#and i too have been through the endless cycle of doctors who can’t do anything for me

[demigodofhoolemere]

25 And a certain woman, which had an issue of blood twelve years, 26 And had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse, 27 When she had heard of Jesus, came in the press behind, and touched his garment. 28 For she said, If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole. 29 And straightway the fountain of her blood was dried up; and she felt in her body that she was healed of that plague. 30 And Jesus, immediately knowing in himself that virtue had gone out of him, turned him about in the press, and said, Who touched my clothes? 31 And his disciples said unto him, Thou seest the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me? 32 And he looked round about to see her that had done this thing. 33 But the woman fearing and trembling, knowing what was done in her, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth. 34 And he said unto her, Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague.

Mark 5: 25-34

[kaimelia]

Five Times Atticus Lincoln Knew He Was in Love

a/n: this fic was inspired by and is dedicated to the wonderful @teammorningglory ! you’re one of the best people I’ve met throughout my time writing fics, and I’m so endlessly grateful for all of your support!

"I feel like I'm on top of the world," Amelia grinned, pulling off her coat and tossing it over the back of his couch. "God, I love this feeling."

"You saved his life," Link muttered, walking up behind her. "You did an incredible job." She turned around to face him, the enthusiasm on her face still evident as she threw her arms around his neck, jumping up into him and laughing happily.

"We should celebrate." He raised his eyebrows at her, watching her face contort as she pulled away and glanced around his bare apartment.

"How are we celebrating?" Amelia simply grinned and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling it towards her until his face was close enough to hers for her to kiss him, which she did.

"Donuts." She let go of him and jumped away, running over to the counter and grabbing his car keys. "I'll be back; stay here." She ran out the door of his apartment, leaving Link standing there with a warm feeling in his chest and a huge grin spread across his lips.

Amelia returned later with a box of donuts in hand, dropping it on the counter and eagerly pulling one out, lightly tapping it against his and muttering, "Cheers!" before shoving the whole thing in her mouth, causing Link to laugh before doing the same.

"Cheers to what?" He muttered through a mouthful, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed.

"Cheers to us, being incredible doctors, and to being together. Even if the one time we actually have a date, it gets interrupted."

"Interrupted by your genius," he added, grinning as her cheeks turned red and she glanced down at the floor below her, while Link was unable to take her eyes as he stared at her, utterly enamored by the woman standing in front of him.

-----------

She'd left him sitting alone in the plant room just a minute earlier, but his hands tightly braced the armrest of the chair, and he breathed heavily as he looked at the door that had just shut.

She'd told him she was pregnant, and he was terrified. And then, she opened up about her fears, and all of his didn't matter anymore because he was overwhelmed with a feeling of protection and love for her.

Which terrified him in a different way, thinking of that word and what it meant for a future they may or may not have.

He pushed himself off of the chair, his legs seemingly moving out themselves of the room and down the hall until he fell back into the seat across from his best friend, who stared at him as she waited for him to say something. He cleared his throat.

"I think I love her."

"That's big," Jo leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head to the side.

"I told her that no matter what she wants to do, I'm in, and then she left, so I don't know what's happening, but I think that I don't even care what happens with the baby because I just want to be with her."

"Yeah, I'd say you're in love. I've never seen you like this."

"I've never been like this," he muttered, slumping down in the seat. "I don't think I've ever felt this in my entire life."

"Not even with Bronwyn?"

"Not even close."

-----------

"Stay tonight, please?" Link sighed softly, not wanting to disappoint her and tell her he couldn't.

"I've got a morning shift; I need to go home and get some sleep," he spoke, glancing down at their intertwined hands, hers tugging him into the bedroom behind her.

"You can sleep here; I won't wake you up, I promise." She grinned toothily and stuck out her pinky. "It's the least you can do."

"The least I can do?"

"Well, you're the reason that all I want to do is cuddle, so I think that you should have to be the one to cuddle me." He smiled at the reference to her pregnancy, something he was still figuring out how to settle in his mind as it still felt so foreign and new, but still something that hit him with a wave of joy at each mention of it.

"Okay," he started softly, allowing her to tug him into the bedroom and close the door behind them. "But, no funny business. I really do need to get some sleep."

"None." Amelia walked over to her drawers, pulling off her cardigan and tossing it on the bed behind her, replacing her shirt with one Link recognized well.

"Is that my shirt? Why do you have that here?"

"Because I wanted it," she muttered, kicking off her pants and flopping back onto the bed. Link picked up the clothes from the floor and changed into another one of his shirts in her drawers. "Hey, you don't get to steal that," she protested, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lip out.

"I don't get to wear my own shirt?" She shook her head and rolled her eyes, holding her hands out. Link took them and joined her on the bed.

When they finally settled, with Amelia's back pressed tightly against his chest and their hands intertwined and resting together over her small stomach, he nuzzled his face in her neck, happily breathing in the smell of her perfume and dreaming of the future together he knew he wanted.

-----------

He glanced down at Amelia in his arms, her face pressed gently against his chest and her snores muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

It'd taken her hours to settle after spending far too long with her head over the toilet, with Link feeling utterly helpless as he held back her hair and muttered soft words in an attempt to comfort her, but knowing that there was nothing he could truly do.

She'd crawled into bed afterward, pulling the blankets up over her body, and instinctively curled into him, not saying a word as she squeezed her eyes shut and steadied her breathing. Link didn't make a noise but wrapped his arms around her tightly and pressed his lips against the top of her head, gently pulsing a kiss against her hair every time her body shuddered against his.

As he looked down at her, only illuminated by the sliver of moonlight creeping through his bedroom window, he couldn't help but feel a calming warmth inside of him, an instinct to pull her closer and hold her tighter.

He knew that in a few hours, she would wake, and the cycle would start all over again; her loss of appetite, any food she managed to eat coming back up hours later, the cramping in her stomach, her endless complaints about the pressure on her bladder and cursing him out for the hormones she felt throughout the day at every slight inconvenience.

But, in the moment, he thought she looked incredibly beautiful, and he felt his heart beat faster as she moved her head in her sleep, his lips sliding to her forehead and her face gently tipping up towards him.

She wouldn't let him say it if she was awake, but knowing that she was fast asleep and wouldn't wake up unless he dragged her out of bed for breakfast, he whispered softly, "I love you."

-----------

"What are you doing out here?" Link asked as he walked into the kitchen, glancing at the clock on the stove and raising his eyebrows at Amelia, who was sitting on the kitchen counter in the wee hours of the night when he was barely awake enough to notice she had slipped out of his embrace.

"I can't sleep," she muttered, glancing away from him. Link pouted his lip and reached out to take her hand, which she pulled away from him.

"What is it?"

"I don't think that I'm going to be a good mom," her chin quivered, and a hand subconsciously wrapped around her stomach. "I don't know if I can do it."

"I think that you're going to be an incredible mother," he whispered, reaching up to thumb away a column of tears from her face, bringing his thumb backward to brush her hair away from her cheek. She wrapped her legs around him, gently pulling him closer to her until he was pressed against the counter, his hands bracing a grip on either side of her legs and his face close to hers. "And, if you ever think otherwise, I will tell you every reason why." She nodded slowly, and her hand found his as their eyes stayed locked on each other. "You are one of the kindest people I know, and you are incredibly selfless. You care about this baby so much, who you haven't even met, and I think the fact that you're worried means that you're going to be an amazing parent. And you, Amelia Shepherd, are a freaking superhero, and superheroes can do anything."

He stared into her eyes, and it was as if he could see everything inside of her brain; the slight edge of a laugh at what he'd said and the emotion building up inside she didn't quite know how to vocalize. He laughed gently and brought a hand up to her cheek, and she rested her head against it. His lips turned upward into a small smile, and he stared at her in silence for a moment until his mouth formed the words he'd never spoken before.

"I'm in love with you."

[some-dr-writings]

Nagito x depressed, imaginative S/O

·       You were a very introverted individual. Preferring to keep to yourself and having very few friends whom most others would consider family should they be in your position. You rarely spoke and avoided the spotlight. Being the center of attention or being with too many others was incredibly draining so you always tried to hide. You were certainly on the extreme side of introversion, in fact, it likely wasn’t even introversion that led you to the point of outright avoiding people at any cost. You found them so noisy and annoying…

·       That was likely why you liked Nagito and agreed to date him. He was a walking disaster either summoning incredibly good or bad luck. Many avoided him because of that, so even if there was a brief stint of chaos things soon settled down… Nagito was also kind. He’d quietly watch as you worked on your latest rpg maker game. He’d cook and clean for you letting you hold yourself in your dorm just working away…

·       As amazing as Nagito found you, at times he was worried. You always seemed to be somewhere else. Your eyes seemed unfocused, glazed over as if they were that of a porcelain doll’s. You’d never noticed when the school bells rang, and if it wasn’t for him texting you every morning you’d likely never get out of bed. But as the Super High School Level Storyteller you were likely just thinking about new plot lines or character arcs for your characters, maybe composing the perfect theme song or game mechanic. Yet… Something about you just kept nagging away at him. You’d get so frustrated with yourself at times, and he didn’t know why. There was something about you he just couldn’t quite place his finger on.

·       It was the dead of winter. Nagito watched as the snow drifted down, swirling around. A rather lovely sight. Pulling his coat just a bit closer he trotted over to your dorm room.

·       “The door’s unlocked?” It was open by only a crack… He simply stood there for a moment before hesitantly pushing the door open. Your room was just as cold as the outside so Nagito promptly closed the door upon entering, hoping to trap even his minuscule amount of body heat in the room. “Y/N?” It was absolutely silent, only his own heartbeat and his soft footfalls upon the carpet could he hear. Your room was an absolute mess. Trash, dirty dishes, reference sheets and notes scattered about, quilt and sheets seemingly tossed onto a pile of… something Nagito was too nervous to even take a peak at, clothes uniform and pajama alike in a corner and you, just laying atop the mattress, arms draped over your eyes, a few empty bags of snacks with you along with crumbs. “Y/N.” You didn’t respond… at all… were… were you even breath- Nagito immediately shook his head as if trying to shake away that thought and instead he looked at the floor, puzzling out a path to take that wouldn’t step on anything.

