t bought chocolate. I’ve been few days without any chocolate now so they are coming in my dreams now :’D

3. I had visit dad and when I had left, dad’s stallion had escaped. He, for a some reason, had decided to follow me, but he had vanished at one point on the road on a curve near farm area. So dad came to get me with some other people, feeling hell pissed. He told me to find his stallion so I went to search and talk with people who lived near the road. None had seen anything until we (I and another woman) came to this one red farm house and the owner, woman, told us that she had seen a stallion crashing with a car and the stallion, apparently, had died so it had been taken a way, turning into a meat. I knew it was dad’s stallion since the area has no other horses. Dad was so.fucking.furious when I told him this. He was yelling and demanding me to get his stallion back. I knew I couldn’t do that, but somehow I ended up in a near by cemetery, walking there calmly and looking at the graves.

4. I traveled to Japan with sis. We were staying with a female friend of ours (someone who neither of know in real life) at the area which wasn’t all that poor, houses being build right next to each other with small cute yards, having glass fences too. There also were small kids outside playing. One half naked boy was especially curious about us and he came to us. He didn’t speak much but what little he did, sis spoke to him, but apparently he didn’t understand her all that well. I then said a few words of Japanese what I know and the boy got so happy, letting me pet his head / hair! After that he ran off happy.

Sis and I were planning on going to do some shopping, but there were no trains, buss or anything else than a taxi or own car which we could use. Our hostess was telling us where to go with a taxi and I whispered to sis; “I wonder how much it will cost.” since the city was far away, behind a long bridge. By now I realized I hadn’t take any money with me so I had to go back inside the house, but I had to go there via car. There was a hole inside the car in front of co-driver's seat so I had to CRAWL through that hole, many times during the dream, inside the house since I kept forgetting things all the time!

When we, finally, were ready I ended up in a room which looked like a some sort of garden. There was reddish-brown wooden ceiling and walls, one light above us while there, otherwise, was grassy ground with tiny “hill” and on top of the hill was a tree. I knew something wasn’t right as I stood behind a small group of people or anthros, or both, at the corner of this place near small pond. Behind the hill, near the tree, I saw an anthro with old Japanese hat, running fast and soundlessly towards us. He did an ambush attack, killing 2 of the men who sat in front of my feet. Others stared with wide eyes in disbelief but I, damn, pulled two katana blades out of somewhere, holding them both with my left hand between my fingers. In my right hand I had smaller blade and a syringe. I don’t know why! I felt do fear as I bend forward, hitting the katanas once firmly against the soft grass, expressing my willingness to fight and kill this attacker. I was so damn ready, ahaha! I have never felt so powerful, so calm and strong :D

As I fought against him, he managed to poke one man on the throat, killing him. There was no blood even that he had a hole on his neck. He just... got empty like a balloon which lost the air.

I managed to cut this attacker down, instantly knowing I needed to head to this big bronze iron door at the end of the room. There was a small red hinge which I needed to find and take off in order to open the door and free all of us. Of course the hinge was very small and at the bottom part of the door, being disguised with magic but I found it. For the hinge I got bronze colored long old key. I had no use for it yet. I pushed the door open, coming in a old Japanese room.

On my right was a wall and maybe something or someone. I’m not sure since I didn’t focus on that side so much. Instead I focused on the left side. There was long and dark area behind the group of turtles. Yes, TMNT turtles. I think they were 2003 versions or then there also was 2012 turtles with them. I’m not sure since I didn’t focus on them too much. My focus was on this big antique looking “cocoon”, with glass and decorations, which was hanging above them from the ceiling. Inside the cocoon was Rise Leonardo. He looked like if he was about to faint at any second. I, now, was definitely Rise Raph. The mass and strength were clear sign. Plus the voice.

Other turtles yelled what I was doing as I dashed towards them, keeping my eyes on Leo in the cocoon. I jumped in the air, grabbing a hold on the cocoon as I yelled;

“My sister is in there!” (I don’t know WHY he said sister)

I dug out the key, pushing it in the lock, feeling how other turtles came to carry me from below, helping me while some were now fighting to keep - whatever it was - away from me in the room. I started to turn the key and I kept turning, turning and turning it until I noticed there were some sort of “balks” which needed to be removed first by turning the key until the cocoon would open.

I don’t know did I ever got the cocoon open since, next, I was back myself and coming towards a “room” which had wooden bars as walls. Inside the room was my sis and her Japanese friend (she knows her for real). They were sleeping as I entered. I bend over my sis a bit, whispering that the clock was 7:05am and she woke up with her friend. We then went in the kitchen with was very industrial-like. Cabins were screaming red while counters were black and walls were grayish-white. There was a man who was not so pleased and he was nagging at my sister’s friend.

He had allowed her to come in his house and live there with one condition. She had to cook for him (and us). She didn’t seem too happy, but she snapped at him to step aside from the stove and let her cook.

Then I woke up, thanks to my boy cat, who has been keeping me awake so damn much lately. I barely can sleep 2-5 hours per “night” / day because of him. He meows like mad, “talks” constantly, ask for food but then don’t eat much, he keeps jumping on me when I try to sleep etc. I am sure it’s because of spring even that he is neutered like 13 years ago.

[sickboynotes]

There’s a spider that’s been sitting in the corner of the bathroom for months and months and months. I thought it was dead maybe but i saw it flex it’s leg yesterday

There was a blizzard and I went and put on my boots and flightsuit and jacket and gloves and went and sat in the snow. Wind roaring, the kind of wind and snow where you try to take a breath and all the air gets sucked out of your lungs

Everything is in that phase where it’s all yellow and dead and white and black. All the dead grasses and the asphalt and the snow

Saw a dead caterpillar on the trail. Fuzzy, black and brown. It was first thaw so really we were just wading through mud, plum had the time of her life though.

Saw a herd of deer at fort snelling at dusk, later we saw, too late- my exceptionally unobservant (and not wearing glasses at the time) but there was a big buck in the center of the trail that I didn’t register until we were maybe ten feet away from it and plum let out a tiny bark, it moved fast but it was that sort of situation where things happen very slowly, I just felt like I was looking into it’s face for a very long time before it left.

Baby bald eagle

We come back along the trail, the parent is gliding on the wind circling the water

There was a noise coming above us, I thought it was a bird but Erick thought it was a frog

Had a nightmare about the deer that we thought had chronic wasting disease but really it had been attacked by something, it was genuinely an awful sight, that wandered into our friends yard while we were sitting there

The spider in the bathroom really moved today! It bolted across the wall and tried to catch lunch in some gnat that lacked the sense to not fly by. The spider missed, anyhow.

First hailstorm of the year! I really don’t look forward to leaving, I love the sort of biblical weather that’s common here. Being a little kid and getting yelled at to come inside because tornados are dangerous and so is hail.

Saw murmurations of Starlings up near Fargo! I’ve only seen them a handful of times but this time I saw like six different groups and managed to get decent video, I showed it to my grandpa and he was unimpressed which I thought was a little funny, he’s the crybaby and the bird expert of the family.

Went and picked up some paper and saw an individual turkey standing on the traffic barrier post in the middle of downtown St. Paul, very funny just watching it sit there.

Plum (my dog) ate a piece of already chewed gum today!!! Which I really would have preferred she didn’t as it’s poisonous to her, but we called pet poison control and she’ll be fine thank god, but I can’t help but be like would you just go into the forest and start eating neon blue things? Like that’s Always gonna be poisonous to you. So why do

that?????

Went on a very long walk, the jury is most likely going to finish deliberating tomorrow. I realized I could not think at all and could clear my head so I walked out the door and speedwalked in a giant circle for two hours in the rain which is exactly what I needed I think. I found an instant photo on the ground of two people with backpacking gear on kissing.

Swarms of birds just soaring on the wind over the valley (that functions as the border between MN and WI. I felt my heart leap in jealousy over and over again each time I saw a bird complete a circle.

We went camping and saw a few herds of bison. There was a flock of geese fighting and screeching at least until 1AM, and they were still going at it when I woke up at 6. While sort of laughing at myself because I already knew the answer I texted my grandfather asking if geese were nocturnal

Was staring at the ceiling trying to think and there was a little wispy spider. I pointed him out and Erick said he’d been in that corner for months

Lots of little chunky spiders on the trail in the prairie, I haven’t ever spent significant time in western Minnesota so every time I’m there it’s really striking how western Minnesota feels like... well. The West. All hilly and yellow and endless.

Was coming down a somewhat busy road and there were a flock of turkeys crossing (or refusing, rather) to cross the road. Not really that uncommon but I haven’t seen a whole flock outside of Northeast.

The Cooperman’s said no to going out to the badlands (“you want us to go to MEDORA?!”) which. It’s a loss because that means we can’t use Sam’s rav4 but it’s fine I have other friends that want to go hang out on a cliff side or whatever the technical geological term is!!

We fell asleep and woke up to two river otters swimming back and forth ten feet in front of our tent which was... mostly just really surreal.

Also woke up at like five to a blue jay singing it’s song. And woodpeckers

Saw my grandparents for the first time in... four or five months now that we’re all fully vaxxed and I don’t remember what brought it up but we were talking about how many bison there used to be, and I brought up how passenger pigeons used to turn the sky dark and my grandfather said “Martha died in 1914 in Cincinnati”, apparently referring to the last living passenger pigeon. And then he made a joke about how he can’t remember anything important but he can remember that. I thought it was really sweet since he used to keep pigeons until my grandma developed pigeon fanciers lung.

It’s the time of year when you can see ducklings all in a line in the pond/drainage ditches off the freeway

Milo says I can take the train up to Vermont and sit in the mountains with him if I ever want to get away from the city. But ultimately, I don’t have business in Vermont, I have business in New York.

I looked up and suddenly everything was green, the trees aren’t just budding anymore. The trial really ate March and April out of everyone’s conscious here I think

Went over to my grandparents and they have every bird ever in their yard, and two albino squirrels and bees that Do Not Like my grandfather.

This is mostly like wishful thinking in regard to “nature” or really it might be a sort of anti nature but I want to go to White Sands so badly. I’ve wanted to go to the Trinity test site for a handful of years but this year is the first time it’s feasible- except they only open it to the public two days a year and none I don’t think this year because of covid. So I want to go camp in the missile range, since that’s as close as we can get to the trinity site. It’s a compulsion- a circle that I desperately want closed, but we have to go as soon as possible once school is done if I don’t want to die of dehydration in the desert.

The river is thawed and judging by the calendar it’s been thawed for a good long while. We went to a park by the river and I realized I’ve only ever lived in cities with a major river cutting through downtown. I don’t want to leave the Mississippi. Anyway, the giant sheriffs boat sitting there ruined any sort of quiet introspective moment I could have had.

[hadesglance]

All hail the new queen... - 3 (Original Hades Story)

You fought your way through the maze of the underworld to make a deal with the King…intrigued the lonely king listens…

Part One Part Two

You pulled up from across the address you were given. You reached into your coat pulling out the thick black card reading the gold foil print before looking back at the intimidating dark gate, “Well…they always said the Greeks were dramatic.”

You revved the engine of your bike coasting it forward up to the guard post outside the gate. You flipped the kickstand down as a guard with a long beard and big aviator glasses came out, “Ma’am.”

“Uh…I’m expected. My name…” You started to tell him.

“I know who you are, we’ve met.” He smiled at you pushing his shades down showing his glowing eyes of fire as your mouth dropped open slightly, “I look different without my boat, but passage into my master’s realm is still my job.”

“Charon?” You swallowed as you began searching your pockets, “I don’t…I don’t think I have payment…”

“Now, now, don’t fret. You have unlimited access.” He pointed to your arm, “Master Hades made sure of that.”

“Right…” You nodded taking in a deep breath, “Right, of course.”

“He told me to let you know he’ll be home shortly and to pick out a room. You’ll find anything you need in the house. If you get lost just ask someone for directions. Everyone is aware of who you are.” Charon explained to you.

You looked over as the large gate opened up with a creek revealing a large modern looking mansion down the drive. Charon looked over at you as you kicked up the kickstand, “Welcome home, Y/N.”

You found the garage easily enough, parking your bike away from all the fancy vehicles. You already felt so out of place and you hadn’t even been here for five minutes. The feeling didn’t get any better as you walked into the house.

Everything was pristine. Ivory white walls contrasting with the dark obsidian ones. You were afraid to touch anything. Everything seemed to have it’s own specific place. Every painting, statue, couch…perfectly laid out.

You looked at the stool you stood next to. You stared at it a moment longer before looking around seeing no one. As you turned to walk out of the room you used the back of your heel to knock it over.

You chuckled to yourself feeling a little better knowing you put some sort of chaos into the house.

You explored for a while until you came to a bedroom. It started out like the rest, a black door. The inside however was different. It didn’t have large walls on all sides. Instead it had a large window looking out to a green forest. You never seen so many trees.

You dropped your bag on the bed walking over to the window looking around. It was a beautiful view. You swear you could see a river out there too, but you didn’t remember a river being in the area.

“I don’t know you,” You jumped turning to see the man…god…of the hour. You stared at him as he stepped into the room dressed in an all-black expensive suit. His dark hair was combed over in a handsome way that only made his face look more like chiseled marble, “but I anticipated that this would be the room you would choose.”

“I like a nice view…sue me.” You crossed your arms looking down as his icy gaze glued itself to you.

He stopped in front of you hands in his pockets. The fact that he didn’t speak, and you wouldn’t look up at him as he looked you over was unnerving. You didn’t know how to act around him.

“You don’t need to be so submissive. I’m sure it’s not in your nature.” His voice was like cool waterfall flowing over you. He obviously didn’t know you at all if he thought that, but it was a nice thought to let him think, “You have demonstrated you’re willing to go to great lengths to accomplish things.”

“Well…it’s not every day your Gigi is right about the ancient gods and the book you took from her actually contained a spell to meet one and make a deal.” You spouted off before you looked at him. He had an amused look on his face. Why were you playing so confident around him, “I just…don’t know what you expect of me and I want to make good on my part.”

“Hm…” His amusement fell slightly as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “well to be completely honest with you, I’m not sure what I expect of you.”

“What?” Your squinted at him confused, “Y-you made a deal with me without knowing what you wanted?”

“Well…” He smirked as he let his hand fall, “I’m a god who doesn’t get many visitors. You took me off guard, I had to think on my feet.”

Great. This was great…no expectations…no idea of what he was going to do with you.

“Okay…” You frowned a little from the unexpected truth, “well…I took care of everything. I don’t have anything keeping me from here.”

“What about your schooling?” His eyes were inquisitive as he waited for you answer.

“I went all week for nostalgia…” You told him quickly, “But like I said, if I don’t show up, they just drop me.”

“That won’t be necessary, you should still go.” He told you as he took a step past you looking out the window, “Education is important, what are you studying?”

The rapid fire of information and question threw you for a moment. You hadn’t anticipated such action, “I-I am trying to be a doctor…”

“Doctor?” He looked at you surprised, “Have you chosen a specialty?”

“I…” You took in a deep breath, you hated this question, “I thought about oncology…but I’ve also looked into surgery…”

He tilted his head a little in thought as he looked back out the window, “You would make a good surgeon. You have good hands.”

“And you would know this how?” You turned to him crossing your arms.

“I did help you up the other day. Your hands are small…delicate…I’m sure they could work a scalpel easily enough.” He turned to you as well watching you blush as you turned toward the window, “Yet, you seem less then thrilled by that option. There must be a reason…”

“My parents actually want me to be a surgeon.” You told him quietly hanging your head briefly before looking up to him with a smirk, “But I don’t really like being told what to do, but I still wanted to help people. Cancer isn’t cured yet, so why not jump on that ship?”

“Admirable…Lígo.”  You shut your eyes tightly hearing your nickname from his lips, “Tell me, are you Greek?”

You made an audible sigh, “I suppose this was inevitable…yes…I am a 9th generation Greek. As for Lígo…I’m the little sister and Jonah was my big brother…”

“Megálo…” He smiled a little, “That’s cute…”

“It used to be Little Bird and Big Bird…but saying mikró pouláki and megálo poulí was really hard when I was four so… Lígo and Megálo it was.” You felt really hot telling him all this.

“Your Greek is very well spoken, from what little I’ve heard.” He seemed impressed.

“Yes well my giagiá is very traditional and won’t speak to anyone except in the mother tongue.” You told him with yet another sigh, “My family is what you would call very orthodox and they have never been exactly happy that I don’t just want to get married and have babies.”

“I can relate. I’m not exactly one to not kick a bee hive.” You looked at him seeing a deep thought cross his features, “Though I imagine a very traditional grandmother could be very scary.”

You smiled at little watching a bird fly across the yard, “You are correct. Gigi is this only one I’ve seen make grown men cower. Papa, my grandfather, used to say Gigi could take down the Titans if she’d been back there with the gods.”

When you looked back to him there was a somber look to him, “No doubt, I’m sure.”

“Uh…” You got the feeling you upset him somehow, but didn’t know how to ask him about it, “so…what exactly should I call you? Cause…Charon called you master…and I’m not…sure…I mean I will…but I just…”

“Hades is fine.” He told you turning from the window looking around the room, “Is that all your brought?”

“Yeah…” You nodded as he walked toward your bag and one duffle, “I lived in the dorm and there wasn’t a whole lot of space.”

“I see…” He picked up the duffle and began to open it.

“Hey!” You walked over slapping his hands away cringing instantly afterwards realizing what you did, “I uh…I didn’t…”

Hades stared at you for a moment as you continued to have a miniature panic attack, “Y/N…”

You froze hearing your name in his voice. It was the first time he spoke it. You don’t even remember actually telling him your name and now the first time he was going to use it was no doubt to put you in your place.

“Will you have dinner with me?”

[saccharine-suffering]

Some Whump Based On My Real Life Experiences

My favorite type of whump both to read and to write is where I can relate to the whumpee. I read sickfics when I fall ill, bone whumps when I fracture or sprain, ect.

Now, I am horrifically unlucky, and I, first hand, have experienced some very underrated pain. To add to my copious amount of injuries, I also live in the middle of a desert. So these are going to be in two categories: location-based & nonlocation-based.

Feel fee to use these for your whumpee. Take it from me, they H U R T. I can look back on them now and be like "Wow. Sucks for my poor whumpees because you best believe I will be writing this."

Location Based:

Cacti. I have a lot about cacti.

I live in one of the few places with natural growing cacti, which, I mean, cool, but they are everywhere. I have fallen into more than my fair share of cacti over the years.

I have two giant cane cholla growing in my front yard. When I was, I think about eight (8) years old, my sister and I were playing in the yard when I tripped and fell straight into one of them. I ended up breaking off a branch from the cactus and hit a tendon. I could barely move without getting spined over and over.

Under the tree in my yard, there is one powderpuff thistle, blending in perfectly with the grass. Long story short, sitting under the tree to get some fresh air and shade is not a thing at my house unless you want a thigh full of thistle.

