#also I will never forgive nor forget how you treated rise at first. and now look where we are.

[scalproie]

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 17

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3800+

Warnings: Angst, violence, suspense, kidnapping

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Nat kept a watchful eye on Thor when he came back to the waiting room. He was twirling his phone in his hand when his eyes connected with hers; He shot her a hard glare before shaking his head. She grimaced, letting out a scoff and stood up a little straighter. She turned her attention back to assist Clint with asking routine questions to Bucky, Carol, and Val. Bucky’s eyes connected with hers, and he reached out, taking her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. She nodded, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

Nat tried to focus on doing her job, but she was too close to this. You were one of her best friends, and she was scared for you in this situation. She wanted to believe what Thor was saying about Jig and Billy being the same person, but she needed proof or some sort of evidence, pointing them in that direction. Steve’s phone was the key to this, but she couldn’t go through it in case they needed it to use against him in court. She didn’t have a problem with lying, but if the defense found out what she did, she would be screwed and possibly lose her job. Billy deserved to be locked up for everything he did to you, and that cell phone would be another reason on a long list of reasons to lock him up. She wanted to protect you like Thor did, but it needed to be done right. 

“Natasha,” Thor shouted, forcing her head to snap in his direction. He was heading their way with Sam behind him. “Sam can confirm Billy and Jig are the same person. He met Jig once.” 

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “Is this true, or are you making it up?” 

“It’s true,” Sam nodded. “I met him one night at Happy’s. It was a quick meeting, but you don’t forget that white boy’s pretty face.”

Nat’s mouth dropped open, covering it with her hand in shock. Bucky was beside her, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back. She looked over at him with tearful eyes as her mind drifted to the worst-case scenario. Bucky pulled her into a hug, and everything around her became white noise.

Billy got to you; he abducted you and almost killed Steve in the process. She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling Bucky closer. How did this happen? How did he even find you? How long has he been here? What was going to happen to you? All these unanswered questions flooded her mind until everything went silent. This was what she needed, evidence to find you and bring you home safe. Her eyes snapped open, pulling away from Bucky. She smirked at him, and his blue eyes narrowed at her. 

“Keep me updated on Steve, will you?” She whispered, putting her hands on his cheeks.

He nodded. “As long as you do the same with YN.” 

She kissed him, turning around and catching Thor’s eye. “Thor, let’s go.”

“Wait, what? Where?” Thor was looking between everyone as if asking if they had the answers.

“To find your sister, but we may have to ask for a little help.”

“But, I thought you weren’t technically on the case?”

“Small technicality. Nick will forgive me; I’m one of his favorites,” she winked, and Clint nodded in agreement. “Besides, I’m also a concerned friend of the victim, and I’m just following a possible lead. It could lead to something, or it might not.” Nat shrugged, looking over to Clint. “Cover for me?” 

“It’s what I do best.”

“Let’s go get this bastard,” Thor stated, giving Nat a forgiving nod. 

__________

The soft melody coming from the radio woke you up, but you didn’t move. A breeze hit your face, and the smell of the ocean hit your nose. A calm sensation came over you as you moved ever so slightly, feeling your hands bound, restricting your movement. Taking in another breath, a hint of familiar cologne came to your senses. You gulped, turning your head to what you hoped was a window. A sharp pain hit the side of your face, making you wince, causing your eyes to flicker open. The car sat parked near the ocean, and you could see the sun rising in the distance, cascading a soft glow over the landscape. You glanced at your hands, seeing a zip tie wrapped around them. You gulped, looking over to the driver’s seat to find your ex-husband wrapping his wrist. Your eyes widened as your mind flashed to him on the other side of the door, Steve laying motionless on the ground, the struggle in your condo, Cosmo attacking, and a punch to your face that knocked you out cold. 

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”

“What… what did you do?” You stammered, feeling tears start to form in your eyes. 

He smirked, taping the gauze on his wrist. “I think the better question is what did you do?” You narrowed your eyes, wincing as a sharp pain traveled alongside your face. Your hand shot to your face, touching the tender area between your eye and cheekbone. “I warned you what would happen if you left. People would get hurt, but you didn’t listen.” 

“Is he dead?”

“Who? Steve? Would it make a difference if he was?” He quirked an eyebrow as your bottom lip trembled, staring out the window at the ocean. “I wouldn’t worry about him anymore.”

“Why did you do that?” Your voice cracked as a sob escaped from your mouth. “He was a good man.”

“Steve was a great guy. I didn’t want to hurt him. I liked Steve. He was one helluva pool player, and we were friends,” he paused, your head snapping in his direction. “But, when he put his hands on you. I wanted to kill him.” Billy clenched his fists, shaking his head. “Steve doesn’t deserve you. He was never good enough for you. Hell, he was just using you to get over his dead wife.” He let out a breath, his dark brown eyes connected with yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “If you stayed home and didn’t leave me, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Steve wouldn’t be dead because of you.”

Your stomach dropped, with tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. You squeezed your eyes shut as the sharp pain radiating from your cheek was welcoming compared to what you were feeling inside. You swallowed down a sob, but your shaky breath didn’t dissipate. Your head clouded up, blocking out any other sound besides your racing heart. You slowly opened your eyes, trying to blink the tears away, but a few escaped down your cheeks and landed on your jeans. You stared at the wet droplets, unable to move, only being able to concentrate on your breathing. You sniffled, clearing your throat. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Does it matter?” He arched a brow at you. “I will give you some credit though, leaving that note saying you and Loki took an impromptu trip together. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I mean, you two are attached at the hip, so I knew you would be back in a few days, but you never did come home. Even after I saw Loki’s posts about being back home, but still no you. ” He leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his mouth. 

“The most frustrating part of all was that you never returned my calls, which led me straight to Loki, and he told me you were staying with him for a few more days. I thought, ‘Alright. I get it. You want some time.’” He sighed, shaking his head. “After a few more days of no new texts and no returned phone calls. I decided to sneak into Loki’s and quickly realized you weren’t staying there. In fact, it looked like you were never there. Then I proceeded to go to your work, which I now realized I should’ve done to begin with because I discovered you quit.” He paused, hitting the steering with your palm, making you jump in your seat. 

“It was embarrassing to find out your wife left you in front of her co-workers.” He clenched his jaw, staring daggers at you. “This led to me tracking your phone, but it never did tell me where you were.” He smirked. “I am almost positive it involved an anti-tracker app. Smart play.” He nodded. “Nice to know you learned a few things from me during our time together, but I’m surprised you didn’t think I wouldn’t be able to find you?”

“Who's to say I didn’t,” you countered, wiping the tears from your cheeks. 

He cackled in the seat next to you, shaking his head, and in one quick motion grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. You tried to jerk away, but he tightened his hold. All the mischief in his eyes was gone, replaced with his harsh gaze. He clenched his jaw, making you gulp and stare into the depths of his emotionless eyes. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Running off to your big brother, thinking he would protect you. It’s cute really, but deep down, he didn't do his job the first time, let alone this time. He didn’t protect you. He didn’t keep you safe. It’s comical, just how easy it was to get you back.” He scoffed, licking his lips. “And Loki’s all the same. They’re both egoistic, self-absorbed, and out for themselves. It’s poetic, how you were always there for them, but they were never there for you like I was.” He reached over and dragged his fingers against your cheek. You clenched your jaw, pulling away from his touch.

“What do you want from me?” You mumbled, observing him from the corner of your eye. 

He sighed, dropping his hand. “Isn’t it obvious? I want you to come home where it is safe. Come home to someone who actually cares about you. My god, YN, you have no idea how much I have missed you and….and I’m sorry,” he confessed as his voice cracked. Your head snapped in his direction to see him running a hand through his hair. “I was an asshole for how I treated you, and I can’t believe I became that person.” His gaze caught yours, noticing his lips trembling. “I told you I would change, but I didn’t, and I don’t know why.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I want to change, but I don’t think I can do it without you. I need you. You have always believed in me more than I believed in myself. I don’t want to lose what we have together. Please come home to me. I forgive you for running. I want to start over, start fresh, start that family you always wanted. Anything; I will do anything,” he begged with tears on the verge of falling. 

You swallowed, staring wide-eyed at him, not knowing what to say. Billy has always been a confident talker, telling you what you wanted to hear and making all the right promises.  He could coax you into coming back every time you left him with his caring apologetic words. You believed you could trust him time and time again. He could persuade you into getting what he wanted, not what you wanted. 

You rubbed your lips together, knowing what you should say or at least what he wanted you to say. But, you didn’t need him anymore, like he needed you. You moved on, and in this moment, he couldn’t control you anymore. “I want to start a family, Billy.” His shoulders sank in relief as a smile crossed his features. “But, I don’t want it with you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Our relationship is a repeating pattern that causes both of us pain. I can’t do this with you anymore,” you breathed, your eyes flickering to his; they changed from sincere and honest to dark and destructive in a matter of seconds. 

He brought his hand down his face, shaking his head. “You don’t get to say when this is over. I do.” He let out a deep breath and slapped you across the face. You yelped, sending a shooting pain down your same cheek, bringing tears to the corner of your eye. You leaned away from him, reaching for the door handle, and tried to push it open, but he grabbed a hold of you and held a knife to your throat. 

 “STOP MOVING,” he grunted through clenched teeth. You quit squirming and stared at the blade against your throat. “It didn’t have to come to this. ” He clenched his jaw, grabbing the passenger seat belt and strapped you in. He leaned forward, his breath fanning against your ear as he whispered, “I have a plan, but unlike yours, it will work.” 

____________

Thor and Nat walked through the doors of your dispatch center. Thor’s eyes scanned the many individuals typing away at their screens and talking into their headpieces. It was a different scene than what he was used to. It felt calmer and less hectic, but on the other end of the calls, he could only imagine what people were going through.

Bruce made eye contact with them, holding up his pointer finger as he helped one of the dispatchers at their desk.  

“Bruce, busy man,” Thor chuckled, and Nat hummed in agreement.

“Thor, Nat, hi. Any news? Have the police found anything?” Bruce asked, walking over to them.

“Don’t get me started on the police. At YN house, they were walking around finding clues and placing their little yellow numbers by them, and taking pictures. Like, what is that going to do? They should be out looking for her since I already told them who abducted her, but no one believed me.” Thor shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Calm down, big guy, it’s called procedure, and we were finding evidence.” Nat patted him on the shoulder before turning to Bruce. “Anyways, we came to ask for a favor, and we think you could help us with it.”

“Name it,” Bruce nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“We need to track this number, but the fastest way without a warrant is to go through dispatch, or so I heard,” Nat hinted, raising her eyebrows.

“What is it? Landline or cell phone?”

“Cell phone.”

“Cell phones are trickier since we don’t get an automatic address like we do with landlines. Our system has to digitally request the phone’s location from the cellular network. I will have to put in a manual request, which won’t be a problem, it will just take some time,” Bruce stated, going over to one of the computers. “What’s the number?” Thor read the number off his phone as Bruce typed it in and quickly filled in the necessary information.

___________

Billy pulled into a gas station and parked the car behind it. He reached behind your seat, hearing him shuffle around and come forward with a scissor, wet nap, and a baseball cap. He cupped your face in his hands, using the wet-nap to wipe your face. You squeezed your eyes shut, ignoring the pain on your cheek. “There’s my girl, all cleaned up.” He lifted your head with his finger and tilted it in all directions. He grabbed ahold of your bound hands, cutting the zip tie from your wrists. “Put this hat on, and just know, if you run, you don’t want to know what I will do.” 

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. He squeezed your hands before getting out of the car and coming around the front to get you. He opened the door, instantly putting his arm around your shoulder, leaning into you. You tensed up, smelling the all-to-familiar cologne that sent your nerves firing in warning. It was a cologne you loved, having picked out for him when you first started dating, but now it filled your head with many unpleasant memories. 

“Loosen up, hon, you can trust me,” he whispered in your ear, hitting the bill of your hat, making you readjust it. 

You gave him a hard nod, forcing a tight smile. He let go of you as someone was walking out, holding the door for the two of you. You looked the man straight in the face, hoping he would take a look at you and help in some way, but Billy mumbled a quick thanks and took your hand. You glanced at the guy behind the register, but he stared down at his phone while Billy dragged you to the drink coolers. 

“What do you want?” 

“Can I run to the bathroom? Can’t pick anything on a full bladder,” you smirked, squeezing his hand.

“Of course, make it quick,” he nodded, letting go of your hand.

You walked back up the aisle and down another, glancing at the man behind the counter, who was still staring down at his phone. Keeping a watchful eye on Billy, you snatched a set of permanent markers from the shelf and hid them in the front of your pants and under your shirt. You took one last peek over your shoulder to see Billy’s eyes following you and opened the door to the ladies restroom.

You locked the door and leaned against it, taking in your surroundings, but there was nothing that could help you. It was a single stall bathroom with no windows. How come the only bathrooms that ever seemed to have windows were in the movies. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. There weren’t many options left: leave a note and hope someone sees it and gets help. It felt silly, but what did it hurt? You pulled the markers from the front of your pants and grabbed a brown paper towel, scribbling out a message and placing it by the sink along with the markers. 

Gripping the edge of the bathroom counter, you let out a deep breath, staring down into the semi-dirty sink. You removed your hat, running your hand through your hair, and looked up at your reflection in the mirror. It was like you were right back to where you started, staring at the fragile woman you thought you left behind. The color around your right eye was changing to a dark black and blue, your cheek was puffy, and there was a small cut on your lip. 

“You can get through this,” you reassured yourself, splashing cold water on your face. “Someone is looking for you.” Splash. “Someone will find you.” Splash. “Steve isn’t dead because of you.” Splash. 

You stared at the water flowing out of the faucet as images of Steve started filling your mind. His signature smirk, his chest-grabbing laugh, his caring yet determined personality, and how he... Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. You squeezed them shut, sniffling, before opening your eyes to your reflection. “No crying; not yet at least; first, you need to make it out.” You cleared your throat, promising yourself with a nod. You slipped the hat back on and opened the door, jumping in surprise to find Billy waiting there.

“Grabbed your favorites,” he grinned, holding them up. You forced a smile, following him to the register. Billy placed the drinks, snacks, and a few wound cleaning supplies on the counter. You smirked, remembering Cosmo’s rescue efforts. The front door jingled, pulling your attention to a mother and her young daughter walking in.

“Okay, Monica, run to the bathroom, and I’ll grab us some snacks.” You let out a small sigh of relief, smirking at them going their separate ways. 

“We should start a family once we settle into our new home,” he whispered into your ear with a smirk on his lips.

“New home?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“It’s part of my plan.” He wiggled his eyebrows, paying the man with cash. “You always wanted a family; why not start now.” He shrugged, leaning into you. He smiled at the clerk, grabbing the bag and holding out his other hand to you. You took it, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. 

Billy dragged you back out to the car and let go of your hand. He opened the back door while you headed for the passenger side door. “Wait, don’t get in; we’re switching cars. He should be here any minute.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure the police already have the make and model of this car through surveillance video or the license plate number from the note you left in the ladies room.”

“What note?”

“Don’t play stupid. I’m not an idiot, besides why else would you be smirking at a mother and daughter,” he sneered while a car pulled up beside them. “Speak of the devil, right on time.”

A Rolls Royce Wraith pulled up, forcing you to roll your eyes. This was his getaway car, more than a quarter of a million-dollar car, and he expected to get away with you. It was the same car he owned in New York, but this one had updated California license plates. A bald man got out of the driver's side, coming over to you and Billy. It was hard not to be creeped out by him, with a milky left eye and a scar underneath it. 

Billy’s phone buzzed once more in his hand. He looked down at it, letting out a quiet snicker. He read off the abduction alert, including your name, what you looked like, and what you were wearing last. “Turns out you got someone looking for you after all. It’s a shame they aren’t going to find you.”

You gulped, noticing the bald man smirking. “As requested, your new phone--” he handed Billy a flip phone while Billy handed him his smartphone “--with a few contacts that you can trust and help you if it’s necessary.  And everything you requested is in the back seat, but knowing you, Billy, you two have already disappeared.”  

Your breathing quickened at his words, your eyes darting between the two men shaking hands. Billy had the perfect plan, and you were stepping right into it. You were going to disappear, become a ghost, and no one was going to be able to find you. Your defeated eyes caught Billy’s, not missing the amusement dancing in his. You bit your lip, staring into the distance, hoping the daughter saw your note and called the police. But it dawned on you that help wasn’t coming, which left you with two options: start over and try to be happy with him, or adapt and overcome. 

“Thank you for your help, Agent Orange. I’ll owe you one.”  Orange nodded at Billy, walking over to the previous car before getting in and driving away. “Well, get in, honey. It’s time to go on our road trip.”

___________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 17! This doesn't sound like it will be a fun road trip, and from the looks of it, Billy seems to be one step ahead of her with every move she makes. How is she gonna out think him? If you haven't noticed already, Billy is a real piece of work, and I'm hoping he came off as a psychopath in this part. If not I tried my best, it's hard to tap into a dark mindset like that! Haha! I will say though, Ben Barnes, who plays Billy Russo, is an attractive man, but I will admit his brown eyes can get scary dark sometimes. Like when he's mad, you can just see it in his eyes, so I tried to play off that. And it seems like he has a buddy helping him, Agent Orange, I wonder how they know each other? Also, we kind of have a better understanding where Nat's head was at at the end of the last part. She was worried about her friend and wanted everything to be done right, and put Billy away for good. And what do you think of her and Thor teaming up to find her? And can't forget that little assist from Bruce, but will they be able to find her before she disappears forever or will something worse happen along the way? Is Steve gonna pull through? And man, I sure hope Cosmo is doing okay! Until next week, thanks again!

[daisiesandshakes]

Fanfic (William Shakespeare & reader)

Warning: light smut

Also warning: english is not my native language, but I hope you enjoy!

Words: about 2000 (wow... I am surprised by myself)

One step closer

It was a bad day.  In your opinion it couldn't have been worse. Since nearly three weeks now you're helping Shakespeare with his new play. Your task was to take care of the costumes, stopping by for cleaning or darning them. But after a few days an actress catched a bad flue and William asked you to take her place.

You happily agreed to his wish. First everything went smooth, it was challenging but also fun. You liked to work with the other actors right away, enjoying their open and caring personalities, but the most important thing: You are able to spend time with Shakespeare.

At first you were only curious about him, you wanted to know more about the great mysterious William Shakespeare, who has left the mansion, and for sure you wanted to find out more about his work. The more time passed by, the more you could see your feelings change.

By this time it is impossible for you to face his glare without trembling legs or hundreds of butterflies in your stomach. William Shakespeare- the perfect gentleman, always treating you with respect and a gentleness that borders on adoration. Plus he is an extremly hard worker, fully dedicated to his plays, he is considerate and charming, he's got a fine sense of humor always making you smile, and his voice... oh you could spend hours only listening to him. In one or two rare moments you were even able to notice a softer, almost shy side at him and at that rare moments you knew you were lost. Helpless to his force of attraction like a planet to the force of gravity from a black hole.