·       This wasn’t the first time Nagito had seen your room like this, but… it seemed worse than usual. Nagito couldn’t help but begin to fret as to why he even had come here in the first place. It was common for you to go off the grid for a few days, so completely absorbed in your work, or lost in though planning out a new tale to tell, but… it’d been two weeks without a singe sign of our existence anywhere, you didn’t even send a text telling your friends to not bother you since you were in the creative zone. There was just nothing.

·       “Y/N!” Placing his hands on your shoulders he rocked you. “Ugh, what do you want. I’m thinking right now.” Nagito shakily let go of the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “I’m sorry. I just thought I’d check in on you since it’s been a while.” “Okay.” Then you rolled over onto your side. “… Do you know how long it’s been?” “…” “It’s been two weeks si-” Finally it seemed he had garnered your attention. You looked over your shoulder to him. “two weeks?... that can’t be. I… yeah! I just texted you before getting to bed.” He opened his texts and presented the screen to you. You just stared at it before abruptly sitting up. “Two weeks!? But I… Damn it, not again!” You rubbed your temples, seemingly those two weeks hitting you all at once. You groaned, crumpling over yourself… Nagito simply sat beside you, holding you up, rubbing his hands up and down your upper arms to help get some blood moving and warm you up, you were freezing. “Again?” You flinched… then chuckled? “Yes, again. As always! I just can’t bother anymore! I’m tired, I want to sleep, but I can’t sleep. I sleep when I shouldn’t and am awake when I should be sleeping! I want to be passionate and do things but I just can’t! Isn’t that fantastic!? Being absolutely worthless and not being able to do anything!” “Y-Y/N!” “You say you’re garbage but look at me! I’m worse than garbage! At least trash can be made into art, and I… I’m just worthless! I can’t even take care of myself! I rely on you for everything! I can’t even work anymore! All I can do is just hate myself for not doing anything, try to do something, but give up because I’m too exhausted and hate myself again! Isn’t that just fun! An endless cycle of suffering! All I can do is daydream and pretend to be something better, but it’s funny torture, because I know I’ll never improve! Maybe I’d be better… better… fuck… I said too much…”

·       You wanted to hide, but even that was too much of a bother. Your whole body just felt so heavy, impossible to move. Even trying to keep your swirling, racing mind steady sent shivers through your body. You…

·       …

·       Everything was very white and sterile. You were… in a hospital? You were going to look around, but found an IV stuck into your arm, Mikan dashing away, saying something about a doctor, and Nagito, who was asleep, laying his head on the mattress you were on, holding your hand. Soon after Mikan and a doctor showed up to speak with you, shooing Nagito out temporarily. Your body couldn’t take how much strain you were putting on it with eating and drinking so little so when you started having a panic attack, it was too much for your body to take on so suddenly and you had collapsed. It had been a few days since then and you were now in a more stable condition… they were also rather keen on finding out why this happened.

·       You just wanted to talk to Nagito.

·       When he entered your room he looked so relieved, yet the concern etched into his features was evident. You hated it. So gently he hugged you, nuzzling into your shoulder. “… just stop.” “Stop what?” You felt his grip loosen, and before he could let you hugged his arm, keeping him in place. “Stop caring about me, please.” “I… don’t think I could ever do that, even if I want too.” You held him tighter, feeling the tears percolating in the corners of your eyes. “Nagito… I just keep getting worse and worse. Now with this… it just shows I can’t even keep my head above water. Please just ignore me, I don’t want to be a burden to you. I don’t want to worry you like this, I… I just…” You quickly wiped away those tears that kept trickling out. “I’m sorry…”

·       He hugged you tightly. “So warm.” “Huh?” For a moment he simply indulged in being able to hold you again, hear your voice even if it wavered. He was just so glad to see you awake. “It’s alright. You’re here, I’m here. You are amazing and can do anything. And I’ll do anything I can to help you. We can work together and try our best.” “No, I can’t, i… I’ve been dealing with this for so long. Nagito… I’m tired, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. It’s just going to get worse and worse and… I’m sorry. I… I should have told you about this, I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess, I shouldn’t be with you, I’m just going to hurt you. I…”

·       Slowly he let go and instead sat beside you. “Do you not want me anymore?” “…” You couldn’t bare to look at him, instead glancing to the wall, clutching the bed sheets. “You said we could work through this, right?” “Yeah.” “… I… I can’t deal with this… how I have no control over my body… how I can’t do anything to satisfaction… how I just can’t be happy anymore… That’s why I daydream. I don’t even do it intentionally anymore, it just happens… Heh, e-even now it’s taking everything I have left to be ‘here’ to even have this conversation or to talk with the doctor before… I… I don’t know how much longer I can force myself to concentrate before I just give out again. but… I can’t work through this, i-if I do, I’ll lose what little I have left, my talent and you. You… y-you adore people who are talented s-so even if I’m magically normal like everyone else, I… I won’t have to day dream, I won’t daydream, then I can’t make games anymore, my daydreaming is where I write so if I change and stop that I won’t be a story teller, I won’t be ‘hopeful’ or an ‘Ultimate’, you won’t love me, but… I… I see now that… I’m toxic like this, I’ll just drag you down with me I-I, I…” You pulled up the sheets, tucking your head under them… You didn’t want him to see you like this, though… seeing how not hopeful you were, how you were just falling deeper and deeper in this despair that has always suffocated you. Maybe he’d finally leave you, that way you’d have one less thing to mess up. All you would have was yourself. You wouldn’t hurt him anymore and he’d leave of his own accord and be happy without you, so he wouldn’t have to worry about his bad luck hurting you like it had done with others… but… what if he blamed himself for this. What if he thought it was his bad luck. Were you hurting him even more than you thought!? Was he blaming himself this whole time!? Is that why he was with you when you woke up, to apologize for his luck!? Were you-

·       …

·       What was that pressure?

·       Though your vision was still clouded you could see Nagito was still by your side, his hand placed atop your arm. He scooched over a little, getting closer to you before cupping your cheeks in his hands, stroking those tears from your puffy red eyes with his thumbs. “I’m a trash boyfriend. Y/N. I love you. Your talent is only a sign of how amazing you are. Look at Hinata, he’s amazing and he’s in the reserve course of all places! And you are like him, amazing. Even right now you’re fighting to be here with me despite how much it hurts. I will love you no matter what happens. If you want help, I’ll search for help with you. You can make it through this, I know you can. You were able to make it this far on your own, weren’t you? You did what you had too, and you’re still here, and… if you’ll still have me, if fearing your hurting me is not too much, I’ll still be here. So… do you want me to stay?”

·       It… was a long process. Due to why you ended up in the hospital you were sent to therapy. Despite Nagito’s constant assurances you were still so scared and distanced yourself again, just getting lost in thought. Going to the sessions took all the energy and focus you could muster and you’d end up daydreaming immediately after so Nagito would keep a vigilant eye on you, getting you back home, and making you a healthy meal, even staying with you through the night hoping the presents of another person would lull you to sleep.

·       It was difficult every step of the way, but everyday you both kept trying. It was all you could do, and… you had each other. On good days when your mind could be clear for a moment, when you were with Nagito and not in one of your many worlds… you’d make a vow to get better and better so that one day, you could support Nagito just as he had for you now. It was the least you could do for such an amazing person.

[voltagesmutter]

Safe Sex HeadCannon

“Safe sex is an act of self love.”

Suggestive topics ahead, all promoting safe sex with the 2D men of MLQC

Victor:

Only uses premium condom brands, buys ribbed because this man is all about your pleasure.

Supports your choice if you wish to want to take the contraceptive pill or have the injection, but will refuse to finish in you, always pulling out on to your thighs (Can not risk having little baby Victors without being married, whatever would the investors say).

Most sensible across all the others when it comes to protection, wants sex to be extremely pleasurable for you both however also safe. Will go down on you if your out of condoms (An extreme rarity), refuses to risk it, couldn’t bear to put you in a situation you was not prepared for (WOULD GLADLY BEAR VICTORS BABIES ANYDAY).

After a heavy petting session in his office, things getting getting heated quickly but ended in oral due to him having nothing on him (This man never actually thought he would get to fuck you in his office). Now keeps a big stash in his desk draw.

However, he loves you regardless and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks so if you get pregnant you have a truly wonderful man who will be there throughout your side through thick and thin.

Once married, you finally sit down and talk about the future together, deciding to wait for kids until Victor has someone trained to co-manage the company for him so he can dedicate all his time to you and your budding family. 

When you finally decide to try for kids, all protection is out the window. The first time you feel Victor raw as he finishes in you, it’s addictive to you both, unable to hold back from the sensation. He indulges in you everywhere he can, work, home, car, souvenir, your husband can not get enough of filling you. 

It’s not surprising your pregnant within 4 months of trying, the man’s cock is practically buried in you 24/7. 

Kiro:

This boy has one of the highest sex drives ever. 

Condoms literally scattered everywhere, he has to have you whenever you're alone, wherever that maybe. 

Best believe this boy has his own brand of condoms “Kiros ‘K’ondoms” available world wide. His face and cheeky wink plastered all over the box, sold out within minutes of release in shops. 

He loves sex with you and wants to use his status to promote sex safety and sexual consent as best he can. 

Kiro rigorously tested them on you, claiming it was ‘product testing’.

You consider the option of the injection to help ease the pain of your periods, especially since they have a timing to sync up to when Kiro is finally free for a few days. 

You face a issue once where a condom split, neither releasing until it was too late, however luckily Kiro thrusted at a missing angle spilling inside the broken rubbed against your clit. Panic rushes into both of you. The embarrassment as you have to speak to Savin about the situation as both of you are unsure what to do. Savin gets you the emergency pill for you to take, the world knows you as Kiro’s girlfriend therefore unable to go in and purchase it yourself, it would send social media into an online frenzy. 