One time I fell into a teddy-bear cholla at school. The bell rang and the nurse doesn't allow walk-ins without a note. We also weren't allowed to leave class 10 minutes before or after the bell rang. So I just had to suffer in silence.

I got bit by a bull snake. They aren't venomous, but that doesn't change the fact that there is still a scar on my Achilles to this day.

Flash Floods. These are more physcological than anything, but even so, as a young child, it was terrifying.

I've never been stung by a bee, but I have accidentally stepped on a tarantula halk wasp, which has the second most painful sting in the insect kingdom. You bet when I kept walking the thing was pissed and long story short, that was my first (but unfortunately not only) experience with paralysis.

Contaminated water. The tap water in my town is a dusty shade of gray, and I have gotten sick from drinking it. (Before anyone asks it tastes like , paper, and rocks)

Sunstroke aka the worst time to be alive as a human being. It's like having the flu, only maybe 13x worse, and it's not contagious, and you hallucinate.

Nonlocation-Based:

I have a fucked up mouth.

So, people often overlook jusst how painful a cavity is, because, you know, they get a cavity, their tooth hurts, they get it filled, they forget about it. WELL--

For a while my family did not have healthcare that covered dental work, so when I got a cavity, I just had to suffer.

I wasn't a big deal at first, but then as time progressed I began to experience the single most painful ache possible in a human being; what I like to call "The Triple Threat Sinus Ache"

Debilitating toothache mixed with a congested nose mixed with a pounding earache that leads directly to the skull equals laying in bad biting down on gauze and not being able to do anything else.

I couldn't eat, drinking was painful, sleep was only possible when I passed out, it was awful.

BUT it would make a KILLER hurt/comfort fic.

Another tooth thing: one of my baby teeth never fell out, and instead just got pusbed backwards into the roof of my mouth. Very painful on it's own, but thas not even where I was going with that story.

I had to get it removed. Surgically. So, they gave me laughing gas to numb the shot that was ment to put me under, but my body had other plans.

Anesthesia Awareness. I hadn't even realized it at the time because, laughing gas. Numbed the pain. I still felt every bit of pressure, so I thought that this was just supposed to happen. I couldn't move at all, but I assumed it was a side effect of the shot or something. No, turns out, I was ment to be fully unconscious.

Seriously, go research Anesthesia Awareness. ESPECIALLY if you like medical whump. I got lucky I was given laughing gas beforehand. Your whumpee might not be so lucky.

Cryotherapy. Basically, liquid nitrogen, q-tip, directly on my hands because of a skin malformation. Completely debilitating. Could not use my hands for days afterwards.

Dry ice burn. Pretty self explanatory. I was pretty young so I don't really remember this happening but I still have a scar on my wrist.

Panic Attacks, I've had several. The worst ones are always in public, so much so that I've blacked out before. Once again, would recommend for hurt/COMFORT.

[writersrealmbts]

Alternate Reality Nightmare: Part 2

Part 1

Description: You end up in an alternate reality with your bias when you got lost trying to get out, and things definitely aren’t the same here as they are where you’re from. Namjoon x Reader.

Warnings: Violence, other issues, (You should always be careful when reading things)

Posted: 10/28/2018

Tags: Namjoon, Reader X Namjoon, AlternateReality!AU

Angst: 5,876 words

A/N: It’s choppy, it’s awful, it’s long, but this is the wrap up of the first part which I loved. 

“No, no way. I’m not staying here while you run off with him. He’ll kill you. Then I’ll be alone,” Namjoon whispered, his voice shaking. “I don’t think I have a choice,” you replied, shivering as you remember the way Hoseok had looked at you. “And could you really watch Seokjin die?” He looked at Jin, who was on a respirator and was only alive due to the combination of medicine and the fact that Namjoon was holding his hand. He was close enough to this world’s version of Namjoon that his presence—his touch—helped Jin. The physician said that if he had another seizure like that he would die. That he was running out of time. “Besides, he’s right. He know this world’s version of me better. And he’s from this world. We aren’t. We don’t know how anything works.” You didn’t like it either, but logically it was the best choice. “But, we’d both be alone in a different way.” He took your hand in his free hand. “And what if you have a panic attack? What if he just leaves you?” “I’m not heartless,” Hoseok chuckled from the doorway. “Are you sure about that?” Namjoon shot back, gripping your hand tightly. Hoseok’s face softened. “I need them back. Namjoon and Jin. I’ll do my best to get her back to you, but I can’t promise anything because I might not even make it back. What we’re going to do is dangerous. And we’re short on time. Which is why you need to put this on so we can go,” he addressed you, holding out an outfit. You slid your hand out of Namjoon’s so you could take the clothing. It was soft yet felt strong and durable. Namjoon caught your gaze, his own worried and scared. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told him, then went and changed into the strange clothing. You pulled your hair back while you were in there and then went back out. Hoseok nodded. “It’ll do. I’ll be in the living room.” You went back to Namjoon, who let go of Jin’s hand to hug you. “Come back. We’re going home together or we’re stuck here together.” He held you tightly. Then he kissed your cheek and quickly took Jin’s hand again. You nodded, thinking how crazy it was that this morning you were freaking out about just seeing his group in person and now you weren’t even fazed by him hugging you. The kiss to your cheek surprised you, but you bent and kissed his forehead. “I’ll try not to let you worry too long,” you whispered. “Talk to Jungkook and Jimin. Jin said that they might have been responsible for us being here.” He nodded slowly, eyes closed and hand on your arm. You kissed his forehead again and then slipped out of the room, hearing him murmur your name with a goodbye. Hoseok was waiting just outside the door, leaning against the frame with a bored look. “It’s going to take us a while to get there. Let’s hope you’ve got it in you to travel hard.” You sure hoped so. —————— You often caught glimpses of the Hoseok you were familiar with as the two of you traveled and fought to where you were guessing this world’s you would be. The two of you dropped behind a chicken coop to catch your breath. He actually laughed softly. “You weren’t kidding. You aren’t a soldier.” “You’re just reaching this conclusion?” You smiled as you tried to catch your breath. You’d been virtually useless, even making him refrain from killing like he normally would which made things twice as difficult. You’d picked up a couple things, and only had two panic attacks that he had helped you through with a surprisingly gentle manner and touch. He fought beautifully and powerfully, just like he danced in your world. It was somewhat mesmerizing and you often found yourself watching him instead of worrying about how the people he was fighting were now hurt. The world was messed up. Crazy messed up, but there was enough that was similar that you could find your way through. Now the two of you were hiding behind the chicken coop of your doppelgänger “She lives here?” Hoseok muttered, peeking at the modest two-story house. You peeked out and smiled a little. There was a porch with a porch swing. Roses in the garden. An herb patch and a vegetable patch. Apple trees further back. The house was modest, but well taken care of. “It’s what I always dreamed I’d have. Minus the chickens because they kind of freak me out. I thought I’d raise pheasants.” He peeked around the coop. “I don’t think this is in use right now. Doesn’t smell.” “True.” “But, this?” He gestured to the house and yard. “I can almost guarantee that she keeps bees in the back of her yard.” “But would she keep Namjoon here?” You licked your lips, then bit your lower lip. “Um, I don’t know. I’ve never kidnapped anyone.” “Good point,” He took a deep breath. “So, now what?” “I could go ring the doorbell.” “Really? That’s the first idea that came to your mind?” You shrugged. “Can you think of a better one?” He looked at you like you were crazy. “Scope it out and break in when she leaves?” “Okay, you do that. I’ll try the doorbell.” You slipped out and into the trees, then around to the road. You went up to the front door and then rang the doorbell. She—you—answered the door. You both stared at each other. “Hi, I’m you from another reality and I have a bone to pick with you.” She looked at your clothes, then her gaze sharpened and scanned her yard. “Where is that jerk?” “What jerk?” Your voice sounded weird to you. And you couldn’t help but notice that this version of you was in better shape. “Hoseok Jung,” she folded her arms. “Oh, well, we’ll talk about that later.” You walked into the house. “Hey!” “What? It’s my house,” you reasoned, checking it out. “Dang this is freaky. I would totally decorate it like this. Where’s Namjoon?” “Excuse me, this is not—“ “Look, I’m sorry I’m interrupting your movie, but I’m trying to prevent one persons death and get back to my own reality with my friend and I can’t do that unless I get Namjoon back.” You folded your arms and looked at yourself. “If you’re anything like me…” you noticed that she had markings on her hands, arms, around her ears and throat. “Then you probably didn’t take Namjoon as a soldier, but as a healer. That’s what you are, right? Not a soldier, but a healer.” She whipped a weapon out, pointing it at Hoseok as he hurried in. “It’s not loaded,” you told him. “Because I’m not a soldier. Never have been. Never could be.” “What are you talking about, she’s—“ “A healer, Hoseok! Look at her hands,” you told him. He let his gaze drop to her hands and his eyes widened. “But you took Namjoon…” “I couldn’t stop healing him after I started the process. We were avoiding escalating war.” She kept her gaze fixed on Hoseok, and her gun. Hoseok looked like his world was shattering. “He was hurt?” “He had a brain tumor and fell down those stairs. I healed him, but it took a while,” she said, still sounding like she would shoot him. “And there wasn’t time to explain it to anyone because the delegation I was there with was attacked.” “Has Namjoon even asked to leave?” Hoseok asked. She frowned. “I’ve kept him in a healing cocoon. It was the best way to help him recover while I worked out how to return him to his home without causing any problems. I just finished healing him. I followed protocol. He knows where he is, and that I was treating him.” “Wake him,” Hoseok demanded. “Please. We can get him back.” She didn’t move. “Me, promise that Hoseok will stop hunting down me and my family.” “Really? Her family? Idiot. Yeah, I promise. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bug you.” You have him a disapproving look. If it had been your family you would definitely have a loaded weapon pointed at him right about now. Oh shit. That could have been really bad. He frowned and shrugged slightly. “Know your enemy.” “Your enemy gets twice as dangerous when you pose a threat to her family,” you answered, folding your arms. She lowered the gun and then set it aside and led the way upstairs to a very comfortable bedroom. Namjoon—this worlds version of him—lay in the bed with a sort of blue light surrounding him. His markings matched Jin’s, but he also had more of them. Hoseok hurried to his side, making a choked sound. She nudged him aside and then seemed to absorb the blue light surrounding Namjoon, placing her hand on his forehead, then stepping back as he took a deeper breath and then opened his eyes. First he saw Hoseok. “Hobi? What are you…” he frowned, then saw both versions of you next to each other. “It’s a long story, Namjoon. We need to get you back home.” Hoseok helped Namjoon stand up. Namjoon looked at her. “Am I done healing?” She nodded. “How long did it take?” He looked outside and froze, eyes wide with horror. He turned desperately to Hoseok. “Jin?!” “He’s alive, but barely. I’m afraid I wasn’t…the burden of leading didn’t help him…” Hoseok looked at the ground, ashamed. Namjoon looked at her. “Thank you, but we need to leave.” “So I gathered. Here’s your stuff.” She held up a bag. He took it and looked to Hoseok. “Everyone else?” You led the way out. “It’s been hard, Namjoon. But they’re alive and healthy.” You sighed, wondering when Namjoon would ask about you. Being around him just made you worry (for the billionth time) about how your Namjoon was doing. You wished you could let him know that you were on your way back with their Namjoon. “What is she doing?” “Ah, shes coming back with us because of reasons you won’t believe until you see. Let’s just focus on getting you to Jin.” Hoseok put a friendly arm around your shoulders. “She’s our guardian angel.” ———— Hoseok had filled Namjoon in on everything, ashamed of his inability to see straight. Namjoon for his part seemed to accept the explanation as to why he had been seeing double, murmuring something about Jungkook or Jimin and messing with things they didn’t understand. “That’s what Jin said,” you commented. Anguish covered Namjoon’s face. “It’s taking us so long to get home. What if he’s dead when we get there?” The three of you were talking as you slipped through side streets of their city. “We have to hope that he isn’t,” Hoseok replied. “If he is…I don’t think I could forgive myself…” Namjoon just made a distressed sound. You dropped behind them as other people appeared, letting the veil drop over your face again. Carrying the bags so that no one would question their walking with you or whether you were a slave. Hoseok unlocked the gate to their home and ushered both of you through. Then the three of you hurried inside and over to the room Jin used. Namjoon froze momentarily at the sight of himself sitting by Jin’s side, but then hurried to Jin’s side and took his place. His marks glowed silver as he took Jin’s hand, as did Jin’s marks. Your Namjoon rushes to hug you, pulling you tightly against his chest. “Oh thank God, I’ve been so worried.” You just nodded slightly, watching as this worlds Namjoon gently ran his fingers through Jin’s hair. Jin’s body seemed to relax, his breathing seemed easier. His eyes fluttered open, glowing silver. “Joon?” “I’m here, Hyung.” “Idiot. Told you you shouldn’t bond with me,” Jin murmured. “You need someone stronger.” Namjoon shushed him softly. “I wanted to keep you around. You’re stronger than I ever was.” “He’ll never fully recover,” Your Namjoon murmured, watching with you. “The physician said that he was almost blind, and that his body has sustained permanent damage.” Their Namjoon kept running his fingers through Jin’s hair. “I failed…I couldn’t take care of them…” Jin’s breath hitches and he coughed weakly. Namjoon shushed him softly. “You did great, Hyung. They’re all alive. You’re alive. You’re going to get better. I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere and you better not go anywhere either.” “I’m so tired, ‘mjoon…” Jin breathed it out, eyes closing. “I…” “Jinnie?” Namjoon quickly moved to check his pulse and then slumped over in relief. He then pushed back up and leaned in and kissed Jin. You felt your Namjoon (RM, just think of him as RM) stiffen. “What?” He breathed out. You stared as well as Namjoon crawled into the bed to hold Jin gently so that he could easily monitor the elder mans breathing and heart rate. Hoseok nodded for all of you to leave and give Namjoon and Jin some space, closing the door behind you. “I’m going to go tell the others. Make sure they don’t try to get in.” You nodded. Your Namjoon shook his head. “That’s so weird.” “Alternate reality, anything could happen. Besides, there are factions in your fandom who ship you with Jin.” He shook his head and then hugged you tightly. “It was Jungkook. He admitted it the day after you left. We could get back home.” You sighed in relief, burying your face in Namjoon’s shoulder. “Good. This place scares me. I’ve seen more than I wanted to. I was worried about you.” He pushed you away a little and then kissed you lightly before he looked at you like he couldn’t believe he did that. You nodded slowly. “You did.” He got embarrassed, stepping away and covering his face with one hand and stammering. You just sort of nodded, downplaying how much your heart raced and your mind screaming in ecstasy at getting kissed by him. “It’s okay. It’s just because of the situation. I get it. Everything will go back to how it was before. The way it should be.” You turned away from him. It was strange that you felt so close to him. He knew so little about you and you knew quite a bit about him after being his fan for so long. After having him as your bias for so long. Besides, for all you knew when you got back you might end up in jail or something for kidnapping. “I don’t want it to.” You froze at his words, looking up at him. “You barely know me.” “It’s going to take us some time to get out of here and for once I have some privacy. I can take the time to get to know you. So let me. Let me know you.” He took your hands, still seeming a little shy and embarrassed, but when he did meet your eyes, he held your gaze. You looked away. “When we get back, you won’t. You’ll have schedules. And I’ll have to go home. Everyone knows even if you guys don’t say that dating isn’t an option. I’m just one of a couple million fans, and you deserve to have someone who gets to know you in person, by spending time with you. You deserve to have someone who knows as much about you as you know about them so that you can learn about each other together.” “Or I can get to know you,” He insisted. Jungkook cleared his throat. You quickly pulled away from Namjoon as he was distracted by Jungkook. Jungkook looked apologetic. “Sorry, I, um, I figured you didn’t want to continue that conversation in front of me. Are they…” “We’re under strict instructions not to let anyone in,” Namjoon told him. Jungkook looked at you. “Did he tell you?” “That you were the one who brought us here? Yeah. He told me.” “I’m sorry I pulled you from your lives,” He murmured, looking at the floor. “But I’m not sorry that it led to hyung returning. We need him. Jin-ssi-hyung needs him.” Just then you all could hear raised voices from inside. “I’m not breaking our soul-bond! Not when it can save you!” Namjoon’s voice carried through the door and he yelled it, almost desperately. “If you break it, I’ll just put it back!” The others had come down at that point and all of you looked nervously at each other. You went over, opening the door slightly while the others waited nervously. “No, stop it, hyung. Stop it!” “Namjoon…I’m not…I’m not getting better…it’ll hurt you…if I die…while we’re…bonded…” “It’ll hurt me if you die at all. Hyung, if you break it you’ll die,” Namjoon’s voice had risen in pitch as his desperation to stop Jin turned to panic. “I might not be able to establish it fast enough to save you!” “If I don’t break it and I…do live, you’ll never be able…to part from me. I’d die…if you broke it to…bond with your…future partner…” “Stop, just stop! Please just rest!” It was quiet for a moment. “Hyung? Hyung!?” You unfroze, darting in and seeing that Jin was spasming again. The others were right behind you and Yoongi quickly moved to adjust the medical equipment. Namjoon hovered right next to Jin, looking as terrified as RM had on that first day. “Please stay with me, please, hyung!” He was touching Jin’s skin everywhere he could without being in the way. “He should be getting better,” Yoongi said, sounding scared. You grabbed Hoseok’s arm and pulled him close so you could whisper. “Is there a disease that will strike soul-bonded people if the person they bond with thinks the other doesn’t love them?” He looked at you, but you could see the wheels turning. “Joon, did you ever tell hyung how you felt? Did you ever tell him how you really felt? Kiss him when he was awake?” Of course. Jin had been asleep. Namjoon looked between Hoseok and Jin. “He would never believe me. I couldn’t lose him.” “You are losing him, you idiot! Tell him!” You screeched, unable to hold back anymore, a panic attack of your own starting to well up. Hoseok straightened. “Everyone buy Yoongi out. Now.” The boys moved to obey, and RM quickly guided you out, seeming to notice that you were sinking into your own panic from the stress around you and inside of you. ————— The two weeks it took to prepare to send you and RM back to the proper reality were quiet. He spent most of it getting to know you, he asked you questions and would talk with you about your interests. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to know everything, because that’s what he asked. Everything. But you wouldn’t let him do much more than hold your hand, and you would let him hug you to help you through any panic attacks. You were aware of the reality you would have to go back to. The day you two were set to go back was the first day that Jin was finally out of bed. He was in a wheel-chair, still not strong enough to stand on his own, but the relief that seemed to fill the house at seeing improvement was soothing. He listened, staring blindly outside with a soft smile as everyone talked to each other and prepared to send you and RM back. You sat next to him. “You’ve got a great family.” He smiled, turning toward your voice. “I do. Will you and RM stay together after you go back?” “It’s a little more complicated. He’s in the public eye there, a girlfriend could really do some damage to his career. He doesn’t have time for a girlfriend. Plus, there’s the language barrier. Sure, he speaks English, but I don’t actually speak Korean.” You looked at your hands, fidgeting a bit. “Besides, it was just a coincidence. Us meeting. It should never have happened in the first place.” He reached out, finding your hands in the first go. “But it did.” You sighed, shivering slightly and pressing his hand to your forehead affectionately. You had grown close to this version of Seokjin over the past couple of weeks as you helped Namjoon help him. The two of you were friends. Now you’d have to go back to your own reality where you’re just another fan-girl that they struggle to communicate with because you don’t speak much Korean. Actually, you’d probably get labeled a sasaeng and have to go in hiding. “Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Jin murmured, his other hand finding your face. “Breathe.” You tried to, but you were too wound up and anxious about returning. “RM.” He came over when Jin called, seeming to know that it was about you from the way Jin held your face. He pulled your head to his shoulder as Jin let go, then pulled you from your spot and onto his lap so he could hold you and comfort you. “Breathe,” He murmured, then starting humming softly. He had been doing it ever since you told him that you loved his voice, that you liked to listen to Mono and Reflection when you were stressed because it was oddly chill despite the deep and sad lyrics. You shivered and curled to bury your face in his neck, breathing him in one last time. “You’ll always have me,” He murmured. “It’s ready!” Hoseok called over, then seemed to regret interrupting you two. You nodded, sliding out of RM’s arms because he wasn’t expecting you to leave them. He quickly stood up, a hand on your back to steady you if you weren’t able to yourself. You didn’t look at him. “We should get home.” He tried to get you to look at him, but realized you weren’t going to. Finally, he settled for taking your hand and squeezing it before following you over to where the boys from this reality were waiting to send you back. Whatever they did, it worked fast. You fell back from the force into Namjoon’s arms and when you looked around, you were somewhere in Korea. He stared down at you, then looked up and blinked in surprise. “Uh…my dorm is just over there.” You swallowed hard. “I should get going. We don’t know how long we’ve been missing.” He smiled at you. “You’re still speaking in Korean.” You blinked, and sort of knew it was true. You switched to English, wondering what would happen if you tried to speak Korean after speaking English here. “I still need to go.” “Come inside, call your family.” He insisted, still speaking Korean. “Namjoon, they probably think that I kidnapped you. How are you going to explain to them that we ended up in an alternate reality?” He caught your hand as you tried to turn away. “Please don’t go. You’re the only one that…no one else will understand. Please don’t leave.” That’s when both of your phones started blowing up with missed calls and texts and other notifications. You both looked at your phones, then at each other. “Two months…” You swallowed hard. “Namjoon, we’re going to have to pretend we were kidnapped.” Namjoon nodded, and pulled you down the street. The two of you went quite the distance, to an area that seemed sort of sketchy. Then he called one of them back. “Hyung-nim?” You closed out the conversation, barely noting how Namjoon spun the situation before focusing on the texts you had received. You would have to call later, after everything here in Korea was taken care of. “Hey, you still with me?” His voice was gentle as he took your hands in his, searched your face with a look of concern, then sat beside you on the sidewalk and put an arm around your shoulders so he could pull you to him. “Sorry, y/n. I should have made sure you were out of the attack before we walked halfway across town.” You just whimpered slightly. “What if they blame me?” “I won’t let them,” He murmured. “They know you’re with me. I know you need to go back to your family, but I’ll need your help to get through all of this. For sanity.” Your heart ached at the familiar words, but you nodded slowly. “For sanity.” The words came out soft and somewhat reluctant. He seemed to shiver for a moment, then his hold on you tightened. His own breathing was shaky. A van pulled up and someone that must have been his manager got out and started asking Namjoon if he was okay and if you were okay, and just seeming really worried about him. “We woke up here, hyung-nim. I don’t know where we were before, or how we got here,” Namjoon lied, even though you could tell he didn’t want to. His manager seemed to accept this, coaxing the both of you up and into the vehicle as if worried the two of you would disappear. Since you had already done so once before, you supposed it wasn’t that big of a stretch. His manager asked about you, and Namjoon seemed to sense that you didn’t want to speak, not yet, so he spoke for you, including that you understood and spoke some Korean but that you were fighting off a panic attack. This was all followed by a trip to the police station, where you had to stay until the embassy representative arrived with some paperwork to help the process go more smoothly. Namjoon insisted on staying with you, despite his manager’s protest that the boys would want to see him. He had already talked to his family, but had yet to see the other boys. He looked at you, then at his manager. “She needs me right now.” And he was right, unfortunately, because you were having trouble making head or tails of anything and the longer the police questioned you, the more upset you got. You were surprised when the boys came into the police station, but Namjoon seemed even more surprised. He got up, quickly getting engulfed in hugs and greetings. You saw the embassy representative come back out after talking with the police, and looked at you. “We should get you to the airport.” You looked back at Namjoon, who was completely distracted by the guys, then you got up and followed her out to her car. The police had had your stuff from the hotel, and it was the only reason they had even known you were missing from what they said. And now you were heading home, far away from Namjoon. ———— “Hey, isn’t this the group you like?” Your best friend asked, showing you a song on her phone. “BTS. Yeah,” You replied, but your words sounded hollow. You hadn’t been able to listen to their music ever since you left Korea. You started crying every time. Your family thought it was just because you had been through some sort of trauma. “I like it. They have a new album coming out soon, right?” You shrugged. “I haven’t been paying attention lately.” She just nodded, then patted your back. “I have to go meet my boyfriend. I’ll see you Thursday?” “No. Mom’s taking me to visit my brother.” “Oh, okay. Well, I’ll see you soon then.” She bonked your head affectionately, then left. She’d been nice about the funk you found yourself in ever since. She was able to draw you from it every so often, but today was a bad day—the six-month anniversary of your return—and she must have been able to tell the minute she walked in that there was no pulling you out today. Instead she cuddled you and made quiet conversation every now and then while you both just sort of surfed different websites in each other’s presents. The v-live notification startled you, but you noticed the title of it and your heart skipped a beat. “[BTS] for sanity”. You tapped it, your hands shaking. “Ah, there we go. The notification is still so late,” He was saying, reading comments and waiting. “Yes, I’m doing well. Sorry I was gone for so long. Yes! The new album. I’m really excited for this one. It holds a lot of meaning for me. I recently read a book, it was placed in an alternate reality and a lot of what I learned there was really inspiring. I wondered if the characters managed to keep their ability after returning, and while thinking about everything that happened in that story, I wrote one of the songs on the album about the main characters. I hope you all listen to it and enjoy it.” You wanted to close it before the tears wouldn’t stop. It hurt so much just seeing him on the screen of your phone. To hear him referring to that time with you like this was almost unbearable. “It’s also my solo song on the album, so I really hope you all love it.” His eyes seemed to flick across the screen like he was looking for something. Like if he looked hard enough he might see… “The book? I can’t remember the title. It didn’t fit the story. The main character’s name was y/n, though. It was a great story, but the ending broke my heart. I…hope there will be sequel. I feel like I never got to say goodbye, you know?” He kept talking, moving on to other subjects so that his fans wouldn’t linger to long on his words. But you were crying. You were crying so hard that you couldn’t breathe and when your brother found you he quickly sat you up and called for your mom. You told her everything, and just demonstrating the fact that you could speak whatever language you wanted as fluently as you wanted was enough to convince her. She’d seen your grades in Spanish. She helped you cut that stuff out of your life, she helped you refocus. You started helping your brother house-hunt. So she took care of the actual story you had written based off of what had happened, just altered, and sent it to a couple agents while the you mostly focused on house hunting for your brother. Which was how you found yourself staring at the same house as the one in the alternate universe. It needed work, but your brother said he liked that, and that it was near his work and you had already agreed that you would live with him and cook and help him fix it up instead of having to rent an apartment. It was time to move on. But you weren’t even surprised when he appeared on your front porch one day. You had described the house to him back in the alternate reality, even told him the address, telling him why you would have made each of those choices in your own world. You weren’t surprised that he remembered, or had written it down. You had been sitting on the porch swing, a blanket draped over you as you looked over your newly published book. The van that pulled up your drive was pretty big, and you didn’t know anyone who drove one, which led you to be suspicious. When Namjoon got out and saw you, your heart soared and you could see him almost start to smile. You sat up as he hurried up the walkway and up the steps of the porch. “Y/n.” You kept your gaze down. “Don’t even think about denying that you love me because I read it. I read it and you do. That’s why you left without saying goodbye. I tried to catch you at the airport but I couldn’t. I meant to find you sooner, I swear. I just, I was just able to convince them that I needed you.” He then looked at the house. “Is it…?” “My brother’s. I…I couldn’t tie myself down no matter how hard I tried.” He brought your face up so he could look at you. “Hmm, looks like you’re suffering just as much as I am from being away from the person I’ve bonded my soul to. My y/n.” “It still doesn’t make sense for us to be together.” “I don’t care. I need you.” And you needed him. Even your mom was pointing out that you seemed better when you first got home than you did now. She had helped you cut them out because she thought it would help you, but when she saw that it made you worse… “I heard your song.” He smiled. “It’s about you.” “I know. I like that it wasn’t sad. It helps me sleep,” You murmured. He sat next to you, pulling you into his arms and starting to softly sing. You melted into him. “What made you come here?” “I remembered your words at the alternate version of me. You screamed at him to tell Jin how he really felt. You encouraged them when Jin thought he should let go. I realized that you’re Jin in this situation. You screamed at Namjoon because you saw yourself in Jin.” He tilted your chin up and kissed you. “I love you. I know it’s scary, but the company and the boys have our backs. We’ll get through whatever happens together.” You sighed, feeling all the tension leaving your body. You were tired of fighting against what felt right. “Okay.” “Really?” You nodded. “I love you, too. I’m…I’ve just been too scared.” “Our nightmares are over, baby. Come formally meet the guys?” He asked gently. You realized they were all peeking out of the van doors and windows. You looked up at him. “Anyone you especially want me to meet?” He realized you were teasing him about Jin and just shook his head, grinning and helping you up. “The only person I would ever bond my soul to is you.” You kissed him. “And I would choose you.” Suddenly a letter dropped onto the railing of the porch. The two of you looked at it in surprise, then you tentatively picked it up, noting your name on it. You opened it and smiled as you scanned over the letter, then poured the eight rings into your hand. “We’ve been invited to dinner,” You said, handing him the ring that matched yours—which was the only feminine looking ring in there. Namjoon grinned. “They’re going to freak out.” “Mmhmm, but they’ll have all of us. For sanity,” You smiled up at him, excitement bubbling up in you. He turned toward the van and waved for the guys to come up. “Tell the manager we’ll meet them at the hotel.” “Wonder if any of the other boys have soul-bonded since Namjoon returned?” He laughed at the idea. It was a beautiful sound.