You're really trying hard to hide that you're in love with him.

Who are you at all? Only a normal young woman who fell in love with one of history's greatest men. He deserves better than you. William deserves a woman who is as much talented and captivate as him. So you decided to admire and love him in secrecy.

But unfortunately those secret feelings for him happened to be the reason for your desaster today.

First William adjusted your new costume over and over again. You could feel his hands moving over your body and as he corrected the ribbons of your corset you were at your limit. You sensed his breath in your neck and there was no way to hide the tremble that rushed through your form. "Are you okay? Do you need something?" His enticing voice next to your ear... You almost blurted out 'You!"

With shaky words you explained you only forgot to eat proper this morning. He hummed at your words, then promised to offer after rehearse everything to you what you desire. Ah... Your mind spun.

Later he took place for one of his actors to show how the scene should look like. That ment he held you in his arms and whispered lovingly lines while looking straight into your eyes. You weren't able to remember your part anymore, you barely managed to stutter an excuse and asked embarressed for a small break. Not waiting for the answer you broke from the embrace and hurried off the stage - when the next drama happened.

You lost balance as your long dress stuck to the rail und you fell down the last stair. One of the actors helped you up and you assured quickly to be okay while realising the beautiful costume is ruined. Tearing up you fled the scene without looking back.

And now you're sitting on the chaise in the changing area, desperate, full of shame and tired of yourself.

Hot tears of frustration are spurting out as Shakespeare opens the door slightly. " May I come in?" He asks with a soft voice. A sobb leaves your lips and you try to wipe your tears away as soon as possible."Sure, William". He sits down next to you, trying to meet your gaze. But you are feeling ashamed, looking down, avoiding his eyes. "I.. I am so sorry for ruining the rehearse and the beautiful dress..." another tear rolls down your cheek. With two fingers under your chin Will lifts your head.

"There is no need to apologize, my brave maiden", he whispers and let you drown in his enchanting, mismatched eyes. You can't help it - more tears are spilling out and his other hand reaches up to wipe them away affectionaly. Will's face is so close to yours, you can feel his breath on your skin. He cups your face. "Tis is all my fault and my heart is bleeding with sorrow, knowing I did this to you". You frown. "I don't understand William... Why should my clumpsiness be your fault?"

Staring in your eyes, he sighs. "I know what your heart desires, my fair maiden. Now I know it for sure." His thumbs caress softly  your cheeks. "The past days I could see a change in your glare when you looked at me.. and when you thought I wouldn't notice that your eyes are following me". In shock you're holding your breath and you could feel the heat rising in your face.

The playwright shows a small, almost shy smile "But.. I wasn't sure at first, you left me wondering what brought up tis change in your behavior. Mayhap I divined it and I only was afraid to let your very soul whisper to the solidified heart of mine, which didn't know how to respond anymore after so many lonely centuries."  Will swollows hard "Sometimes I felt a bit confused about you..." he confesses.

"When I made a move upon you, you made a move backwards. Sometimes you took two steps. Then again I thought to glimpse the truth demand of your heart in your eyes. And the thought that it could be me what your heart desires made me weak."

At this point you're questioning reality and your eyes grow wide in disbelieve. Are you fantasizing? Could it be...?

"Yes, I am weak for you my fair maiden..." He continues in a whisper as if he can read your mind. He leans a bit closer, his forehead touching yours. "Tis weakness frightened me" his lips graces your eyebrows, then your cheekbones, a shiver runs down your spine. His lips feel so warm and soft... A whimper leaves your lips and you close your eyes.

"But at sudden my soul obtained greater fears to me." William's lips travel down, brushing your jaw. You inhale the scent of his silken hair and his shaving water. Your mind goes blank and your heart is beating so fast and hard now, you're afraid he can hear it.

"Not to see tis very expression in your eyes because of me anymore. Not having you around me anymore. Never being able to touch you..." Now he whispers in your ear, his lips touching your earlobe ever so slightly and you can't supress a moan. "As I knew my true fears and my deepest longing, I decided to force you to a reaction... And though I feel ashamed for doing tis to you... " William murmurs between tender butterfly kisses he places along your jawline. Shouldn't you be angry now with Shakespeare?  But your mind wasn't able to create a reasonable thought and his alluring sing-song voice hypnotizes you. Forgetting everything else, you only want his touch and get lost in your love for him.

"Your oh so sweet, passionate reactions brought tis insecure heart of mine more joy I could ever  imagine. For now there is no turning back... Nor for me, nor for you fair maiden."

He stops moving his mouth over your face and with a seductive voice he pleads "Look at me."

With intermittently breath you open your eyes to meet his stare and your heart flutters over the desperate, wanting  glance.

"Would you forgive tis poor, troublesome sinner?" Barely able to speak you manage somehow to whisper:"How can I not forgive you, Will? I love you so much."

Moving his fingers through your hair he grabs the back of your head, his eyes now dark and full of pleasure. " To grace me with those words.. they make me dizzy with desire..."

Again Shakespeare leans in closer, his burning eyes glued to your mouth. "And would you allow tis poor sinner who loves you insanely, wildly and infinitely to taste your lips...?"

Your heart misses a beat. Maybe two. This time you skip the answer, pulling him at his collar into a kiss.

William lets out a moan of surprise, throwing his arms around you, pressing your body against his. The kiss grows fast deeper as you feel his tongue flickering against your lips, begging for entrance. Obeying his wish, you let his tongue slip inside and the world around you stops existing.There was nothing you could do but moan into his kiss helplessly. Feeling his demanding tongue pushing in deep, then teasingly intertwinning with yours, while his hands endlessly caress the curves of your body, ruins  every yet existing rest of reason. The uprising heat in your veins burns to a point of hurt and starts a raging fire from your belly down to your inner thighs.

Suddenly William breaks the kiss, pulling your head to his chest, where you can hear his speeding heartbeat. "We should stop here my fair temptress, or else I won't be able to hold myself back anymore."

What? No no no... now that you've got a hint of the taste of everything you were craving for the last days, you have no intention to stop so soon. Your body still humming with pleasure you cling to his shoulders and leave a trail of small kisses from his collarbone up to his neck. Rubbing his cheek against yours he whines "Ah my godess, my temptress... " burrying his face at your neck he inhales your scent "You can't imagine how much I crave for your blood... it's calling me, singing alluring to me like a Sirene..."

As his tongue laves over your neck your form trembles and a lewd moan escapes your lips. He found one of your most sensitive spots.  His grip at your body tightens. He brushes his soft lips over the spot again with a flickering of his tongue. You can feel your hips bucking at this sensation and you gasp.

"I can't... stand it, I can't resist.." Shakespeare's voice - so needy and trembling with passion.

"Bite me Will!" You blurt out.  "I beg you, please bite me!" Does this desperate voice really  belong to you?

William hesitates only a brief second, then he pushes your body down, then let his fangs sink into your delicate skin with a groan.

After a sharp but short prick waves of burning, unearthly passion roll through you over and over again.

This passion cannot be human, it sets your entire body immediatly on fire and your core clenches. You can hear Shakespeare crying out as loud as you, pressing his hips against yours. Crying and moaning you start to pass out, repeating his name like a mantra.

As you open your eyes again, William fondles with your hair, observing you with a glance so concerning and lovingly, it almost makes you cry.

"I am so, so sorry... I was too greedy.."

You smile at him. "Don't feel sorry Will, I am doing fine and... " You inhale sharp "and by all the gods,  it was.. intense..."

You can feel your desire rising up again only by the thought of what happened before.

Shakespeare watches you with an intense stare, swallowing every reaction your body shows. His fingertips brush lightly over your lips before kissing you fiercly and senseless.

Then he pulls himself away.

He pants, placing a tender kiss on top of your head "I wish to seduce my godess in an adequate ambiance. So I'll take you now home with me, making sure I fulfill every wish and dream you can imagine... " he whispers seductively as he nuzzles his face in your hair. You both hold still for a few minutes, trying to calm down again, just enjoying to embrace each other. Unable to stop smiling, tears sting in your eyes. You can't remember that you felt happier anytime in your life.

Thank you for reading! 💝

Part 2

[watarigarasu]

The Dawn

Pairing: Fíli x Reader

Word count: 2,207

Warnings: Contains Feelings™

Author’s note: I was so astonished by @legolaslovely​‘s writing that I decided to write something myself to show my support and appreciation. Hopefully it’s enjoyable! Also, forgive me any eventual mistakes because English is not my native langauge so I might get lost in the grammar from time to time.

Never in your whole life there have been a time when the utter dread froze your trembling heart in its sharp claws, closing them around it and almosy suffocating, stealing the breath away from your lungs. Ironically, it was also the only impulse which seemed to keep you alive, to stay aware of your surroundings, quietly observing the majestic landscape in front of you which was now nowhere near as wonderful as you first thought, for the great mountains were now covered not only in the snow but the corpses of those who has fallen during the battle. It was a gruesome image, something you never thought you would ever experience in your short, human lifespan, the fate, however, seemed to have different plans for you.

The silence fell down upon the hills like a morning fog as the nature around the Lonely Mountain seemed to remain indifferent toward the war which has just taken place. There were no ringing horns, no screams nor shouted orders, no arrows slicing the thin air, no sound of steel armour hit with an axes—as if it was all but a fading memory, the one you were never going to forget.

Turning around from the high balcony on the main gate, you have decided that you could no longer wait and simply watch, especially now, since the elves were retrieving back to Dale and no orcs seemed to stay alive on the battlefield. The promise you swore to Fíli right before he headed out of the kingdom with the fire burning in the eyes, fading sun playing in the golden hair and heavy axe in the hand was the hardest goodbye at the same time. He begged you to listen to the voice of reason and—for once—to leave out the stubborn nature, so you would stay there, in the safe place where no weapon could reach you. Cradling you in his tight embrace, Fíli patiently explained how your presence would be the easiest way to get him distracted, since he would not simply focus on slaying an enemy, instead paying too much attention to whether you were alright.

„No,” he whispered, the gloved thumb wiping the burning tear from your cheek. „Please, do not ever assume that I think of you as less than perfect. Perfect woman, perfect friend, perfect company, perfect warrior. I do believe that your skills would be an indescribable advantage for our side but I beg you, my love, do not try to prove it. Not this time.”

He kissed your lips, swollen from the weeping of the misery of this whole situation, and the taste of the salty tears rested at the tip of his tongue until the first blow of the freezing air hit his face on an open field.

„I will come back to you as soon as this is over.” Fíli forced a smile and rested his forehead on your shoulder, savouring the scent of your skin in an attempt to convince himself that it was not the last time he could hold you in the arms. „I promise.”

„If you break this promise, Fíli...” you muttered angrily against his hair, kissing the tip of his head and embracing him as strongly as you could, wishing that you could hide him under the fabric of your tunic and wait until the storm passes.

„I won't.”

„But if you do, if you lie to me then I swear, I will kill you.” Your voice cracked despite the joke you were trying to form. „I will find you and kill you.”

Fíli looked at you with an amusement visible in the eyes and placed another soft kiss upon your lips, cupping your face in his hands, now covered in the rough leather.

„Deal,” he agreed. „I will take you at your word.”

But the battle was over now, the crows painting circles in the sky above the dead and you were still waiting. Rushing down the stairs, you heard the voices echoing from afar, the living ones coming back to the recaimed home which was now supposed to belong to them until the end of time. Anxiety building in your heart did not help you to calm your rapid heartbeat but it surely allowed you to run through the corridors faster than you thought you were able to. You had to see him, make sure that he was safe as sound—that he kept his promise.

The first familiar face you saw belonged to Dwalin, the Dwarf not even limping when he walked past you without a single word spoken. Concerned about his reaction, you stood in the place when your feet denied your orders and made you simply stare at the corner of the corridor where the next members of the company appeared, one by one, some hurt more or less, but all with the same, unreadable expression on their faces, hidden under the messy beards. The only one who stopped by your side was Balin, his hand landing heavily on your shoulder as he also joined the rest deep in the halls, leaving you after few delicate pats.

What was that supposed to mean? And where were the others? Where was Thorin and Kíli?

Where, for Mahal's sake, was Fíli?

You barely noticed Bifur passing you by when the tears filled your eyes, causing the whole surroundings to blur. The trembling of your heart was now strong enough to melt the freezing fear and to drown your whole body and soul in the burning grief. You muttered a quiet: „sorry” after pushing past poor Ori to get out of the kingdom. You had to get out of there, to get some fresh air, since the dark corridors seemed to strangle you more and more with every passing minute.

At first, the white snow laying on the cold stones almost blinded you when the rays of sun reflected through the crystal petals and you had to blink few times to adjust your sight to the image in front of you. If you thought that the battlefield was gruesome from the above, now you were convinced that it was just as tragic from the ground. The pure elves, the one considered eternal and immortal were laying on the snow, lifeless and unnamed among their dead brothers and cousins. Somewhere in the distance, you noticed the army of King Dáin marauding slowly to the gates of the Lonely Mountain, the banners held high above their heads. And despite all of it—the joy you were supposed to be feeling because of a winned war, the Erebor finally having the rightful king, the defeated dragon, the rising city of Dale—you have never felt as lost and lonely. After all, how were the gold and jewels supposed to fill the empty space in your heart?

Dizziness caused you to sat on the nearby stone as the time seemed to completely slow down. The day was so far away, just as the whole present, and you were caught somewhere in between, not being a part of Thorin's Company anymore, not belonging to the Erebor, not having Fíli by your side. Blinking few times, you were convinced that the wind will simply blow you off the Middle Earth now, like a dust from the piece of paper, and turn into nothing, but no matter how long you were waiting, it did not happen.

You were still there, sitting on the cool stone, sight glued to the mountains in front of you, unbearably alive.

That was, when you heard a rush somewhere near, the familiar click of an armour against a shield and something you faintly recognized as a giggle. Were you dreaming or delirious? Was your mind too overwhelmed by the sorrow so it decided to flow you with all the various kind of impulses to keep you sane? Slowly turning around, you saw the frames coming closer in your direction from the other side of the hill. Considering the distance, you were sure that there was at least two of them, but when you stood up and focused on the sight, you realized that it was, in fact, three of them—the one held in between the other two.

Once again, an inquiry popped in your head. Were you dreaming?

Despite not knowing the answer to that question, you could not linger anymore and so, your feet led you forward, starting with a firm march and soon transforming into the run. The closer you were to them, the more features you recognized; first, the slightly bent shoulders of Thorin, his long hair sticked with blood and falling down his shoulders as his arms were hanged around the other two Dwarves. Then, Kíli's hand held firmly against his side where the stain of blood soaked through his tunic and painted his chain mail in deep crimson. And surprisingly, Fíli was the last one you laid your eyes upon, as if you were afraid that it might not be him but someone else and the love of your life was still left somewhere in the mountains—cold and lifeless as the other warriors.

Fíli, however, was now in front of you, helping to carry his wounded uncle and the smile which played on his lips when he saw you was enough to prove that he, indeed, intended to keep his promise.

Many hours passed since the darkness of the night devoured the endless sky and the memory of the battle was nothing but an echo in the back of your mind. Ridiculous in itself, the whole day seemed to never happened, when you were sitting at the edge of your bed, Fíli standing still in front of you and observing your careful fingers as you treated his wounds. The one which was aimed at his ribcage was the worst but still not enough to take him away from you—however, if it only hit a little bit higher...

„Where are you?” Fíli's voice was low and calm, bringing you back to reality like a kiss of the rising sun on the skin.

„I am right here,” you told him, when the last bandage was placed firmly against his wound and he could put the tunic back on.

„No, my love, I can see it. You are still on the battlefield, even though you did not participate in the war.”

There was a silence between you two, the sweet one, filled with the scent of melting wax, the healing herbs and freshly dried clothes. Fíli's hair were set loose now, free from any kind of braids, since he insisted to wash them clean of blood and dirt before joining you in bed, now reminding you of curly waterfalls of gold—the only real treasure under the mountain. His eyes, however, remained soft and adoring, looking at you as if it was the very first time you met.

„I thought I lost you,” you admitted after a while, when he sat next to you and placed his hand upon yours, fingers entangling together. „I cannot simply ignore that feeling, it was there, present and real and I did believe I will never see you again.”

He tilted his head to the side, staring at you as if you were the most precious being in the whole existence—and prehaps, for him you really were.

„But I am here now and this is an unquestionable truth. There is no need to dwell into that memory, my love, not since we have the whole lifes ahead of us.”

„And would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?”

„Of course. I promised you that.” Fíli rised your combined palms to his lips and placed a butterfly kiss upon your skin. The warm feeling spread through your veins all the way to the heart, now calm and resting and so, so cheerful.

„Besides,” he added. „I had to tell you that I honestly am quite impressed that you listened to me and I owe you a big thanks for that. You know, I almost lost a bet with Kíli—he said that you won't stay behind the gates for longer than an hour.”

„You had a bet?” You frowned but the involuntary smile betrayed your amusement.

„It was his idea, though.”

Playfully, you poked him in the arm with your elbow, careful to not cause him any pain. As strong and enduring he was, he surely did not need more harm.

„I can believe you.” You nodded. „Still, the whole three of you gave me quite a huge scare today...”

„And I am sorry for that.”

„...But I am glad to have you back.” You gently took a single strand of his hair and placed it behind his ear, peeking at his lips and longing to finally kiss it. „I do not know what I would do without you, Fíli.”

„Fortunately, you do not have to know. And you never will.”

The kiss you two shared this evening did not taste like tears anymore, on the contrary, it was as sweet as the promise of the upcoming day, bright and full of possibilities. A new chapter in the story you wanted to write with him by the side, until there were no blank pages left.

And, prehaps, maybe even some more.