Kiro cuddles you and supports your decision to take it, even though he didn’t come inside you, it was a risk you both weren't ready to take. He held you tight as you cried, heavily embarrassed over the situation, him apologising over and over until he could speak no more. You spend the next day with the worst stomach cramps but Kiro’s right next to you, bring endless supplies of snacks and video games for you to play. 

Kiro loves you deeply so regardless what happens, he’s there standing with you and supporting you through it all. 

Luckily, your safe this time, but it makes both of you realise the seriousness of safety and therefore invest in other contraceptive methods, educating you both after your little incident. 

Gavin:

Gavin gets so lost in the heat of the moment the first time you have sex he spills inside you, you extremely grateful you was on the pill. 

You take the opportunity to talk about your contraceptive methods, you with a latex allergy, it made sense for you to be on the pill or the injection. 

Gavin loves you purely, he wants the best option for you so books in with you to have consultations with the doctors, him attending (Only as long as it’s okay with you, which it is seeing how red he goes when you begin to talk about your sex life).

With the recommendations from medical professionals you opt for the injection, the coil and implant in your arm was a close second but both options frightened you and Gavin refused to put you in an uncomfortable situation.

Sex becomes much more intimate with Gavin since, him admiring your body each time, still unable to process that you picked him. That you love him. That you give your body to him, over and over again, letting him fill you with his seed.

When Gavin proposes, you talk about your future with children, both of you desperate to create a child together (Which would be the most loved child within the world). 5 months before the wedding you stop taking the injection due to it taking up to a year for your fertility levels to settle as soon as your married Gavin plans on spending every moment getting you pregnant. 

Girl please. This man got you pregnant on your wedding night. 

The raw emotions and passion between you both as neither of you expected to find out 3 months after your wedding that you were pregnant, a true cliche but the most perfect sign that you were made and meant for each other. 

Lucien:

A god of knowing your body. This man knew you like the back of his hand, tracking your cycles and ovulations as to calculate the risks of your intimacy. 

As a scientist, he knows the best contraceptive methods for you and wants to help you understand. He gives you in-depth talks about options before pointing out what is most suitable for you which you both decide is the mini-pill which stops your periods completely. This is due to the pain you experience on your period, cramps forcing you off work as you lie doubled over in bed after vomiting. It breaks Lucien's heart to see you in so much pain and suffering hence why he slightly pushes you towards the mini-pill.

He will never finish in you, not unless you're begging for him to do so (Which lets be honest you are almost every time)but he also likes to paint your thighs, lower stomach or breasts with his release. A marking claim of him on you.

He downloads an app for you to remind you to take your pill if he’s not with you, he knows how forgetful you can be at times! But the routine quickly falls into sync and throughout all your time together you’ve never missed a pill once!

You’d never spoken about children with Lucien, you presumed the conversation would come up after you was engaged and married however it came faster than you thought. You had been babysitting a close friend's newborn in your shared apartment with Lucien, his face focusing on the sheer glow of you as you cooed and tended to every need, the smile radiating off your face as you cuddled the newborn close to you. 

“Motherhood suits you,” He smiles as you watch the baby slip into a peaceful slumber in the cot in your living room. 

“I think it’s just a woman's motherly instinct,” You laugh back, unable to take your glowing eyes off the tiny bundle of joy. You don’t take your eyes off of her until you feel Lucien pulling you in his lap.

“I want to see you this happy everyday,” He hugs you close to him.

“I’m always happy with you Lucien,”.

“I think you could be happier,” His words making your heart race, was he about to break up with you?

“No-one can make me happier than you,”.

“I’m not so sure on that, I think a perfect balance of us could,” Your heart pounding, almost fluttering.

“Lucien, are you suggesting-” You start.

“Let's have a baby”. 

It wasn’t even a discussion, both of you wanting and giving into the idea. 

Lucien had a timeframe of your fertility mapped and printed out, refusing to do anything on your most fertile days, even making you phone in sick to work so he could try to impregnate you. 

It wasn’t easy and it didn’t happen overnight, months of endless trying until one day the pregnancy test changed from blank to two solid lines. 

Shaw:

Wdf is a condom?

Literally the definition of accidental or unplanned pregnancy.

Basically expects you to take care of contraception, what ever method you choose he is happy with as long as he finish inside your or over your thighs. 

Seriousness kicks in, deciding to become part of the contraception discussion, when you have a pregnancy scare after a missed period but it’s due to the change over of your contraceptive pill. However he loves you truly, through he’s too stubborn to admit it, will stick by your side whatever happens. 

Secretly loves the idea that one day you might carry his child and he can’t wait for that.

[trashyswitch]

How Does a Skeleton Work Exactly?

The Sequel to 'Can a Skeleton be Ticklish?'.

Arial had been tickled by some of the sides a couple weeks back, and was now playing a casual card game. But things quickly get competitive and unfair. Virgil eagerly decides to use his new knowledge on Arial and her love for tickling to tease her. Janus and Remus quickly join in and ticklish chaos breaks loose.

This sequel was suggested by @smileheart110. Here you go! And of course, please let me know if I got your character wrong or inaccurate. I will happily fix it for you.

I hope you enjoy!

Arial was sitting at the table with the dark sides and playing Spoons. Remus was being a bit of an evil cheater, and Arial was growing determined to catch him red-handed. Not literally though...That would be awkward…

“Look at how fast I’m going…So speedy...” Janus said with no expression. Arial looked over at Janus, and bursted out laughing: Janus was desperately trying to move a bunch of the cards over to Remus, while more cards piled up on top of the pile he was sorting through. It was an endless pile and you could tell, Janus was having none of it.

Arial was so close to getting all four Jacks in her hand. She was quickly shuffling through to find the last one. 5 heart, 10 spade, 7 spade, King diamond, Ace heart, 2 club-

Janus quickly grabbed a spoon first. Virgil, who immediately noticed him, grabbed a spoon next. Arial looked up, and grabbed the last spoon by the handle. But Remus had grabbed the end of the same spoon!

“No! It’s mine!” Remus yelled.

“I grabbed it first!” Arial shot back. “Let go!”

“Only if you let go~” Remus teased.

Virgil summoned himself some popcorn. “Let’s see how long this goes for.”

“12 seconds? Or 12 years?” Janus asked.

Virgil chuckled at that. “How about 5 minutes?”

“Remus you’re being ridiculous!” Arial yelled.

Janus wheezed. “And Arial’s not being ridiculous whatsoever.”

“Yeah Re- HEY!” Arial shouted. “How dare! Why don’t you fix this instead of making fun of us.”

Janus threw his hands up in the air. One of his hands had his own spoon in it. “Hey now...It’s not like I grabbed the spoon first and started this cycle or anything…”

“Yeah, you started it. So finish it.” Arial shot back at Janus.

“Fine.” Janus leaned back and took a handful of Virgil’s popcorn. Then, he started to obnoxiously chew.

Arial groaned. “You’re not doing anything!” She reacted.

Janus lifted up his hand full of popcorn. “Yes I am. I’m eating popcorn.” Janus replied, his mouth somewhat full.

Arial growled and kicked Janus’s foot under the table.

Virgil looked up and crossed his arms. “One of you could easily resolve this by letting go of the spoon. It’s just a game.” Virgil mentioned.

“Yeah! A game I’m determined to win!” Arial shot back.

Remus chuckled and smirked at her. “A little reminder that you’re only made of bone.” Remus mentioned as he poked her forearm. “I could easily break it.” Remus told her.

Arial widened her eyes. “You would’t...” She warned.

Virgil widened his eyes and frowned. “Remus, no.”

“Oooooh, but Remus yes!” Remus replied.

“If you so much as crack my arm, I am going to kick my bony toes right into your crotch.” Arial threatened.

Virgil and Janus both made pain-filled reactions. Virgil made a cringe-filled hiss, while Janus squished his face and muttered a low “Ooooooh...Yikes.”

Janus crossed his arms and cleared his throat. “Remus, breaking her arm would not benefit anyone. It’s an unnecessarily painful thing to intentionally do to someone, especially because of a card game. You would hurt her greatly, and she’ll hate you throughout the healing process.” Janus warned.

Remus shrugged his shoulders. “I guess you’re right.”

“On top of that, we would be down a player for the rest of the afternoon...and the rest of the month.” Janus added. “And we totally DeSpIsE when Arial is over for game night.” Janus mentioned.

Arial smiled and covered her face. “Awww!”

“Alright alright! I get it. No breaking her bone.” Remus said back. “I wasn’t actually gonna do it. It was just a threat. Just like how Arial threatened to turn my balls into smushed meatballs with her foot.” Remus added.

“Alright Remus we get it.” Virgil muttered.

Then, Virgil looked at Arial and smirked a little. “Breaking her bones is off the table. But you do bring up a good point, Janus…” Virgil stood up and walked behind Arial. “She does feel many things despite looking like she doesn’t have nerves.” Virgil added with a hint of evil mischief showing up in his voice.

Arial widened her eyes and grew worried. “Whaaat are you planning…” Arial warned.

“Nothing, I swear.” Virgil replied. “I’m just-”

“Liar! You’re gonna sabotage my victory!” Arial yelled.

Virgil shook his head and lifted her up by the armpits. “I’m just picking you up.”

Arial blinked and looked down a little, confused and tense. “Why are you-”

Arial suddenly squeaked and lifted her knees up to her chest. Virgil’s smirk grew wider. “What? A little ticklish?” He asked as he skittered his pinkies on her bony armpit. Arial laid her head against her left shoulder and started to grow a lopsided smile. “Vihihirge- NOHO!”

“Ooooh...What an unexpected turn of events…” Janus reacted softly.

“Whaaat? I’m just holding you, I swear.” Virgil reacted calmly.

“Nohoho yohohohou’re nahahat! Yohohohou’re tihihicklihihing mehehe with yohohour nihimble fihihihingehehers!” Arial reacted.

Virgil hummed in almost a hurt kind of tone, and looked at his pinky. “Are they really that nimble?” Virgil asked.

Arial nodded her head.