Masterlist.  Part 1. Special: Little Problems  Masterpost  Part 3

[ohboywonder]

Suddenly There - A Narnia Fanfiction

Chapter Five: A Private Lesson

Words: 2552 | AO3 Warnings: light swearing

Content: Suddenly Joyce stumbles into Narnia. Meeting the four Pevensies, she gets taken in and care of. A tension builds up between her and Edmund, although Joyce is clueless that he himself is a King, too. Peter though seems interested in her too and just as Lucy and Susan found out that there’s no way back to England, an attack puts Joyce to the test and she has to proof that Asland picked out the right person to bring back peace to Narnia. 

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - ...

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of knocking. Someone knocked on my door. I opened my eyes and looked around, but it took me a second to realise where I was. “Come in”, I said and thought it’d be my mother, but instead a girl looked through the door and smiled at me. Just then I realised that I wasn’t with my mother and that I wouldn’t be soon, if we didn’t figure out a way to get me back.

All these thoughts roamed through my head before Lucy could say her “Good morning”, but I managed a smile anyways. “Good morning”, I replied and sat straight up.

“Since you’re not dressed yet I think I’ll help you get ready for breakfast, mh?”, she said and I smiled. She was so kind to help me with my hair and the dress again. She herself although looked wonderful. Her hair was braided and turned into a knot in her neck. A few strands hung into her face, but she looked stunning. I tried to remember the way she tied my dress but her hands flew so fast I couldn’t keep up with them.

“Had a good first night in Narnia?”, she asked while pulling the strings of my corset tighter together.

“Oh, well. I seem to have had a bad dream. I woke up in the middle of the night and obviously I screamed, because my guard checked on me. I did not only embarrass me the first night I am here but I also scare that young man, eh, faun to death, so… yeah. A great first night I’d say.”

Lucy giggled but placed her hands on my shoulders. “I can only imagine, it must be hard…” This sounded like she did not have an experience like me, but could imagine too well how I must feel.

“Well, then let’s put this experience behind and get some breakfast.” She walked me back to the dining hall and told me about her daily routine, all the things she had to do and people she needed to meet. Being a Queen of Narnia wasn’t an easy job. She also talked about other nations and tribes inside of Narnia and how there would be a banquet soon to keep peace and discuss trade and other important things, but these meetings were up to Peter, as the High King, and Lucy and the others were mainly there to entertain the guests and keep up good relations with important people.

“This sounds like a lot of responsibility”, I said and we walked around a corner. The entrance to the dining hall now was in sight and I now remembered where in the castle we were.

“Well, not as much as Peter has to carry as the High King. But we mostly enjoy the feasts and banquets, since other humans in Narnia are kind of rare.” She smiled at me before we entered and suddenly I missed my mother even more. I could have used one of her hugs right now but before I could delve deeper in my thoughts, a voice pulled me out of my them.

“Good morning, Joyce.”, High King Pete said and I looked up at him. He wore a light-blue cape with golden embroidery and his beard was trimmed. He must have been around twenty-five now? Lucy sat down and I stood there, frozen on the ground. What about courtesies? Did I have to make a curtsy? What was expected of me?

“Oh, don’t worry.”, Susan said and patted on the seat next to her. “You’ll get used to life in the palace. There’s no need for courtesies – not now.” I took a deep breath, smiled at her, and sat down. Her hair flew free over her shoulders, a single flower was put into behind her ear and she wore a breath-taking dark green dress with white embroidery.

“Thank you”, I mumbled and sat down. Lucy sat next to me and Edmund next to her. Peter sat at the head of the table and the breakfast looked delicious. Buns, bread, fruits. I could see beans and toast as well and felt a little more at home. As I looked up I could see Edmund scanning me sceptically but when I raised an eyebrow he looked away. “Well then, enjoy your first Narnian breakfast.”, Peter said and grabbed an apple. Susan reached for a bowl of beans and Edmund grabbed a toast. Lucy took a bun and some marmalade. The breakfast looked amazing but I only took some grapes, hoping not to seem rude. I could see the suspicion in the eyes of the others but I couldn’t eat. Especially not since my thoughts of home came back, as Susan ate the beans right next to me. The smell was great and I wished I could sit together with uncle Lewis and my mother.

The others began to chat and Peter explained to me who would join the banquet and tried to make me understand where the different parties all came from. But without a map I was completely lost.

“I think it’s enough to ask of her to find her way around in the castle. She doesn’t need to know all of Narnia yet.”, Edmund said and winked at me.

“I- uhm… I will… Yes.”, I stammered and looked down on my plate, where two single plums remained next to a lonely grape.

“We’ll practise”, Peter said and suddenly he even smiled. I’ve never seen him smile and he looked younger now, but Susan pulled me out of my thought through laying a hand on my shoulder.

“We’ll also see whether we can find a way… back. For you. I’ll be in the library today and see whether one of the old books gives away a hint.” Her voice sounded flat.

Suddenly it came to my thoughts that if this way back was found, Susan, Lucy, Edmund, and Peter could return, too. I looked at Lucy who subtly shook her head. She must have noticed as well but remained silent. The mood at the table had grown icy.

“And if you don’t mind”, Edmund said, leaning forward, “I’d like to show you around a bit. I’m free today, without preparations and appointments.” Lucy shot him a glance before she nodded. “I’m going to help Susan. Maybe we find something that’ll be of help.” Susan looked at her and smiled, but Peter’s look had gone back to stern.

“We can meet here again for the first exchange of information. Lunch will be served, too.”

“He sounds like a real king.”, I said to Edmund, as we left the hall together. The silence between us was disturbing, so I thought I could try my best and do some small talk. He smiled.

“Peter does his best. It’s not an easy job to be the king of such a huge world.” He sounded experienced as he said that, crossing his hands behind his back. I examined him closely and then shrugged.

“I bet you and I can only imagine, right?” As I said this he turned around and scanned me. His dark eyes seemed amused but he then nodded.

“How right you are. Susan and Lucy are good queens and I am honoured to be part of all this.”, he said and turned around again but without leaving me out of sight.

“You… you seem human. I…” His laugh interrupted me and my cheeks grew bright red. “I don’t mean to be rude. I just want to understand.”, I said hasty and he still giggled as he answered: “No, please, go ahead and ask whatever you want to ask.”

“Were you born here? Did you come here with the others? What… are you? As in, what is your occupation?” All these questions burst out of me before I could hold myself back and as I looked at Edmund, whose eyebrows were raised, a look of subtle amusement still on his face, I bit my lower lip. My mom would have been furious with me if she caught me talking to a young man like that. So I silently added a “Sorry” and hoped for the best.

But when I looked up he smiled. “I am human. I am from earth, from… your world. Let’s say I know the others for a very long time and happened to be with them when they came to Narnia. I am here to help wherever possible and have the position of a royal counsellor or advisor.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and stopped in front of a door. “Anything else?”, he asked and I shook my head, a little perplex about how easy he took all these questions.

“Then come on. We’ve got a lot to see.”, he held the door open for me and it lead me to the most beautiful garden I’d ever seen. The sun was shining and the flowers were in full bloom. Bees buzzed through the air, followed by bumble bees and little birds. The air smelled like flowers, freshly mown grass, and some smells I’d never encountered before. A fountain framed by flowerbeds made the first big sight, water fell from the mouth of a lion into the basin in which some coins lay on the ground. Behind that the grass softly sloped down the hill, little rows of hedges arranged on both sides of the path that lead into a forest in the far end of the garden. I could see a little garden house on the right and behind it the hill rose until the walls of the castle made up a natural border for the garden. Ivy grew on there, covering the stone.

“Wow…”, I whispered as I walked out of the castle into the garden. I recognised some flowers from home and saw others which looked wild and unfamiliar but beautiful nevertheless. The trees, even though in the far back of the garden, were huge – bigger than any tree I’ve ever seen in England. At the foot of one big tree I could see leaves swirling through the air and – wait a second. “Did those leaves just turn into a human?”, I asked Edmund, who now stood beside me, looking over the grounds.

“They are called Dryads. They live in trees.”, he explained and I nodded, as if this was the simplest thing to know. “Come on, I want to show you the practise grounds.”, Edmund said after a short pause and we walked through the garden, down the little slope and made our way to a part, where the grass was trimmed and targets were erected, at least 100 yards away from where we stood.