[konietzko-sylvoran]

A New Routine

The sound of light strumming was becoming more and more of a frequent yet a random sound around the Howling Owl. While he only met with Bella once a week for his lessons, he practiced daily. A new daily practice he kept from most everyone, even Talthorn and he had his reasons. In the first week he’d practiced till his fingers locked up on him time and time again. Luckily they were already calloused from years working in his craft and shooting a bow and arrow. Yet he never guessed how much his fingers would ache from something as simple as strumming a few chords as he diligently practiced day in and day out. He was adamant to learn, and like any good craft or performer one only got good via practice. But Kon had proven both a quick learner and a determined one at that.   In the next week of lessons that came he had been given his first real lesson on singing. On the art of learning his voice and how to use it. He already knew how to dance and how to sing, but he’d never been taught how to truly... sing. By the that weeks end he was experimenting and practicing more and more frequently with a combination of both his voice and learning the chords. Humming and fine tuning his already deep rich voice to the sound of them as he tucked himself away in a corner of the Night Owl studio with his warm bitter tea he favored so much to sooth his throat as time passed. That had become his new daily morning ritual to sing, to practice, to greet the day with a combination of both.  That was only the first step in what he’d intended to become a part of his daily life. The property of the owl had become intimately familiar to the Kaldorei for several weeks now, as each morning he made it a habit to find random corners or places of solitude to tuck himself away in as he started himself back into the habit of a rigorous training regimen. Some days it was merely a jog around the property. Other days it was a combination of jogging and bodyweight workouts. The only thing he did on a daily basis without fail was a form of stretching meant to help limber him up as he’d gone too long and been too lax about conditioning himself for the last few years. But now... he had a reason, a purpose. He had a dream, a vision he wished to make a reality and day by day, step by step he was starting to realize that more was waiting there within his grasp.  In just a few days now, a week will have passed since he met with Caythaes and he eagerly awaited the engineer’s call to meet again. He wanted to be ready to test what he’d asked them to help him create. Something, that was going to greatly change his life as he knew it and yet a challenge that he would see through no matter how long it took him to learn it. He had told the Tarts and the Owls both that he intended to be more than just hired muscle, more than just a pretty face serving a drink or two. He had a dream, a vision and it was time to plant that seed and start letting it grow by feeding and nurturing it instead of just speaking of the idea of it. While much rested on the engineer to finish his prototype for him, even more rested in Kon’s ability to use it. It had been years since he last tried, but back then he had never thought to actually become a performer of any nature at least not professionally. Sure he had always dreamt of it but his own bad choices kept him far from that dream being realized. Those days were past and now it was time for him to rise instead of hiding behind his fears. Thanks to the tour of the Tart property that Caythaes had also given him, he was now spending his mornings practicing at the Owl and his afternoons training at the Tart’s gym. This was a far better opportunity for him to practice, to train and thus far it seemed he’d picked times when noone else was present. He liked that though, as he wasn’t yet ready to be seen by others. Not that he’d hide if someone happened to come in while he was hard at it but in the beginning it was far less nerve wrecking. The start was always hard to watch, painful even and he had a long way to go to recondition his body as he’d need. But that would not stop him, and his eagerness to prove he was still more than capable of reaching for this dream would be tested soon so he had little time left to sit around and wait. And so his afternoons and sometimes well into the late evenings were spent here day after day to keep himself busy

Yet as eager as he was to see all this through, to make these steps and changes a part of his new daily regimen, he knew he couldn’t forget what else he’d committed too already. He’d jumped into this new life of his headfirst these last few months without fear and with his usual confidence that he knew he’d see this through. But he had no direction and he became easily distracted by old habits of the former life he was trying to let go of yet never truly had. He did everything in his life with such passion and he treated those most dear to him with that same passion, but that too had proven too much for some and yet endearing to others. Kon still fell prey to letting events of the past get in his way, a fear of trusting others again. A fear that he wasn’t good enough and that they’d lose interest in him drove him to take action faster than most could accept. A lack of patience to find or even be found by what he wanted and instead grasping and clinging too hard when he found a lick of something good in his life. He was trying to obtain it all too fast. And already it was starting to effect more than just himself. Kon knew he needed to focus more on his direction and where he was going. To focus less on what he possessed and more on what he could offer. As Caythaes had told him the sun always rises just as it always shines even if he couldn’t see it nor anyone else for that matter. If he was a sun, then he would always rise. While Kon had been burning too hot in his pride with what he’d gained already... he was not too proud to admit it was time to take a step back and focus on himself. Because in that swell of pride he was falling back into those learned habits he despised most about himself and it was affecting those he’d cared for most. Potential friends were turning their backs at him, some were shutting him out entirely. But there were a few who stood bold and defiant, who helped him focus and see what was truly going on because they weren’t afraid to spare him his own feelings. Talthorn was his guiding light in all this, his comfort and his home. Leon had shown him tough love as a friend and called him out, refusing to let Kon punish himself by pushing him away. Both Talthorn and Leon had helped him talk through his hang-ups which were rather significant. They listened and both redirected him in their own way to keep him from hiding behind his own hubris. Even Caythaes made him all too aware that he was overly sensitive to being pushed away, another habit he had to break. Sharpen and Jiroki had started asking for more double dates again, it seemed at last she was forgiving him too so perhaps, this was progress? But even Jiro was not unaware that Kon had much on his mind keeping him from enjoying their time together. With all that had occurred this week alone in his personal life, with all that he was being offered professionally, personally and as a friend; he had finally made a choice no, a commitment not to squander it. Now was a time of action, actions that would prove much over time but yet none of it was something he could rush no matter how much he wanted too. He had a dream, he had a focus... and it was time to put more energy into that and to let his personal affairs filter through time, patience and rest. If he wanted to rise as the sun he once was, he had to find a way to balance himself out so he wasn’t so careless with those he’d like to become close too. And so began his new daily routine, something to focus on with all his effort and energy as if he needed this to prove to himself he was able to shine again. 

((Written with mentions to @talthorn-sylvoran​​, @mekandawn​​, @mremaknu​ @sharpen-jadescythe​, @bread-elf​, @belillinafireseeker​ and a subtle mention to @saeil-moonblade​ . Thank you all for taking the time to write with Kon here lately and help him develop his story more during this rather significant and transitional time in his life as a character. It seems he goes through them every so many years so he was due. I truly appreciate the opportunity to include more people and to write this out via rp interaction instead of just handwaving it. You are all appreciated, and you’ve my thanks. ♥ ))

[southern-belle-outcasts]

@brooklynislandgirl sent for The next 10 asks my muse must answer truthfully (Also tagging @mynameisanakin because obviously this is...relevant.):

Keni lingers in the shadows of the Senator's bed chamber, face as impassive as the edifice of the Temple that spawned her. Beneath it, fires rage and flicker in her penetrating gaze.

"He loves you. You believe you love him. So why is it ~Your Highness~ that when he speaks you silence him. When he needs support you are absent. Why is it that your precious democracy and Senate means more to you than the man you claim is your everything? What makes you think you are so special that you can treat him like a dog and expect him not to eventually bite?"

The quiet that fell after the questions were posed- one after the other, each more pointed than the last, was exceedingly heavy, the tension palpable. Padmé’s brown eyes, which usually held a congeniality no matter who she was addressing, had turned cold and dark as the vacuum of space in a nearly dead system. There was no laughter, but neither was there outrage. Not just yet anyways...

“It seems that either I am dull witted, and Anakin a liar, or it is not the Jedi practice to use formal address both improperly, and in such a back handed manner. It certainly wouldn’t be a practice that would be befitting of keepers of the peace if that was their true intent.” The words were matter of fact, measured and even. And yet their quiet tone somehow failed to add any softness to them, if anything it added to the sharpness held within each syllable.

She did not rise. This was not the senate floor. There was no obligation to pay this interrogation the courtesy of standing. Leaning further back, she regarded the woman with the calm of someone masking their desire to allow anger to overtake them. A practiced, calculated masking, rather than the huffing, or shaking one might see in an individual used to expressing every emotion. That privilege had not been hers for many long years.

“For someone to question my love for him...I would think, given his past, that even in simile they would not be so uncouth as to liken him to an animal.” If there was a bite to be had, it was in the emphasis she placed on the word, which was paired by a fractional narrowing of her eyes. “I also find it quite interesting that for a Jedi, you claim no ownership of or participation in the Republic. It is suddenly solely mine. When was it decided that I ruled over the entire galaxy? Is Master Yoda of such an  extended age that he now teaches the younglings that a democratic republic has a ruler?” The slight head tilt was about as close to a taunt as she was going to offer, but the intent was clear. Maybe she should not bring him into this, but she was allowing herself the slightest degree of pettiness. Maybe it was her exhaustion, maybe the irritation of having her care questioned, she was not entirely certain of it herself, and the concern she had right now was responding, not introspection.

“Were duties thrown to the side all around, and thusly democracy in turn discarded, the galaxy would then fall into the unchecked, lawless savagery the Outer Rim enjoyed long before talk of separation and war. Hunger, lack of medical, slavery, drug trade, mercenaries and assassins. That is what you would rather see, instead of someone fulfilling their assigned duty that serves all? You seem to have this wide encompassing opinion of all senators based on the ones here only for personal gain that care nothing of democracy, or their people. My entire political career has never been for personal gain. Who, if they are so bent on being self serving, turns down the opportunity to have continued rule of an entire planet? My people love me, I have sway. If I wanted to take advantage of that, I could have.”

There had been much talk of why she hadn’t allowed an amending of the constitution to allow her another term, but she had never understood that confusion people had. In order for democracy to remain intact, for there to be a balance and power check, the position needed to change hands. She had been happy to see it done, and happier still to continue to serve her people at request of the Queen. The echos of criticism- ‘If you’re going to no longer be queen, at least have a life living your desires’- never truly leaving her mind. She kept the more selfish indulgence of agreeing with her sister far back in the recesses that Should Not Be Touched more often than not. Not only that, but she hadn’t even brought up the attempts on her life, both as queen and senator. It was not without its own dangers. Although it would not be to seek sympathy or an excuse, she chose to overlook that inconvenient fact in favor of focusing on more directly addressing the questions.

She tapped her lips as though she were searching for words. She was not. There was no need to search for words, but patience, of that which she was running dangerously low on. If she were not careful, she would fall out of the shell of senator and merely be the offended lover justifying what she perceived as both obvious and guilt-free.

“If I ever silence anyone--” the pause spoke of the fact that she hadn’t just silenced Keni the moment the first question left her mouth “--it is because I have a certainty of what they are saying, and a better knowledge and authority on the matter. Please, since you are such an authority on my every conversation and interaction in the greatest of detail, point out to me where I silence him. Would you, and forgive me if I’m erring in this recollection, be hard pressed to find a time it had not been on a matter in which I was more experienced, more in my element, and in a situation where throwing ideas around was at minimum needless, and at worst, detrimental to entertain unless we wished to risk lives?”

There was a much needed brief still as she re-centered herself, forcing her face to relax while inhaling the cool air. There was no stilling her elevated heart rate until she actually took a few moments to breathe and attempt to not simply snap. Isn’t that what everyone sought of her? A loss of composition as a sign they had won? A push into actual anger, to immediately discredit any words that may come from her mouth- no matter how true they were.

“I have been there many times for him. There have often been times I could not be because it was my duty- serving my queen and the countless beings in the galaxy, not just myself, and not just him, and not just you. I thought shirking duty was frowned upon by the order? Or did it form a new opinion, of which you are now the voice?” Forget the fact she could not always request his presence if she wanted it, no, that would be bringing up the inverse and why would one do that?

She now leaned forward, calm, but putting forth far more intensity than she had the entire conversation. If a quiet battling of words could even be graced with as dull a label as conversation, that is. “Were I to consider myself special, and above others, I would not be so quick to correct others when they attempt to put me on a pedestal, nor would I refute them when they try to be self deprecating- most especially if put in contrast with myself. Is it not...hypocritical at best for a jedi to accuse someone of seeing themselves as special?”

[lov3nerdstuff]

Dark Stars {Part 10}

*Loki x OFC*

Part: 10/10

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: poisoning, bad parenting

Summary: ~Loki could just let her die here and now. His problems would be solved and he could go back to his usual ways. But then he would forever be left with an unsolved mystery and he hated the prospect of that even more than the fear of what would happen if she lived.~

A story of what happens when Loki stumbles upon someone who is like him in every way. Only better. Oh, and they just happen save Asgard too.

A.N.: To celebrate over 1000 people following me (how insane is that?!), I decided to share the newly edited version of the very first Loki fanfiction I ever wrote! Enjoy the mischief 💚

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

______________________________

Later, when they had gotten dressed and were getting comfortable on the blankets once more, the sun was already about to rise. Soon they both drifted off into a pleasant sleep, all wrapped up in each other's embrace and a comfortable darkness they had brought over their little corner in joined magical effort.

Only when the sun was starting to disappear did Loki's eyes flutter open at last.

"Oh darn it…" He grumbled and sat up against the stone wall. "We gotta meet Thor in the gardens, c'mon. We might be late already, the fool has no sense for timing. Sunset is a period of time, not a specific time."

Ivy also sat up and smiled at him with the goofiest expression. "I'm honestly surprised, I must say..."

Loki frowned at her while he stretching out the sore muscles of his arms. Really, sleeping on the ground was awful.

"You know, I have never really seen you sleep before. I'm just surprised you sleep at all!" Ivy laughed upon his irritated and questioning expression, and rose to her feet with a sigh.

"I only allow myself to sleep around people I'm comfortable with." He followed her example and strode towards the hidden exit of their hideout. "Which happens to be me, solemnly. Well, and recently also you."

Ivy grinned and took Loki's hand once she came to stand next to him. "I feel honored, really. But we're late indeed."

She brought them to the meeting point in an instant, and their sudden appearance scared the already present Thor, making Loki smirk. "After all these years, I would assume you've gotten used to the magic." He mused.

"It only takes me by surprise that you've actually found a friend." Thor replied surprisingly quickly, looking at Ivy and Loki's intertwined hands. "But as I see, she might be more than a friend."

"That's absolutely none of your business." Loki responded calmly, though not letting go of Ivy's hand. He'd rather chop his arm off than let go of her ever again.

"What news do you have that you couldn't have told us yesterday?" Ivy asked with a sigh.

Thor started smiling. "I talked to our father…"

"Your father…" Loki pointed out as he rolled his eyes, earning not even an acknowledging look from Thor as he continued.

"I spoke to him and he is willing to accept Loki back at the palace." Thor said happily, clasping his hands behind his back. He looked like a prideful child with too many muscles, and a self-sufficient smirk.

"And what about Ivy?" Loki asked in a serious tone, taking on none of his brother's positivity. "Like I said before, if there's any chance that Ivy will be harmed upon our return, I will never set foot into the palace again."

"Well… She has hurt so many people and killed quite a few more…" Thor looked down to his feet. "You know how father is. He doesn't want a criminal in the palace."

Loki let out a sinister laugh. "Well, then he certainly doesn't want me around either."

"No, he doesn't, to be honest. But he said that maybe if he talked some sense to you and you apologized…"

"You will not apologize to that man!" Ivy said sternly, looking to Loki in dead seriousness. "He has done nothing to deserve your apologies, nor your forgiveness. He hurt you and he locked you away without reason!"

Loki couldn't help the small, proud smirk that spread on his lips as he looked back at Thor. "See? Even Ivy thinks he's wrong."

Thor merely rolled his eyes. "Just do it, get over your pride, and then you can come back. I know he's done you injustice… But can't you just forget about that for once?"

"Let me think…." He lifted his hand to his chin, overly exaggerating the sarcastic gesture. "No, I don't think I can ever forget how he treated me. Not after all this time. And I won't abandon Ivy, not if he gave me the kingdom for it."

"Anyway, he won't allow both of you in the palace. He's grateful for what you did, Ivy, but he is worried about the message it might send to the people if he reprieved you, and allowed you into the palace." Thor sighed softly. "He will have every single guard looking for you if you decide to stay here in the wilderness, if you don't surrender and come back to the prisons. And if you refuse to return, Loki, he will have both of your heads."

In that moment, a guard came hurrying towards their small group. Both Loki and Ivy already set up for a fight, but Thor stepped in front of them hastily.

"What is it?" He asked in royal annoyance. "I ordered you to stay clear of the gardens!"

"I'm sorry, my prince, it's the allfather. He… He has fallen sick. It's the poison."

"What?" Thor's eyes went wide as all color left his face with a start.

"Didn't you order for the poisoned food to be searched and destroyed?" Ivy asked Thor incredulously. Of course, if she wanted something done she would have had to do it herself.

"We need your assistance..." The guard looked at Ivy, then at Loki and down at the ground at last.

"Alright, I'm on my way." Thor replied with a sigh and started towards the palace.

"I… I meant the girl." The guard's voice was very quiet, reluctant. "Her presence and knowledge are required."

Loki rose an eyebrow in doubt. "Who requested her presence? And why? So they can lock her up again?"

"The healers ordered for her to be brought to them... They also requested for your assistance, my prince."

Without much more talk, they all made their way back to the palace. Thor was beyond anxious and couldn't get there soon enough, but he also didn't want to push Loki to shorten their way by using magic.

Ivy however was deeply suspicious of the ongoings. One moment ago she had been told not to come near the palace ever again, and the now her presence was requested. Required, even.

Loki was equally doubtful about the situation, but he also was most certain that together they would be of crucial assistance to the magically untalented healers, and thus their request made somewhat sense.

They entered the palace and while the guard led them straight to Odin's chambers, Ivy took her time to look around once more. The palace was not a place she would want to live in, it was far too bold, too grand, too golden.

"I know, I know… it's not very homely." Loki responded quietly, but with an amused tone.

"Stop reading my mind." Ivy chuckled under her breath.

"I'm not reading your mind, you're literally forcing your thoughts onto me, darling…" He took a hold of her hand without hesitation. That was over now, they had long moved past the point of reluctance.

"Would you please stop flirting, our father is dying!" Thor's voice was tense and filled with subtle anger.

Loki gave Ivy's hand a gentle squeeze and they remained silent for the rest of the walk.

They soon reached the door and Thor rushed in without looking back, with Loki and Ivy following while the guard stayed outside.

"Thor, I'm so glad you are here!" A woman Ivy didn't know exclaimed. She looked like one of the healers though, going by her garments.

Ivy ignored them and went straight towards the bed Odin lay on. A different healer made an attempt to stop her, but Loki made them freeze in place with a single glare. Then he went to assist Ivy in her inspection.

"Any ideas?" She questioned once she felt Loki standing next to her.

"You have the book…" He said quietly. "You might wanna use it."

Ivy rolled her eyes, but more at herself than at him, and grabbed the book from her bag. Then she looked around, watching the healers and also Thor standing rather far away from them, giving them enough space to do their work.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ivy asked as she turned back to Loki, her head almost touching his shoulder. "He has done so much harm to you, and to many others… and now you ought to save him?"

Loki sighed quietly and looked down at the dying man in front of him. "I don't want to. But I will do it for Thor. He helped you to help me and now I'm helping him to help our father."

"You said 'our' father." Ivy smiled at him gently. "And that's quite an awful lot of helping someone to help someone else."

"Oh shush." He smiled back and took a closer look at Odin. "His heartbeat is too slow, and his skin is drenched in sweat."

Ivy began flipping through the book, calmer this time than before. If Loki wanted to do this, she would not hesitate either.

"Found anything?" Loki asked and placed a hand on Odin's forehead. "No fever…. He felt dizzy and sick before he passed out, it's still in his short term memory. His skin felt aflame."

"I think I found something! It's called a snow-rose." Ivy skimmed over the page, then with more certainty flipped the book shut and put it back in her bag. "It doesn't give information about any remedies."

"Great… That leaves magic." Loki sighed. "It's way easier with a physical remedy."