Remus laughed at that. “Have you seen your own fingers, sweet pea? You’ve got the most nimble fingers out of all of us!” Remus reacted as he grabbed Arial’s ring finger. “Just look at these! They have no meat on-”

Remus ended up pulling a bit too hard, causing Arial’s full finger to fall right off the joint. Arial widened her eyes as she saw only her ring finger’s knuckle left on her hand. “You pulled-”

Virgil let out a loud shout and dropped Arial onto the ground. He fled backwards as quickly as he could, and covered his mouth. “REMUS YOU IDIOT!”

Remus yelped and dropped the finger and the spoon. The moment her finger smacked on the ground, Arial grunted and closed an eye. “Ow…” Arial knelt down and picked up her finger and the spoon. “Guys it’s-”

“Why did you do that?! SHE CAN’T REATTACH THAT NOW!” Virgil shouted. “NOT WITHOUT A DOCTOR!”

Remus put his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know her nimble fingers were capable of falling off that easily!” Remus reacted back.

“She’s a skeleton. It’s not like she has muscles or skin on her fingers. If she did, her fingers wouldn’t pop off as easily from a light pull.” Janus added.

“You think I don’t know that?!” Remus yelled back at Janus.

“We need to call 911 now!” Virgil shouted as he whipped out his phone.

“GUYS!”

Everyone stopped yelling and turned to the source of the overpowering voice. Arial had her finger flipped up at them. But...it wasn’t the middle finger. It was the ring finger!

Wait...How did the ring finger get back onto her hand?!

Virgil was the first to point at the finger. “How-”

Arial smiled. “It’s okay. Removing the joint doesn’t hurt me.” Arial demonstrated by removing the finger from her knuckle again. It didn’t even make a pop sound like bone joints normally do when they separate slightly. Arial showed them every angle of her separated digit. “Not only that:” Arial curled her finger in as well, and uncurled it with no trouble despite it still being separated from her hand. “I can move it too. Weird, right?” Arial added.

Virgil was visibly tense upon seeing the digit move on its own like it was from a horror game. Virgil looked like he was actually gonna scream again, but quickly covered his own mouth with his hand.

Janus had calmed down and even started to smile. “Interesting. Logan totally wouldn’t experiment on you for hours if you told him.” Janus joked.

Arial chuckled at that and reattached the finger. “That’s not the only joint I can detach…” Arial gently pulled on her hand and watched with a smile as the hand and wrist bits detached from her lower forearm. Arial held up her hand and waved at them with her 4 fingers. “Cool, right?”

Remus was ecstatic! “Can I hold the hand?! Please please please please PRETTY PLEEEEAAAASE?” Remus begged.

Arial burst out laughing and handed her free hand to him. Remus felt the hand excitedly, and manipulated it carefully. Arial clenched her teeth slightly to prevent from giggling. His small pokes and prods tickled her a little.

She mentally let out a breath of relief when Remus moved onto creating symbols with her hand. “Look!” Remus started showing off the middle finger he had made from her hand with clear pride in his eyes. “It’s a boney fuck you!” Remus declared.

Janus let out a breath of relief. “I thought you were gonna say something else…”

Arial laughed at Remus’s joking around. But her laughter quickly halted as she felt herself get lifted up. It was Virgil! “Up we go, you little trickster.” Virgil declared.

Arial giggled and wrapped her arms around Virgil. “Am I really that humerus?” Arial asked.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and grew a grin. “Think you’re such a witty bone-fied genius?” Virgil asked.

“Tibia-honest, yes.” Arial replied.

“That’s it!” Virgil threw Arial onto the couch. Arial laughed at his unusual reaction as she landed on the soft cushions. But all her laughter paused the moment Virgil grabbed her ankle. “Since I know your joints can be harmlessly pulled off you, I can do this:'' Virgil removed Arial’s foot and ran away with it. Arial let out a super high-pitched shriek and reached out. “HEY! YOU MEANIE- OHOHO FAHAHAHAHA!” Arial immediately fell back laughing hysterically as her foot was attacked mercilessly.

“Nimble fingers, and flat feet! What a fun mix!” Virgil reacted. Then, Virgil pointed to Janus and Remus. “Any of you want the second foot? It’s free for the taking.” Virgil told them.

“IHIHIS NAHAHAT!” Arial yelled back.

“Are you sure? She might not want this.” Janus mentioned.

Virgil giggled at that. “Trust me: she loves being tickled.” Virgil told them.

Janus grinned widely upon that news. “Make that surprise número dos!” Janus said in part spanish.

“I CALL DIBS!” Remus shouted as he ran to her foot. “Mine!” Remus pulled on the foot and accidentally got her ankle as well! “Oops...Welp, more to tickle!” Remus declared.

“AAAH! WAIT-” Arial was immediately shut up by Remus’s weirdly soft skittering fingers. UHUHUNFAHAHAHAIR! AHAHAHAHAHA!” Arial shouted as she kicked her legs to cope with the strong tickles.

“Hey...Hey Remus...Is her ankle ticklish?” Janus asked.

Remus paused his tickling and decided to try it. “Let’s see…” Remus started gently skittering and scratching on the different sides of her ankle.

“EEEEEEHEHEHEhehehehehe! REEHEheheheheEHEHEHE NOHOhohoHOHOHohoho!” Arial begged.

“No, her ankles are totally not ticklish.” Janus replied. “Not ticklish at aaaaall…”

Remus smirked as he detached the ankle and handed it to Janus. “Here: Free tickle spot!” Remus said.

Janus smiled. “Wonderful. Her laughter is totally not the cutest thing in the world, and definitely not worth ending the game over.” Janus replied as he started tickling her ankle.

Arial rolled around all over the couch as she giggled and laughed. This was SO unfair! And yet...The best scenario to ever take place! It would be even CRAZIER if Fluffymary read this fanfic and drew fanart for it. If they did, Arial would surely die of the embarrassment from her lee mood.

The moment Virgil went up to scritch on Arial’s toes, she was done for. She shook her head around like a bobble head and let out her first snort!

Remus grew super excited at the sound. “SHE SNORTS!”

“Hmm...I sense there’s more to her anatomy than meets the eye.” Janus added.

“...Janus...You are currently tickling a girl with no visible Larynx or vocal cords, no visible tongue and no eyeballs…” Virgil mentioned.

Arial’s laughter only went up an octave after Virgil’s comment! The emo was completely right! The only thing she really lacked was a stomach!

Soon, the boys gave her a break. Arial went limp against the couch and breathed heavily to get her endurance leveled out. Janus handed Remus the skeleton’s separated ankle and watched Remus connect the ankle and foot together again. Then, Remus handed Arial her foot back.

“Tha…*huff* Thank you Re...Remus.” she replied.

Virgil handed her the other foot and gave her a glass of water with it as well. Arial drank some of the water, and looked up at Virgil and Remus. “Hey you two: look.” Arial separated her big toe from her right foot and dropped it into the water.

Virgil looked down awkwardly, quickly growing uncomfortable with the thought of soggy bone. Remus looked closer at the bone and noticed it was turning more yellow than white. “Why is it yellow-y white now?” Remus asked.

“Because it’s wet now. That’s what wet bone looks like. Because my bones are alive yet not engulfed in wet layers, my bones go more and more white from exposure.” Arial explained.

Remus hummed curiously and poked his finger between two of the ribs. “Am I able to-”

“OhoHOHOHOhohohokahahahay...Ihihi dihihid NOHOHOT expehect thahahat!” Arial admitted.

“Sorry Arial. I wanted to see if I could fit my fingers through your ribs.” Remus told her bluntly.

Arial chuckled with her eyebrow raised. They’re so weird. After a bit of thought, Arial lifted up her shirt and watched Remus bring his finger over to her rib spaces.

Remus started to put his fingers through the different rib spaces that were lower and more safe to touch. Remus discovered he could fit his pinky and ring finger through her ribs! But his thumb and index finger were too big for her rib spaces. All of it tickled enough to make her giggle through the whole thing.

Arial had to watch and feel every ticklish move Remus made with his hands and wiggly fingers. The anticipation was both anxiety-inducing, yet adrenaline-rising! She couldn’t figure out if she liked all the excitement, or didn’t like the unpredictability. Remus could strike at any given moment. Remus could easily change his mind and start full-blown tickling her in a surprise attack. But even his unintentional tickling was still tickling her.

Remus’s moving through her ribs would move quicker and turn more intense, before slowing back down. It was SOOO EEEVIL!

“OHOKAHAHAY! Thahahat’s ehehenohohough!” Arial decided, pulling her shirt down and giggling up a storm. “Nohoho mohohohore guihinea pihihig time.”

“Well that didn’t take long at all!” Remus reacted.

“Well how would you feel if you had fingers wiggling in between your sensitive ribs?” Virgil started skittering and digging his fingers into Remus’s ribs. He made sure to pay particular attention to the Duke’s rib spaces.

“aaAAAHAHAHAHAHA! VIHIHIRGILYOUFUCKING AHAHAHAHAHASS!” Remus shouted at him.

“Sorry Remus! I wanted to see if I could fit my fingers through your ribs!” Virgil teased as he continued to ‘attempt’ to fit his fingers through Remus’s muscle-covered ribs. “Oh wait! You have muscles and skin!” Virgil acted. “That means you’re eleven moooore ticklish!” Virgil started massaging Remus’s ribs and ab muscles next. Remus had a particularly tight core. For some people, this would make massaging it more painful. But for Remus, this made Remus more ticklish beyond belief!

Remus quickly flopped to the ground and landed smack dab onto his right shoulder and hip. Thankfully, it didn’t really hurt that much. Virgil knelt down, and just kept on skittering and massaging his fingers into the abs and lower ribs of the Duke of Stinkyton. Remus had completely lost his composure and was now laughing hysterically below the emo.

Oh my, how the tables have turned.

Arial happily watched the new tickle fight while sitting on the couch with her glass of water. She had started to finish her last gulp of water when something rock-like and hard, smacked into her nose hole.