“Susan and Lucy train their archery here. Also shooting with a crossbow is a discipline that can be practiced here. For the sword fighting we have inner courtyards, but also…”, and here he pointed at a further end of the meadow, where a little tent stood, “an opportunity to train outside. Come, I want to show you something.”

We walked down the slope and when we halted next to the tent, I could hear the ocean. And suddenly I saw that the meadow ended and steep ledge lead down right to the water.

“Wow”, I whispered and stepped closer to the edge. My gaze wandered over the water, that sparkled in the morning sun, a bright blue. Although it looked nothing like home, my heart grew heavy. The wind blew away my blond hair and I felt my eyes itching with tears.

“Mom and I always went to the sea during the summer.”, I mumbled. Although this bright blue looked nothing like the stormy grey I was used to, memories started to pull me back in. “We would collect the nicest pebbles and stones and tried to stack them as high as we could. Then… the war came.”

I felt a tear running down my cheek and suddenly Edmund’s hand touched my shoulder. “One only starts to cherish the things one has when they’re gone.”, he said. I looked up to him, his smile was sad, but he seemed to know what he was talking about.

“Do you ever get used to this? Being away without the possibility to get back?”, I asked.

“Not really”, he mumbled. The wind blew through his hair as well and I could see a few freckles on his nose and forehead.

“I’m sorry”, I said quietly. “It must be weird to talk to someone like me, when you got used to live here now.”

He chuckled lightly, facing the sea again. “You never get accustomed to it, not really. Not me.”

His expression grew grave and he turned around, waving me with him. “How good are you at horseback riding?”

I got the answer to that question an hour later and it was: not good.

Horses are very majestic creatures. That’s at least what I always thought of them. They’re huge and fast and beautiful, but riding a horse is something entirely different. Especially if you’re supposed to ride on a sidesaddle – something I’d never done before. There were a million things one needed to concentrate on. The reins, your back, your feet, your hips, the horse’s step, the surroundings, yours arms and your fingers. Also, one should not constantly look down.

Edmund told me all these things, repeatedly. In a calm, slightly amused manner.

“Oh shit”, I cursed as I tried to brush a strand of my hair out of my eyes and hit myself in the face with the reins. That made Edmund laugh.

“Sorry? I should not swear so much.”

“What? No, that’s great. It’s so natural. It does not seem like you’re wearing a mask or put up a show. You’re simply yourself.”

“Yeah, what about it?”, I asked, sitting up straight again and monitoring the horse from above, trying to gain back my posture.

“It’s so unusual around here.”

When I dared to look away from my horse, I saw Edmund smiling at me. I felt my stomach drop a little, but it could as well have been the horse’s fault, because it used this moment of unattendance bolted forwards and went into trot and then galloped straight forward. Since Edmund and I hadn’t discussed what to do in a situation similar to this, I shrieked and pulled the reins closer to my body, but not upwards. I froze and pressed my leg against the horse and leaned in the other direction, trying to not fall off.

“It’s alright”, I heard Edmund’s voice and suddenly his hand pulled on my reins, took them and then the horse… stopped. He was on his own horse, I can’t remember how he did it – how he got up there so fast, but the horses now stood next to each other and he looked at me, concerned.

“Are you alright?”

“I wish… shit, that was scary!”

And then, he giggled. “You’re right. Let’s get you off there now. We may continue another day, what do you say?”

He slid of his horse and held a hand out to me and when my hand touched his and our eyes met, I couldn’t help but feel a little warmer, a little safer, a little more like being in Narnia was not that bad after all.

[elisajdb]

Life With You: III

Part Three:

Bonding 

It took a couple hours before ChiChi fell asleep. Her conversation with Goku weighed heavily on her mind. While the romantic notions she conjured of her time with Goku as a child turned out to be all in her head, she wasn’t ready to give up on the idea of her and Goku. He was still the man she wanted as her husband.

 As a little girl dreaming of her husband, she knew she wanted him to be strong. Every young man who wanted to court ChiChi knew she wanted a strong husband and to prove themselves, had to best her in a fight. It was already an uphill battle given ChiChi was trained by her father the great Ox King who studied under the legendary Master Roshi. They all tried and failed. Not one caused ChiChi to break a sweat against them. Perhaps, ChiChi later thought, if the boys in the village were strong she would’ve been tempted to accept their courtship.

 Defeating them and the men at the World Martial Arts Tournament made her overconfident in her skills. She felt so prideful she was worthy to challenge Goku. He, who came in second at the last two tournaments, would be challenged by her. It was laughable when she looked back at her attitude. It was also embarrassing. All those hours she sacrificed to be so strong, to be so skilled, to be a match for Goku, were wiped away in seconds. To be so easily defeated, it hurt her pride.

She wanted a strong husband and no one was stronger than Goku, but she was lying if she didn’t admit it hurt she was outmatched so easily. Could she be a worthy wife of someone so strong?

 Or as handsome? Besides strong, ChiChi also wanted a handsome husband and Goku certainly fit the bill. His hair, standing in all different directions were wild and untamable like him. His eyes were innocent and sweet. His body, which was perfection, made her heart flutter. She wanted to touch him. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel and experience what she read about in magazines between a man and woman.

 But it wasn’t just physical attraction. Goku’s innocence and naiveté were alluring to her now just as it were when she was a child. However, since yesterday, she suspect that was only one side of him. When Goku fought Tien and Piccolo, he exuded a type of confidence and aggressiveness ChiChi found surprising. It told her there was more about him than he let on. Physically, Goku’s an open book. He was ready to be naked in front of her and but emotionally, he’s very guarded. He had trust issues with anything close to him. That was the impression ChiChi got from Goku’s reaction to her touching his grandfather’s power pole. Yes, there was more to Goku than he let on and she wanted to know all of him.

 After a shower, ChiChi went to Goku’s room hoping they could talk some more. Maybe she could convince Goku to hold hands. After a few knocks and calling his name, ChiChi entered Goku’s room to find the bed unmade and him gone.

 Dawn had arrived so if Goku was up this early, there had to be one thing he was doing. ChiChi went to the nearest balcony. It had a wonderful view of her courtyard and as she suspected, Goku exercising.

 Goku exercising reminded ChiChi how she and her father were up at dawn for her training. While her father was strict, he didn’t submit her to all the crazy training he did with Gohan under Master Roshi. He just altered it. She was chased by dinosaurs on her milk runs, did construction work and swam in lakes with sharks but instead of fighting off bees to avoid getting stung and possibly scarring her skin, her father made her fight off skunks and avoid being sprayed. ChiChi always thought it was silly her father didn’t mind her risking her life being chased by dinosaurs and sharks but he wouldn’t risk her getting scars by bee sting.

 The hard work paid off for it led to this moment; watching her fiancé exercise in her yard. ChiChi was amazed he moved so fast and with ease in that heavy shirt and heavy boots. So fast that even she couldn’t follow all his movements. How strong he is she admired.

 And yet so unreachable. Physically, she may never get as strong as him. She was willing to accept that as long as she could reach him emotionally but was that even possible? Even though Goku had friends whom she met at the tournament, Goku spent many years isolated and it was still prevalent in him as he seemed so out of touch emotionally. It wasn’t just with her she noted. It was with his friends, too. He spent the last three years away from them training but left them so easily to fly off with her. Would he do that to her one day?

 Along the balcony were potted plants. Their sudden shaking and heavy footfalls behind her told ChiChi her father had arrived. From the corner of her eye, she saw her father looking at Goku. “He’s just like Gohan,” Gyu-Mao commented. “He was up at the crack of dawn exercising, too. It took me a while to get used to that routine when I lived with Master Roshi.”

 Her Dad always supported her and she always felt his love. Maybe he could help her with Goku. “I….I got my work cut out with Goku, Dad.”

 Gyu-Mao was surprised by his daughter’s somber tone. It was much different from her behavior yesterday. “Arranged marriages are like that, ChiChi. It’s going to take a while before you two are used to each other. I told you that.”

 “It’s not that, Dad.” She sighed, confessing, “Goku didn’t remember me.”

 Given Goku’s behavior yesterday, Gyu-Mao wasn’t surprised. Actually, it explained a lot but he wouldn’t let ChiChi know he thought that. He feigned innocence, “He didn’t?”

 “No. I still believed Goku thought of me all this time. I thought once he saw me he would realize it’s time for us to marry. I was angry and felt like a fool waiting for him for years, preparing myself to be a good wife to him.”

 ChiChi refrained herself from crying. She did enough of that alone in her bedroom. Her father was a good man now but he may want to fight Goku if he knew how much he hurt her. “He embarrassed me, Dad. He dishonored me. I thought it was only right I did the same to him and beat him at the tournament. I was so pleased to make the final eight and face off with Goku. I wanted to defeat him in front of the crowd.”

 Gyu-Mao observed Goku and noticed his movements were quicker than his trained eye. He had been out of the martial arts game for a while and while his daughter was strong, he knew she wasn’t a match for Goku. “How did the fight go?”

 ChiChi turned away from Goku rueful. “I spent most of it chasing Goku around the ring and fighting him in the air. Every kick, ever throw, every leg sweep, he blocked. Not even my Kamehameha Wave stopped him. He kept asking questions until I finally told him of his promise. I thought that would jog his memory but he still didn’t know me. He asked for my name but I wouldn’t tell him unless he beat me.” She scoffed. “He beat me without even trying and I was forced to tell him my name. He remembered me but all this time, he thought bride meant food.”

 “Food?” Gyu-Mao eyed Goku puzzled. “If he thought that, then why did he ask my permission to marry you?”

 “He wants to honor his promise even though he misunderstood.” ChiChi was smiling now, clutching her hands to her chest. “He’s a man of his word.”

 “I see.” Gyu-Mao didn’t like this at all. “ChiChi, I remember offering Goku to you as a wife. I don’t think he took my offer seriously, but you told me he promised to make you his bride. Why did he do that?”

 “I asked him and he said yes.”

 That made sense. It had to be ChiChi initiating things. Goku then didn’t seem the type to ask a girl to be his bride. Goku now didn’t seem the type either. “Why did you ask him? Goku isn’t the first boy you’ve met. What exactly happened when you and Goku went to Master Roshi’s? That was the only time you were out of my sight.”

ChiChi had hoped her father would never ask this. It was amazing all these years she was able to keep the details from him. But now, with him interrogating her due to her own concerns about Goku, ChiChi saw no way to avoid this now. “He touched me.”

 “Touched you?” Gyu-Mao gripped the edge of the balustrade. “Touched you where?”

 Oh, boy. There was a shift in her father’s voice. He was not gonna like this. ChiChi rubbed an arm awkwardly. “Down there.”

 Her vague answer was all Gyu-Mao needed to hear. The piece of balustrade in Gyu-Mao’s hands crumbled to pieces! “He WHAT?!” A growl escaped Gyu-Mao’s voice as his eyes were trained on Goku who was still oblivious to the father/daughter conversation. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him!”

 Her father was furious and he was ready to jump down and attack Goku. He pressed a foot on a railing he hadn’t destroyed. ChiChi grabbed her father’s massive arm and pulled him hard, hoping to get him away from the railing he attempted to jump. “No, Dad, don’t!” She rushed out quickly, “He touched me because he didn’t know if I were a boy or a girl. He lived in the woods with only Gohan as his human contact and after he died, he was alone for years.” Gyu-Mao stilled. He took his foot off the railing and turned to his daughter. ChiChi was relieved. Her father was going to listen and not go a rampage against her fiancé. “He patted me with his foot then said I was a girl and he didn’t know at first. I was angry with what he did and knocked him off Nimbus. Afterwards, I assumed he was kidding and only said that as an excuse to touch me because he like me.”

Gyu-Mao took in what ChiChi said. He wasn’t violently angry but he was still simmering. He stared at the young man who was oblivious he was almost attacked. “I never thought Gohan’s grandson could be stupid.”

 The blunt insult was jarring. ChiChi never thought her father would say such words about Goku. “Naïve, Dad,” ChiChi corrected her father. “Goku’s just naïve. We both were. When I asked him if he would make me his bride, Goku questioned me on what I meant. I thought he was teasing me again. So the promise was a misunderstanding on both our parts.”

 Gyu-Mao was quiet for several moments. ChiChi gazed at her father wondering what he thought now. Would he insult Goku again? Would he be understanding to her? “ChiChi, if you need me to forbid this wedding, I will do that for you.” ChiChi was taken back by her father’s words. “You don’t have to go through with this wedding. You can marry someone who wants to marry you.”

 Oh, no. He misunderstood. “No, Dad. I want to marry Goku and he wants to marry me. He’s just the way he is because he hadn’t experienced things or know things a normal guy his age should know. He’s been on his own for a very long time. I can be a very good wife to him. Besides, what kind of wife would I be if I quit when things get a little tough? I’m in it for the long haul.”

 Gyu-Mao admired his daughter’s fortitude to not give up so easily but she wasn’t married yet, and in this case, he wished she’d reconsider. That stubbornness. He could see it in her eyes now. If he forbid it, ChiChi would be even more determine to marry Goku. She might do something as crazy as elope. He had to go about this a different way. “That’s the way to approach it, ChiChi. He knows as much about you as you do about him. You don’t love him.” Oh, ChiChi didn’t like that. Too bad. She needed some tough love. “You say you love him but it’s really the idea you created that you’re in love with. You both have to get to know each other. That is when the real love comes in if it’s there.”

 After a long silence, ChiChi nodded. Her father was right. She and Goku didn’t love each other but they will. She also knew her father preferred she settle with someone from their village but wouldn’t intervene in her wedding to Goku unless she said so. “I know, Dad. Thank you.” She gave him a hug appreciating his advice and support. “I’m going to spend time with my fiancé now.”

 Gyu-Mao watched ChiChi jump over the balcony and land smoothly on the ground. He smiled with fatherly pride. She had certainly become a skilled martial artist. He watched ChiChi approach Goku who quickly turned to her. ChiChi kissed Goku’s cheek and though he was too far away to see it, Gyu-Mao knew Goku blushed at the affection. After a few moments of conversation, the two were sparring.

 Gyu-Mao turned and walked away. He needed a moment to himself to mull over what ChiChi told him.

 “Your Highness,” Mrs. Niver approached Gyu-Mao. “I must speak with you. It’s about that boy the princess brought home.”

When Goku woke up the next morning, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling fan staring back at him. It took a moment before he realized where he was. A room in Gyu-Mao’s castle.

 For three years, Goku was used to being greeted by a gold light fixture over his bed. He was used to hearing silence except for Mr. Popo going about his day at Kami’s Temple or the occasional tap on the marble floors of Kami’s wooden staff as he walked about his sanctuary.

 For three years, he got up, meditated, trained alone, sparred with Mr. Popo, ate and slept. He admitted it was a lonely experience. Mr. Popo wasn’t much of a conversationalist and he rarely saw Kami. Outside of training, there wasn’t much to do. Oh, there were school lessons Mr. Popo assigned him on Kami’s orders which Goku didn’t like but there wasn’t much excitement at Kami’s Temple. Goku guessed the only excitement for him was the Room of Spirit of Time but that was an emotionally draining experience. He could only last thirty days in there.

 Meditate. Train. Spar. Lessons. Eat. Sleep. It was all he did for three years. Kami’s Temple was a boring, lifeless and lonely place. For the first time in his life, he wanted a break from training.

 He got what he wanted in the most unlikely way possible.

 Marriage.

 Marriage with ChiChi presented Goku a life away from Kami’s Temple and a life away from how he lived the past six years. It was something he was looking forward to. As excited he was to face off against Piccolo and see his friends again, Goku also wanted a break from it all.

 He spent six years traveling the world, fighting new opponents, making friends and enemies. After the 22nd tournament, Goku wanted to take a break and return to Mount Paozu but King Piccolo interrupted his plans. Krillin, Master Roshi and several martial artists were killed. Goku had to avenge them. When Goku killed King Piccolo and met with Kami to restore his friends, Goku learned another fight awaited him and sign onto three more years of training.

 Now with that over, all Goku wanted to do was relax and go to Mount Paozu. He was happy after all these years, he will go home. He missed that place a lot but he wasn’t going home alone. He was bringing a wife with him.

 He wondered what ChiChi will think of Mount Paozu. If she was going to live there with him for the rest of her life, he hoped she will like it. Goku recalled happily inviting Bulma to his house for lunch when they met but Bulma was only interested in the dragon ball and was unimpressed with his home.

ChiChi lived in a big home like Bulma. He wondered if that meant ChiChi will respond the same way Bulma did to his home.  

 He’ll find out later when they go to Mount Paozu but for now, Goku wanted to see if ChiChi was up. She wasn’t as strong as his friends but Goku saw her as someone he could have a friendly spar with. There was also the excitement he felt fighting her. He couldn’t explain it. His body tingled as if he was going up against a strong opponent but it did something else for him, too. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He just liked it and wanted to feel that way again.

 Goku got out of bed and dressed. Stepping out of his room, he crossed the hall to ChiChi’s room. Goku opened the door but before he could step in the room, he heard an angry voice.

 “And just what do you think you’re doing?!!”

 Goku jumped. He saw a short, old woman with silver hair glaring as she marched to him. She slapped his hand away from ChiChi’s door and closed the room on him. She stood in front of the door acting as a barrier.

 Goku frowned at the old lady. Who was she and why was she so angry with him? “Who are you?”

 “I’m Mrs. Niver, head of the housekeeping staff. Now, answer me, boy! Why were you going in Miss ChiChi’s room?”

 “Oh,” Goku rubbed the back of his head. Was he doing a bad thing going in ChiChi’s room? He didn’t think he was since she was in his room last night. “Well, I wanted to see if ChiChi wanted to spar.”

 “Are you a pervert?”

 Being around Master Roshi, he knew that term well. “No.”

 Mrs. Niver crossed her arms over her chest not believing him. “A decent man with manners do not enter a lady’s room uninvited.”

 Goku slowly understood why the old lady was angry. He didn’t knock. “Oh, well, I thought it was okay since ChiChi was in my room last night.”

 “And what were you two doing?”

 “Talking,” Goku said and found himself not liking this old lady’s sudden interrogation. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

 “Because it’s my right!” She pushed Goku who suddenly found himself pressed his bedroom door. “I don’t approve of you as Miss ChiChi’s husband but I will make sure when she walks down the aisle she will be a lady!”

 “Um, oh….kay…..” What was she talking about and why didn’t she approve of him as ChiChi’s husband?

 “If you want to spar, go outside and do it by yourself!” Mrs. Niver ordered. “You don’t need to involve Miss ChiChi in it. It’s bad enough her father indulge her in that martial arts nonsense. It’s not fitting for a lady.”

 “Wha…?” What was wrong with this lady? Goku wondered.

 “You’re still here,” Mrs. Niver growled irritated.

 “I don’t even know how to get outside,” Goku protested. “This place is huge.”

 Mrs. Niver pointed to her right. “Go this way and take a left. If you go to the end of that hall, you’ll find a balcony to jump off of.”