"But it worked on me when you did it…" Ivy said quietly, not too keen to let everyone listen in on their conversation. "We can do it together, right? Getting it out of him?"

"It's not that easy. You can't just take away the poison, it doesn't work like that."

"Then how did you do it?" Her voice was not more than a whisper now, although the other people in the room were almost forgotten at this point.

"It works by transferring enough of the poison from the sick person's body into your own system, so that both bodies can neutralize the minor poisoning themselves and thus heal themselves, with time." He didn't like the thought of Ivy going through the process and thus he was hesitant to answer her in the first place. But honestly, he couldn't refuse her a single thing.

"Look, I know he's not your favourite person in this world, but we should try the magic. I don't want another death on my conscience." Ivy placed a hand on Loki's shoulder, making him look into her wide eyes that reflected the candles' licking flames.

"He's not my favourite person in any world. But you are, Ivy, and I don't want you to suffer because of him."

"You suffered because of him for millennia, I think I can manage five minutes." Ivy smiled at him as reassuringly as she could.

"Can you hurry up a little?" Thor grumbled from the far back, his voice as irritated as it was nervous.

Ivy ignored him and placed her hands on Loki's cheeks, pulling his forehead down against hers. "I know he doesn't deserve it, but like you said… We are helping Thor. And the kingdom. Alright?"

"Maybe you're right… Let's do it." He whispered back and after a short moment of only enjoying each other's touch, they finally both placed their hands on Odin's body.

"What do you need me to do?" Ivy asked, watching Loki through her lashes.

"You'll feel it. Just go along with that." With that they started the process, and a short moment later Ivy knew what he had meant by his words. From that point on, she could easily adapt.

"What are you doing with him?" Thor asked and dared to take a few steps closer to get a better view of the ongoings.

"Shut up brother, or I will make you." Loki hissed through clenched teeth and it was enough for Thor to rise his hands in defeat.

"This is not working…" Ivy breathed, feeling the energy in Odin's body fading.

"But it should work, it has always worked…" Loki replied in irritation. "I have done this before, many times…"

"We don't have enough time to dwell on the past. He's almost gone now." Ivy said, trying to push the pain away from her voice.

"Ivy stop… We can't do anything to help him." Loki dropped his hands and looked to the frowning woman next to him.

"Don't you dare giving up now! Get your hands back over here and help me! We're gonna do this my way now, if yours isn't working." Ivy commanded and Loki obeyed without further comments. Questions could be answered later.

A second after he had placed his palms back against Odin's chest, he felt something painful and dark wash over him, consuming his mind and pulling at every bit of strength he had in his body.

"Is this what your magic always feels like?!" He breathed, overwhelmed by the intensity of the feelings hitting him full force. "Ivy…"

But she didn't answer, she didn't even move… her eyes were shut in what looked like focus mingled with agony.

Loki did feel the pain too, but he was more than sure that it was nothing compared to what Ivy must feel… knowing her, she probably kept most of the pain to herself and only channeled Loki's energy. He could only wonder why she was willing to take on so much, to go such lengths for a person who had only ever been cruel to her.

In that moment he realized for the first time as for the millionth time indeed that no matter what he would do, no matter where he would go or what would become of him, there was no way he was going to live a life without Ivy by his side. He didn't deserve her nor her love, but he was a selfish man and he would make her his forever despite everything that may come at them for this decision.

It took a lot longer than Loki would have assumed, and than he was used to, but finally Odin's eyes fluttered open and his heartbeat stabilized, then normalized. Loki let out a sigh and immediately dropped his hands, taking a few tumbling steps backwards. Thor jumped into action upon that, and quickly took his place at Odin's side. Also the healers hurried to his assistance, pushing Ivy away from the allfather and thereby making her fall back against the wall behind her.

Loki's brows furrowed as he pulled himself together and walked over to Ivy, supporting her by wrapping an arm around her waist. Honestly, he could've used the same support, but he'd gladly give her the last of his energy to make her better. Maybe he wasn't that selfish after all… only about certain things.

"They didn't have to push me away like that…" Ivy said, more out of breath than she would've liked. "I helped saving their freaking king and they shove me around like a fucking piece of furniture."

Loki didn't say anything to answer her, for he might just have cursed and ended the people she spoke of in one heartbeat had he but opened his mouth. Those people, they deserved Ivy even less than he did. He at least was going to make sure she was treated the way she ought to.

As they made their way to the door, he felt beyond exhausted, physically and mentally, and he could tell Ivy was as well.

"Thor…" He said tiredly, making his brother turn away from their father for a brief second.

"Loki, not now. Father needs me!" He said with his brows furrowed. "Go to your chambers and wait there for someone to fetch you."

Ivy rolled her eyes while Loki dragged her out of the room at last, before she could stab Thor like she did in her thoughts.

"Why do you suddenly accept the way they talk to you?!" Ivy huffed once they were outside. She felt her body go limp from time to time, but Loki was there to catch her, and she was there for him in return. They probably looked like they were two drunks returning from an early party.

"Because you look like you might pass out any moment and I would rather not have that happen in the hallway or while you stab my brother." He sighed, and after a moment of silence spoke on. "Your magic is truly special indeed, you know… I'm proud to have been a part of it."

Ivy sighed too. "I'm not proud at all, this was a mere relapse into darkness. I try not to use this kind of magic and to learn your kind instead. You know how dangerous and destructive mine is..."

"You just used it to save someone's life! You did great, love. I think you shouldn't abandon your magic. It's a gift." He smiled at her, full of admiration, and then gently kissed the top of her head. "But first let's get some rest…" With that he brought them into his room, using the little energy he had left.

Ivy dropped down on the huge bed instantly and simply pulled Loki with her, making him chuckle. With a small sigh she pulled herself as close to him as possible and he did the same, both soon falling into a deep slumber without any more thoughts about Thor, Odin or the poison.

_____________

"Loki!" Thor's voice thundered through the heavy wooden door, and a second later it swung open as Thor stormed in with an expression prepared to shout. Yet, his tense features softened immediately once he saw Ivy and his brother curled up between the books on the bed, a coiled mess of ivory, green and black. He hadn't seen Loki sleeping in forever, and it made him happy to see that finally his brother could rest peacefully, as it seemed. Thor decided to let them sleep, for they deserved it after all, and went to leave the room in silence and without a spark of anger left in his being.

______________

A few hours later he was forced to come back though, only to find them in the same position as before. However this time, he sadly would have to wake them.

"Uhm… ehh… Guys?" He said awkwardly, before repeated himself a little bit louder to get through to them.

Loki let out a long sigh, lifting his head, and looking over Ivy's sleeping body to Thor. "Of course you came back... Who does Odin wish to see?"

"Both of you…" Thor shrugged, not even surprised that Loki knew of his first visit. "But I don't think he will put either of you in prison again."

Loki rolled his eyes and sat up carefully, still waking up Ivy in the process. "We saved his life and he is kind enough to not arrest us. Wow."

"Oh come on, at least hear what he has to say. He's waiting." Thor's voice seemed almost apologetic now.

"He's old enough to show some patience." Ivy yawned and rolled out of bed at last, smoothing out the wrinkles in her 'borrowed' green shirt. Not that she'd ever return it…

"Well, I will leave you two to get ready. He's waiting for you in the throne room." Thor said again, and turned to leave. "But don't let him wait for too long, or he might just change his mind about the prisons…"

Then he closed the door behind himself, leaving Loki and Ivy alone at last.

Ivy stretched and combed through her tangled locks with her fingers, until Loki took both of her hands in his, pulling her against his chest.

With a smile, she stood on her tiptoes and met his lips in a gentle kiss. After a way too short time, Loki pulled back and smiled at Ivy. "Sorry, darling, but I will never let you go, now that you keep kissing me like that…"

In an instant Ivy's lips were on his once more, this time with more force, more passion. Loki only smiled against her lips before returning the kiss happily.

This time however it was Ivy who pulled away and smirked up at Loki. "I would be very disappointed if you ever did."

Without any more words they headed out the door and towards the throne room, getting a few weird glances from bypassing people in the hallways.

As soon as they entered the great room, Ivy felt tense. Everything was huge and golden and there were too many guards to fight off, should the need arise. She nonetheless took a defensive position without even thinking about it.

Loki placed an arm around her waist once they stood in front of the throne, making her relax merely a little bit. "I see you're not dead." He spoke coldly, looking at Odin with an emotionless face of indifference. "What is it that you want from us now?"

"For once, I wish to thank you, my son." His voice echoed through the room even though he wasn't talking particularly loudly. "You have done your king a great service. And you have made your father proud." He made a short dramatic pause. "I came to realize I have been too harsh on you. You are not at fault for some else's crimes. Thus I would like to offer you to return to your place in the palace, at my side."

Loki rose an eyebrow. "How very kind of you." His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "But to be honest, we didn't save you for your own sake. Not for my father nor for our king."

Now it was Odin's turn to frown, but before he could speak up Loki continued already.

"I did it for Thor. And Ivy did it because of her unfathomable kindness. And believe me, I couldn't have done it without Ivy." His voice was still calm for he had no reason to be nervous anymore. He had made his mind up about quite a few things recently. "So, my king, it turns out that you should be thanking her instead of me."

Odin's face fell, the disappointment and annoyance obvious in his features. "Oh, Loki… This is not the time nor the place for one of your tantrums. I…"

"No, father, he is right." Thor interrupted him, which honestly made Loki like his brother just a little bit more for at last not being the obedient puppy he usually proved to be. "Ivy saved you and risked her own life by doing so!"

Ivy almost snorted at the exaggeration. She leaned close to Loki's ear, whispering. "I rather risked everyone else's life by using my kind of magic… But I doubt either of them would understand that."

Loki smirked, but didn't take his eyes off Odin as he replied to Ivy in a whisper. "Let's not tell him that."

Odin ignored Ivy and spoke to Thor only. "But that does not mean she has redeemed herself from her crimes."

Ivy sighed, annoying by everyone but Loki ignoring her presence. "Look, I'm not necessarily proud of what I did either, but it wouldn't have been necessary in the first place if your guards hadn't been so deadset and disgusting about preying on me." Her voice was so beyond the whole topic, so matter-of-fact that it made Loki snort and Thor's jaw drop.

"I have no idea what the child is speaking of, but I am certain that she is as dishonest as vile. Criminals cannot be trusted, I hope you know that, my son." He looked at Thor, but glanced over at Loki as well. "I expect her to leave Asgard at once, or she will have to face trial."

"But father!" Thor replied, looking at Loki for assistance. "She saved your life!"

Loki's jaw clenched in pure hatred and anger, and his grip on Ivy's waist got almost painful. He was used to being mistreated, but he would not let Odin mistreat Ivy.

"Father…" He spoke so calmly that his voice radiated danger with every syllable. The whole room fell silent at his words. "I have a very simple offer to make."

Thor rose an eyebrow and he already dreaded what was likely to follow. Ivy also looked surprised, for she had expected him to shout or fight or do anything but bargain.

"You have exactly two problems." Loki started and took a few steps forward, making the guards flinch and prepare to attack. "One: Me. Two: Ivy. We do not fit into your picture-perfect kingdom"

Odin observed him curiously. "What is it you propose I do about it?"

"Banish us. To Midgard." Loki said seriously, standing eye to eye with Odin now.

"And what are your conditions?" Odin asked.

"I have one single condition." Loki replied and turned around to face Ivy. "Let us keep our magic. We will cause no harm to either world, you have my word. Adapting to life in a different world requires a certain flexibility, which only magic will grant us."

"What?" Odin asked in utter irritation, his eyes flickering between Loki and Ivy.

"I will not separate from Ivy, and since you won't have her reside in Asgard any longer, we will be leaving together. With our magic." Loki was still looking at Odin with a calm face, but even from the side Ivy could see so many emotions in his eyes it almost made her gasp. Loki was actually giving up everything he knew, just for her. The thought made her skin tingle.

"Why should I let my son run off with a criminal?" Odin's voice was dark and sinister. "She is a monster, Loki! Don't you know what they say about her in the city? Has she told you about the horrible things she has done?"

Loki didn't avert his eyes from his father's for even a second, as his expression hardened once more. "She is no more monster than I am."

"So you have made your decision then?" Odin sighed. There was no way arguing with Loki if he had set his mind onto something. Everyone knew that.

"Yes."

"Then have it your way. I accept the proposition. We have a deal..." He held his hand out for Loki to take, which he did without a second of hesitation.

Ivy for once decided to say nothing at all. This was between the two of them and she would only show her hatred for the allfather if she joined their agreement now, which would do nothing to help.

"Thor?" Ivy finally asked, looking at the large man to her left. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, sorry, I… I will miss you two." He said with a sad smile. "But then again… I couldn't think of a better companion for Loki, and I'm happy for the two of you. You can have a real life, outside the palace, and outside of the prisons."

"Thank you." Ivy smiled slightly, crossing her fingers behind her back. "I promise we won't try to rule over Midgard."

Thor's laugh thundered through the room. "Maybe you should try though, so that I can come to earth and kick your asses!"

"You're welcome to come kick our asses any time." Ivy winked at him, in the knowledge that Thor would definitely come to visit.

_____________

Surprisingly, Ivy and Loki had a moment to themselves, without guards, while walking to Loki's room to collect their belongings before they would be sent off. Once the door closed behind them, Ivy wrapped her arms tightly around Loki as she pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Thank you." She whispered once their lips parted, but she still held onto him tightly.

"For what?" He asked in the same quiet voice and rested his head on top of hers.

"For being mine and allowing me to be yours." She smiled. "I love you, so very much."

"I love you too, my dear, and I always will."

They stayed like that for a while, until Ivy spoke up once more.

"We could live in the mountains, you know… No one would find us on Midgard." She proposed with a chuckle.

"But where would be the fun in that?" He smirked, leaning back to see her face.

Ivy grinned back. "I promised Thor that we won't try to subjugate Midgard… again."

"Oh darling, you shouldn't make promises you cannot keep." He winked at her. "But for now, I think we can try to hold back."

"But wouldn't you make a good king?" Ivy teased. "I crossed my fingers while promising that, just in case…"

"YOU, my queen, would make a great leader indeed. I am, was and always will be your humble servant."

"Oh stop being all flirty, we have plenty of time fot that once we leave this stupid place." She pecked his lips once more before moving to pick up her bag that she had left here before.

"Still gonna be wearing my shirt on Midgard?" Loki smirked at her.

"Always, darling." Ivy winked back and placed Sif's jacket with the ipod on a drawer. "I better leave those here… We can always find me something different to wear if it gets cold."

"Do you want to take anything else?" Loki asked as he moved some objects into his pocket dimension to be conjured up later.

"I've got the book with the plants, I really like that one. And I have you, that's probably the most useful thing I could take. Don't need anything else."

"How very funny… anyway, let's go!" Loki took her hand once more and they made their long way towards the bifrost. By foot this time, to memorize all the small details about Asgard they would maybe even come to miss.

They seemed to be the last ones to arrive, as everyone else was waiting for them.

"Do you think he will really let us keep out magic?" Ivy whispered to Loki.

"Oh, most certainly not!" Loki chuckled back. "What a shame. We'll have to live without that."

Ivy frowned, not at all content with this prospect. "Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen. We're keeping it." She whispered, making Loki smirk. It amused him greatly that Ivy had no idea how powerful her magic was indeed. It wasn't the evil force she believed it to be, it was probably the greatest source of power any of them held. A miracle rather than a curse.

"Farewell, my son. But remember, it was your own decision to run with this criminal…" Odin said calmly. "You will be responsible for her. And Thor will be responsible for both of you."

Thor sighed. "Brother, please, don't do anything I'd expect you to do."

"I don't make promises." Loki smirked.

Odin continued, ignoring their banter. "Heimdall will have an eye on you too. If you misbehave, you will be severely punished."

"Yeah okay I get it, we are doomed to live with the mortals and ought to behave, okay, can we get on with this now?" Ivy said in fake annoyance and rolled her eyes.

"I will come to check on you regularly." Thor said with a small smile. "And the Avengers will have an eye on you as well."

"Is this even an exile or do you just put us into kindergarten?" Loki snorted. "We are no threat to anyone."

"Well, last time you came to Midgard you tried to rule over it." Thor shrugged.

Ivy wanted to disagree. To tell him that it hadn't been Loki at all, that he had been forced to do it by someone else, someone… powerful. But she doubted that Thor or anyone around would believe her, so it shall be only them knowing the truth for know. One day she would make sure that everyone knew. But that day would not be today.

Heimdall opened the bifrost and Ivy held onto Loki's hand tightly.

"Ready?" Loki asked with an excited, yet mischievous smile.

"Always." Ivy answered with the same expression.

"No more mischief!" Thor called after them as they walked towards the multicolored light.

"We don't make promises." Ivy winked at Thor, and then they were gone into the light, holding onto each other. Because in that moment, each other is all they got and all they needed anyway.

______________________________

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Aaahhh so this series is over at last! I actually reworked the entire tenth chapter and changed the plot a little because my real life friend Sandra asked me to (she didn't like the original ending, and since I'm a nice friend I decided to make this ending even better than the original one) I hope you enjoyed it 💚✨ hugs!

[tae-iliee]

untitled #3

a/n:

i’m so drained from work nowadays,, i hardly ever got time to edit my drafts aodndindckms and it annoys me :(( my drafts are piling up argh .. here’s a lil something before i knock myself out.

-

you have no idea how or why, but you somehow find yourself attending one of your boyfriend’s many fan meeting after their most recent comeback. and to be honest, you didn’t even tell him, nor his members.

it was pure luck when you bought one of their albums as a form of support, and who knew you would get a ticket to their fan meeting right off the bat. at first, you were hesitant if you should go since the fear of exposing yourself to so many popular fan sites around them could most probably do more harm than good. yet, it was also because of the comeback and busy schedule that had you missing him more than you would admit.

the way he smiles so effortlessly at his fans and just being so friendly never really bothered you, perhaps a little for now, but you’ve seen almost all sides of him that what you came to love most isn’t his classic angelic smile. but rather, the one where his cheeks would flush as his eyes naturally look away from you, hands seemingly trying its hardest not to cover his eyes because he just knows he does that whenever he’s embarrassed.

and since you’re going to give him a huge surprise anyway, might as well make the best out of it.

however, as each rows took turns to went up the stage, it was finally the last row and you had to try your hardest not to let jeonghan catch a glimpse of you. he was, after all, in the middle.

“y/n? what are you doing here?”

joshua, being the first in line, was caught off guard by your familiar face as he quickly signed on his page of the album.

“surprise? also, will your fans kill me if i didn’t give all of you gifts? cause, to be honest, i came totally unprepared.”

you did arrive a little late to this event, but you also did have tons of shit to do before this so...