Ow...What was that- Oh…

Arial picked it up and chuckled to herself as she held the soggy toe in her finger and thumb. With one last bit of toeless water, Arial put the cup down, dried her wet toe on her shirt and put the big toe back onto her foot. There. Now she’s all together again.

Let me rephrase that: She’s all TOE-gether again.

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {25}: A Newborn King

Previous: Happy Anniversary 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Parenthood AU

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing!

Summary: A new baby is born. 

           Shock and awe radiated throughout the small hospital room as the doctor informed you and Taehyung of the most important information of your lives thus far.

           “Your due date is around December 25th, give or take 5 days depending on conception,” Dr. Lee said.

           Dr. Lee had been your doctor for over a year now, guiding you through the end of your birth control and helping you prepare your body for pregnancy. She had recommended books, foods to try to boost fertility, and taught you how to track your cycle via apps and through measuring your body temp and keeping notes. She had seen you through until this moment, a few weeks after you discovered you were indeed pregnant, and would see you through until your child would need their own pediatrician. She saw you through as trying to get pregnant became a chore and was no longer fun, through the fears of infertility, through the miscarriage of your first, gone before they’d had a chance, no name, no heartbeat, just, gone. To this baby, your rainbow baby, your miracle as Taehyung called it, and she never wavered in her dedication to supporting you both.

           Which, a few months later when you went in for your 20-week ultrasound and she asked if you wanted to know the sex of your baby, she delivered the news delicately and with grace. All you wanted was a healthy baby, regardless of sex, regardless of gender presentation, all you wanted was a healthy baby.

           “Mr. & Mrs. Kim, you are having a boy,” Dr. Lee said smiling, teeth gleaming under the fluorescent lights. She gaged your reaction and couldn’t tell who was more excited, you or Tae. Tae was the first to cry, cry was kind, he sobbed. Openly, head finding its way to your neck where he burrowed himself, body shaking, snot unfortunately mixing with your perfume. You held him, knowing the significance of this moment.

          All Taehyung wanted was to be a father. Before you’d met, he’d spend some of his downtime imagining his future family, what his wife would look like, who his kids would take after, days spent playing and laughing, love overflowing. Then he met you, and everything fell into place. Before you’d married, you’d discussed when you wanted to have children, how many you wanted, and what it would mean for your careers. You’d settled on some rough numbers, knowing full well your decisions could change. Upon your first anniversary, you revisited the timeline, were you ready now? The answer was no, on both of your parts, and you put off discussing it for two more years, until baby fever hit. Everyone was having kids, or so it seemed. The primal desire to procreate became deafening and you sat at your kitchen table, staring at one another, deciding you were ready. Being ready didn’t prepare you for the eighteen months of trying, the miscarriage, the reality that this maybe wasn’t in the cards for you, the doctors visits, the books read, the articles shared.

          But it led you here, to a hospital room, as the hours of Christmas Eve bled into Christmas day, epidural in, dilating slowly, Taehyung frantically calling everyone.

          “Tae, please, just text them,” Your voice was calm, after all, you couldn’t feel anything past your hips.

          “It’s too important to call!” He says, frantically moving to the next person.

          “Who are you calling?”

          “I called our parents, yours multiple times,” Taehyung takes his baseball cap off, a gift from your father, and runs a hand through his black locks before putting it back on, bill resting on the back of his head.

          “They live in the states, they’re asleep,” You remind him.

          “I know, took several tries. Then I called your sister, my siblings, Bang, management, Namjoon, Jimin,”

          “You only called Namjoon and Jimin?” You inquire.

          “Namjoon will tell everyone else, Jimin’s my-

          “Soulmate,” You finish, eyes rolling.

          “You’re my soulmate,” Taehyung says, taking your hand in his, twirling your wedding band.

          “Then why does Jimin have a song saying the opposite? A song that you’re on?” You tease.

          “That was before we met,” He reassures.

          “You only get one soulmate, Kim Taehyung,”

          “Mine’s you,” He says, finally setting his phone down to stand next to your hospital bed, a kiss placed on your forehead. “We’re going to be parents soon,”

          “I feel bad for the kid,” You say.

          “Why?”

          “A Christmas birthday! That’s terrible!”

          “How so?”

          “You don’t get double presents on a Christmas birthday, you get the same amount,”

          “He can have as many presents as he wants,”

          “So, we’re going to spoil him?”

          “You know what I mean,” Taehyung smiles, if raising Yeontan taught anyone anything, it was that Taehyung was going to be a firm and loving father. Yeontan was trained well, listened to directions and followed through. You hope Tete would apply the same love and care to your child, though hope is the wrong word. You know he will.

          It was another area you had to prepare for, the insecurity of parenthood. Taehyung had broken down numerous times, to you, to his father, asking for any advice, any guidance on how Tae could be such an incredible father, like his was. Books did little to comfort him, nor talking to Namjoon or Seokjin. They’d try to tell him he already had it in him, he could do it, but he didn’t believe it. His existential crisis had bled into every stage of your pregnancy, each month brought new concerns, new fears of unworthiness, wondering what he brought to the table. He was just a boy from Daegu. What could he give?

          “I do,” You shift, suddenly uncomfortable as the monitor makes a sound it hasn’t made in your six hours at the hospital. You glance at Taehyung, who noticed the change before glancing at the door as your nurse comes in.

          “Let’s check on baby,” She says evenly. You can tell something might be wrong, but she isn’t giving much away. “Well, you are fully dilated, baby seems to be in a bit of distress. I am going to get Dr. Lee and she will walk you through what’s to happen next, okay?”

          Before you or Taehyung can respond, she’s out the door.

          “Is he going to be okay?” Taehyung whispers, eyes brimming with tears.

          “Please, don’t cry,” You respond. “I can’t do this if you’re crying,”

          “Okay, okay,” He says, turning his back to you. You catch his reflection in the mirror and watch him mutter a few words to himself, trying to pull himself back together.

          Dr. Lee walks into your room in a state far less calm than the nurse.

          “Mr. & Mrs. Kim, it seems that your son has decided he’s tired of waiting!” She pulls the stool closer to you as the nurse places your legs in the stirrups. “Let’s give him a little check.”

          You feel the pressure of her hand between your legs, checking how far dilated you are. She’s standing, gloves coming off as she presses her hands on your belly, trying to determine the position of your son.

          “You are ten centimeters,” She says stepping back, “And he is breach, he wasn’t breach when we checked on him earlier, but in the past ten hours, he’s moved. He seems to be in distress, which could be because he has turned himself around, or because he’s wrapped his umbilical cord around himself, either way, we need to deliver now.”

          “Do I need a c-section?” You ask, eyes wide, mind racing.

          “We’re going to try and deliver him vaginally, but if he is getting worse through the pushing, we will need to take you into surgery,” Dr. Lee moves to speak with the nurse, and Taehyung sheds his sweatshirt.

          “Do you want me to sit behind you?” He asks, knowing this is your favorite position from your birthing class.

          “Please, can you, can you play the tape from Hypno-Birthing?” You ask. In preparing for labor, you’d dedicated part of your studies to hypno-birthing, a way to manage your breathing and walk your body through the process of labor. It was extremely popular, and as Taehyung crawled behind you, he began walking you through your breathing exercises and mantras.

          “My body was designed to do this. I am ready to give birth. My body and my baby set the pace. My partner and I are a team,” You repeat as you inhale and exhale, Taehyung behind you, whispering the words in your ear.

          “Your body was designed to do this. You are ready to give birth. You body and our baby set the pace. We are a team,” He repeats over and over as Dr. Lee and her team guide you through changing positions, adjusting the height of your legs, and instructing you when to push.

          Taehyung keeps repeating your mantras, keeps encouraging you, keeps breathing with you as you undergo the most transformative moment of your lives.

          Taehyung hadn’t grown up wealthy, or well off. He didn’t have lush presents, or dreams of being anything other than what he saw around him. He could be a farmer, he would be a farmer, in the furthest reaches of his mind, a saxophonist. When he accompanied his friend to that audition… He didn’t know what would be possible for him, him, the son of farmers, raised by his grandmother. When he was the last to join BTS, he didn’t come baring gifts of gold, or endless confidence or talent. He came meek and mild, willing to give himself to the group, fully, wholeheartedly, without question. He came untainted with the pressures of the world, wide eyed, boxy smile, he had no gifts to give but himself.

          ARMY said that Taehyung was born on the penultimate day of 1995 so that Jiminie wouldn’t be alone, but as he held his son, his first born, his beloved, and as his son molded in his arms, finger wrapped around his, Taehyung knew he was born that day so his son would never be alone. 

Next: Anticipating 

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 22: The Other Side

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Word count: 1028

Very sorry for the super late update! There should be another on Friday as well :)

Some of their new employees heard Rachel scream from the elevator and came to help the villainous doctors move her through the closet panel and downstairs into the workspace. She was still conscious, if a little delirious.

They stood back as the thugs laid her on a protrusion of concrete as she struggled to take in her surroundings before Scarecrow addressed her.

"Who knows you're here?" he demanded. The brunette woman shook her head, her distress visibly growing when the masked man spoke. Unfortunately for her, Scarecrow wasn't as patient as Jonathan. "Who knows?" he boomed again, which caused Rachel to scream in fear.

As she did, one of the dingy lightbulbs above them shattered, drawing everyone's attention upward. Scarecrow reached up incredulously to remove the mask as he searched the vaulted ceiling and raked his hand through his hair. El, knowing immediately what must have happened, reached for his hand, forgetting that Jonathan wasn't currently in control, and was pleasantly surprised when Scarecrow's fingers closed around hers anyway.

"He's here," he said in a hushed but enthralled tone.

"Who?" asked one of the thugs, a little slow on the uptake.

"The Batman," Scarecrow replied eerily, clearly loving how unsettled his goons were, and squeezed El's hand in delight as he tried to catch sight of the caped crusader.

"What do we do?" Asked the thug closest to the pair. After a moment's thought, Scarecrow released Elianna's hand and shoved her toward the man.