 Goku’s eyes lingered on ChiChi’s door. He really wanted to see her but unless he use force this old lady wouldn’t let him in her room. He walked away annoyed. What was that old lady’s problem? Why didn’t she like him or ChiChi learning martial arts?

 Once outside, Goku forgot about his encounter with Mrs. Niver. He focused on his warmups before he sparred alone.  He lost track of time after the sun rose and had no idea how long he was exercising until…

 “Goku!”

 Goku lowered a leg and turned. “ChiChi.” ChiChi reached up to kiss his cheek. These kisses, he found himself blushing, were nice. Is this what ChiChi meant about touching being good for both of them?

 “How did you sleep, Goku?”

 Goku almost didn’t hear her as he was still focused on the kiss. “Good. How ‘bout you?”

 “I slept well. So…” she looked him over. “I noticed you sparring from the balcony. Are you done?”

 “Nah. I usually go two hours before breakfast.”

 “Oh,” ChiChi’s eyes lit up. “Do you mind if I spar with you?”

 A big grin appeared on Goku’s face. “You want to spar? Wow. I was hoping you would!”

 Sparring, ChiChi realized last night, was something they can bond over. It was a way to reaching him. “Yes. After our fight, I realized I wasn’t a worthy opponent. I want to be as strong as you.”

 Goku laughed. ChiChi was a funny one. “I’m so far above you, you will never catch up to me, ChiChi.”

 ChiChi’s smile quickly turned into a scowl. She threw a punch at him and Goku dodged it. She threw another with a kick to which he dodged and blocked, too. His laughing and dodges added to her frustration, “You didn’t have to say it like that!”

 As they sparred, Goku studied ChiChi’s form. Every punch and kick were perfect. If she was faster, she would’ve gotten him a few times and her hits would’ve left an impression. She was weaker than his male friends but there was no doubt to Goku ChiChi was strong. He felt it in the punches he blocked when they fought yesterday. ChiChi wasn’t as strong as Arale but she was a robot. It wouldn’t be fair to compare ChiChi’s strength to Launch or Ran Fan who fought Nam in the 21st Tournament because ChiChi was superior over them. The blonde Launch was strongest when she had her guns. She knew hand to hand combat skills but nothing challengeable to martial artists. Ran Fan made it to the Final Eight but during her fight with Nam, Goku figured her biggest strength was taking off her clothes to distract her male opponents. When Nam stopped being intimidated by her, he handled her quite easily.  

 ChiChi was different. She was naturally strong. Besides Grandpa, she was the only to figure out his tail was his weak spot. Krillin learned that too late for it to be affective on him. There was also a certain grace to ChiChi’s movements that caught Goku’s eyes. His eyes followed her movement as he would any opponent but unlike his opponents where he watched for a weak spot to strike, he liked watching ChiChi.  

 There it was again. That excitement from their fight yesterday. What was it about her that did this to him? She didn’t stand a chance against him but it didn’t stop her from giving it all she had. His insides were bubbling with excitement. When he went against a strong opponent, he felt a fire light up in him. He could see the fire in ChiChi’s eyes as she came after him; feel it in every strike she made against him. She was strong in a different way and determined, too. Goku liked it a lot.

 An hour into their spar, ChiChi was panting. Goku knew they should stop but ChiChi wouldn’t want to. He knew the feeling well. He was like that when he was losing to King Piccolo in their first fight. To end the fight without hurting her, Goku tripped ChiChi who promptly fell on her butt. She glared at Goku annoyed as he explained, “I had to trip you. You were getting tired and wouldn’t stop.”

 ChiChi pulled herself up. “And do you stop fighting when you get tired?”

 “Not when I’m losing.”

 He felt a fist connect with his face. Even though the punch wasn’t the strongest he was hit with, it was still impactful. He found himself stumbling backwards and a well calculated leg sweep had him on his back. He looked up and saw ChiChi smirking at him. He never thought ChiChi would hit him. He was too fast for her but he let his guard down when he thought the fight was over and she used it to her advantage. Instead of being angry at his miscalculation, Goku was happy. He was gonna like living with her.  

 ChiChi sat on the ground beside him. She placed a hand on his chest. “That’s what you get for treating me lightly.”

 Goku laughed. He deserved that. “I like sparring with you.”

 “You do?” She raised an eyebrow. “Even though I’m not a challenge?”

 “No, but you’re fun. I hadn’t sparred for fun in a long time.”

 Curious, ChiChi asked, “When was the last time you sparred for fun?”

 Goku’s eyes turned upward to the morning sky as he recalled the last time. “Three years ago at the World Martial Arts Tournament. I fought Tien in the final match. We didn’t like each other then but it was still a fun fight. It was just good old fighting and in the end, Tien and I became friends.”

 ChiChi drew circles on his clothed chest. “But you looked happy fighting Piccolo. Even with the fate of the world at stake, you looked happy.” It was something she observed and couldn’t understand about her fiancé.

 “I always liked fighting strong opponents,” Goku explained. “But fighting’s always better when the world isn’t at stake and it’s not for revenge. You fight for revenge and your anger clouds your judgment.” He learned that the hard way going after Krillin’s killer.

 “So you would’ve been even happier fighting Piccolo if he wasn’t trying to kill you and everyone else?”

 Goku grinned. “Yeah. He could make a good sparring partner.”

 “But Goku, he’s a killer. He almost killed you.” Her hand went to where Piccolo put a hole through Goku’s chest.

 “He won’t kill me. I’ll always be a step ahead of him.”

 ChiChi laid her body next to Goku’s with her head on his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to the strong heart beating. “I hope he never returns.”

 Alone like this, after last night’s talks and their spar, Goku didn’t mind being like this with ChiChi. Touching did feel good.  

 “Goku,” ChiChi broke the silence, “Did you like fighting King Piccolo?”

 The smile on Goku’s face fell. Why would she bring him up? “Why are you asking that?”

 ChiChi didn’t notice the sudden change in Goku. “You said the last time you fought for fun was three years ago at the World Martial Arts Tournament. I know you fought King Piccolo three years ago but that was after the tournament.”

 “Yeah, I did.” They were having a nice moment now. Why did ChiChi have to ruin it by asking about King Piccolo? He didn’t like thinking about him. He killed Krillin and Master Roshi. There was nothing fun about fighting him. It was the first time he felt hatred for someone.

 “Goku,” ChiChi said softly, “Did King Piccolo kill one of your friends?”

 “Why are you asking?”

 This time ChiChi detected an annoyance in Goku’s voice. ChiChi didn’t understand. She thought he would like talking about his past fights. She thought this was another way to connect with him. “I know King Piccolo and his minions killed martial artists. I also know after King Piccolo died, the martial artists killed by him were returned to life. Were your friends among the ones killed?”

 Goku suddenly sat up, forcing ChiChi to break away from him. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

 ChiChi stared at Goku wondering what she did wrong. Talking about fights were another way to reach him and…

 Oh no.

 It hit her what she did. She quickly forgot what she learned about Goku. He was guarded on things close to him. King Piccolo killed his friends and he didn’t want to talk about it. Here she was trying to impress Goku, show she had an interest in what he loved but she turned him off.  ChiChi chastised herself for her impatience. She thought being so open with him last night Goku would open up to her. She should’ve realized it would take more than a day for Goku to open up.

 “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” ChiChi apologized. “I want to know you and I thought talking about fighting would help.”

 The guilt in ChiChi’s voice had Goku feeling regretful for how he acted. On one hand he understood why she asked but on the other, he didn’t. There were things he didn’t like talking about. He had his friends for years and they never inquired about his feelings on subjects he considered touchy. Given the way he always act around his friends, they probably thought he didn’t have any feelings. That was fine with him, but ChiChi was different. She knew he did have feelings and wanted to know about them. Goku found that a little scary.

 “It’s okay, ChiChi. I’m not mad. It’s…..” He didn’t know how to explain his feelings.

 “It’s too soon,” ChiChi finished for him. She leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I understand and I can wait.”

 At that moment, Goku’s stomach chose to growl. It sounded like an animal roaring. ChiChi pulled back stunned. “What was that?”

 “My stomach.” Goku rubbed it unabashed. “I’m hungry.”

 ChiChi stood up and pulled Goku to his feet. She could help with that. “Let’s go in the kitchen and see what the cooks have prepared.”

 As Goku and ChiChi walked to the castle, ChiChi linked his fingers with hers. Yesterday, he would’ve told ChiChi to stop grabbing him. Part of him still wanted to push her away but the other part… well, he started to think it wasn’t bad at all.

  After breakfast and a fitting for his wedding suit, Goku and ChiChi flew to Mount Paozu. ChiChi held onto Goku, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaned her face against his warm back. There was a major difference to yesterday when they flew on Nimbus. Goku had his hands over hers. While she had a misstep this morning, ChiChi was confident she and Goku were moving in the right direction.

 “We’re almost there, ChiChi! I see my home!”

 ChiChi looked at the surrounding land. There was nothing but mountains and forests. Gohan and Goku really did live away from society. She hadn’t seen a community for miles. No wonder Goku was alone for many years.

 Nimbus descended and ChiChi felt herself clutching Goku tighter. Descending on Nimbus was similar to going down on a roller coaster. She heard Goku laugh. Before she could voice her irritation of being laughed at, Goku said, “Don’t worry, ChiChi. I won’t let Nimbus drop you.”

 Nimbus stopped in front of Gohan’s home. Goku hopped off first and remembering yesterday, helped ChiChi off the cloud. “Here it is! Wow! It’s the same as I left it!”

 Goku was happy about his childhood home. ChiChi didn’t want to hurt Goku feelings saying she didn’t like it but just from looking at it from the outside, she knew it was too small for them. “You and your grandfather lived in that?”

“Yeah.”

 “It looks small,” she observed.

 “It was a lot bigger when I was younger but I was smaller then, too.” Goku opened the door and ducked his head before stepping inside. He realized all too quickly that while he could stand up straight, he didn’t have a lot of room. He couldn’t raise his arms over his head to stretch. The bed didn’t look big enough for his body. The table with the two stools he and Grandpa sat on looked small, too. Odd. He never noticed how small this place was. ChiChi followed after Goku and even though she was shorter than Goku, experienced similar height issues. It was amazing to her one let alone two people lived here. The place was also musty which came from not being cleaned in years. She could give it a good cleaning but this place wouldn’t do for them.

 ChiChi pointed to the bed missing a futon. “What happened to the futon?”

 “I took that with me when I lived with Master Roshi.”

 ChiChi mouthed an ‘Oh’ as she stared at the bed. “Looks like a small bed for two people to share even if one was a child. You and Gohan must’ve slept close together.”

 “Yeah,” Goku agreed. “But I liked sleeping on Grandpa’s lap. His balls were like pillows.”

 ChiChi whipped her head at Goku shocked. “What?” Did he really say that? No. He couldn’t have. “You slept in his lap?” Goku nodded. She did hear right. She looked at the bed again. She had seen pictures of Gohan with her father. He was short man and being a martial artist, he had a strong build. If he slept on his back, ChiChi could see him taking up the entire bed but with a child living with him, wouldn’t it have made more sense to sleep on his side? “Did Gohan have a bad back and could only sleep on his back and not his side?”

 Goku shook his head. “No. Why?”

 ChiChi shrugged. “Oh, just wondering since you would’ve had more room if Gohan slept on his side.” ChiChi stared at the bed, picturing the many nights Goku slept in that position with his grandfather. What in the world was he thinking?

 Later, she would think more on this. She’ll question her father if she had to. For now, she’ll explore this place. Curious, she went to a three drawer chest against the wall. ChiChi went to the top drawer meaning to open it when Goku put his hands over ChiChi’s stopping her from pulling the drawer open.

 “You can’t look in there. Grandpa said so.”

 ChiChi blinked confused. “What?”

 “Grandpa said I could never look at the top drawer. It was his stuff and I wasn’t allowed to look.”

 ChiChi refrained from laughing. Goku’s innocence was funny at times. “He’s been dead for several years, Goku. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you look now.”

 Goku shook his head and his hold on her tightened. “No, I can’t. It’s Grandpa’s stuff and I can’t look.”

 He was serious. ChiChi had to remind herself Gohan was a sensitive subject for Goku. She had an idea what was in the drawer. Since it was in the top drawer Gohan deliberately put it there to keep it out of Goku’s reach since he was too short. She made a mental note to toss out what was in the drawer when she gave this place a good cleaning.

 ChiChi stepped away from the chest. “All right, Goku. I won’t look.” ChiChi continued to access the small home. No electricity she guessed noticing no light switch on the wall or any light fixture on the small ceiling. “You didn’t have a refrigerator or a stove? How did you store your food for later? How did you and Gohan cook your food?”

 “Grandpa and I always hunted enough that will fill us at the moment and cooked it over a fire. I never knew people stored food until I lived with Master Roshi.”

 Goku observed ChiChi as she inspected his home. He couldn’t help feeling disappointed at ChiChi’s reaction. It was foolish to think ChiChi would like it. She lived in big house. She wouldn’t be interested in his small home. “You don’t like this place.” It was an observation. Not a question.

 ChiChi turned to Goku. He had a frown on his face. ChiChi placed a hand on his face. “It’s nice, Goku. Thank you for bringing me here, but we can’t live here,” she told him gently. “It’ll be too small for us. There’s no space for a kitchen where I can cook and store our food. There’s no electricity, no indoor plumbing.” She pointed to the bed Goku and Gohan shared. “That bed is too small for us.”

 She had a point Goku admitted. The place was too small for them. He was relieved ChiChi didn’t hate it. “You’re right,” Goku agreed. “We’d bump into each other a lot and it stinks in here. So,” he reached for her hand, holding it in his, liking the contact. “Does this mean we’re living with your Dad?”

 ChiChi shook her head. “No. We can still live here. We just have to make adjustments.”

  “Adjustments?” Goku queried.

 ChiChi walked out of the small home, never releasing Goku’s hand. She noticed the well near Gohan’s home so fresh water was nearby. There was a lot of land, too. There’s a lot that could be done. Yes, yes, this could work.  ChiChi turned to Goku excited. “I have an idea. You and Dad can build our home.”

 “Build our home?”

It was mid-afternoon when Goku and ChiChi entered a capsule shop not far from Yahhoy Island and Goku wasn’t in the best mood. Before they went shopping for a dome house, ChiChi suggested they collect the money Goku won at the World Martial Arts Tournament so they could have some money to start out on. It was there Goku got some shocking news.

 “What?!” Goku screamed. “What do you mean they’ll be no more tournaments?”

 Goku and ChiChi stood in the ruin offices of the World Martial Arts Tournament. Goku and ChiChi were lucky to find the place as Yahhoy Island was still recovering from the damages Goku and Piccolo’s fight created. Several homes and businesses were still digging themselves out of the dirt while others were starting the repairs. The fighting grounds of the World Martial Arts Tournament were still destroyed. The fact no crews were on hand to start repairs attest to what Goku was told; the World Martial Arts Tournament was ending.

 The blonde announcer who witnessed all of Goku’s tournaments, was on hand to give Goku his money and the grim news of the tournament’s ending. He himself only got the news a couple hours ago. He was saddened, too, as this tournament built his career, but he was handling it better than Goku.

 “It’s free for anyone to compete in the World Martial Arts Tournament but we still need money to run our organization. We rely on sponsorships from corporations, businesses and even vendors who set up shop during the tournament. Because of King Piccolo, not only did we have fewer martial artists enter this tournament but we lost a lot of sponsors. They thought investing in a martial arts tournament was too risky. We hardly had any vendors at this tournament. I’m sure you noticed, Goku, the last two tournaments went on for four or five days. This last one finished in a day.”

 “Oh yeah, it did,” Goku said thinking back to the previous tournaments. “There wasn’t even a break for food between the preliminary rounds and the final matches.”

 The announcer nodded. “Now with King Piccolo’s son out there, it put the final nail in the coffin of the World Martial Arts Tournament. We’ll have even fewer competitors, but most importantly, all the remaining sponsors have pulled out. We only have enough money to give you your prize money and repair damages at our offices to make this a museum.”

 “A museum?” ChiChi inquired.

 “Yeah,” the announcer sighed. “It could be a nice tourist attraction and dedication of the great martial artists who fought here.”

 “Aw, man,” Goku groaned. “No more tournaments.”

 “I wouldn’t get down about it, Goku,” the blonde tried to be optimistic. “The tournament ended in the best way possible for you. Not only did you become the winner in the greatest fight ever but you got yourself a pretty wife. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

 Goku continued to sulk as he and ChiChi sat at a table in the shop.  While he sulk, ChiChi looked through a capsule magazine. He absently heard ChiChi tell him the capsules were marked by a specific number and the magazine ChiChi thumb through had a description of each capsule number. To be honest, he was annoyed with ChiChi, too. For someone who studied martial arts, ChiChi wasn’t upset with the tournament ending. In fact, ever since they left Yahhoy, all ChiChi did was talk about their home and what they needed. It was annoying.

 “Which one do you like, Goku?”

 Goku shrugged. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.” Actually, he didn’t care. While should he care about looking at capsule houses when there will be no more tournaments? He wanted to take a break from fighting. He didn’t want it to be forever!

 ChiChi took note of his response as she calmly said, “Goku, this is our home we’re shopping for. You should have some input.”

 “But you know more about this stuff than me. You decide what’s best for us.”

 “Goku, during your travels, you’ve stayed in different homes. You lived with Kami for three years. There had to be something you liked in those homes you want in ours. I’m not asking a lot wanting your input.” Goku rubbed the back of his head, mumbling something. ChiChi didn’t hear him. “What did you say?”

 “I don’t know about this stuff!” he spoke louder causing shoppers to look at them. “I don’t know what we need for a house and I don’t care! You’re the one who said Grandpa’s home is too small! You’re the one who want things like a refrigerator and stove and a bigger bed so you figure this out! I don’t care!”

 ChiChi could feel the eyes of several patrons on her and Goku. It was embarrassing but at least Goku’s outburst wasn’t in front of anyone from her village. If that had happened, she would’ve been yelling at him, letting him know such behavior would not be tolerated especially in front of people who held such respect for her and her father. Marrying Goku will take a lot of patience. She wondered if she had enough to deal with him.

 ChiChi rose from her seat, took Goku’s hand and led them out of the shop. For five minutes they sat at a bench without a word between them. Goku stared at ChiChi wondering what she was thinking, wondering why she wasn’t saying anything. Maybe she was upset he raised his voice at her. He only did that to people he didn’t like when he fought them. He never did that to people he liked and he liked ChiChi. He opened his mouth to apologize but ChiChi spoke before he could.

 “I know you’re not happy there will be no more tournaments but sulking won’t bring it back. I thought this would be a good distraction. I want your input because this is our home. Not having luxuries doesn’t excuse you from having an opinion. I don’t want you to do what I want because I might know more than you on a subject. I want you to do that because you trust me and know what I want is in your ….our best interest.”