“i think it’ll be fine, as long as you just request us to do something? i’m not sure, carats are pretty friendly so i think it’s all good.”

he’s answer didn’t quite give you the reassurance you needed, but it sparked an awesome idea.

“thanks josh! please look pretty for the fans so that it looks like i asked you to do so.”

and so you instructed all the members before jeonghan to pretend to have met you for the first time and since jihoon was a pretty pain in the ass to strike a deal with, you had to buy him lunch just for him to shoot a wink. the fans loved it though.

just as you were about to reach your most beloved, the fan before you was suddenly hit in the face by the toy he was messing seokmin with. and as you watch him panic and apologizing profusely to her, why did you felt a burst of jealousy?

perhaps after not being with each other for a month or more really did had you aching for his touch and warmth much more than you expected yourself to miss. and before you know it, your body reacted on its own.

“oh no! you bad bad hanie, how can you harm us? your precious carats!”

your voice, like music to his ears, had him snapped his head at you so quick he almost called your name out.

“you need to be punished!”

you feigned a frown, your fingers pointing at him like a mother to her child.

“yeah! jeonghan hyung should reap what he sow!”

soonyoung joins you, while other members started to file in their agreements as well.

however, the fan who got hurt was nice enough to claim that he didn’t have to do anything since it was an accident. but of course, you aren’t going to let him go that easily.

after all, you still didn’t like how he treated her right in front of you.

“aww since she doesn’t want you to do anything, than i want jeonghan oppa to do aegyo please!”

you chirped, as cute as you forced yourself to be, while the other members almost choke at the sudden change in your tone.

never in their life since they met you had they seen you like that. never. not even jeonghan.

and there he stood, mouth agape with heat rising up to his cheeks when he realized how freaking weak he got from just you doing that.

the fans took his silence as a resistance so they chanted for him to do it as well.

you took a few steps closer, and though he was on the other side of the table, you had your face cupped between your hands as you pulled the biggest and cutest pout that even had seungcheol covering his face from smiling too much.

“please?”

you begged.

it took just a simple laugh of disbelief and embarrassment as he looked away for you know you’ve won this round.

within seconds, he did an aegyo of admitting his mistake and for you to forgive him, that almost had you shoving his face away because you couldn’t help but smile so wide, your cheeks were equally as rosy and embarrassed.

everything else went by smoothly after that, not until you met him backstage where he dragged you away from the endless teasing from his members.

“why did you show up all of a sudden?”

he had his arms wrapped so naturally around your waist, you leaned against the crook of his neck just so you could feel his warmth and smell the sweet scent of honey and lemongrass. you never did understand why he smelled like that.

“why? you’re not happy?”

you looked up, to which he chuckled at your defensive response.

“i didn’t say that, i was just really suprised that’s all...”

he mumbled out, hugging you tighter when he realized how much he misses snuggling close to you in the softness of his bed and blanket.

argh, how he wish he could just cuddle the heck out of you right now.

“also, since when do you do aegyo?”

he piped up, but you laughed when you recalled what had just happened earlier that day.

“i don’t, but desperate times calls for desperate measures.”

you sneaked a cheeky smile his way, and for the millionth time since forever, he wondered why did he feel so much when it comes to you?

like how he would pinch your nose so hard just to annoy you, but not forgetting to snug a sweet kiss to your lips before seungcheol is going to drag his ass back to pledis.

“you’re such an idiot y/n, but i still love you nonetheless. and i never knew how much i missed you until you showed today being all adorable...please don’t do that again.”

he sighed, and for a brief moment it had you worry that he didn’t like you doing aegyo because it disgust him.

“you can only show that to me okay, y/n?”

he almost practically demanded you for it, yet this side of him was what you love as well for no one other than you will get a chance to see it.

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x01 (part 3) Enjoy! =)

Cut to – early next morning at the Salvatore mansion. Caroline comes into Bonnie’s room with a breakfast tray.

 CAROLINE: Rise and shine sleepy head!

BONNIE: Care…wow, this is so nice! You didn’t have to…

CAROLINE: Of course I did!

BONNIE: What time is it?

CAROLINE: 8:06…

BONNIE: I thought you were going to sleep in?

CAROLINE: Ah, how I’d love for those golden days to be back! Maybe someday… for now, it’s pretty much impossible not to wake up before 6. Listen, we need some you and me time, so breakfast in bed it is!

BONNIE: Thank you! Looks yummy!

CAROLINE: (Lays next to her, hugs her) You have no idea how happy I am you are here!

BONNIE: Me too, Care, I needed this.

CAROLINE: So, we didn’t really get a chance to talk last night and I need to know, Bon, are you really O.K? With the whole psychic thing? I know it hasn’t been easy…

BONNIE: It hasn’t but it’s better now. Before I used to hear people’s thoughts all the time, nearly drove me mad. But Darius taught me how to control it, and I’m so thankful for it, felt like I was invading people’s privacy, you know?

CAROLINE: I can relate in a way... it can be very freak, and disturbing in some cases, to get into people’s minds. Can’t imagine if that were a million times stronger…

BONNIE: Like I told Damon, I just take it one day at a time.

CAROLINE: You know I’m here for you, for whatever you need Bon.

BONNIE: I know Care, I’ll be fine. Plus, I’ve learned some pretty cool tricks too, check this out (uses her telekinetic powers to pour syrup on the pancakes)

CAROLINE: (In total wonder) Bonnie! Wow, that’s… amazing!!

Damon nocks then walks in holding a plate of his famous pancakes.

 DAMON: Bon-Bon, I brought you… (sees Bonnie and Care having breakfast in bed) What is this? And why wasn’t I invited?

CAROLINE: Girls only Damon! So, shu, go!

DAMON: (Puts his pancake plate aside and takes a bite of Bonnie’s pancake) Augh! These are horrible Blondie! Am I right Bon?

CAROLINE: No they're not! Right? (looks at Bonnie).

BONNIE: (Trying to be nice, since they are quite horrible) No, Care, they are… yum…yummy, yum …yum…

CAROLINE: (Smirks at Damon) See?

DAMON: She’s just lying to be nice; Bon-Bon knows nothing tops my pancakes!

BONNIE: (Picking on him) Nahhh, they are pretty awful too...

CAROLINE: (To Damon) Ha! See??!! Hey, wait! (To Bonnie) what do you mean too? (Gets a text, reads it).

CAROLINE: Oh, you have got to be kidding me!

BONNIE: What’s going on?

CAROLINE: Apparently, some student’s skipped school. Arr, teenagers!

BONNIE: Listen, Care, why don’t we get ready and go check it out.

CAROLINE: O.k, we’ll meet in half an hour at Alaric’s office?

BONNIE: Sure.

CAROLINE: (Looks at Bonnie’s almost untouched pancakes) Aren’t you going to finish your pancakes?

BONNIE: Yes, yes, of course… (takes another forceful bite).

CAROLINE: O.k, see you in a bit (kisses her on the cheek, and leaves).

DAMON: (Throws Caroline’s pancakes in the garbage, gives Bonnie the pancakes he made for her) Here Bon-Bon, just how you like them (gives her a smirk).

Cut to - Matt at the Mayor’s office.

 EDWARD POWELL: Sheriff, any leads?

MATT: Not yet Sir, we are working as fast as we can. We have no hard evidence these incidents are related but I think it’s safe to say that something supernatural is involved. All we know for a fact is that the first group of victims had the same diagnoses, brain aneurysms. They also dropped and woke-up at the same time. The second group of victims is being treated and evaluated at Mystic General and Whitmore Medical.

EDWARD POWELL: Listen, Sheriff, I really need for you and your team to get to the bottom of this ASAP. We cannot allow for another “incident” to happen. I took this position under the promise of making Mystic Falls the safest place to live in, and I intend to keep that promise. And, please, call me Edward, Sir. sounds quite odd, we are practically the same age.

MATT: (Soft laugh) I guess that’s true. Trust me, we are doing the best that we can. I’ve also recruited some friends that can help in the “supernatural” department.

EDWARD POWELL: Sheriff, I trust you know what is best, that is the reason I requested your return. You have my full support, and I will provide you with all the necessary resources, just, please move as fast as you can.

MATT: I will. Thank you, I appreciate the vote of trust. I will not fail.

EDWARD POWELL: I know you won’t, nor will I. We owe it to this town to bring them peace, and we will succeed.

MATT: We will. I need to head out now, I have to do some interrogations at the Hospital, then I’m headed to a meeting at the Salvatore school.

EDWARD POWELL: Keep me informed Sheriff, and remember, anything you need, at any time, just let me know.

MATT: I will, thank you, S… Edward. Have a nice day.

Cut to Alaric’s Office. Alaric, Caroline, Sergei, Radka, Damon, Bonnie, and Darius are talking about the students that didn’t arrive to class.

 CAROLINE: So, they didn’t show up for class, again? It hasn’t even been two days! Those little… (Radka interrupts)

RADKA: I don’t think they skipped this time. I know they have done it before, but I have a bad feeling about this one. They were genuinely excited to present their project.

ALARIC: When was the last time anyone saw them?

SERGEI: Yesterday, after the last period.

ALARIC: Have you called their cells?

RADKA: Yes, no answer. We’ve looked everywhere, Ric.

ALARIC: Matt is on his way, so let’s just wait till he gets here.

DARIUS: We can do a locator spell, find them faster. Take it you know the drill?

CAROLINE: I’m on personal belongings.

SERGEI: I will get the candles, I have plenty.

ALARIC: I’ll have a map, somewhere around here (looks around, finds one in a drawer).

DAMON: (With serious signs of a hangover) Ah, my head is about to explode! Another human side effect I totally despise…

DARIUS: You know, the best remedy for hang-over is to keep drinking…

BONNIE: It’s not even noon, Darius, are you kidding me?

DAMON: Well, Bon, it’s past noon somewhere in the world, Waldo has a point.

ALARIC: Sorry Bonnie, but I sort of agree with these guys…

BONNIE: We need everyone on game here. So, just take an aspirin and drink some water.

DAMON: Fine Bon-Bon, but once the clock hits the right digits, we’re going old school on this.

CAROLINE: (Comes back from gathering the things) Here, their textbooks, these will do, right?

DARIUS: Yes, those will be fine.

 Sergei comes back with the candles. Darius and Bonnie set everything up for the spell, the others gather around. They start the spell, then suddenly they start to bleed from the nose.

DAMON: What’s happening? This makes no sense, this is a simple spell, she has done it a million times before, shouldn’t be taking so much power… Bonnie? Bon, stop! (To the others) We need to stop her now, something is wrong!

ALARIC: Bonnie… stop!

CAROLINE: Bonnie!?

 Both Darius and Bonnie drop unconscious.

 CAROLINE: Oh my god, Bonnie! (rushes to help them)

DAMON: Bon! Bon-Bon! Wake up! (Darius wakes up, Bonnie is still out) (To Darius) What the hell is going on!!??

DARIUS: I, I don’t know…

DAMON: Care! Don’t just stand there, give her your blood! (Caroline gives her blood, Bonnie wakes up)

DAMON: Bon? You O.k?

BONNIE: I’m fine… what happened?

CAROLINE: You were in the middle of your spell, blood started coming out your nose, then you both just collapsed…

BONNIE: I don’t understand... Darius?

DARIUS: I have no idea, Bonnie.

SERGEI: Forgive my intrusion, but if I may say, while you were doing your sorcery, I could have sworn I heard the twins chanting. Perhaps that had something to do with this unfortunate event?

ALARIC: Wait, what?

CAROLINE: I can’t believe this! (She leaves the room).

DARIUS: Bonnie, I’m so sorry, I honestly have no idea what just happened.

BONNIE: I know, you and me both…

RADKA: (To Alaric) This has to be linked with the incidents, right?

ALARIC: Not really sure, but it’s a hell of a coincidence if it’s not…

RADKA: I’m worried, Ric. I think this is way out of our league…

ALARIC: (Kisses her on the cheek to comfort her) We’ll figure this out, I swear.

 Caroline comes back with Liz and Josie.

 CAROLINE: O.K girls, things just got real serious. Tell us, right now, what did you do?!

JOSIE: Aunt Bonnie? Why would you tell us to do that? (Bonnie looks very confused).

ALARIC: Stop with this, we’ve had enough! You either tell us what is going on or there will be consequences.

LIZ: Are you threatening us, daddy? (Radka falls to the ground, she is being powered drained).

CAROLINE: Girls stop it! (They increase their attack) I said stop, right now, or I swear!! (They keep increasing their attack) Bonnie, please help…

BONNIE: Care, I can’t… they’re your kids…

ALARIC: Please, Bon, whatever it takes. There is no other way…

JOSIE: (With a smirk) You think aunt Bonnie can stop us? We can take away her magic too…

LIZ: … just like that (Bonnie weakens a bit).

DAMON: Munchkins, stop!

BONNIE: (To Damon) Don’t worry, I got this. (To the twins) Girls, you know I love you, and I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do, this is not the reunion I wanted us to have. Now, I think you are forgetting just one little detail, auntie Bonnie is also psychic, I can get into your heads and pretty much make you do whatever I want, it is something I really don’t like to do but (uses her psychic powers) when mom and dad tell you to stop, you need to stop.

 The twins stop and calmly sit down, in a sort of trance state.

 BONNIE: Now, tell me, girls, what is really going on?

CAROLINE: Girls? Aunt Bonnie asked you a question.

LIZ: We really didn’t mean to…

JOSIE: I swear mom, she (looking at Bonnie) makes us do this!

BONNIE: Girls, why are you saying this?

LIZ: Because you tell us to!

ALARIC: Bonnie?

BONNIE: Ric, honestly, I have no idea…

LIZ: You do! You told us we are the key, that you need us to focus so we can open that portal… and that if we don’t, you will kill them (looking at Alaric and Caroline).

BONNIE: Girls, listen to me. I would never hurt them, or you, you know that, right? Now, just relax (looks at Care and Alaric to let them know she is going to access the girl's mind, they nod), let me try something. (She uses her powers again to see if she can find something). (To Caroline and Alaric) I have no idea why they are saying this… strange thing is, they are telling the truth… but there is something off, I just can’t grasp what it is.

CAROLINE: Girls, please go to your room, we will talk about this later. (As the girls are leaving). Oh, and in case it wasn’t obvious enough, you are so grounded!

DARIUS: Bon, maybe you should tell them…

BONNIE: Tell them what?

DARIUS: You might not remember, you black out when it happens, but you’ve been having episodes again.  

BONNIE: What? No…

CAROLINE: Bonnie, what is he talking about, are you O.k?  

BONNIE: I’m fine. I mean, I did have some episodes a while back, but I fixed that, they stopped.

ALARIC: Are you sure, Bonnie?

DAMON: It can’t be that, I know about “the episodes”, this is something different. Listen, Bon, I think somebody is trying to mess with you, we just need to figure out who… and I think Dr. Strange here (referring to Darius) should be on top of our list (Darius rolls his eyes).

DARIUS: Trust me, Damon, I am not involved, but, unlike you, I can actually help her.

DAMON: (Sarcastic laugh) In case you haven’t noticed, she doesn’t need your help; she can handle herself perfectly well on her own.

ALARIC: O.k, let’s stop with this, and focus. I’m sure it is not a coincidence that people are dropping unconscious, students are missing, and someone is playing mind games with Bonnie and the girls.

 Matt walks in.

 ALARIC: Good, you are here.

MATT: What’s going on?

RADKA: Some students are missing, we think it might have something to do with what’s been happening.

MATT: Let’s not jump to any conclusions. How long have they been missing?

SERGEI: No one has seen them since yesterday, after the last period.

MATT: Is it normal for them to disappear once in a while, cut class? I mean, they are teenagers.

CAROLINE: They have Matt, but not this time, something is wrong.

DAMON: Also, some freaky Friday thing is going on with Bon and the girls.

BONNIE: (Soft laugh) Literally, the most far away reference, Damon. (Damon gives her a smirk). We think these things are linked; the incidents, the students, the girls, me… and from the type of incidents, there most definitely is a psychic involved.

MATT: I think so too. I just came from interviewing some patients that woke from their coma and their stories are very similar. All they seem to remember is hearing a woman’s voice just before they collapsed.  

BONNIE: (Worried) I’ll bet that if they hear my voice, they will recognize it…

MATT: What are you talking about, Bon?

CAROLINE: Just before you got here, Bonnie and Darius were doing a locator spell to find the students, we think the girls siphoned their powers... then Bonnie and Darius dropped unconscious. The girls say they hear a voice that sounds like Bonnie, that makes them do things… that they are some sort of key to a portal, or something.  

SERGEI: This is all very uncanny.

DAMON: Yes, it makes no sense; what do people dropping unconscious, missing students, Bon-Bon, the girls, and Waldo here, have in common?

MATT: Let’s recap, there has to be a reason all of this is connected. The first incident happened 2 days ago, victims were not connected in any way, totally random, 25 reported victims.

ALARIC: That was the same day we had the incident with the girls, they drained everyone in their classroom, including Radka. Bon, Darius, where were you 2 days ago?

BONNIE: In Dublin, waiting to catch our flight.

MATT: Then yesterday, incident number 2, except now the count went up to 50, and again, no relation amongst the victims but same diagnosis, brain aneurysm.

CAROLINE: Well, yesterday we all met at the Grill, and it was the last time the students were seen. And today, well this…

DAMON: (Sarcastically) So, Sheriff Donovan, what’s the master plan?

MATT: For now, we need to keep things quiet, go about your day as if nothing is wrong. I will look for the students, what are their names?

RADKA: Its Veda, Auden, Tabitha, and Nikolai, you know them, Matt.

MATT: Well, now I’m sure that this is not a coincidence.

DAMON: Really? Just now? (Mocking him).

MATT: Listen, nothing can seem out of place or give anyone the idea that we are working together on this. I know we are being monitored, not sure by whom. So, we need to keep a low profile; I’ll do what I am supposed to do, you do the same.

DAMON: That’s your master plan Donovan?

ALARIC: Actually Damon, I think it’s a good plan. We can’t draw any attention. Bonnie, Darius, Radka and I can work on research, get as much intel on incidents involving psychic attacks.

DAMON: Wait? What about me?

ALARIC: You have classes to teach, pal, so I suggest you get to them.

DAMON: Oh, come on! You’re benching me? If anyone should be benched, its Loki here (referring to Darius)! I’m sure his witchy-psychic voodoo is involved in some way.

ALARIC: Sorry buddy, you need to take one for the team.

DAMON: (Annoyed) Fine! (Starts walking out mumbling) What sort of discrimination is this? I’m a human now, so all of a sudden, I’m useless…

ALARIC: Matt and I are also human Damon, it’s not about that.

DAMON: Whatever Professor Xavier! (Keeps walking out).

SERGEI: (To Damon, as they head out of the room) If it is any consolation, I am one of the oldest vampires in the world, and it seems I have also been “benched”.  