"What anyone does when a prowler comes around." She couldn't see his face anymore, but she could hear the smile on his face. "Get our lady out of here, quickly. And call the police." His head snapped to look at the goon next to El. "If we find that she's been mistreated in any way, Jonny and I won't be very happy." He warned, his voice angry again.

"No problem, boss, but you want cops here?" Scarecrow had already gone back to looking for the Bat.

"At this point, they can't stop us. But the Batman has a talent for disruption." The glee in his voice at the prospect of facing the dark knight again didn't match the sentence. "Force him outside; the police will take him down. Go."

El was still stuck on the order to take her away. "Wait, Scare-" she was cut off by the thug's hand on her shoulder, beginning to pull her away.

"Come on; we have to go. You two," he pointed at two other men standing by, "with us, let's get her out of here."

"Wait, I can help!" She wasn't sure how, but she wanted to try. "Scarecrow!" She struggled against the man pulling her away. Scarecrow turned those piercing blue eyes on her, and for a moment, she thought that he might change his mind. Instead, he just winked at her and let the men pull her away and up the stairs.

Once she was out of the workroom, Scarecrow turned his gaze back to the ceiling, growing irritated with his men's endless questions. How had Falcone dealt with this?

"What about her?" The one closest to him asked, nodding toward Rachel, who was still too far under the influence of the toxin to do anything to help herself.

"Oh, she hasn't got long," he turned his attention to the incapacitated woman, drinking in the sight of finally getting her to stop fucking talking after all the trouble she had caused. "I gave her a concentrated dose. The mind can only take so much."

"Is it true what they say about him? Can he really fly?"

"I heard he can disappear!" The men's clamoring was incredibly amusing. He had lit the vigilante on fire and sent him careening out of a window; the Batman was just a man. Still, Scarecrow couldn't pass up the chance to foster fear.

"Well, we'll find out, won't we?" He replied ominously, thoroughly enjoying the reaction that his words received.

It seemed that the Batman enjoyed striking fear as well, as he was sure to mark his movements by a series of conspicuous bangs and clanks around the room, each one almost impossibly far away from its precursor.

Suddenly, he came into view directly behind one of the thugs and incapacitated him quickly, swooping him away into the blackness of one of the upper levels. Scarecrow watched from a hastily found hiding spot as the caped crusader made short work of what men he had left.

He wasn't expecting, however, for Batman to discover him so quickly, and before he knew it, he felt Jonathan's body being wrenched to his feet and his burlap face being ripped off. He meant to gas the man again but found his arm with the rig held tightly in a one-handed armored grip, while the other hand grabbed his hair and forced his head back.

Ah, fuck.

Yeah, you think? At least El isn't here to see us like this.

Scarecrow barely registered Batman speaking to him in a gravelly voice, something about a 'taste of his own medicine,' and braced himself against the fear gas.

It was no use. The stream hit him directly in the face and forced its way into his mouth and nose. It began working immediately to Jonathan's credit, but while the doctor had built up his resistance, Scarecrow had never had the opportunity and surprised even himself by succumbing so quickly.

Through Batman's interrogation, Scarecrow became dimly aware of Jonathan practically screaming at him to stop answering. As Scarecrow became more aware through his haze, he felt his mind unraveling even more, and irony in the situation. His obsession and Jonathan's pet project used against them successfully, but far too late. The compound had been cycled through the city's water mains for weeks; Ra's Al Gul was on his way to Gotham as the city's self-appointed savior spoke.

What a waste of time.

Suddenly, they were thrown against a wall and hit the floor hard, a splitting pain streaking through their head.

I don't think we're doing so good, Jonny.

Understatement. Can we move?

I'm trying!

Well. I guess we'll be seeing Arkham from the other side then.

[its-always-sunny-in-forks]

Birch—the first of the Celtic tree symbols—for the first moon cycle in the Ogham Tree Calendar, known by celts as Beith. A symbol of new beginnings, hope, new dawns, and the promise of what’s to come. . . 

Bella // Leah new moon era extended fic series. Instead of calling Billy, Charlie calls Harry about his Bella's depression over Edward leaving. Charlie knows that Leah went through something similar with Sam and hopes that the two girls can help heal each other. (insp). (read along playlist).

Hell’s Frozen Over

She’s dead. Charlie's heart bottomed out in his stomach as he saw Sam emerge from the woods behind his house, carrying a despondent Bella in his arms. The night’s fog cleared to make way for his footsteps up Charlie’s lawn, curling back in spirals as if it too knew to fear what was in his arms. She looked so impossibly small and vulnerable there. Charlie had seen enough crime scenes, even in the quiet town of Forks, Washington, to know how this ended. His daughter, barely 18, found dead in the woods. He jogged to meet them, holding his breath. He needed to feel her pulse, see her eyes flutter, anything but the lifeless corpse she was now.

“Bella!” He hoped she would respond to her name, to her father. He clutched her face in his hands for a moment, “Bella, honey, are you alright?”

“Charlie?” His heart bottomed out to his heels in relief. She was alive. He brushed a leaf or two away from her face. She was alive . . . but she didn’t look it. Her face was the palest he’d ever seen it. Her eyes were so hollow he got lost trying to find their life. She was shaking at a violent pace, vibrating in Sam’s arms. It gutted him.

“I’m right here baby.” Charlie had to choke back his emotions, his daughter needed him. He gestured to Sam to transfer her to his arms and he obliged. Charlie faltered for a brief moment, the last time he held her she was only a child, and then began a determined march toward his house. Anger fueled him with ferocious energy. Whoever had done this to his baby girl wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

“He’s gone,” a faint whisper through chattered teeth. Charlie looked down at his shell of a daughter as her fist clutched the front of his chief's jacket. He had a good idea which he she was referring to.

“We’re almost home now, honey.” He had no idea if his words or his voice were reaching her, her expression remained unchanged. Sam had opened the front door for them and Charlie carried her to the couch to lay her down, ignoring her feeble protests. He stopped at the hallway pantry to retrieve two quilts and piled them on top of her after removing her soaked jacket. He couldn’t bare to look at her like that. She hadn’t closed her eyes again but they might as well have been; they bored into the wall, not seeing anything. Her fingers clutched the quilt tentatively, as if her whole body might break into a million pieces if she exert too much force.

He turned to Sam who had followed them in, trying to scrub the image of his broken daughter from his brain, and cleared his thick throat. “Thank you, Sam.” His voice burned with sincerity as he clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Let’s send everyone home,” they both headed out the door. Charlie turned one more time and wished he hadn’t. Bella hadn’t moved, but it seemed with each passing minute her face got paler and the consciousness behind her eyes dimmed just a bit more. He shut the door behind him but the image was one he would not be able to shake for a long time.

 Outside, half the town and then some had gathered. Anyone out searching for Bella had gotten word of her return and was now gathered in a small crowd in his driveway. The rain ricocheted off hoods of jackets as they all looked to him, anxious for word of his daughter’s wellbeing. He was suddenly choked up with emotion for this small and lovely town he had lived in and protected for most of his life. Everyone in front of him was there out of genuine care and concern for him and his family. He braced himself with resolve and cleared his throat once more.

“Bella is alright. I can’t thank all of you enough for what you did for me and my family here tonight.” Charlie realized he couldn’t say much more than that, Bella’s condition was still in question. He glanced at the crowd as Sam took his place next to Harry Clearwater and the La Push group. With a nod from Sam, most of them rolled out. A few Forks locals followed suit, thinning out the caravan of cars parked in front of his house. Many stayed to speak with him personally, offering their help and support. He tried as best he could to keep his face on right, but he felt a headache brew as he scrunched his brow to keep his eyes dry.

He stood in front of Harry Clearwater, the last of the search party remaining and one of his closest friends. If it hadn’t been for Harry putting out the call and bringing the La Push boys up, they might not have found Bella tonight. Charlie shuddered thinking about what could have happened were that the case, remembering all the calls he’d gotten over the summer about animal sightings in the woods. Harry took his hand and pulled him in for a gruff hug. “She's going to be okay, Charlie.” Harry pat him on the back and let him go. Charlie thanked him once more before trooping up the wet porch steps to face what was left of his daughter. He hunched his shoulders against the memories of where he’d last seen a face like hers—staring back at him in the mirror all those years ago.

 Inside, the doctor was finishing his once-over of Bella who sat passively on the couch, unchanging except in position. Charlie winced before screwing up his face in the best smile he could manage as he cautiously lowered his weight on the couch next to her, scared if he disturbed her that she'd crumble to pieces. He placed a hand gently on her back before turning expectantly to the doctor.

“She's not hurt.” He heard what the doctor meant in his eyes. She’s not hurt, physically. He rose and followed the doctor to the entryway.

“Charlie, I haven’t seen a case of shock this bad in…well I haven’t. I have to be honest, I think you’re in for a long couple of days here.” He adjusted the prescription pad under his arm. “I’m writing her a prescription just in case. You don’t have to fill it, but if you find she needs it…it’s here.” He handed Charlie the folded slip. He took it, feeling numb.

“Is it true? Did they leave?” Charlie had heard the rumors churning from the crowd outside. The doctor grimaced.

“Dr. Cullen asked us not to say anything. The offer was very sudden; they had to chose immediately. Carlisle didn’t want to make a production out of leaving.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” Charlie spat the words, feeling his fists clench at his sides. He reminded himself that Dr. Gerandy was only the messenger and took a deep breath through his nose. The doctor gave him a sympathetic look.

“Yes, well, in this situation, some warning might have been called for.” He looked back toward the living room remorsefully. Charlie did not follow his stare, he didn’t want to see what he knew would be there.

One more thank you to punctuate the endless night from hell and his house and driveway were finally empty. There was nothing left out there but black rain, pounding against the windows as if to get to Bella, knowing she needed something to drown in. He started back toward the living room, not wanting to think about who else was empty. He passed by Bella, happy to see at least that her eyes were closed. Her breathing seemed even, she appeared to be asleep and for that he was glad. He knew from experience, even though he would never verbalize the vulnerability, that the pain dulled in sleep. He brushed her drying hair from her forehead. In sleep, her face almost looked normal. Almost. He could see a line where her brow furrowed, even in her sleep. He traipsed toward the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing the familiar number.