 The way ChiChi rattled on about a house, he thought she hadn’t noticed he was sulking there will be no more tournaments. She noticed and she was trying to help by having him focus on something else.

ChiChi was different.

 “Okay,” Goku relented with a smile. “I’ll give my input but I really don’t know a lot about what’s needed in a house.”

 “I can tell you,” ChiChi offered and patted his stomach. “I know you can pick out the perfect refrigerator for us.”

 “Okay,” Goku agreed. “Let’s pick something out.”

 ChiChi smiled warmly at her fiancé. “Good. Oh, and Goku?”

“Yeah?”

 The smile dropped from her face. Her eyes smoldered with anger as she gripped his shirts and yanked him forward, leaving his face an inch or two from hers. “If you ever embarrass me like that again, I’ll make you pay! I don’t care if you are the strongest man in the world, I will make you pay! Got it?!”

 Why did ChiChi being angry at him cause his body to tingle in excitement? His curiosity was also peaked. How could ChiChi make him pay when she couldn’t beat him in a fight? She was a strange one all right but oddly intriguing. 

When Goku and ChiChi returned to Gyu-Mao’s castle, they shared with him their decision to build their house on Mount Paozu. They bought a dome house that had an unfurnished kitchen, large pantry, unfurnished den and a bathroom. Goku and ChiChi decided they would build two houses attached to the ends of the dome house. Each being a bedroom with one having an extra bathroom; one for Goku and ChiChi and the other for their child.

 Materials were already on hand so it was no trouble for the local villagers to load Gyu-Mao’s truck for Goku and Gyu-Mao to drive to Mount Paozu and began work the next morning. As Goku and Gyu-Mao worked to build his home, he was reminded of the days he worked construction for Master Roshi. Despite it being a few years since he did this type of work, Goku hadn’t forgotten it. With Goku’s speed and strength, and Gyu-Mao’s strength the two worked fast and efficiently. By the end of the first day, the foundation was completed. During day two, pipes were laid, floors and the skeletal frame of the walls and roof were installed. The third day saw the completion of the exterior walls, floors and roof and installation of the windows and doors.

 Gyu-Mao used the days alone with Goku to see what kind of man he was. It was obvious he wasn’t a man who would care for his daughter financially. The other suitors had jobs or were working on their careers. Goku’s career was fighting and a true artist like Goku didn’t do it for the money. Gyu-Mao could provide for the couple and he knew his daughter would be able to find something for Goku to do to bring money to the household. He admired the young man’s work ethic and energy. Goku didn’t complain at all by the long day’s work. He followed instructions very well and was proud of what he accomplished at the end of the day. Gyu-Mao felt foolish for thinking Goku was stupid. A stupid man wouldn’t have accomplished what Goku has in three days.

 What concerned Gyu-Mao was Goku forgetting ChiChi and the reason he’s honoring his promise. He was on board now but what if Goku changes his mind in a few months and wants to end the marriage? Where would that leave his daughter? Though still bothered, he disregarded Goku touching ChiChi as an innocent misunderstanding by Goku but Mrs. Niver concerns had him wondering again.

 “He almost went in her room, Your Highness, at a very inappropriate time,” Mrs. Niver said irritable. “It’s not right for that boy to be so close to Miss ChiChi‘s room before the wedding.”

“Whatever Goku’s intentions were to see ChiChi so early, I trust ChiChi to be responsible.”

 Mrs. Niver crossed her arms over her chest. “Trust is blind when it comes to hormones.”

 “I know you don’t like Goku, Mrs. Niver, but ChiChi has always been a good girl.”

 Mrs. Niver warned Gyu-Mao. “That boy will bring nothing but trouble to your family.”

 Trouble for his family he mused. Gyu-Mao thought Goku was trouble when he brought ChiChi to meet him when they were babies. He was a bad baby then but he wasn’t now. He had questionable manners but as ChiChi told him that came from Goku being alone for years out here without Gohan.

 How did Gohan die? Gyu-Mao could only guess. Gohan was an old man, living out here away from civilization with a young active child. As strong he is, Gyu-Mao knew even Gohan couldn’t beat father time. Perhaps it was his heart that did him in. It left Gyu-Mao wondering if Goku, a child at the time, witnessed his death. How did it affect him?

 A cry of joy got Gyu-Mao’s attention. It was lunchtime now. While Gyu-Mao ate the lunch prepared by his staff, Goku knew it wouldn’t be enough for him and hunted a large fish in the lake near his home.

 “Whooo!” Goku cheered dropping a large fish at Gyu-Mao’s feet. “I caught a big one today!”

 The fish was huge. It was enough to fill him for an entire day. If that along with what his staff prepared was enough to fill Goku for lunch, his daughter really did have her work cut out in cooking enough food for him.

 Goku’s smile was infectious as he happily used the wood he gathered before he fished to start a fire.

How could someone who spent many years alone be so happy and good spirited? Gyu-Mao wondered. How did Goku maintain his positive outlook on life when Gyu-Mao knew Goku as a child experienced tragedy when Gohan died?  How could he not want his daughter marry someone like that?

 Perhaps patience is what the two needed from him. Gyu-Mao could remember not everyone was fond of him and ChiChi’s mother marrying. The irony of his attitude towards his daughter’s choice in husband wasn’t lost on him. For ChiChi’s sake, he will give Goku a chance.  

When they returned home in the evening, ChiChi and the servants had a grand meal prepared for them as she always had when they returned from Mount Paozu. ChiChi always welcomed and said goodbye to Goku with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Over the week, Gyu-Mao noticed Goku had softened around ChiChi’s affection. He also noticed how Goku always made time for ChiChi when he came back. Oh, Goku had an abundance of energy Gyu-Mao knew but with the exercises he did in the morning followed by the work he did on Mount Paozu, Goku was weary at the end of the day but pushed it aside to make time for his daughter to listen to her gush about the wedding plans she made that day, talk to him about his day and even watch a movie together.

 After dinner, Gyu-Mao spoke with a few villagers that were joining him and Goku tomorrow to work on the electrical wiring and plumbing. Afterwards, he went to bed knowing another long day awaited him. This left Goku and ChiChi to finish dinner alone.

 “You’re tired,” ChiChi observed as Goku rubbed his satisfied belly.

 Goku smiled at ChiChi. They hadn’t seen each other all day. He should go to bed and get some rest but Goku wanted to spend some time alone with ChiChi. “A little. My muscles are sore.”

 “Has it been like this every day?”

 Goku shrugged. “I kind of noticed it yesterday.”

 ChiChi rose from the table. She held her hand out to him. “Come with me.”

 Goku took ChiChi’s hand and left the dining hall. He assumed they were going to his room as they had spent every night there talking or preparing for the wedding. Last night, he and ChiChi practiced a wedding dance they had to do for the wedding. Tonight, ChiChi walked them to her room and not his. When ChiChi opened the door, Goku remained rooted to the hall floor. “You want me to come inside?”

 “Of course, Goku. You’re always welcomed in my room. Besides, I’ve been in your room enough times. It’s time you spent time in my room, don’t you think?”

 Goku thought about Mrs. Niver but remembered ChiChi invited him in. He wasn’t doing anything wrong going in ChiChi’s room now. He stepped inside allowing ChiChi to close the door behind him. Goku looked around the room in awe. ChiChi’s pleasant scent was all over the room. Unlike his sparse room of a full size bed, ChiChi’s room had a bigger bed, a desk with a sewing machine with a completed outfit suitable for a child, another desk littered with books on cooking, knitting and parenting and big comfy chairs by her window. A partially opened closet reveal plenty of clothes. Goku scratched the back of his head wondering if the house he was building was big enough for them.

 “Do you like my room?”

 “Yeah.” It was bigger than Grandpa’s home. Goku grimaced at the sheer pink curtains surrounding the bed. He hope the bed he and ChiChi will pick out won’t be pink. “Why do you have curtains around your bed? I thought curtains were for windows.”

 ChiChi giggled as she opened the curtains. “It’s a canopy bed, Goku.” Goku saw ChiChi take four, no six pillows off her bed and toss them on the floor. Why did ChiChi need so many pillows and why did she toss them on the floor? Where was she going was his next question when she disappeared in another room Goku assumed to be the bathroom.

 Sure enough ChiChi came out holding a bottle and a large towel in her hands. ChiChi opened the towel and laid it with the bottle on the bed. She turned to Goku. “Sit down,” ChiChi pointed to her bed. Goku sat on the bed. ChiChi knelt before him and removed his heavy boots. “Where are you sore?”

 “My back mostly and my arms.” He suddenly giggled feeling ChiChi caress his left foot. He tried to pull away but ChiChi held his foot tightly.

 ChiChi grinned at him. “So, you’re ticklish here.”

 “Stop! Stop!” Goku cried between giggles.

 ChiChi stopped tickling but she didn’t release his left foot. Instead she massaged his foot, gently working her fingers over his toes, his heel, his sole and ankle. “Does it hurt your feet wearing those heavy boots?”

 “Yeah but not as much as when I started wearing them.” Goku stared at ChiChi thoughtfully. She was right. Touching did feel good. He liked how ChiChi’s hands felt on his foot. Truthfully, he liked all her touches lately. He hadn’t been as reciprocating he noted when ChiChi moved to the other foot and gave it the same treatment. Perhaps, he should change that. “I…..I like what you’re doing, ChiChi,” he confessed. “It feels good.”

 His heart stammered at the look ChiChi gave him. Girls smiled at him before but they never made his body act so weird. How was ChiChi doing this? ChiChi released his other foot and she stood. “Take off your shirts and lie your stomach on the towel,” ChiChi ordered pointing to the bed. “I’ll massage your back.”

 “A massage?” Goku questioned. “What’s that?”

 ChiChi picked up her bottle. “What I just did to your feet.”

 Goku grinned. If he felt good from ChiChi’s foot massage, he’ll really feel good with the back massage. “All right!” Goku eagerly removed his shirts and gently placed them on the floor. He laid on the towel excited. He couldn’t wait for this back massage. He saw ChiChi pouring liquid from the bottle in her hand. “What’s that?”

“Sweet almond oil,” ChiChi answered rubbing her hands together. “I’m gonna rub this on you.”

 “I thought almonds were for eating,” he murmured as ChiChi placed her hands on his lower back and slowly moved upward in long strokes. This felt nice.

 “Where do you feel sore?”

 “Uh…to the right.”

 “Right here?”

 “A little more,” Goku said gently. “There.” He sighed as ChiChi applied more pressure to the area. Goku closed his eyes at the pleasing sensations ChiChi’s fingers conjured. He could’ve used this when he was on Kami’s Temple. He could’ve used this after his fight with Piccolo. Goku figured this must be something husbands and wives do for each other. He’ll have to return the favor one day. For now, he will enjoy the way ChiChi’s fingers rubbed him, moving slowly from his lower back to his shoulders.

 “How does it feel?” ChiChi asked.

 “Really good. No one’s ever touch me like this before.”

 And no one was going to if ChiChi had her way. “I’m glad. I want you to feel good.” This was good for ChiChi, too. She had wanted to touch Goku like this for days. She loved rubbing her hands over his muscles, feeling his strength, knowing this will soon all be hers. His body felt so warm, too. She imagined cuddling up to him on cold nights and keeping warm with his body next to hers.

 She took her time, starting at his lower back before moving up his back to his shoulders and eventually his arms. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands away when she finished. Her eyes lingered over him. When they marry, she will massage all of him. “I’m done, Goku. You can sit up now.”

 He really didn’t want to move. Lying here on ChiChi’s bed where her scent was strongest, where his body was very relaxed left Goku wanting to fall asleep. ChiChi sat next to him and gave his hair a gentle tug. He knew that was a gentle warning. Goku sat up and moved close to her. “My back feels really good now. Thanks, ChiChi.” Impulsively, he pressed his lips against ChiChi’s right cheek.

 When Goku pulled back, ChiChi touched her blushing cheeks. “Goku, you kissed me.”

 He instantly worried. “Did I do it right?”

 ChiChi nodded eagerly. “Yes,” she quickly told him. She didn’t want him to think he was wrong and stop. “I wasn’t expecting it. I really like it.”

 Goku was relieved ChiChi liked it. With building their house and spending these days with her, Goku found himself wanting to do right with ChiChi. “Well, you always kiss me so I thought I should start doing it to you since we’re gonna be married and touching does feels good.”

 ChiChi was nearly giddy now. Finally, Goku was taking some initiative and he was being receptive to her affections. She wasn’t gonna leave it at that. If he felt comfortable giving her a kiss on the cheek, it was time for the real thing! “How about another kiss?” ChiChi suggested. “On the lips this time.”

 Goku thought about it for a moment. ChiChi did say they will have to do this at the wedding. She wanted to practice and after watching that movie with ChiChi two nights ago, he thought about trying it, too. “Okay. How do I do that?”

 ChiChi wrapped her arms around Goku’s neck. “We press our lips together like in that movie we saw.” She blushed. “We can also use our tongue.”

 “Tongue?”

 Her blushed deepened. If she was this way explaining a kiss, ChiChi couldn’t imagine how she’ll feel explaining sex to Goku. “We open our mouths and use our tongue instead of our lips. I only read about this in a magazine,” she confessed. “I’ve never kissed anyone on the lips. I don’t know how good I’ll be.”

“I haven’t kissed anyone either but we’ll be good at it.” Goku was confident. At ChiChi’s questioning gaze, he said, “I catch on fast when I really want to learn something and I really want to learn this and you’re really smart. You’ll be good at this, too.” Goku wrapped his arms around ChiChi’s waist and pulled her closer. “So, let’s do it.”

 Wow. When Goku took charge, it was exhilarating. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was finally happening. Her first kiss. “I’m ready, Goku.”

 ChiChi closed her eyes and puckered her lips slightly. Goku thought back to the movie he saw two days ago. Having an idea on what to do, he pressed his lips hard on ChiChi’s and closed his eyes like he saw the couple do in the movie. ChiChi’s eyes flew open from the pressure of his lips on hers. Her hands slipped from his neck to his bare chest where her fingers dug into his skin to push back. She opened her mouth to protest the kiss but Goku used that opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth. She felt his tongue touch hers before feeling it move sloppily against her teeth, the roof of her mouth and towards the back where she almost gagged. ChiChi folded her hands into fists and pounded Goku’s chest. Goku loosened his hold and ChiChi used that as an opportunity to push Goku away from her, knocking him off the bed.

 Goku fell to the floor with a loud thump. When he sat up, ChiChi was glaring at him. She wasn’t happy. “Goku, what was that?”

 Goku gaped at ChiChi baffled. “I thought I was kissing you. Didn’t I do it right?”

 “No!” Goku cringed at ChiChi’s outrage. “You were too hard!” She exhaled, calmly speaking, “You should be gentle when you kiss.”

 Goku rubbed the back of his head embarrassed. When he tried something new he usually put a lot strength in it to show he’s giving his all. He thought kissing was the same way. “Okay. Gentle. I can do that.”

 ChiChi sighed as Goku climbed back on the bed beside her. “I hope so. Let’s try it again and no tongue,” she warned. “We’ll work our way up to that.”

 Goku put his arms around ChiChi as she locked hers around his neck. Gentle, he told himself. Gentle. He pressed his lips against hers gently this time for a few seconds before pulling away. “How’s that?”  

 ChiChi was smiling. It gave Goku assurance he didn’t screw up this time. “It was better but a little short. How did you like it?”

 Goku shrugged. “I don’t really know. I was focus on being gentle I didn’t have time to notice what it felt like.”

 “Well,” her fingers stroke the back of his neck. “Maybe we should kiss longer so you can notice what it feels like.”

 “Okay.”

 Goku pressed his lips against ChiChi’s longer this time. He could feel ChiChi’s fingers tenderly caress the back of his neck, feel her bumps caress his bare chest and a pleasing sigh from ChiChi caressing his ears. A strange sensation hit him. He was on the verge of deciphering if he liked it or not when ChiChi pulled away.

 ChiChi’s cheeks were flushed and there was a big smile on her face. “Oh, Goku. That was---“

 He didn’t mean to but he yanked ChiChi to him and kissed her again. This sensation was new to him and he needed to know if he liked it. ChiChi didn’t mind his sudden action as her hand moved from his neck into his hair. He could feel the heat rise on his cheeks with the way ChiChi massage her fingers in his hair with one hand while the other caress his bare chest. This felt different when ChiChi massaged his back. This was better! He liked how her hand touched his abs gently massaging the muscles as she moved upward to his pectorals. This felt really good. He nearly jerk back in shock when ChiChi’s fingers caressed his nipple. That feeling. It was really nice!

 Since ChiChi touched his chest, Goku thought he should do the same. ChiChi said touching should feel good for both of them and he liked how ChiChi touched him. He imitated her movements, touching her stomach through her clothes. He slowly moved up and touched her left breast. His hand closed over it and gave her breast a gentle squeeze.

 ChiChi squealed and pulled back breaking the kiss.

 “Did I squeeze too hard?” Goku innocently asked. “I thought I was gentle.”

 ChiChi breathed heavily from the kiss; her hand still on her left breast. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t expecting you to touch me there.”

 “But it’s okay, right?” Goku asked. “I thought I could touch you there since you touch my chest.”

 He had a point but ChiChi didn’t know how to explain to Goku the difference between touching a woman’s chest and a man’s.

 As she considered her words, Goku confessed, “No one has touched me like you have, ChiChi. I like it and I thought you would like if I touch you there, too.”

 “You liked it?” She smiled shyly. “I wasn’t sure if you did.”

 Goku nodded eagerly. “Oh, I like it alot.”

 “I like it when you touch me, too, Goku.” Goku reached for her breast again but ChiChi grabbed his wrist. “But we have to be careful not to touch too much before the wedding. After the wedding, we can touch each other wherever we want.”

 Goku’s fell face. He was very disappointed. “So I can’t touch your bumps until after the wedding?”

 “They’re called breasts, Goku. Sometimes people like to call them boobs but they are not bumps.”

 “Oh,” Goku understood but with his one track mind asked, “So I can’t touch your boobs until after the wedding?”

 ChiChi thought about that. She did like it when Goku touched here there but she knew they had to be careful and not go too far before the wedding. It was a week away but a little petting couldn’t hurt, could it? “You can touch my breasts through my clothes when we kiss but that’s it. You can’t see them until after we’re married.”

 Goku was fine with that compromise. It wasn’t long before the wedding anyway. He startled ChiChi when he pulled her to him suddenly and kissed her. ChiChi welcomed the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt Goku’s hand on one of her breasts again, squeezing it. He liked touching her there ChiChi realized. One of her hands slid down and touched Goku’s chest. She felt him shudder. She smiled. She like touching him, too.