DAMON: Guess it’s an “occult studies” members only type of thing, so that leaves us out, Count Dracula… (they leave).

ALARIC: O.k, so we (referring to Radka, Bonnie, and Darius) will be in the study. Care, you keep an eye on the girls and run things as usual.

MATT: Sounds like a plan. I’ll keep you informed if I find anything on the student’s whereabouts. Let me know if you find anything from your side (leaves).

Cut to – an underground cave where the missing students are being held captive.

 VEDA (Inside Tabitha’s mind): Tab, can you hear me?

TABITHA: I can V, where are you?

VEDA: I don’t know, I’ve been out of it for who knows how long… all I know is that it’s dark, humid, cold... Oh yeah, and I’m a cell!

TABITHA: I think we are in the same place V.

VEDA: The only thing I remember was hearing a woman’s voice, then I blacked out and woke up here.

TABITHA: Me too… Can you reach Nik and Aud?

VEDA: No Tab, I can’t … we need to find each other and get the hell out of here fast!

Some voice, in both their heads.

VOICE: You won’t get out, but you will find each other when the time comes, and you serve your purpose. But for now, nighty night (they both drop unconscious).

TO BE CONTINUED... 9x02 (part 1) coming soon! =)

[the-woman-in-the-writing]

“My Name is Tomas Zamora” a short story

Rating: PG-13 Contains: Graphic imagery and physical violence Word Count: 3,221

Author’s note:

Last summer, I took a creative writing workshop. We held one of our sessions in a historical church (Barasoain Church) and we were asked to write a short story inspired by our surroundings. This story started when I mixed and matched first and last names from the list of people who participated in the making of the constitution (however, I’m not sure if that was really the list, but it did have a lot of names). I also wanted to write about the oppression of something that wasn’t usually written about.

Found note in the barracks of a house in Manila Circa. 1890s Translated into English

My name is Tomas Zamora, a loyal and compliant soldier of one of the fiercest commanders of my time – Antonio Luna. It is my duty and purpose to serve my country and to obey the orders of my commander until death has come to my door to take me home. But alas, death has lit his lamp and is on my doorstep, preparing to knock.

I will die before the sun rises.

In my contemplating, I have come to realize that I had another purpose to fulfill and that is to write this note or letter. I do not know who will read this after my well-accepted death or if it will ever be found, but if it does fall in the hands of a noble and faithful soul, I trust that he will use this as a torch to light the way of others.

I do not write, nor do I express myself in feelings or words. Unlike Franco, I am a man of action. I hope you can forgive me for the cluttered storytelling. My late mother had always been better at this than me. Like she had often told me, I am more like my father.

I never knew my father as well as my mother. I have only remembered his face in a picture my mother kept. When I was two years old, he was executed for a crime he did not commit. A guard house was burned down, and he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Accused of arson and perjury, my father did his best to defend himself so that he could come home to see me and my mother again. Unfortunately, the Spaniards’ cruelty and injustice prevailed. They did not even bother to investigate or find the true criminal; they just pointed their fingers at the nearest Filipino they could find and accuse him, so that they could simply say their job was done.

My father was punished with cavayo y vaca. While being dragged behind a horse in the scorching heat, he was paraded around our town, whipped, and spat at until he fainted and eventually died.

My mother and I moved to a town where nobody knew us. A fresh start was something that she needed after her husband’s demise. I was too young to understand this back then, but when I grew older I understood that the scandalous accusations against my mother were cruel enough to make her leave.

In our new life, my mother was fortunate enough to work as a maid for someone generous. She let her leave whenever my mother liked, but my mother was a diligent woman and she never abused that privilege. We had enough money to be able to eat and sleep in a decent house, however, I was never given a proper education. My mother only taught me what she knew, and I learned some basic concepts taught in school. Mostly, I learned manners and how to cook, clean, be a gentleman, and impress women – some of those I never used.

I was about ten years old when I became a sacristan at the church in our town. My mother taught me to be a man of God and that every good trait will come after I serve the Lord. I believed in her words. Every time one of the Augustinian priests will punish me for forgetting something in the mass or I did not clean the chalice or washed the cloths enough, I would remember my mother’s words: The Lord will reward you for enduring the pain and acting love upon it.

And so, I submitted and patiently endured the whips and punches that landed on my skinny body. I was very thankful for the fact I was able to come home, unlike the other sacristans. Even though my mother cried every time she would trace my wounds and bruises, I came back to the church, so I could earn a little money and serve my God. However, my time as a sacristan ended after my mother’s death.

Now that I think of it, I feel unworthy to share the same time of death as my mother, who gave her body and soul for a sinner like me. It was all my fault. I can never forgive myself nor repay her actions.

It all started with Rafael, a fellow sacristan. As I was about to go home, I heard him being accused of stealing the chalice used earlier in the mass. He never looked like the type who would commit such a crime, especially around priests who were not afraid to enact violence. Rafael was younger than me, yet he suffered cuts and bruises on his frail little body that only grown men could endure. I felt sorry for him.

After all those times I obeyed and submitted to the priests, I talked back to defend Rafael against their false accusations. The priest was shocked at my actions, and from his shocked face, it quickly changed into a mask of rage and disgust.

I will never deny it – one moment, I was brave and then, I am cowering in fear, wishing I went home. The priest smacked my mouth as he cursed me. I fell to the ground and he made me stand up by grabbing my ear harshly. Rafael’s cries were heard as he fled home and by this time, I was also crying as I was the one taking his place.

They say you get used to the pain after a while, yet I felt every lash sink into my skin the whole time. The sting of the whips and heaviness of the punches hurt so bad that I could not think of the time. The torture probably lasted very long, because my worrying mother came to the church to fetch me. I ran into her arms when I saw her, and she kissed every inch of my face until the priest confronted her.

“I am not done with him.” The priest said, harshly.

My mother did not even bother to ask what I was being punished for, she only said, “Please, let my son go home. And please, do not punish and let him return here anymore.”

The priest ignored her request and slapped her on the cheek.

“How dare you interrupt a man appointed by the Lord!”

My mother got on her feet swiftly and grabbed the robes of the priest. His face displayed utter disgust as if a leper was holding onto him, yet it somehow softened when my mother said, “Please, father, I would give anything.”

“Very well,” he pulled his robes from her grasp, “let us negotiate in the other room.” And they disappeared.

After what seemed like a long time, I knew something was wrong, so I decided to look for them in the other room. However, they were not there nor in the priests’ office or in any of the quarters. What was left was the worship hall where the masses were held. When I pushed the slightly opened door, I heard my mother’s muffled cries echo in the room. Pew by pew, I searched for them, but I was unsuccessful, until I heard the priest’s voice.

It came from the confessional.

I silently approached the latticed window of the confessional where the priest sat at to hear the sins of the penitents, and what I saw was something a child my age should never have to witness.

My mother was being raped by an Augustinian priest.

I never forgot the feelings that surged through my veins as I heard the cries through the latticed window. I knew what I had to do and even though I was afraid again, I opened the door and told the priest to stop. Before anyone could react, I grabbed my mother’s wrist and tried to pull her away, but the priest held her tight.

“Tomas!” My mother said before the priest tightened his arm around my mother’s neck.

“Mama!” I cried back as I kept on pulling her away, but she did not budge from the priest’s embrace.

The priest spoke severely like how he preached sometimes, “If you ever speak about this, I will kill you.”

My mother’s grip tightened around my hand as tears rolled down her cheek. All our grips – my mother’s, mine, and the priest’s – tightened until I felt the life leave her hand. The priest finally released her, letting her limp body slide down the steps of the confessional. And as I stared at her lifeless body, my hand held every love that was left in her fingertips.

“Mama, mama, mama…” I kept whispering as I hugged her close to me.

The priest wiped sweat from his forehead and stepped out of the confessional, careless about what happened.

“Go home.” His voice echoed.

And so, I did, even though without my mother, home does not exist.

I could never tell you how it feels like to lose someone. However, the tragedy of it is agonizing enough to damage a soul. Because when you lose someone, a part of yourself leaves you and goes along with them. And when I left that church with my dead mother slumped on my tired and wounded shoulders, she went to join God and a part of my soul came along with her.

I did not have anyone left.

I was all alone.

I know I should not doubt God but that night, I lost everything, and I do not think He even cared.

I ended up on the doorstep of the house my mother worked for. Before I could even knock I already fainted from fatigue. This was the last time I slept beside my mother.

When morning had arrived, I learned that the woman’s name was Rosalinda Mariano and that she was kind enough to help me burn my mother’s body. As we stood and silently cried in front of the burning stacks of wood that covered the corpse, she pulled me into her arms and kissed my hair. From that moment, I knew I was safe.

“The world is full of injustice, boy, but there is a proper time to fight for the balance of the scales.” She whispered and took me back inside to clean my wounds.

Aunt Rosa never married nor had any children, but she treated me like I was her own family. She had inherited her house and money from her wealthy father, and in the years I stayed with her, she cared for me, fed me, taught me, and loved me. I had another mother to repay.

My years as a young man were mostly spent at the home of Aunt Rosa, cleaning and helping around. I still did not get a proper education because she did not trust the teachers would treat me well. She said she was educated enough to teach me. Nevertheless, I had a few friends and still suffered the sting of young love as most were unrequited.

Like other young men, I left my home to work, and in my case, as a soldier. My time in training was quite dull because the days were monotonous, but I learned how to be a good soldier. I was one of the best, they say, but was too young to lead my own men.

After moving from one commander to another, I finally ended up under Antonio Luna’s command. Fierce as he may seem, his heart is full of nationalism and love for people. Luna has sharp skills and an intelligent mind, and with it, we were victorious in most battles. Luna cared for his men in his own way. Tough love, that’s what I called it, but others said it was madness.

I have respect for him until now. I still choose to obey his commands and accept the circumstances he put me in, even if it costs my life. Under his command, I will not die in vain. I am Luna’s man through and through.

His words earlier echoed in my mind.

A few hours ago, I was asked to report to him. Vicente, sweaty and tired, said I had to come with him immediately as it was a matter of life and death. I put my uniform back on and brought my rifle.

I knocked courteously at his door before entering. It was a small hut, so when Luna closed the door and slapped me, the sound reverberated, and birds flew from the roof. I did not know what he was slapping me for. He had never done it prior to this meeting.

“You are a disgust! An abomination!” He scolded as he slapped me again.

I supported myself using my rifle. Confused, I asked him, “Sir, if I may ask, what have I done wrong?”

He turned himself back to me and his face was full of rage. He grabbed me by my collar and said, “Do not pretend like you do not know. You are smarter than this, Zamora.”

I was scared but I did not show it. “Sir, I really do not know.”

He looked at me in the eye more intensely as if he was trying to figure out how I could not have known. And at last he said,

“Franco Herrera.”

My heart stopped.

Franco…

How could he have known?

After every carefully planned meeting, how could have he known about Franco?

Franco, my love.

I have thought carefully about writing the truth about me and Franco here in this note, but as I recalled and imparted the story of my existence, I figured I had nothing left to lose but my own life. And if I write about us here, then in a way, we will never really die.

Franco Herrera is everything and everything, all at once. That does not make much sense but so does the world now. I have an unfathomable affection for him and I always will.

One does not meet Franco and not fall in love with him. In my case, I have walked into a profound likeness for him when I met him.  It was at a secret meeting with the Propaganda five years ago. Antonio Luna introduced his best men to the writers of the La Solidaridad because if he is unable to report to them the current events, we will do it on his behalf. In that conference, I met Laong Laan, Plaridel, Tikbalang, Buan, JoMaPa, Magdalo, Elias, and Diego Laura. As you have noticed, the names I gave are their aliases, just in case this note falls into the wrong hands. I have full trust in those whose names I gave away that they will rather die than betray their country and comrades. The people who wrote for the La Solidaridad briefed to us the password to use, and as soon as the meeting ended, Luna ordered us to leave. And as we were doing so, a knock came from the door.

“Who is it?” Laong Laan asked.

“Archera Ferron” the voice said and told the password next.

Tikbalang opened the door and the man entered. Franco gave him a courteous nod and looked at his fellow writers as a greeting.

“Please forgive me for my lateness.” He looked at the three of us next, and in that moment when he looked at me, I knew his stare lingered for a second. “I see some new faces.” He turns to Luna. “Your men, Taga-ilog?”

“Yes,” and Luna faces us, “introduce yourselves.”

“Manuel Bautista.”

“Rommel Vicente.”

“Tomas Zamora.” And he shook my hand, firm and welcoming, like he did with my other comrades.

“Franco Herrera.” He introduced himself as he looked me in the eye with a sly smile on his face.

Every beautiful thing came after that. I do not want to bore you with how we became friends and eventually became intimate with each other, for it is also private. Franco had asked me earlier when I told him about Luna’s confrontation that I should not write too much detail about us in this note. He believed that what we have dies with us as it had lived. But I cannot control myself enough.

I want to share with you a little of my love for Franco.

Franco Herrera has an ability to stop time when he stares at me and he can make it run again, but much more slowly, when he touches me. He is what I survive for in battle. He is my newfound home. In those nights when the sheets embrace us, I remember that there is a little good and a little love left in this cruel world. I have only seen the sunrise with him twice, but in those times that I did, the sun never looked as beautiful – waking up never felt so bright and warm. When he writes for freedom, he writes for the Filipinos; when he writes for love, he writes for me. Not every time his words land on paper, sometimes it is on my skin; and not every time he uses a pen to express himself, sometimes he uses his lips. However, in our shared silences, our eyes are what speak for us.

And last morning, I shared with him my second sunrise as I rest in the quiet of his love. The end never felt sweeter and warm and safe.

“Franco…” I whispered.

“Yes, Tomas...?” He replied.

“Let us look at the sunrise.”

And we did.

We watched the sun light up my little house from the window, with our hands around our waists. The sky burst with colors of pink, orange, and yellow. And at that time, as I was in his arms with the colors and light passing through our lips, life did not feel tragic and we were simply humans learning to love in the little time we have left.

Because of Franco, I have lived.

“Zamora, are you listening to me?!” Luna barked. “I will not remove you from my command because of our situation, but if you get shot or injured later in battle, I will let you die.”

And now, I will pass away.

It was Bautista who saw us earlier this morning. It was him who told Luna. It was him who told the Propaganda. It was him who took my life away.

In complete honesty, I am not bitter that I am about to die. I know I have served my country well and that I did my best to give my countrymen the freedom they deserve. I will soon be reunited with my mother and father, and wherever I am, I will watch Franco until his time comes that he gets to join me. I have fought for what I believe in and I have loved tremendously with all I have.

Tonight, we will fight for our freedom even if we do not have enough men. The liberty of the Filipinos travels with the bullets we fire, and its price is paid with bodies of men. Tonight is my turn.

“Zamora?” Vicente called.

Death has come to knock on my door.

“Sir Luna has called us to assemble.”

And I will open it boldly and kindly.

[missmitakarcloud]

true love ? part one.

14.01.2019 - 3yrs since....

I’m trying to let go.

I’m trying to stop loving him.

but every time I feel like I’m ready - every time I feel like the truth is finally sinking in of rationally knowing that we will never be again.

that it won’t be possible for him to ever trust me again or forgive me nor love me the way I need.

and that I won’t be able to give him the love he asks for,

I know I have to let go so neither of us will get hurt again by each other.

but every time I want to,

I see this little boy and I feel like I am the only one who ever understood him,

even before he understood himself

and I am a healer and so is he

and all I wanna do is heal him,

because I know once he’s healed he will be able to give me the love I need.

I know this might sound crazy and selfish,

but I know I can love him right as well and be everything he needs if he would let me.

I know rationally this will never happen. or there is like a 1% chance this might. But the hope is so strong in me, this romantic me of thinking that we belong together.

this thought just won’t let me go.

our story is just too beautiful to end like this..

yeah maybe I’m stubborn and stupid and maybe it’s like they say: If they fail to replace you, they’ll start to miss you.

or how ever it goes.

and yes I fail to replace you and yes it’s my first time dealing with something like this - trying to be alone and trying to be happy on my own, trying to make myself happy.

It’s just so damn hard when my urge of healing you is so big. I wanna fix what I broke and I know I probably can’t and probably am not the right person for that and people can say I’m selfish for wanting to do so.

But it’s not, so I feel better about myself but because I wanna see you happy.

And isn’t that what some call true love ?

I just wish I could heal you, and make you feel better... even though I know how you fucked me up,

you also did a pretty good job convincing me that you loved me despite of how you fucked with my head.

I know from your perspective I did the same to you.

like you told me once, that I have a gift of being able to treat people like shit and still make them feel loved.

maybe it’s because you failed communicating what hurt you or what I did to you, or maybe I failed understanding it.

yeah, I don’t know, maybe I am the toxic person here.

who knows... I guess as always it depends on how you look at it or how you wann see it.

But I know my intentions, and I know yours.

I see the broken child, I see you didn’t break me on purpose and I am willing to forgive you - I forgave you already. I’m always and always will be on your side. I’ll always try to understand. And I wish that would be enough.

But I know you have to be willing to forgive me as well and if you’re willing to work on this, I think we might actually be able to.

I see this 1% potential and I wanna give it a try because despite everything I don’t like about you, I still love you somehow. Or is it just a ‘I care about you’ ? Isn’t that in a way equal to love ?

some might believe so.

The question I need to ask is:

Do I really believe that I am the right person for you ?

No, I am probably not. But is love about finding the right person or accepting and learning to love the ‘wrong’ one?

Maybe love is about forgiving and moving on, always and despite everything still give it another try.

maybe that’s what some define as true love.

Never really letting go.

Or is that just a vicious and insanely wish to succeed and not being able to accept a failure and let go when it might be more healthy ?

I come to believe that it’s a matter of choice. With some people it’s harder, with some it’s easier.

And I don’t know if I want easy. because I wanna grow and learn...

or maybe I am addicted to drama ?

I mean, I also want what’s best for my future kids and that’s clearly not you. Not yet.

But I believe and see potential. In people, especially in you.

Don’t you wanna grow as well? Don’t you wanna grow into that ?

Don’t you wanna learn to be the best person for... our kids ?

Do you really wanna stay the same ? Stuck in your old ways of thinking ? growing bitter ? never loving again ?

is that really what you choose over...

well the 1% potential?

just because you can’t deal with the change ? the hurt and the examination of yourself ? because you’re afraid ?

you fear.

I get it. I know it’s hard. admitting to be wrong in some ways and falling again and again and fighting again and again, getting hurt again and again.

that’s why you’d rather play it safe and go back into your nutshell ?

I totally understand that as well. the comfort zone, well feels comfortable. and if that’s your choice, I mean, I get it. like totally.

I’d prefer to do that, but I have to admit it makes me hurt and sad deep inside.

fear - it’s your choice how you deal with it..

Forget Everything And Run... ( clearly your choice, always has been, I guess )

or

Face Everything And Rise...