“Hey, Billy, it’s Charlie—sorry I’m calling so—" he looked down at his watch and blinked incredulously, “—early.”

“Not at all Charlie, is Bella alright?” His voice was strained with worry. Billy loved Bella in many ways like his own daughters.

“No, she’s fine. She’s sleeping—”

“I’m so glad she’s okay Charlie, we were all so worried. You’ll let us know if you need anything okay?”

“Thanks, but that’s not why I called.” Charlie sighed. It seemed like ten years ago but it was only early evening, when the search was just beginning, that Mrs. Stanley had called him. That’s when he first heard the news. “I got a call from Mrs. Stanley, and she says that from her second-story window she can see fires out on the sea cliffs, but I didn’t really…” He didn’t really have time to do his job this evening. Nor the mental capacity. Charlie was a broken man all afternoon, not knowing if Bella was alive or dead. Some fires out in La Push were the least of his worries.

Billy chuckled, “Ah, that was our boys. They got a little over excited over the news. Cullens are gone. They’re celebrating.” His inflection grouped himself in with ‘the boys'. Charlie bristled. How could his friend be so cavalier about the loss of the best doctor in town, and the loss of his daughter’s sanity, apparently.

“Oh,” Charlie hadn’t gotten a hold of his knee-jerk anger yet, his irritation slipped into his voice. “And why are they doing that?”

“Oh, you know teenage kids. They’ll use any excuse to start a fire.” His voice let on there was more he wasn’t telling.

“Uhuh,” Charlie waited for Billy to say what he wasn’t saying.

“You know the Cullens aren’t much liked here.”

“Really?” Charlie made no illusion to hide the sarcasm in his voice now. Billy backtracked and sputtered out an apology on the boys' behalf but Charlie cut him off. He wasn’t in the mood for his friend’s patronizing act tonight. “Well don’t apologize to me, I’m surprised they got them lit at all in this weather.” They hemmed and hawed for another minute, Charlie thanked him again and hung up. He dredged back into the living room, grumbling only slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded wrong—hollow. Nevertheless, she was saying something. He rushed to her side.

“I’m sorry I woke you, honey.” He crouched down next to her head.

“Is something burning?” Her nose scrunched up in confusion.

“It’s nothing. Just some bonfires out on the cliffs.” He clenched his fist again. That anyone could be glad the Cullens were gone was a mystery to him.

“Bonfires?” Her voice waned in curiosity, he almost couldn’t bare this more than her not speaking at all.

“Some of the kids from the reservation being rowdy.” He frowned.

“Why?”

He looked to the floor, delaying his answer. “They’re celebrating the news.” His voice betrayed his anger. He saw the pieces connect in her head, she winced as she did.

“Because the Cullens left,” her voice was barely a whisper now. “They don’t like the Cullens in La Push—I’d forgotten about that.”

His anger flashed behind his eyes. “It’s ridiculous,” although it was only an hour before that he had sworn death on at least one of the Cullens. He looked at her, her hand clutching at her chest, eyes vacant. He did this to her.

“Bella?” He did his best to control his tone of voice. She reluctantly met his gaze. “He left you alone in the woods?”

Pain flashed in her eyes for a brief moment. “How did you know where to find me?” She asked incredulously, sitting up. She was seeming more alert by the minute, though the light wasn’t returning to her eyes.

Charlie reached into his pocket, “Your note.” He unfolded it, the paper creased where he held it in his clenched fist, checking it every five minutes to make sure it was still there. Charlie had found the note on the kitchen table when he got home from work that evening. He didn’t think too much of it at first. But after an hour, his every thought revolved around that one sentence note.

“When you didn’t come back, I called the Cullens, and no one answered,” his voice was gruff, getting lost in his remembered panic. “Then I called the hospital, and Dr. Gerandy told me that Carlisle was gone.” He didn’t add on that he sent a cruiser to the Cullens' place to make sure.

“Where did they go?”

“Didn't Edward tell you?” Her eyes flashed in pain again before she could conceal it. His burned with rage. The boy left his daughter in the woods, broke her completely, without even telling her where or why they were going.

“Carlisle took a job with a big hospital in Los Angeles. I guess they threw a lot of money at him.” He frowned. Dr. Cullen didn’t seem the type to be in it for the money. He gritted his teeth and refocused. “I want to know if Edward left you alone out there in the middle of the woods.” He practically spat the name.

She winced, shaking her head. “It was my fault. He left me right on the trail, in sight of the house… but I tried to follow him.”

His anger burned but he kept an even tone. “I’m sorry he did that to you—” before he could get the words out, she was shaking her head again, with her hands over her ears.

“I can’t talk about this anymore, Dad. I want to go to my room.”

He reached out to her, trying to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she scrambled off the couch and upstairs in a rush. With a sigh, he rose and lurched to the kitchen phone again, calling out of work—it was nearly the time he’d be heading out the door. His feet were heavy on the stairs, and he barely kicked his shoes off before falling into bed.

The heavy stress-induced slumber would be the only undisturbed sleep he got for a long time beyond that.

[romansrgn]

ch. 7

“What happened to you claiming my trainer as your baby daddy?”

Braelin rolled her eyes. “Stop with the pettiness. It's not cute.” she attempted to pick up the trash bag, but Roman took it out of her hands. “I know how you felt about the idea and didn’t think it would be fair to you.”

Roman nodded once again, surprised at how much impending motherhood has managed to mature Braelin. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“There’s no need to thank me. These are your babies, as well as mine. But I also need you to understand that I like Dante, and I want to see where this goes with him, which also means that he will be in our children’s lives whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t, and there’s a good chance I never will because you are supposed to be with me. In my home and my bed.”

Braelin was tired of the caveman attitude that he seemed to put on every time a man enters into her life friend or otherwise. “Too fucking bad. We’re not together anymore. Do I need to remind you why that is? We made a mistake--”

“Our kids are not a mistake.”

“You’re right—they're not. But the truth of the matter is, what we did and the circumstances behind it certainly were. We don’t work. We get caught up with our history and fall back into old patterns that end up hurting the people that matter to us. I can't and won't hurt Dante in the same way you hurt me.”

Roman knew that any relationship they could potentially have with each other was shot to hell after she abruptly ended things once Janelle came back into his. But, as infuriating as they were, they had something people might wait a lifetime to find. “Will, you ever forgive me for that?”

Braelin smiled sadly “I want to. Despite me letting you back into my bed, I can’t risk letting you back into my heart.”

Ouch.

Roman nodded despite how much it stung; he appreciated her honesty, “I deserve that and for what it's worth, I am sorry.” 

“I know.”

Braelin gasped a little, placing her hand on her stomach.

“What?”

“I think they’re trying to say Hi.” she nodded towards her stomach 

Roman placed his massive paw over her baby bump “I don’t feel anything.”

“Just wait.”

After a few seconds, that’s when he felt it. For the first time, he was able to feel his babies kick “That’s amazing.” He said, looking up at a Braelin with so much awe.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Braelin and Roman jumped apart. “No, that’s ok. Roman just wanted to feel the baby kick.”

Janelle looked in between them both. “Yea, I know how exciting that could be. I mean, I don’t know, but you know what I mean.”

Braelin fidgeted a little, suddenly feeling even more uncontrollable by the second “Yea, and I know what you mean. Look, I probably should say goodbye to everyone before they head out.”

“Before you leave Braelin, I wanted to talk to you both.”

Roman stood up a little straighter before looking at Braelin. “About what?”

“I know things are awkward because of our history. Roman and I were college sweethearts that found each other again when you two were together, and because of it, you guys broke up.”

Braelin smiled tightly, “Right.”

Roman ran a hand over his face “Janelle, maybe now isn’t the —”

“I’m not trying to shake the table or anything I’m not. I just want us to be honest. Like,  honestly, when Roman confessed that he cheated on me, I instantly thought it might’ve been with you, but then I checked myself because deep down inside I know what you two had wasn’t worth risking everything you have now for something so meaningless like a one night stand. I mean, you said it yourself, Roman, it had to be with some bitch that meant nothing to you. They were nobody.”

Braelin snorted before taking the trash bag out of Roman’s hands. “I’m sorry about what happened between you guys, and you’re right, our history is complicated, and that’s exactly why I’m trying to move on in the same way he did. Now, if you excuse me, I need to say goodbye to my guest. Feel free to take home some to-go plates before you see yourselves out.”

Roman waited until Braelin left before speaking to Janelle, “Was that necessary.”

Janelle shrugged, “I don’t see why it wasn’t. We never cleared the air after everything that happened despite constantly being in each other's faces, for I don’t know how many years.”

“You wanted to rub our relationship in her face, and for what?”

“To remind her that even though she’s carrying your children, I’m your wife, and that fact will always remain.”

Roman’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t think I would put two and two together. Give me a little more credit than that.”

“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

Janelle laughed bitterly, “I’m not surprised. I mean, how do you tell your wife that you got your ex-girlfriend pregnant? It can't be easy, and despite how much I wish you didn’t because it would make it helluva lot easier to leave your cheating ass, I know you still love me. But I also get the feeling you’re not completely over Braelin.”

“I do love you, and you’re right. I love her too.”

Janelle shook her head, wishing like hell she was wrong about him still being in love with his ex. “Does it get exhausting? Jumping from one bed to another? Do you think we deserve that?”

Roman swallowed. He was so caught up with his feelings for both women and their reaction to him that he never really took the time out to see what his indecisiveness was doing to them emotionally. “I was selfish and careless, and because of that, I hurt two of the most important women in my life, and for that, I’m sorry. You and Braelin will never know how sorry I am. So no, I don’t think my wife or the mother of children deserve that, but it’s the endless cycle that we managed to find ourselves in.”

“Ourselves? This isn't our situation, Roman. You cheated on me with your ex-girlfriend and got her pregnant. You did this, and now I have to sit back and watch you two share this connection that you refuse to have with me.”