  Part Four: Interference

 AN: ChiChi in my story knows how to do the Kamehameha Wave. I’ll have a flashback for that in the next chapter. It was implied Master Roshi taught Gohan and Gyu-Mao the technique. We saw Gohan use it against Goku at Baba’s palace and Roshi asked Gyu-Mao why he never used the wave to put out the fire around his castle. Master Roshi even acknowledge ChiChi as an expert when she fought Goku. So I figure if Gyu-Mao trained ChiChi in Master Roshi’s style then she should be able to create a wave.

[starry-kfics]

yolk jokes [w.js]

word count: 1351

warnings: taking the Lord's name in vain, small mention of the birds and the bees

author: krys

extra info: pokemon au!!! i wrote this when i was playing through omega ruby a long time ago :>

♡ 

"Out of all of the other ways we could've done this, we decided to be extra." you said regretfully, your Mudkip the only one listening. The Water-type Pokémon chirped happily as you both walked out of the backyard and into the daycare center. You readjusted your grip on the egg in your arms as two Rattata pranced around your feet before bolting off deeper into the yard. Around you, different Pokemon played with each other in the grass, slept on the warm rocks, or splashed around in the large waterhole.

You worked at your region's local Pokemon Daycare, owned by your family. It is a good business, since many Pokemon trainers came from all around just to leave their Pokemon in your care, either to temporarily clear space in their bag or to hopefully come back to an egg. You enjoyed every second of your job, since you loved to work with Pokemon and you enjoyed meeting the other trainers of the area.

Except, different could be said a number of months ago.

Nearly a year ago, you were walking around in the nearby forest when you accidentally ran into another Pokemon trainer. You were only looking for berries for the Pokemon of the daycare, but the other trainer, who proclaimed his name was Jackson, insisted that you had to battle him. It was amusing to see him so passionate about the childish, spontaneous battle, despite being quite older than your average amature Pokemon trainer.

Nonetheless, you battled him to satisfy his pleas, and surprisingly won against his Totodile with your Lapras. In a fit of his ego being torn, Jackson began to follow you around that whole day, annoying you to no end. After that, you two became "sworn enemies," according to Jackson. You didn't care about being enemies, but you ended up rolling with the term when his bugging antics never ceased every time you entered the forest.

After about a month, your mother came to you with a new handful of Water-types to personally look after. You had a reputation for your specialized Water Pokemon care, since you adored them and they tended to obediently follow you. Everyone constantly complimented on your bonds with the Water pokemon, but you always responded with a case of humility and pride. However, that pride has taken over much of the humility since the "Water-Type God Jackson" came strolling along, causing you to look at everything associated with him as an act of competition.

However, in this batch of Pokémon, there was a Totodile you were familiar with. Somehow, your sworn enemy was unaware that his top competitor worked at the local daycare.

It only took a handful of extra Oran berries after supper to get the Totodile to love you. Now, best friends with your enemy's partner Pokemon, you came to realize that your rivalry with Jackson was quite childish, and on the week when Jackson came back and saw his beloved Totodile not wanting to let go of your leg, he surprisingly agreed as well. A friendship between your "sworn enemy" grew after that, and eventually, Jackson became your "sworn soulmate."

Now, here you were, with your starter Mudkip, and an egg you found next to Jackson's recently evolved Feraligatr and your Lapras. You were absolutely floored when you found out about the origin of the egg, being extremely happy that your Lapras has laid an egg, but greatly amused from the irony of the situation.

You rubbed the egg to sooth and warm it before pulling it under your shirt to hold it against your stomach. As you began to think about it more, this idea was really dumb, but so was Jackson, so you suspected that he would at least give some kind of reaction you wanted.

Jackson was a very playful boyfriend, and he always wanted to make life interesting. You loved how he tended to find a way to put a smile on your face, no matter how simple and boring the situation could be. His personality was like a recharging battery that charged the parts of you that made you whole.

He also seemed to influence you to be a very mischievous person, however. Lately, Jackson has been throwing prank after prank onto you, and you think it has to do with all of the kids he trains with in the forest. Last week, it was trading out your entire team for a full team of Magikarp. The week before that, it was washing all of your clothes in a strong, honey scent, so that if you wanted to go out to the wilderness, Pokemon would instantly flock to you.

This week, it was your turn to change the tide.

You waited off to the side until you saw the back door of the daycare building open, revealing the love of your life. Jackson probably came back from training his fifteenth Squirtle, which was normal of him. He didn’t notice you right away until you sped-walked to his side.

“Hey (Name), how’s th-”

“Babe guess what I’m pregnant.”

That line certainly stopped Jackson from any sentence he was going to say before. His eyes instantly fell to the abnormal roundness of your stomach, and the way that you were holding yourself and how your Mudkip was perfectly acting along you think you got him hooked on.

“Wh-what?”

At this point you weren’t expecting Jackson to tear up, and in panic you began to drop your facade to keep your boyfriend from crying.

“Babe wait-”

Jackson choked up a gasp and put his hands to his face, the rambling already starting.

“What I- I can’t be a father I think- ohmygod is this even possible we haven’t even done anything like this toge- Can it even happen like this? I don’t know I’m scared what’s going on jagiya-”

You pulled the egg from under your shirt and placed it on the ground next to you hastily so that you can embrace the poor, disheveled Jackson. You, your Mudkip, and Jackson’s Squirtle were cracking up hard, and you tried your best to study your giggles so that you can take Jackson’s face in your hands.

“JAckson- oh my- JACKSON it’s okay, it was just a prank babe everything is okay, I’m not actually pregnant it was just an egg.” Jackson held onto your forearms like handles, his face morphing into confusion, then a pout.

“You are so cute, do you know that? I can’t believe that you were convinced that I was pregnant like did you even notice the shape of the egg? Why would a stomach be that oval-” Jackson groaned, now embarrassed.

“I was so convinced! It was in a flash and I only had a glance and I just immediately thought that we were going to be parents and I felt my whole world falling around me because I was not prepared for any of this.” He pressed his forehead against yours temporarily, made a high-pitched groan of stress, and placed a long kiss on the middle of your forehead. He didn’t pull away, opting to stare into your eyes for a few heartbeats before pouting more.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack from that. I was seriously caught so off guard, I didn’t know what to do next.” You scrunched your face up into a grin and wrapped your arms around Jackson’s torso, not saying anymore.

The two actual parents of the egg were partied by the large waterhole, so you dragged Jackson to return their egg.

“These are the actual parents of this egg,” you explained as you placed the egg near the Feraligatr, since your Lapras was in the water. You looked back up to another surprised face of Jackson.

“Wait- so they- our Pokemon they-” You nodded repeatedly, answering Jackson’s mushed up questions.

Jackson motioned towards the egg, the Pokemon couple, and back between you and him. “That technically makes us parents as well! Technically we are having a child!”

You exhaled through your nose in amusement and took Jackson’s hand.

“After today, let’s leave the parenting to them.”

[careycuprisin]

Mudpocalypse, the Sequel: Bighorn 2018 race report

https://youtu.be/_z-igfDoaug

Running a 100-miler is an exercise in narcissism.

Everything is about you — your feelings, your problems, your grit, your triumph, or your defeat. It’s like being Donald Trump, but for a limited time. Most ultrarunners are crazy, but we’re otherwise contributing members of society who care about other people. We would get creeped out if the narcissism of the 100 didn’t end quickly after the race was over.

So as I get day-by-day further out from my Bighorn finish, and as my legs slowly recover and I regain the ability to get in and out of my car without groaning, it’s nice to feel the narcissism of the race slipping away. It’s time for me to do the dishes. It’s time for me to feed the cat. It’s time for me to go to work. Others make demands of me again, like in normal life. It’s a good feeling.

Only one more bit of narcissism is left: this race report.

The start,waving goodbye. I’ll see you at Dry Fork!

I knew from my past attempts at Bighorn that it would suck and that I wouldn’t enjoy it. So I needed as many things to motivate me as possible. Chief among them was that if I finished, I wouldn’t have to come back next year to do it again. But also, I held out the hope that I might be happy. I thought about the two years of Bighorn swag in my closet — t-shirts, socks, windbreakers — that as a DNFer I hadn’t allowed myself to wear, and thought I’d be happy putting that stuff on. I thought about the big belt buckle, a staple of 100-mile races, and how good it would feel to own one of those like most of the people I hang out with in my running club. I thought of all the people who encouraged me and how they’d be happy to see me get this done, and how that would make me happy also.

I started the race determined that nothing that happened in the first half would matter at all, vis-a-vis my happiness at any rate. I would just focus on steady progress, ignore my splits, stay as warm and dry as I could, and remember to eat and drink. No highs or lows. So when the rain started I said “Meh.” When it became obvious that the trail conditions would be exactly as shitty as last year, I said “Meh.” When it started hailing, my answer was “Meh.” There was a brief moment in the climb up to Jaws when I thought about how good my feet were feeling that I slipped a little and felt a little bit happy, but I caught myself quickly and went back to “Meh.”

Arriving at Jaws in the rain I was a bit wet and cold, but nowhere near as bad as last year. I was generating heat and was far from hypothermic. I had been running with a cheap ($4.50 at REI) poncho instead of a jacket as my rain protection, and it had been working beautifully. Although I took a good long time at Jaws to change clothes and to eat and drink, I never considered dropping. After all, once I left that aid station it would be the Second Half of the race, and as such I could allow myself to be Happy. I was lucky enough to be getting the chance for an almost exact do-over of the 2017 conditions at Jaws, and I was doing everything right this time. 

Next, I slayed the bad memories of 2016 where my race basically came apart below Spring Marsh on account of profound exhaustion. My trip from Jaws to Footbridge this year was slow because of mud, but I was feeling steady and moving well, passing a lot of people. I had a brief physical low point just before the aid station because of nausea, but I got into Footbridge suspecting that for the first time at Bighorn I was going to be able to run the rest of the course back to Dayton. I was happily surprised to see Joe C. from the Salomon Run Club crewing for Eric L. in Footbridge, and happy to see Eric run through in the lead of the 52-miler. Go Eric!

As I headed out, I briefly asked an aid-station worker what the cutoff time was at Footbridge, just to get an idea of how far in front of that I was. Here’s what I remember her saying: “Ten a.m. here, and 3 p.m. at Dry Fork, then three more hours to Dayton.”

I was nowhere near the cutoff time in Footbridge. An inconsequential bit of chatter, it seemed.

Several times during my weekend in Wyoming, the question came up of whether Bighorn is worse in the hot years or in the wet years. My own opinion is that both are very bad, without advantage to either one. The heat will kill you in a cardiovascular way, bleeding your energy, making you slow. The mud will kill you in a musculoskeletal way, beating you up, making you slow. There have been no easy years in my three trips to Bighorn, and I have enormous respect for anyone who’s done it in either kind of year. I’m very willing to argue about this with anyone, so hit me up if you disagree. I love to argue.

Back to the action. I managed to get up the Wall in good shape. It’s a brutal climb period, but especially brutal at mile 70 when it’s coated with mud. I got to Bear Camp and just continued rolling - a bit more hiking now than running, but that’s to be expected at that distance.

Another quick aside: I give the award for the Best Mud to the 50-yard section just to the Footbridge side from Bear Camp aid station where the mud was mid-calf deep. It was simply the most spectacular mud on the course. Texture, color, quantity and quality. Anyone has a problem with that, you can take it up with my manager. I don’t want to hear it.

So at this point, I’m moving well (enough), I’m Happy, I’m done with the Wall. What could go wrong? Well, sprained ankles, bear attacks, bees, diarrhea, lightning, chafing… OK, a lot could go wrong, but that’s not what did go wrong.

I kept looking at my watch and thinking about getting to Dry Fork before 3 p.m. As I got slower, it started to grow as an Issue. My sleep-deprived mind slowly became consumed with calculating how many minutes per mile I would have to run in order to get to Dry Fork before the cutoff. And remember how that aid-station person back in Footbridge said that I had three hours after the Dry Fork cutoff of 3 pm to finish? Or, at least, remember that that’s what I heard her say? (She may have said no such thing.) Well, it started to dawn on me that I’d need more than three hours to run from Dry Fork to the finish.

My mind was thinking like this: “It usually takes me just over three hours to run from the start of the race to Dry Fork going uphill, but that’s when I’m trying not to run fast because that’s stupid at the beginning of the race. So now I’ll be going overall downhill (faster), but it’s at mile 80-something (slower), but I’ve got more distance to run along that stupid flat road to Dayton (slower), and I’m no freak like Alberto who will be putting down 9-minute miles on that road after 95 miles (slower), so UNLESS I GET TO DRY FORK AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, I’M SCREWED AND I WILL MISS THE CUTOFF AT THE FINISH.”

So here I was, having done so well through this whole race, at a time when I should have been feeling Happy about finally finishing Bighorn and never having to sign up for it again, at a time when I should have been feeling grateful for being able to do this (if not fast than at least respectably well), at a time when the clouds were thinning and the sun was peaking through and I could take off all the wool layers I’d put on at Jaws and revel in the crisp mountain air… Instead I was convinced that I was running too slow, that I had to run FASTER, or it WILL HAVE ALL BEEN FOR NOTHING. No buckle, no celebration, no congratulations, no hundred-mile burger at the Sun, no wearing the Bighorn socks, and the worst thing: having to decide whether to come back for another attempt next year.

Let me tell you that these thoughts made my very Not Happy as soon as they entered my mind. “This is a shitty situation and I would rather not be in it” was how I put it to myself. 

The weather at Dry Fork on the way out reflects my Not Happy feelings on the way in.

Now let me explain why all of this is somewhat funny, if also sad and pathetic. I knew that the overall cutoff time for Bighorn is 34 hours. The race started at 10 a.m. the previous day, so any adult human who could add and subtract would know that 24 hours from the start was 10 a.m. on the second day, and that 34 hours from the start was 10 hours past 10 a.m. on the second day which would be…. 8 pm. The number of hours from the 3 p.m. cutoff at Dry Fork to the cutoff at the end of the race is therefore 5 hours. Even if I scraped out of Dry Fork at the very last second I would have five hours to get to Dayton. Not three. Five whole hours. More than enough time. And I was going to get out of Dry Fork before 3 p.m. so I’d have even more buffer. Missing the cutoff time was never a real danger.

THIS is where a pacer would have been helpful. Someone to do this basic math for me and tell me to chill out and enjoy myself.

If I had not been afflicted with end-of-hundred-mile-brain, I would have noticed things around me and realized my mistake. No one at Dry Fork, when I got there, seemed desperate to get out, as I was. People on the trail were chatting with their pacers and weren’t weeping softly as I felt like doing. “Why are these people not worried about the cutoff?” is what I should have asked myself. Instead, I assumed the worst of them (a weakness of mine) and chalked it up to them not caring. I figured they all knew they would be cut off but because they were probably so earnest and uncompetitive, they didn’t mind. I told myself that they hadn’t chosen to drop because they were stupid and satisfied with merely ‘running it in’ to ‘challenge themselves’ even if everyone in Scott Park would have packed it in and left by the time they got there. “These back-of-the-packers just plod along for vacuous reasons and I despise them because they have no competitive fire and they live for participation trophies. They all suck.” What can I say, I’m a misanthrope and that comes out at the end of 100-mile races, who knew?

The ironic thing is that I was the stupid one; the only person who was wrong about the cutoffs. Also ironically, at the same time that I was showering contempt on my more-functional race-mates, I was the one throwing in the towel. Because I ‘knew’ I wouldn’t finish, I took time to sitting on the side of the trail, contemplating the beauty of the Bighorn Mountains but also feeling sorry for myself. I walked when I could have jogged and jogged when I could have run. 

Even when I got to the Tongue River Road and the last flat 5 miles of the race, I just plodded along, hoping that my wife and dog would have realized that I failed and would have driven out to pick me up in the car. Even when I saw Heidi and Pele, I didn’t notice that they were happy, I was just disappointed that they were there without the car. I kept walking, and walking, surrounded by other runners, feeling Not Happy. It’s hard to believe now, but I got to Dayton and took Pele at the corner of Scott Park and jogged along the fence with people cheering and complementing Pele (“Beautiful dog! Nice pacer!”) and ran around the corner and under the big FINISH banner, and still thought I hadn’t finished. Heidi said she’d go pick up my buckle and I said “Great, if they’ll give one to you.” She came back and handed me a buckle and a finisher’s hoodie, and ONLY THEN did I start to get a little suspicous. “The cutoff time is 8” she said. “Huh,” I said. “Well then, I guess I finished.”

Pup licks! Along the Tongue River Road at mile 98.

Finishing Bighorn with Pele. 

Now that it’s been a few days, the intellectual knowledge that I actually finished Bighorn has finally set in. But the emotional satisfaction hasn’t arrived yet, and I don’t know if it ever will. Emotions aren’t rational after all, and I wonder if spending those final hours of the race feeling that I failed are replaceable by feelings of Happiness and Satisfaction just because my intellectual brain knows I finished.

At any rate, I am happy that I don’t have to sign up for the Bighorn 100 again. I’m still kind of a cranky grump about 100s generally and I’m not excited to ever do another one. However, the Bighorn 18-mile sounds FABULOUS! I think it’d be fun to run from Dry Fork to Dayton down that beautiful huge hill feeling fresh and able to run fast. Or even the 52-miler, a good solid day in the mountains for sure, but nothing too crazy. Getting this 100-mile monkey off my back feels great; like I again have no obligations in mountain running and can pick and choose what I choose to do because it sounds fun. And if it doesn’t sound fun, I can say “Nah.”

These are the same pair of shoes from the starting-line picture above. Now destroyed!

The 100-mile buckle!

[hazbinextgeneration]

Down The Rabbithole Ch4

It was....good to have someone around to talk to again wouldn't you agree? Someone who didn't expect a lot out of her, someone who she could laugh with, sing silly songs with, and ...be herself around again. Now don't get her wrong. It certainly didn't happen overnight now. She still was grasping at the sudden and huge concept that her old memories weren't just childish adventures of an imaginary friend and a whole bunch of the fairy tales and nursery rythmes she grew up with were actually real..or well WERE real, Chesire did mention that most of them were ancient history just repeated and long ago over, but I digress. She was expecting one of these days to just wake up and everything be gone and back to her normal life, but then she'd find breakfast made and waiting for her or finding Chesire all curled up beside her sleeping. He was kinda like a pet cat of her own that doubled as a best friend she could talk to and let reveal about her life. But some things were a little frustrating. One day she stacked books neatly on a shelf- Only to rush back into the room by the sounds of books falling down one by one and saw the site of Chesire looking wide eyed at the books and like a cat in those videos, was pawing the books off one by one. He seemed to snap out of it when she shouted at him to stop and apologized before snapping his powers and having them fly back into place. She told him he didn't have to use all this magic and cook for here but in his own words:

"You fed me. You gave me a home. You became my friend and showed me kindness when a lot of people wouldn't. I could have easily died. This is the very least I could do and it'll still be never enough in my opinion. Now hush and help me decide which scones looks better with this tea. I like macaroons. So sweet and delicious!"