( it’s so hard but always my choice when I have the strength to do so. and I wish you this strength my love )

Being able to love is just such a gift.

I know we fucked with each others minds, I know we nearly turned each other mad.

or maybe we did already. sometimes people ask me, what the hell you did to me. yeah, I’m fucked up. but so are you. and maybe that’s why I feel like we belong, because we are fucked up in similar kind of ways?

And I can’t help it, but I love our madness.

It’s our own little world we created and where we are okay with our own sweet crazy-ness and cheesy-ness and you know.. us-ness.. I liked it in a way. I miss it every day. not all of it... but just being with you. your voice filled my heart with, I don’t know how to describe it - but somehow you just spoke right into my heard. and madness into my mind.

I don’t know why I can’t let go of this, what clearly nearly destroyed me.

maybe I think that’s what I deserve, who knows,

maybe I don’t love myself enough to step back from something so seemingly toxic.

maybe. maybe. maybe.

maybe I just want you because I can’t have you.

maybe.

but maybe I just wanna find true love and if we are able to forgive each other and work it out somehow. I know we will have exactly that and I begin to believe it’s just about choices. you just have to want it enough. it won’t flow naturally. it won’t be easy. but I know no matter what we do, we will always try to make it work again. And I see this kind of love possible, only with you. I mean for now. But I like that. I wanna keep it like that.

so you know what ? I still would like to try.

that’s the kind of person I am. If I see a chance, i’d like to give it a try.

you’re the only one who can take that away from me.

If you see this as a lost case, I’ll eventually be able to let go.

But if you’re a little bit of what I thought I saw in you, you’d try it too.

but I’m pretty sure I know you well enough to know that you will never ever give it another try. because you make choices out of fear, most of them. and.. I guess,

I broke you too much. I will never get you out of your nutshell again.

I know it - like 99% for sure....

so I am really trying to let you go.

trying to move on.

but you got so deep in my mind, so deep in my head, that I don’t think you’ll ever be gone.

I will always feel bad, if I’d fall in love again.

and here is the thing,

I did fall in love again. I can fall in love again. I know it. and maybe maybe maybe I’ll be able to let go once I’m being loved back.

most certainly.

But isn’t it weird that even though I’ve fallen in and out of love after you, I know I still love you.

I know you won’t call it love,

I know you won’t believe me.

But you know what ? I don’t care about this for once. Because as I told you once before you will not tell me what my love is, you will not tell me my love is worth nothing, because it’s not how you see love.

(... to be continued ...)

[clairekatswritingcorner]

Something To Fight For

Word Count: 2,198

Summary: After spending another agonizing night as the beast, Lester awakes to find himself alone in the woods. Concerned for his safety, Alexys wanders into the wilderness to find him.

*Author’s Note*: The first of two commissions I did for @bad-blue-moon-rising! She requested a piece about her and her werewolf bf, Lester, with plenty of angst and fluff. I admit I went a little heavy with the angst in this one, but with the subject matter it was almost impossible not to. But it does have a happy ending, and I really enjoyed getting to work with some characters I’ve never written before! Consider this another one of my selfship otps <3 I hope you enjoy!

It was early morning, but the sky was still dark. As the moon began to wane, he considered how ironic his curse was, that the largest light in the night sky was the catalyst for a being that snuffed out life like a candle. In his human life Lester tried to focus on bringing people happiness, comfort, and reassurance despite their troubles. No matter how deeply they were sucked into the dark pit of hopelessness, he was there to remind them that the light of hope would always lift them out again. But in the night, when darkness distorted everything into a monstrous form and made blood run cold…he was just another slave to its influence.

He’d run into the forest, the perfect place for nighttime to warp reality into something unfamiliar, scary, and dangerous. Trees cast shadows where moonlight bled through, their trunks gnarled and twisted and creating the illusion of faces—faces that belonged to demons or ghouls. Their branches were sharp like claws, and the rustle of their leaves could be mistaken for a howl when the conditions were just right.

Lester didn’t have to pretend, though. When people thought they were seeing the face of a monster, that’s what they really saw. When people heard or felt the slash of claws, or the echo of a desperate howl in the infinite void of night, it was always genuine. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t real, that he didn’t have to be, that this aspect of his life could just be a bad dream, a cruel lie that spread like roots through soil.

But he didn’t have the luxury to say he was living a lie…at least in terms of his detestable side. He lied about that all the time, sharing his kind human side with the townsfolk and living his days like any other citizen. But the part of him that filled him with disgust and loathing, that terrified others, that was instinctual and terrifying and bloodthirsty never stopped existing.

Sometimes things were calm enough for him to forget his curse, and he’d push thoughts of it to the back of his mind. But those pleasantries all inevitably ended when the beast returned to transform him, control him, break him. He would never embrace it, never accept it, even if he was bound to it forever. It had already cost him his left eye, this feral side demonstrating just how much of a danger it posed not just to others, but to himself.

He touched the white patch that covered the wound with human fingers, almost unrecognizable to him after spending a night as the beast. Even if it wasn’t the one that had shot his eye out, such an event would likely have never occurred if he didn’t have this condition. He knew he could never forgive himself for all the atrocities committed by his hands, even if they had been carried out against his will. He knew he deserved to be branded with this badge of impurity, a physical mark that never let him forget the sins resting on his shoulders. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to get up every day knowing what would be coming again soon, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Another thought, a happy thought, momentarily displaced his regret and flitted through his mind. It was an image of the woman he loved, and he could see her soft smile and gentle hands and feel her warm lips tingling on his skin as he soaked in her visage. She was always so kind to him, so accepting…too accepting. She had never once berated nor forsaken him for his deplorable side and all that came with it. She offered him words of love and reassurance and adoration that he returned wholeheartedly, but he didn’t know how she could still muster up such tender feelings for him.

He wished he was holding her right now, or being held by her. He dug his fingers into his arms, not enough to do any damage, but enough to express the dismay hanging over him. He didn’t deserve to have these feelings, or to accept hers. He didn’t deserve to take away her opportunity to have a better, unruined future, to find someone that would love her just as much as him, but without the haunting disadvantages.

His heart ached to imagine what it would be like to live without her, what it would be like to know that she was giving her love to someone else. He was too selfish, too in love with her to find any real joy in such a scenario. But if one day he happened to cross the line just a bit too far, if he snapped and committed some unforgivable act, he would have no objection to letting her go. It would hurt, it would feel like half of his heart was being ripped away, but if the decision was hers he would never even think of denying her the chance to move on to something—someone—better.

Little did he know that the focus of his affections was on her way to find him right now. Alexys had headed out just as the sun started to peek over the horizon; she had a pretty good idea of where she could find him. He’d unintentionally let that information slip to her on more than one occasion. If he wasn’t back home, he was likely somewhere in the forest at the edge of town. She’d caught sight of his footprints—or more accurately, pawprints—just as she entered the wood, following them eagerly. As she trudged through the trees she was careful not to make too much noise in the event that her sudden appearance startled him.

Before she knew it, Alexys was standing on the edge of the small clearing Lester had collapsed in. He was fully human again, and overwhelmed with agony, judging by the way he was holding himself. Her fists clenched and heart seized a bit as she examined the few scratches and cuts that were visible from where she stood; she was sure when she looked closer there would be even more. She stepped through the trees and his head whipped around at the sound, ready to flee if he’d been discovered by anyone else. But he registered her presence almost instantly, fighting between the urge to run into her arms or turn away and advise her to return home without him. She acted before he could reach a decision.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?”

It was an unnecessary question, but she wanted to know how much pain he was in, to assess whether he was in any condition to make it home without her help. He remained silent for a few moments, trying to pull himself together enough to give her a decent response. He didn’t have words strong enough to accurately describe his adoration and appreciation for her. Once again, she’d come to his rescue, drawing him back from the precipice of despair into her loving embrace.

“Lester, can you talk to me?”

She knelt beside him and he finally turned to face her. She was almost driven to tears by the desolate expression on his face, but the light that flickered to life in his eyes as he looked at her tapered it a bit. “I’m alright. I’m ready to go back if you are.”

She smiled and took one of his hands, pressing it to her lips. “Yes, of course. I didn’t want you to have to walk back alone.”

He lifted his hand away only to grab hers, pressing her palm against his cheek. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if had been anybody but you that found me.”

“No need to fear, your girlfriend’s here,” Alexys teased, relieved by the way the corners of his mouth turned up just a little. “C’mon, let me help you up. It looks like some of these wounds need to be treated when we get back, too. You can even lay in my lap while I do it if you want.”

A light blush colored his features at her proposition, although he couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted to take her up on her offer. She smiled and threaded their fingers together, slipping back to the house with him as swiftly and carefully as possible. As much as Lester preferred to avoid people when he was the beast, he also didn’t like having to explain himself if he was caught making his way back home from the woods. There would no doubt be questions—he’d faced them before—but with Alexys at his side the trek always went smoothly.

Alexys was just glad to hold his hand in hers again. She appreciated the warmth and rough texture of his skin, the way his fingers gripped hers tightly in return. She was happy that he wanted her around, and even happier that he trusted her enough to share his darkest secret. Of course, it would have been particularly difficult to hide the truth from someone he lived with, but she didn’t mind knowing. She wasn’t worried or scared or intimidated by him in the slightest, instead spending her anxieties on whether he was going to make it home the next morning or not. That was part of why she’d started going out to find him. If he’d gotten hurt, or worse, she wanted to be the first person to find him and come to his aid.  

As the two approached the house Alexys took off her coat and shoes while Lester headed to the bedroom to snag a change of clothes. Before he could get his shirt on she was there, shaking her head at him as she drew his attention to the box of first aid supplies she held in her hand. Lester sighed, not because he didn’t want her help, but because he didn’t want her to have to help. But there was no deterring her when her mind was set, and it would give him the excuse to be near her and let her run her hands over his shoulders and arms and back. That kind of attention was something he needed right now, for both his physical and mental wellbeing.

He took a seat on the bed and she got situated behind him, setting her legs on either side of him so she could scoot up closer to work. There were several flinches and yelps and curses from Lester as she did her best to patch him up painlessly, but nothing could be done to avoid the process of flushing his wounds with antiseptic fluid. After she felt she’d gotten him sufficiently bandaged, she examined her handy work. She’d used as many skin colored bandages as she could in the places where his skin was usually uncovered. Luckily, the biggest ones were mostly on his back.

Alexys trailed her fingers across some of her patchwork, admiring the parts of his skin that remained unblemished. She could feel the tautness of his muscles, the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed slowly, calmly. He was trying to recover from the bout of unpleasantness the treatment had caused, as well as mulling over some of the thoughts he’d had earlier. Thoughts about how she would be better off without him, thoughts about how he knew he could never bear it if he were to hurt her. But just the idea of bringing any of that up now made his stomach lurch.

“There’s something I need to tell you…” he began against his better judgement, turning his torso so he could face her. “I know you already know the risks, but every night it happens it seems to get worse. I feel like I’m losing more and more of myself. I’ll never be able to make up for the things I’ve done, the lives I’ve ruined. I don’t want yours to turn out the same—”

She hushed him by pressing a finger to his lips. Her eyes danced with ferocity and a little melancholy, but her expression communicated nothing but soft, unwavering love. “You can’t blame yourself for those things. You aren’t the one who did them. I’ll never love anyone like I love you, Lester. And I’ll face any risk that comes my way. I always have, and I always will. You’re worth fighting for.”

Although he wasn’t proud of it, tears undeniably began welling up in his eyes. Alexys kissed them away before they could fall down his cheeks. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, and he responded in kind as he closed his eyes and pulled her against him by her waist. It was true, neither of them wanted to live their lives without the other. As they held each other close, they treasured the intimacy, trust, and love. No one else in the world would ever be able to give them feelings like this, and that was enough. Besides, having her in his life gave Lester something to fight for, too.  

[nomiruiz]

The Lingering Trauma of Searching for Love as a Trans Youth

by Nomi Ruiz

When I was a teenage girl, I dated an extremely handsome and charming man named Diego. We met over the internet, and eventually would spend time together in his souped-up truck, talking and touching beneath the moonlight, under the loud boom of his sound system as his brand new rims glistened in the night. Eventually we graduated to the back seat, where we fucked all over that fresh interior until the sun began to rise. Slowly, as our relationship progressed, our tryst moved up to his apartment. That seemed like a big deal to me; we had never stepped foot onto the same concrete until that very moment.

The world wasn’t ready to see a man lusting over a trans woman, and so there was an unspoken agreement between us to never be seen together in public. Imagine what would happen, we thought, if strangers saw the look in our eyes as we sat across from one another at a dinner table. It was too much for us to even consider, so we chose to avoid public circumstances. There would be no holding hands on our way to brunch on a Sunday. No overnight stay, or sweet goodbyes in the a.m. as he scurried off to work, wondering if I was still in his bed, in his t-shirt—wondering if I was wondering about him. We knew we were safe in the dim light of his bachelor pad, hidden behind the fantasy and fallacy of it all. For what crooked smile could question the intent of star-crossed lovers if we never challenged their belief system? If we never even questioned the world around us and remain encapsulated in the callous act of limited love? Secrecy seemed like an easy solution.

This went on for a couple of years. The sex was exceptional and over time we became connected deeper on an emotional level—until one night it all came to a screeching halt. During one of our lengthy telephone conversations, he said, “Damn Nomi, if only things were different we would be in love,” and in that moment, the spell was broken. The magic had vanished, and I finally saw beneath it all.

I knew he was telling me he loved me while using a language that hurt me. I knew he was making an attempt to dedicate himself to me while asking for forgiveness. I was an outcast who taught myself that love was a weakness, but as I began to feel it for the first time I realized that love was like death, it was unavoidable and it was coming for all of us. In that moment of unveiling rage, I learned a lesson in both love and hate. Maybe over the course of our relationship I had silently accepted the barriers he built in his mind, but by no means had I ever given up on love. I was open to loving him even if it meant I was weak. In that moment, however, I realized it would never be an option. It would never happen in this context because he was in possession of a dead end soul. He was ashamed of his desire for a trans woman and wouldn’t let our love to come to life. Not in public and definitely not in his heart.

I told him he was right, that if only things were different we could be together, but I wasn’t the one who needed to change; it was him and his closed mind.“You understand what I’m saying! You know how I feel,” he argued. “I love being with you. I don’t want this to end. If only things were different. If only things were real.”

I stood there, shocked by his delusion. “You are going to die old and lonely,” I responded, “looking back at life regretting never having given yourself the opportunity to live your truth.” I never spoke to him again. And almost a decade later, I was right. Although he’s not dead yet he is still chasing me, still chasing his truth.

Diego was one of many lovers who kept me in the dark. Many who I never met at a restaurant for dinner or at a bar for drinks. Never did we go to a theater to catch a movie or a walk through a park. No museum visits or romantic nights out on the town. It was door-to-door delivery service, like Seamless for lovers. It was easy. Why face the pressures of society? Why take the chance of someone realizing I was trans and giving us a hard time? Why take the chance of his friends and family finding out he preferred the company of me over a cis woman? Why put us through that shame?

My fear of judgement allowed me to accept this poor treatment. Even as I grew older, prouder and wiser, I felt as if I was never perfect enough to be on the arm of a man. As society began to accept me because I grew to be what it deemed beautiful, I still wondered, was I beautiful enough? Beautiful enough for love—beautiful enough to be loved in public? Why couldn’t we just live in a fantasy? Why couldn’t we hide from violence? Why did we have to prove anything to anyone? 

It was all too much for my lovers and myself, so we never put ourselves in that position. We created safe spaces in the comfort of our homes, or whatever hotel room was available. Our intimacy only existed in these moments, and sometimes these romantic bubbles would become our primary relationships. Lighting and lingerie; our favorite wine and music. It was always the perfect setting with no pressure. We’d make love like beasts behind those closed doors, our sanctuary. We would speak about the possibilities of our future through weed smoke and locked lips. We’d discuss what the future held for us or would hold for us… if only things were “different.” Once, a man imagined how I would be pregnant, and I had to listen to him describe what our child would look like, how we would live together in a one-bedroom in Spanish Harlem where we would have way too much sex for our own good. We became addicted to this standard of love. Addicted to pretending we didn’t want something more from our trysts and to pretending our trysts were actually something more. It was easy to fantasize while living in a dream, for fantasies are not frightful nor do they cause any pain. The reality of seeing them through was the nightmare.

To this day I’ve kept some of these lovers. Not because I keep my romantic life hidden behind closed doors anymore, but because these men are still addicted to these moments of fantasy. Addicted to the sex and safety of it all. And even though I live my life in reality now, it is still easy to dip back into that bubble. I mean, who doesn’t love a comfortable night of wining and dining and fucking ‘til the sun rises while Mobb Deep plays lightly in the background, right? But as I find myself owning my identity and stepping into womanhood with pride, realizing my worth and what I actually want out of an adult relationship I can’t help but wonder: Am I enabling these men?

Eventually, I met my first serious boyfriend. We were together for five years and had a fairly normal relationship. But one night while we were having an argument, he said, “You should be thankful for having a man like me who accepts you.” I told him, “This is not special. You are not rare. This is normal. And the same way you accept me, there are millions of other men out there just like you.”

Although I may not have fully believed myself as the words fell from my lips, I was right. Since then, there have been others. I’ve met some extraordinary men who are brave and who have allowed themselves to be present with me even in the face of society’s judgment, but it has definitely been a journey—and I’m only now realizing how I’ve carried so much trauma from my shameful past. It turns out those safe spaces I created for myself and my lovers were actually danger zones, and were extremely detrimental to my mental health. I let myself believe that I was not worthy of love or of being treated with the same respect as any other woman walking this earth. I love a good passionate, private night indoors, but not under the pretense of shame. At one point I found myself involved in a terribly abusive relationship. I was so used to being shrouded in this constant shame that I found comfort in being trapped and controlled—comfort in what I believed to be a constant exhibition of pride and love through anger. He couldn’t live without me. He would show me off to the world and even challenged his parents when they threatened to withhold his inheritance because I was trans and couldn’t bear children. He was ignited by the anger in their eyes. It excited him. It made him feel alive. His revenge was a threat brought to life. He would die without me. He would kill for me, and even kill me, if I ever thought of leaving. In his own words, he would “dig my grave.”

My trauma had convinced me that this was love because it was out in the open. All his rebellion—in the face of a rich, traditional family and in the face of the society I had feared my whole life—became my revenge as well. Eventually, this sense of redemption became the misstep which left me open to receive even more trauma. I told myself how no one else could love him because I was the only one who understood his madness. I settled into the pain while giving him all my magic only to be handed back a diminished soul. “Forget about the bruises on your body babe,” he told me. “Imagine if they could see the bruises I put on your soul.” I allowed my character to be assassinated because I was high off his pride and, after years of building it up, had a high tolerance for pain—so high I didn’t even realize I was hurting.