He wasn't there sometimes and a few days he didn't show up, when asked he simply told her he had to spend some time in his world too, which she respected. He wasn't obligated to stay around if he didn't feel up to it and she certainly knew that she would be ok-ish without him. There was plenty of things to keep her busy, she still had the whole yard and fence to recover, and a job to find, didn't she? Which went about well as you think. Said fence was old and rusty and leaned in odd places, she had to REALLY put her back into it to push the awkward rusty poles into place, which left her pretty sore for the rest of the day. But the next day she stepped out to the smell of freshly cut grass and the sight of a tamed lawn and new white painted fence had taken it's place. When questioned he admitted to it, but only because she looked really hurt and tired trying to do it herself. It took a moment to explain to a confused talking cat that she REALLY DID appreciate his help but sometimes she WANTED to endorse the hard labor and he just tilted his head confused and blinked at her.

"I don't understand your human logistics. You could just as easily have me snap my fingers and everything you desire done will be finished in due time."

"It's not that! I mean it WOULD be nice to have everything fixed back up to the way it was, but humans, well most humans anyways, enjoy working for something. It makes us feel better getting it."....He cocked his head more and rose a brow obviously still confused and she face palmed, how does she explain this in a more simpler terms so a fairytale otherworldly cat would understand??...She looked back up at him dragging a hand down her face. "....OK! Lets go with one example. Uh...Um...Y-You know the story of Cinderella right?"

"Absolutely! Her glass slippers are still passed down in her family! Her great great niece looks so nice in them."

She rose a brow but shook her head and held up her hands. "Ok! Well you know how her fairy godmother granted her wish of going to the ball and meeting her future husband?" He nodded his head, of course he knew that. "Ok. Well you know why the fairy godmother did that right? It's because Cinderella worked hard everyday of her life and made an effort to be kind all the time, which with a step family like hers, it must've been hard. It's the same with most humans. Getting everything just handed to us on a silver platter without having to work for it just seems wrong, like there was no real effort to put into it to actually earn it. It's not about getting it done fast, it's just about that feeling of earning something." She pointed to herself. "I want to fix up the house and while I appreciate your attempts, and not in anyway discrediting you for what you've already done for me or for wanting to help, I want to be able to stand on my own two feet and show I can fix up the whole place."

He stood(Floated in the air-) and stared at her as she explained to him her feelings on the matter and hummed after a few seconds of it being done. "So....In order for humans to in their opinion earn something and be worthy of it they must work hard for it?"

She smiled and nodded. "Now you're getting it! After all an easy reward wouldn't be very good." She wracked her mind for another example. "Uh...Like let's say a princess has a whole bunch of suitors, and then she gets kidnapped by a dragon, and then a knight finds her, defeats the dragon, and worked very hard to rescue her. Wouldn't that make the knight more worthy to marry her than all the others?"

He looked at her thoughtfully, before nodding with a smile. ''Now that you mention it, it does seem you humans have more noble qualities than I thought.~"

She chuckled. "Now you get it. Besides wouldn't it get a bit annoying if everyone just asks you to use your magic to fix all their problems?"

He hummed, "I never thought of it like that before. Yes. I suppose it would get very annoying, I have other things to do with my magic than play life savior all the time."

"There you go! Now you're getting it! You can still help if you want to and I won't make you, but leave some stuff for me to do. Ok?"

He nodded and now that they had a better understanding she had less surprises. In fact she was made to make her own meals now, which she didn't mind cuz y'know independence in all, but now she could also show Chesire some of the recipes she picked up. He never even heard of a lemon marange pie until she made it for him and he puckered from the lemon flavor. Understandable. Not everyone enjoyed lemon, but things got a bit confusion when she tried to make pineapple upside down cake. She made it all the way and turned her back away from it for a second when she turned back and almost had a heart attack from Chesire using his magic to hold in place upside-down.

"What are you doing?!"

"Helping you with the recipe. I don't think you'll be able to make it stay upside down on your own will you?"

"T-That's not...Wait." She blinked. "Your Upside down cakes are ACTUALLY upside down?"

"Of course they are! It wouldn't make sense for it NOT to be. What's the point of having an upside-down cake if it's not made properly?"

"Huh. You'll have to show me your world sometime."

"Really?!" His tone radiated excitement as that idea was thrown at him and he giggled. "What a splendidly marvelous idea!! You could take my portal but...perhaps it would be better if not. There is dangers still left to be undangered."

"What do you mean?"

''Hopefully you'll never find out. Now let's cut this open! Im starving so to speak."

She let that one slide since no real harm was done. But he was still asking a few questions about her world that still didn't make much sense to her but it seemed he was used to different forms of things which was all but fine. The real things she was concerned with was the restoration of the garden and repainting the house. She didn't know if the roof was ok after all this time, but she guessed she was finally gonna find out wasn't she? She had been working on the back of the house for a few days now. As well as one could with old rusty garden tools and a small cat who found more fun in playing with the tossed weeds than helping her, but she didn't ask for his help and like before he was being more considerate in wanting to let her do her thing. She wasn't sure how many times she fell down on her behind trying to pull weeds out or tripped over another giant root in her granny's old flower bed. But all of that was put on hold when the first giant black storm clouds appeared and thunder gave out a warning of what was to come. Which came in the form of rain just a few seconds after. Chesire bristled and gave a startled meow as he jumped into her arms, and she ran like a bear chasing bees back into the safety of the house. Barging in just in time as the speed was starting to pick up the pace and rain down harder. Which left them now in this situation. Curled up on the couch, warm fuzzy blanket around her shoulder, and a purring magical cat curled up in her lap. And phone in hand. Her unlimited data plan was great for unlimited internet, though it was a little glitchy. One of the better things she did in her life. Might as well search for a job. I mean. She didn't have a car, and she couldn't just walk all the way to and from town everyday...And she already felt guilty for everything Chesire already done. If she found an online job then that meant she didn't have to walk all that way and could save up for a car and maybe get a job in the nearest town or something. After a while of surfing the web, a blue head popped back up and smiled at the strange blue screen.

"And what is this I wonder?"

"Hm?" She blinked and looked at him as he stared at the phone. "Oh. It's my phone. Im trying to find an online job but so far no luck. If my luck runs out I'll just try to open art commissions I guess."

....He blinked. "A...'phone'? What is that?"

"Oh, well it's a..Uh.." How do you explain to fairytale cat what a electronic phone is?....Maybe she should use another fairytale reference as an example? "Well...You know how magic mirrors or crystal balls show us stuff like other people and answer questions? L-Like the mirror in the Snow White story? You know how she would ask it every day 'Who's the fairest in the land?'''

"OH! So you have a small hand held magical mirror!"

She shrugged. "Sort of. It lets me talk to people, watch things, see fair away places, answer questions-"

"So it's more of a fortune teller's ball?" He nodded with a thoughtful look. "I understand now. I know of a great fortune teller where I am from! The descendent of the oh so wise Mr. Caterpillar!"

"That's one way of putting it."

That was probably the best she was ever going to get to explaining what a phone was to him- A flash of lightning flashed outside lit up the entire room along with a roar of thunder that shook the glass of the windows. Chesire bristled more and leaned back further into her blankets shielding the two from the cold air. She comfortly reached out to pat the poor slightly shaking fellows back and sighed. She didn't blame him for being scared of rain. After all she wasn't enjoying this anymore than him....Then she got an idea. She smiled and tapped the top of his head to get him to look up at her.

"Hey. You like tea right? How about I go make you a cup?"

He blinked slightly surprised up at her. "Really? Y-You'd do that for me? In this dire time? ...Oh, no, no, no. I couldn't ask you to do that for me. I'll be fine."

Her brow rose. "It would be the least I could do for all the things you've done for me. Here." She gently put her arms around him, enough to lift him off the couch and picked him up just as she stood up.Blanket falling of Allison's shoulder as she turned back around and placed the small cat back to where she was sitting just a moment ago. He blinked as said fuzzy blankets was drapped the top of his head and around him. Almost like a swaddled baby. She straightened back up and glanced back down at him. "There! Now don't you go anywhere. It'll only take like ten minutes tops." She slipped her phone into her back pocket. "Besides. I know I could use a warm drink right now."

He chuckled. But it was short lived by another loud thunder that shook the windows again and Chesire gave a startled 'Mmmrowl' and ducked under the blanket turning into a shaking lump under it. But that's not what made her stop and pause. A loud clanking sound itself heard before stopping after a bit. What was that? ANother loud thunder sound shaking the windows another soft but loud metal tapping noise and she snapped her head in the direction the sound was coming from...Sure enough ANOTHER thunder clapping. Another shaking. AND ANOTHER METAL NOISE!

"H-Hey. Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?! I hear nothing but the sound of absolutely silence u-under here!"

Well he wasn't going to be much help was he? She rolled her eyes and looked- BOOM!! Another shaking. What was up with this giant storm!? Seriously?! And another tapping sound. This time DEFINATELY from her Granny's old meditation room. Raising a brow, she cautiously began slowly walking her way over there. The dimly lit room and rain outside wasn't helping her whole horror movie scenario running through her head as she got closer and closer. When she was finally in there...She saw nothing. Lightning lit up the entire room as ran still poured buckets outside. ....Then where was- Another thunder slammed the skies and shook the windows. Which also shook another thing. The giant mirror hanging on the wall tapped against it swaying violently and made the same tapping sound she had heard before. She gasped and ran to it. Not actually touching it when she got there but holding her arms out as if ready to catch this thing. It looked too big and heavy to lift by her tiny self, but it looked so freely hanging from the wall that it could fall and shatter into a million pieces at any moment. Which is what scared her.

Her head snapped over her shoulder. "Chesire!! The mirror's about to fall! Help me put it back into place will ya?!"

The shaking lump stopped shaking in an instant. All fear of ran and thunder and lightning pushed aside and that blue head snapped up and out of the blanket wide eyed. "THE MIRROR?! ALLISON, NO!!" He leapt from the couch and zoomed towards the tiny room. "WHATEVR YOU DO, DONT TOUCH THE MIRROR!!"

The rest of his warning was drowned out as thunder once again rang out and shook the house, this time there was no tapping as the mirror jumped off the nail and as she watched in horror as he fell on her, she thought she could hear Chesire shout 'Allison!!'. As it consumed her. A giant shattering of glass was heard as shiny shards spilt to the floor in the place the girl once stood, and shined when lightning struck the entrance way. A heavily breathing cat was floating there for a moment staring in absolute horror at the mess on the floor. He snapped two it. Little paws pushing around a few pieced before lifting up the mirror and still seeing no strawberry blonde woman. His paws went to clutch his head as the realization hit him harder than any lightning.

"By tea and biscuits...WHAT HAVE I DONE?!"

[megacircuit9universe]

Universal Telepathy (and why it sucks)

2019 JUL 14

Carl Jung first suggested the idea of a collective unconscious... as a scientific explanation for the weird phenomenon of ancient civilizations, too far apart in space to communicate, coming up with nearly identical myths, inventions, and architecture at around the same time.

It was never taken very seriously because nobody in Jung’s time could explain how such a thing could work, in terms of physics. How could human brains on opposite sides of the globe be able to access one another’s ideas? 

It just felt like something in the realm of religion or pseudo science.

Still, as the 20th century marched forward, and turned into the 21st, the question of consciousness itself has continued to be a nagging mystery that science has yet to explain in any satisfactory way.

Still, we know consciousness is real... and that it’s a thing that developed through the process of evolution... just as did it’s components, such as, say, vision.

Living beings have evolved photon receptors because... we live in an environment bathed in photons coming from the sun. A creature with no eyes would not know this, but one with even primitive cells that could detect photons and relay that information to a central brain would know photons exist, and could use that knowledge to their advantage.

The same is true for ears... because we live in an atmosphere full of acoustical sound waves.

Chemical detectors, of course are all over the place in nature. Plants, insects, and mammals alike depend very heavily on their specialized chemical detectors... as well as chemical signal generators.

But some animals have senses we can’t imagine, such as many species of birds, who can “see” the Earth’s magnetic field, and use it for flight navigation across enormous distances.  Also various fish, such as sharks, who can “see” electrical and magnetic fields in their environment.

But all of these senses are fine tuned to detect extremely weak signals, and creatures can do this because biology itself is made of such extremely tiny building blocks, and runs on such extremely low voltage. 

In fact, scientists now believe that in many cases, biological sense organs are taking advantage of truly quantum phenomena... and why not?  

This brings us to the brain... which even in insects like bees, have astounding levels of processing power.  Flight navigation, after all, is no simple trick, but remembering how you found your way to a specific flower patch, and then being able to communicate those directions to your bee colleagues using an abstracted dance... is really impressive!

So, how much more impressive is the human brain, which is the latest and most advanced brain ever developed by natural selection?

My hypothesis is that the human brain (and probably many other less sophisticated brains) is able to interact on the quantum level with some type of field surrounding the Earth... using it for storage and retrieval of information.

In this model, your memories are not stored in your brain, and your thoughts do not originate in your brain either. Both exist out in this field, and are simply accessed by your brain the way a transistor radio would access a radio station, or a smart phone would access encoded data in the cloud.

But for most of the 20th century, it was thought no such field could exist... until we discovered dark matter. 

Though we don’t yet know exactly what dark matter is... we do know that there’s far more of it permeating the galaxy than normal baryonic matter... because we can see it’s weak gravitational interaction with normal matter on the large scale.

Dark matter does permeate the room you’re in right now... along with every square inch of the Earth, solar system, and beyond.

My hypothesis is that our brains have evolved to interact with dark matter in some very subtle, yet critical way that allows us to experience not only individual consciousness... but to also share a collective, global unconscious.

One intriguing clue to support this may be the enigmatic double slit experiment.

In this famous experiment, you have a photon gun, a back wall to receive the photons, and a barrier or screen in the middle with two small slits.  If you shoot a multitude of photons at the barrier, some will pass through the slits and hit the back wall.. creating a wave interference pattern over time.

However, if you make any attempt to determine which of the two slits each photon passes through... say by setting up detectors at the two slits that will report the results to you... suddenly the back wall no longer displays a wave interference pattern, but instead, two concentrated blobs corresponding to the two slits.

The obvious conclusion... which quantum physicists hate, but cannot rule out, is that human consciousness itself, affects the behavior of the photons.

Clearly that’s not possible if consciousness is a thing happening inside of tightly sealed human skulls. Knowing... or even asking which slit a photon goes through should not change the results of the experiment... especially not so drastically.

But it is possible... and even logical, if consciousness arises from the brain interacting with a field through which the photons are passing... namely the dark matter field.

It’s tempting to think that this interaction must be electromagnetic... given that brains are electrical, and photons are quanta of electromagnetism. But we have no evidence for dark matter interacting electromagnetically... only gravitationally.

Our understanding of quantum gravity is... nearly nonexistent, so it’s difficult to say how a brain might be able to utilize quantum gravity... if at all. 

Whatever the case, if the brain is using the dark matter field to store information... that same mechanism will tend to collapse the wave functions of photons (and other quantum particles) being asked for information.

Physicists in fact will tell you that information itself is a kind of property in the universe that cannot be destroyed, but only shifted around.  So... for our brains to store any... we have to take it, and put it somewhere we can find it later.

If this cloud theory of consciousness is true, however, then it works best on the level of the individual brain.  

For example, I can remember experiences I had thirty years ago fairly vividly, and fairly accurately, depending on how memorable they were to begin with. 

But you can spend all day with your head touching mine, trying very hard to tune in to my memories and... not get anything.

However... if you and I were very similar in some key way, you might be able to gain access to my records. 

I know this will sound like a reach, but, sex kinks tend to bear this out a bit.

We all know about the internet’s famous Rule 34, which says, if it exists, there is porn of it.

That rule was always true, from the beginning of human history, but we did not know it was true until the advent of the internet, when people began sharing their extremely specific and bizarre fetish art and writing online... only to overnight connect with large numbers of other people who had the same kink... down to the same images, same scenarios, and same buzzwords.

In a very real way, people who share the same obscure niche sex kink, do share the same unconscious and conscious fantasies, in very striking detail, even if they are never in communication with one another.

That could just be the result of everybody in the group having the same wiring anomaly in their brains, causing the same symptoms.

Or... it could mean that people who are wired similarly enough on the channels that have the real signal strength... the sex drive, or the obsession for art, music, architecture, etc... are able to tune-in to one another’s thoughts and impressions.

The general rule of brain storage is that the strongest memories are the most emotional, either positive or negative... or the most significant, in terms of useful information.

Expanding outside the individual, like minds have like thoughts. It’s true for people with the same kink... but it’s also generally true in the sense that... all squirrels will think like squirrels and not like birds.  All birds will think like birds and not like bees. Etc.

But on the grandest scale... all conscious creatures will think and behave in some very basic ways that all other conscious creatures will understand.

I once had an underground beehive in my back yard.  The bees had set up their hive in a hole in the ground.  This was not a problem until I had to mow the lawn. After I did this once, the bees were not happy.  A week later, when I got the mower back out... the bees attacked my dog, who was hanging around with me in the yard.

I had not yet turned on the mower.

The bees did not do too much damage to my dog (thanks to his thick fur) but they gave him a good scare, such that he ran off into the house.

As for me... I got the message very clearly, as if they’d spoken it to me in English, “Do you see what is happening to your friend there?  That is you... if you mow over our hive again.  Got it!”

I gave their hive a wide berth that day and they didn’t attack me.  We had an understanding after that.

That’s an example of how all conscious creatures do understand all other conscious creatures.  But it’s also an example of how information is normally exchanged between conscious creatures who are not exactly the same.

99.9% of the time, external, real time communication is needed to exchange information from one conscious creature to another.  In the case of the bees, this was contextual communication.

The context is... I have lawn mower.  Dog is my friend. Dog gets the business. Dog is me, if I use lawn mower on them. 

But among themselves, even bees need to use symbolic communication. The waggle dance they use is partly contextual, because it references the current location of the sun, but it is also largely symbolic, with waggles standing in for units of distance.

And even though human brains are far more sophisticated than those of bees, we still do not have telepathy.  We rely very heavily on symbolic communication to share information from one brain to another... and even with our very advanced forms of communication... misunderstanding is rampant.

So... even if there is such a thing as a collective unconscious... there is a reason it is unconscious.  It’s because the dark matter field our brains use to store and retrieve information for individual brains is so extremely weak and delicate, that it can’t sustain a universal telepathy.

by, “universal,” I mean... a robust telepathy capable of transferring detailed information between all kinds of different brains, no matter how different they are.

The laws of physics do not and cannot support universal telepathy.

But... they do seem to be able to handle a very low level telepathy that can transfer information directly from one brain to another... if the two brains are sufficiently similar... and if the signal is sufficiently strong.

This means it should be possible to simply meditate and, by tuning in with the universe, elevate the collective consciousness of all human kind.

Is that a more effective approach than going online and blasting everybody with extremely emotional symbolic communication when they’re awake? 

Erm... on the short term no.

However, over the long game... the very long game... collective unconscious may prove to have the edge.