Thankfully, it began to hurt too much. I never thought I would be thankful for pain but it saved me. It rose to the surface and finally became unbearable. I planned my escape. When I left, not only did I take my belongings, I also brought with me a new set of traumas that still follow me as I navigate my way through life and love. I still have a lingering fear and anxiety about dating in public places, but once I push through I begin to realize it’s only in my head. Getting there is the hard part. Meeting men by chance while I’m already out in public is much easier for me—but I find myself surrounded by predatory men attracted to my past sexual, emotional and mental trauma. Sometimes I’d rather not deal with it at all. Being alone is so peaceful. Loneliness is my new safe space, but there are times when I let myself out of that cozy little bubble and I meet men who actually don’t give a fuck what anyone else has to say. I call them brave and they tell me, “This isn’t bravery, this is humanity.”

I still don’t understand all of this. I’m still learning. But I know the more I stand up for myself and refuse to settle for less, the stronger I’m becoming and the less my traumas seem to have a hold on me. Saying it out loud has been the first step for me. Talking about it with friends, admitting to them when they ask “How are you?’ that I’m actually not that great. You’d be surprised how many times they appear relieved and reply, “Me neither.” I’ve learned to love myself unconditionally and I hope someday that will be enough. As a good friend recently told me, “Eventually you’ve gotta just jump and figure out that you have a daughter on your hands and it’s yourself and you have take care of her.”

It’s difficult to admit that you will never be a part of the society you’ve grown to know. But what if that freed us? What if looking good on paper became poisonous? What if being that thing the world rejects made you feel sexy and you found power in that feeling? How powerful it could be to find confidence and love yourself in the face of such opposition. I hope being rejected makes others feel beautiful, powerful and unique—because rejection is only a violent form of jealousy. I especially wish this for young trans women who are navigating their way through womanhood. What a fragile device, to be frail in the eyes of the preying. 

It’s only now that I see how much pain I caused myself. I look back and I feel so sorry for that poor, young girl who only wanted to love and be loved. To touch and be touched. To make love and build love and live in love. I hurt her, and it isn’t until now that I finally see it and I need to apologize. I’m sorry, Nomi, for causing you so much pain all those years. Sorry for poisoning your mind to believe that you are not worthy of love. You are worthy, you are love, and I know that now.

[circumswoop]

Is the Interregnum a Grave?

Peaceful transfers of power are boring by definition. Unfortunately, we’ve never had another kind, until now. Inaugurals and counter-inaugurals always bypassed each other without incident, unless you consider the occasional riff of pepper spray incidental. As it’s usually one group of recidivists handing off to another, how could such a transfer ever be peaceless?

Presidents and their wives, always to the manner either born or raised, hang out with each other during inaugurals, incoming and outgoing. There will be four former presidents at the Trump ceremony, five if George HW Bush plans a surprise skydive. (He could drop in a wheelchair held softly aloft by baby blue balloons, and then be rolled jovially away by security.) This is the licensure of the always-in-power, the ability to feel camaraderie with your replacement, whether or not he (it is always he) humiliated you in public. It’s the most exclusive club in the world, with provided airspace both preferred and elite. There are no cucks in tuxes. Meanwhile, there are presidents-elect yet to be born, and it is not too late to abort them all.

Obviously, one of the five living ex-presidents, and one of the four to attend, will be Barack Obama, whose election eight years ago settled a lowkey war between MySpace and Facebook, or so we thought: look which one is still here, being awful. Obama’s ascent overlapping with the descent of Top 8 culture is probably just me, but I remember the two months between Election and Inauguration Days presenting as forever young, not instantly iconic but worse: instantly idyllic. I’m not gonna tell you how old I was then, but I had a Martine Rose haircut. I was always drunk on one of two things, cheap vodka or soft white power. Still in the running-around phase of my learned liberalism, I anticipated the Obama presidency with a kind of guileless nightvision, blowing out my spectral range. I knew he was already top five presidents, easy, let alone top 8.

Sooner than you can say “drone strike”, that presidency is over and I’m sitting here with a buzzcut that I fear is trendy, reading about the Xiang River Storm and the Red Army Faction, trying not to treat radicalization as merely a way to get through whatever this is, this diastema between waiting to die and waiting to be brought back to life. Maybe that one Netflix series that looks like either a deep FKA Twigs video or a vintage HBA show really did nail what’s going on in the country, this sense of loitering in an unmade bed while outside the air turns green with breathed disgust.

[Stent]

The word “interregnum”, in the aggregate, means pause, interval, suspension--or in one iteration, the distance between discovery and detailed understanding. In the original English version (always worth checking out!), that distance was 11 years between the execution of Charles I and the accession of his son Charles II. In U.S. presidential politics, it was about 70 days before this year, when a majority of everyone freaked out, flatlined, did some modern Movements to try to enter another dimension and then, failing, collapsed into circular contemplations of self-harm. 70 days? More like 70 times 7, which is either the number of times Jesus told his entourage to forgive up to, or the number of “counter-terrorism” strikes the Obama administration(s) authorized in Pakistan, Yemen, Somalia, and Libya. I forget which!

What even is a peaceful transfer of power when the best we probably ever had soothed us partially by making his murder softcore? (My friend made a joke once about Klaus Kinski sounding like a really good cotton candy flavor—it’s like that but in reverse.) Where is the virtue in a proportional scale of human rights? Is it a redundancy covered by the most perennial of all insurances? During downtime, where do our hearts beat? Where is the sound? Will we live? Is life even a quality worth having?

[Stent]

Sometimes, when I drink too much, I pass out but am aided back to consciousness, in little rivulets, by concussive symptoms of withdrawal. Half melodic/half thrash, I moan and writhe. It sounds pretty but it’s not, because all that’s happening is I’m waiting to throw up. I guess I feel like I’m about to throw up, only for four whole years. Don’t even talk to me about eight.

I believe Obama is not a good man but possesses goodness, and I guess I feel bad writing that out loud despite stanning for him the entire time in loyal opposition to his record. Now he’s being replaced by his absolute antithesis, in optics and in credentials, a man who may not be wholly evil but who possesses evil, who puts on its underthings late at night and capers ghoulishly in the mirror; who will sneak into your room and place his hand squarely in the middle of your pillow to see if it’s warm. I truly believe the evil Trump possesses is not despotic but the petty, flesh-crawling kind that smells of talc and sewer, the desperate grasp of the night sweat. For all his fame and millions legit or forged, he sure is resentful.

This principle of possession preoccupies me way more than any argument abt what he’ll do or won’t do. I don’t think even he knows, because his particular evil seeps and blocks alternately. The incredible contradictions of Obamawere his possessions, or weights if you will—he always seemed genuinely capable of empathy while slaughtering innocents all the livelong day. He neither delivered himself from the crypto-corporate Medici who made him nor ever once laid off the deport button, yet in his healthcare and LGBQT approvals he probably freed more slaves than anyone since FDR or Lincoln, the two socialist presidents. Obama always knew what he was doing, whether those acts were faithful or egregious. Trump’s maniacally nonlinear behavior cinches at least one truth about him: that he knows not what he does. His evil is tinnitus-like, and has too many mixed messages to adequately receive. All he hears, understands, and emits is noise.

[Stent]

So we are left with the vape trail of a president who was “good for a neoliberal”, an introspective, Marilynne Robinson-loving father figure, inspo for dreamers trying to turn into dream leaders, kids growing old with blogging histories and classroom allergies who consented to his sway and cadence as proof of love, even if it was denatured or abusive. Nobody ever sold the lie of liberalism better than Obama, bc the way being lied to feels spinily, spinnily good as long as everyone’s a little bit in on it never felt so good.

One of the great belletristic disputes of the 1990s, albeit a passive-aggressive one, was between Andrew Sullivan and Tony Kushner on purposes of politics: shd politics relieve anxiety (Sullivan) or misery and injustice (Kushner)? How you answer outs you as either a liberal or a leftist, but if your arrival at the right answer took eight years then maybe Obama is to blame. Maybe the center-left is an industry of death, of lullaby and stalling and overprescription.

[Stent]

Leo Bersani’s essay “Is the Rectum a Grave” is a model of sacred rage, as opposed to average anger. Published in October 1987 at the peak, or nadir, of the AIDS crisis, it quotes MacKinnon, Dworkin, and Foucault and documents a society “that at once celebrates and punishes pluralism”, one that has “no political need to save or protect any homosexuals at all” and that is given a finishing sadistic edge by the family in Arcadia, Florida who set fire to a house wherein three hemophiliac children were believed to be infected with HIV. Bersani argues that anti-loving and hatred are synchronous, but more often the latter hides its head in the former. He also begins the essay with the funniest lede ever, defiantly unburied: “There is a big secret about sex: most people don’t like it.”

I believe the Trump presidency is already the greatest moral crisis in America since AIDS. No reflection on the Cold War and spies slipping in and out of closets or consciousness would be complete without a contagion—one to which, in Bersani’s words, the only necessary response is rage (not anger). Wraiths of the Weimar working class would not provide a better remonstration for Trumpism than the bags of bones the Reagan administration(s) put out with the trash. Reagan and Trump are compared almost as often as Trump and Hitler, but not often enough—a new eighties is more likely than a new thirties simply because the eighties were the most American decade, and the thirties were conducted in a Europe that blew its own head off rather than look in the mirror ever again. 

Trump tweeting a picture of his handshakes with Ronald and Nancy was way more of a message than his tweeting days later about Nazi Germany—the Trump family, for all their leopard-killing, vacuity-shilling horrors, are decadent directly from the Me Decade. Trump the paterfamilias has lived in the American imagination since at least Marla Maples went in the New York Post in 1990 and said sex with Trump was the best she ever had. Others reference the 1979 Wayne Barrett cover feature for the Voice as prequel to a decade. 

Either way, by the time he gave Kevin McAllister directions to the lobby in his, Trump’s, own hotel in Home Alone 2 (1992) the deal was closed: Trump was the first name that came up when anyone talked about riches. America and its imagination will never get over the 1980s, and if there’s any shrewd or non-shriveled wisdom that can be gained from Trump’s senescent rise it should be that America has still never really gotten over AIDS. Fascism feared by anyone with a pulse, let alone one that’s only intelligible in their left wrist, is better detected in viral terms. It can only by stopped by a contagion mentality, by the kinds of education and mobilization the social agents of AIDS provided and to some extent pioneered. Bersani named, as its essential crisis of care, “the general tendency to think of AIDS as an epidemic of the future rather than a catastrophe of the present”. All you have to do to diagnose whatever age we’re in is find/replace AIDS with Fascism. There is a big secret abt power: everyone likes it.

[nicklavitz]

Machine Man

How do you reclaim your humanity when it has been taken from you? Perhaps only when someone finds it and gives it back.

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I didn’t give it much thought. She looked like Elizabeth, and the goons in this part of town don’t go easy on young girls when they think they can get away with it.

It was dark in the alley, but that’s not a problem for me.

They were bigger than I am, but that’s not an issue either.

When they were gone, one clutching his broken arm, the other his ribs, the girl was sobbing against the wall and I didn’t want to make a bad situation worse by scaring her, so I huddled opposite.

How do you react when a dirty vagrant saves you from two rich thugs in designer sportswear? I couldn’t even give her my jacket to help against the cold, given how it smelled.

“Thank you,” she said, before she ran away.

Fair enough.

She found me a few days later. I hadn’t expected to see her again. I was caught unprepared.

Now it was my turn to be afraid.

Had she come alone? What did she want? What did she know?

In the end, she hadn’t pieced any of it together. She was just being kind, or overcoming some misplaced guilt at being saved by a vagrant, returning the favour.

She’d brought me food. A sandwich and cake. The sugar and protein were helpful.

Would she have been so kind if she had known?

I didn’t trust myself to speak to her, so I listened to her kindnesses and hid my eyes under the dirty cap that kept my greasy hair away from my face.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” she said.

Did she think she was taming something feral? Did she see something worth saving? How relentless the naivete of the young.

I took the time to go to one of my better hiding spots that night. I hadn’t opened the small tin box in six months, but the nylon pouch was still there, its contents intact.

They were old, but the contacts still had a good few weeks in them. I used them only when I had to.

When she returned, I was able to look back at her. To meet her gaze. Show her I wasn’t as far lost as she thought.

She’d brought more food.

“Thank you.”

At least this time I managed to speak to her.

“I’m glad you’re talking to me,” she said.

“I’m grateful, but you shouldn’t come back. It’s not safe here.”

“I won’t, if you come with me.”

I couldn’t. Wanting at all costs not to lie to her, I couldn’t tell her why not.

I didn’t want her to come back to this neighborhood, but the sight of this girl, who treated me with such kindness, who looked so familiar, was a rare ray of sunshine in a washed-out world. A deeply selfish part of me hoped terribly she would ignore my suggestion and return anyway.

She came back. Several times.

Perhaps I had been feral. Perhaps she really was taming me. Slowly I came around to the idea of going somewhere safer with her.

I told myself it was because it was unsafe for her there, but our motivations are always selfish. Mine especially.

I gradually learned to forget about the risk of discovery and let her lead me away from the warehouses, towards the brick buildings of the outer residential belt.

Her apartment had its own entrance, around the side of a five-story building and through a simple wooden door that wasn’t so simple once you saw the thick armour plating built into it.

She had covered her bathroom in plastic sheeting. There was a paper disposal bag for my clothes and a set of standard grey and black sweatpants in my size. A razor, scissors, wire brush and soap. I hadn’t had a shower in a very long time.

Had she prepared this every time or had she known I would come with her today? Was I predictable?

Was this a debt to her? Charity? Kindness?

“You’re so much younger than I thought you were.”

My youthful features had stared back at me from the mirror in the bathroom, surprising me also. The lenses in my eyes hid my almost ageless nature. I had barely said a word and I felt the weight of my deceit like a heavy chain.

She sat on a chair opposite the low sofa on which I perched, my knees sticking out like the ungainly limbs of a stick insect.

“You don’t talk very much, do you? Can you tell me your name?”

I thought about what I could tell her. Keeping secrets is a burden that grows heavier with time, and faced with her kindness I didn’t think I could bear to hold the truth inside much longer.

“You look like someone I once knew,” I told her.

“Is that why you helped me?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know.”

“Who was she?”

“Elizabeth.” Speaking her name aloud made the walls close in and the light darken.

“Your girlfriend?” she hesitated, “Your wife?”

“No, but my blood.”

She fed me again, asking nothing in return. Not even asking the questions she must have had.

I slept on her sofa. Clean and satiated for the first time in a very long time.

“I cannot stay here,” I told her, two days later.

She looked at me for a long, long moment.

“Yes, you can.”

I looked about the same age as her, spoke well, helped around her home, fixing things that weren’t too far gone.

Feeding me was no significant drain on her resources. She earned a modest but sufficient income working from a small counter in a corner of her living room, standing at a desk and editing architectural diagrams, taking the vision of her betters and transforming it into something that could be built, could be made into homes, or offices.

She was still taming me. By her presence. Or her patience. Parts of me were still wild but they were cornered, already planning a last stand I was determined to lose.

Other parts of me were neither wild nor tame, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain that, and the secret began to consume what little was left of me.

If I waited too long, I wouldn’t be able to leave, and then she would never forgive me, this girl I hardly knew.

They were clumsy. When they first came to scout her building, they turned off their smart devices and walked around the perimeter, examining windows.

Six quasi-dormant smart tablets circling the building in pairs. They couldn’t have been more conspicuous if they’d set themselves on fire and run around shouting my name.

By then I’d been with her eight days, and she had made me hers in most ways that count. With a few small kindnesses and her generosity and her soothing calm.

I used the most distant usable network I could reach, in an apartment on the south-eastern corner of the building on the third floor. From there I made a few weak-willed attempts to crack the encryption on the tablet nearest the network.

They wasted no time converging on the third floor, smashing the door to splinters and terrifying the unlucky retired widow who lived there before retreating in confusion.

They wouldn’t be so easy to fool the second time.

“I have to go,” I told her again.

“No, you don’t,” she replied, calm as always.

“I’m not who you think.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“Tell me what you think.”

“I think you’re a good man.”

“Then I’m not who you think.”

She would not be moved.

“I’m talking about who you are, not who you might have been.”

I wanted to tell her.

“Not who, what I was. Or am.”

“Tell me,” she countered, “about Elizabeth.”

“She was my daughter.”

“I’m sorry,” her eyes were downcast. “How did she die?”

“Old age.”

How could she not yet understand?

When she raised her eyes to mine, they were full of tears.

“How do you bear it?”

She knew. I felt my hackles rise in anticipation of her disgust.

“Bear what? The tech?”

She shook her head. “The time.”

“I…” Words failed me as she punched a hole in the dam that held it all in check. When she took me in her arms, the rest of my defenses collapsed and I was swept away by a tide of emotions.

I didn’t howl or scream, although I thought I would. Instead I folded like wet origami, sobbing like a child in her arms, shaking like an epileptic and not knowing how I would ever stop or if I would ever bring the pain back under control.

I awoke the next morning in her arms, in her bed. I still had my clothes and my memory of the night was of waking up screaming, only to be brought back to sanity by her presence. Her head was resting on my chest, blond hair falling over my shoulder, smelling of the soap she had in her shower.

“You’re awake.”

I didn’t deny it, “How can you tell?”

“Your heartbeat. You’re not all machine you know, only a little bit.”

“The bits that count, according to the law.”

She sat up, turning to me in the morning light that came in through the window.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“The eyes. Show me your eyes.”

I didn’t want to, but at this point I could deny her nothing.

The contacts felt gritty, reaching the end of their usefulness. Once they were out I wouldn’t be able to put them back in.

The fleshy membranes stuck to my thumb and forefinger, coming cleanly off the surface of the eyeballs and revealing the blueness of the outer eye and the thick metallic band that encircled the iris, unmistakable in any light.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“It’s a death sentence. For both of us if they figure out that you knew.”

“You’ll think of something.”

As easy as that. The risk and the fear dismissed out of hand. How long since someone had trusted me like this? Did I still have it in me to handle these things?

“I won’t really miss it,” she said.

“Miss what?”

“The Earth, once we leave. We like the idea of it so much more than the reality.”

I felt a surge of guilt at how far ahead she was in reasoning through the consequences of what I was, how committed she was to being with me. How fearful and yet relieved I was that she had put her safety in my hands.

As she fell asleep, I caught up. My eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling as I brought back to life the systems I had sworn never to use again. I had wanted so badly to be human-normal once more, but to move forward from here I had to embrace what I was.

As my skin prickled with nanotech and my perception grew beyond the walls of the apartment, and as I began to hack my way through the various systems that would allow us to find our way off-planet, I stayed conscious of her head on my chest and her hair in the nape of my neck. I would no longer do this for my makers, who had forsaken me and all of my kind. But I could do it for her.