“I never said I didn’t want kids with you. I just can’t think about that right now.”

Janelle laughed, “Right because your plate is already full with the little side family you manage to have on me.”

Roman knew nothing he could say would make this situation better for anyone. He fucked up and fucked around on his wife, and now these are the cards he has to deal with. So this only left him with one option: “You're right. This isn’t fair to you or Braelin, and that’s why I’m going to give you both the space you deserve.” He said before walking out of the house and past Braelin, who was watching the entire exchange.

November 30, 2011

“Friend of the birthday girl?”

Braelin laughed, “Yes, and no. She’s my cousin.”

Roman nodded, “The smile kind of gave it away.”

Braelin’s cheeks flushed, “and you must be related to the twins?”

“You see the family resemblance?”

Braelin rolled her eyes, “Not really. All of yall are major flirts.”

Roman grinned. “Can you blame us?”

Braelin shrugged, “I guess not. Want a beer?”

“Aren’t you a little young for that?”

“Boy, please. I’m twenty-one years old as of September 5th and have been drinking way longer than that. Either get on the bandwagon or move to the side.”

Roman threw his head back and laughed, “All that feistiness in that tiny package.”

Braelin popped a hand on her hip. “Don't let the small package fool you. I’m tough as hell.”

“I believe you. Now can I get my beer, please?”

Braelin laughed and tossed the beer to him “How long have you known Naomi?”

“Since she and Jimmy started dating in FCW.”

“You’re a wrestler! That makes so much sense.” She said, taking a sip of her beard, “How long have you been training?”

Roman shrugged, “I’ve been training for a while. NXT is good and all, but I’m ready for the main roster.”

Braelin nodded, “You have to appreciate a man who knows what he wants, but you know what they say practice makes perfect.”

Roman shook his head ”You believe that?”

“If I didn't, I wouldn't be in college, collecting this much debt to become a doctor.”

Roman had to admit he was a little thrown by her choice of profession. A girl like her would usually aim for a career as an entrepreneur or a model. Maybe a model was a stretch considering she barely stood 5’4 despite having the looks for it. “A doctor? Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Yea, you probably thought I would sell clothes on a website or something.” Braelin rolled her eyes when she noticed how guilty Roman looked. “As much as I can’t knock the hustle, that’s not for me.”

“Then tell me, pretty girl. What kind of doctor do you want to be?”

Braelin shrugged, looking at her hands a little, “I dunno. I’m still deciding.” 

Roman raised a brow before taking a sip of his beer. “Really? Usually, when someone commits to a career like this, they have a plan. Being a doctor  takes years of dedication and—“

“I know what it entails, thank you.”

Roman knew he had hit nerve, but for whatever reason, he felt she was holding back, so he decided to push her “Oh yeah? It seems to me you don’t know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be hellbent on committing to something you had no intention of seeing through to the end. Why waste your time on something you don't care about when you can have something you actually want?”

Braelin blinked, not realizing she was that easy to read. “My mom wants me to become a doctor.”

He knew there was an ulterior motive behind her career choice “Ok, that’s fine, but what do you want.”

Braelin has been watching Naomi train for the last three years, and she couldn’t lie and say her interest hasn't peaked. So in her downtime, she’s been watching old wrestling footage in an attempt to train herself because she couldn't sign up for wrestling school without her parents finding out, “I want to wrestle.” She whispered, not making eye contact.

Braelin was ready to hear the laugh that followed by her admission. But when she looked up, she saw him staring at her intently.

“Ok, well, if you want to wrestle so badly, then I’ll help you get into wrestling school, and if you’re not ready for that, then I’ll train you myself.”

“You barely know me, and you’re offering to train me?”

Roman finished the last of his beer before tossing the bottle in the trash. “I’m a good judge of character, and something’s telling me you’re worth the investment.”

Braelin’s cheeks flushed suddenly, wishing she didn’t have a boyfriend.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Dante asked from his side of the bed. He noticed that she’s been on edge since everyone left after the cleanup.

Braelin bit down on the corner of her lip, not sure if she opened up this can of worms out of fear of losing him, but she knew it wouldn’t be fair to Dante if he went into this blindly “Janelle knows about everything.”

Dante blinked. “That explains why she’s been shooting daggers at you all night. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. I’m relieved because this terrible secret doesn’t have to be held over my head forever, but at the same time, it makes everything feel real.”

Dante raised a brow “Really? It doesn’t get any more real than you being heavily pregnant, Brae.”

“I know that, and that’s why I’m ok with you bailing if this is too much.”

Dante rolled his eyes “We’ve been through this already, baby.”

“I know, and I feel like a broken record, but this isn’t fair to you. My drama and fucked up choices shouldn't come down on you” When he moved to approach her, Braelin took a step back “Don’t do that. I don’t want you to be ok with everything, especially not after I cheated on you.”

Dante shook his head moving to stand in front of his girlfriend “First of all, you didn’t cheat on me because we weren’t official, but now that we are I need you to know that I want us, I want you and I want to see where we can go. I will keep saying it until you believe it, but if this is too much and you don’t want this, then I need you to tell me,” he lifted her chin to look her in her green eyes. “Ok?”

Braelin nodded despite feeling as if she didn’t deserve him. She said, “Ok.” 

Survivor Series 2020

Roman sat next to the USO's at the announce table, going over their match. This year it would be faction vs. faction vs. faction: The Bloodline vs. Undisputed Era vs. Seth Rollins and his  Disciples for brand supremacy. As much as he was hyped about teaming with his family and competing against his brother,  his personal life had gone to hell in a hand basket. Since the barbecue, he and Braelin barely talked, and when they did, it had everything to do with the baby and the doctor appointments he often missed because he was on the road, which seemed to appease Janelle. 

Speaking of Janelle, after a few weeks of living in a hotel, Roman finally came back home despite wanting to keep his distance from both women on a romantic level, which is why he slept in the guestroom. 

Janelle wasn't to convince that their relationship was over and honestly? Neither was he. When he put that ring on Janelle’s finger, it was supposed to be forever. But that was all shot to hell when he fucked around on her not once but twice and with his ex of all people, and despite everything they’ve been through, he knew he still loved her.

Ok, smart ass, what about Braelin? His inner voice asked. 

 They were still friends, of course, and despite the relationship ending so abruptly, he knew there were some unresolved feelings there. The better word for it was love, asshole.

Roman sighed 

Love was the better word for it, and up until now, he had no problem admitting that to himself because he wasn’t hurting anyone, but now that no was no longer valid. He was hurting the two of the most important women in his life, and there was no way he was willing to put Braelin through another round of hell, especially now with his children in the mix.

Roman sighed and abruptly standing up, causing all three men to look in his direction.

“We ain’t done talking about the match?” Jey said from his seat next to Seth.

“I’ll be back; there’s just something I need to do. Besides, my head ain’t in it yet.”

Seth agreed, “I can tell since you haven’t listened to a word we said.”

Roman looked sheepishly, “My bad.”

Seth trusted Roman with his life, so he wasn’t worried about the big man carrying his shit with him into the ring and possibly hurting someone. He just knew whatever Roman was thinking about was creating emotional turmoil in the big dog. “Whatever it is, you want to talk about it?”

Roman looked around and saw all eyes on him. He knew they weren’t going to drop it, so he sai, “The twins are mine.”

Several eyes blinked. But it was Jimmy that said, “That makes sense.”

Jey nodded “When you told us that you and Brae fucked I didn’t know you hit—“

Roman’s eyes narrowed, “Hey, man. Besides, it’s not like we wanted any of this to happen. It just happened.”

“So, what’s the plan? Are you and Braelin going to give it another try?”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m married, and she’s with Dante.”

“Yea, but that hasn’t stopped shit before,” Jey said with a shrug causing Roman to flinch. “I know the whole situation is fucked up, but you and Brae had something most people wait a lifetime to find, but you ended up fucking that up when you went back to Janelle.”

Roman rolled his eyes “I’m sorry I thought you said something useful that could help the situation.”

Seth decided to chime in. “The only thing that could help this situation is honesty, and we all know it’s a little bit late in the game for that. But the least you can do is be honest with what you want and who you want.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want because I’ve already decided to keep my distance from both of them.”

Jimmy raised a brow “Really? You moved back into your house with Janelle, and you’re what? Co-parenting with B? Yea, that’s a whole lot of space.”

“What the fuck do y’all want me to do?” Roman snapped “I fucked up and cheated on my wife and got my ex-girlfriend pregnant. But you want to know something I fucked up away before then by letting Braelin walk away because I wasn’t ready to get my shit together. Now I’m paying the price. She’s happy, and it has nothing to do with me and you know what as selfish as it is, I fucking hate it. But it’s what I deserve, and more importantly, it’s what she deserves.”

Jey held up his water bottle. “Now that you finally got that off your chest, are you ready to plan this main event?”

Roman looked around the arena and noticed that all eyes were on him “Yea, let’s do this.”

Braelin looked over Dante, who was busy talking to the photographer. Today was her maternity shoot, and she wanted this experience to be perfect and unbeknownst to her boyfriend; she was doing her shoot naked. 

“Baby, please leave that poor man alone and let him do his job.”

Dante shook his head “Where’s the stylist? They should’ve been here an hour ago?”

Braelin laughed, “Honey, there’s no stylist here because I won’t be wearing any clothes.”

Dante blinked before turning his attention to the photographer who didn’t even bother hiding his amusement, “You mean you’re doing this shoot naked?”

Braelin nodded, “As a Jaybird.”

Dante cleared his throat. Not at all ok with some other dude seeing his girl naked before he even had the chance too. “Is it too late to change the photographer.”

The photographer rolled his eyes, “If it helps your ego. I’m gay and would rather see you naked than your pregnant girlfriend.” He looked at Braelin, “No offense, B.”

Braelin smirked, “None taken. But I do have an idea.” she looked in between both men “Marty, I won’t be needing your services today, and don’t worry, you’ll still get paid for the day.”

That seemed to appease the photographer before he left the couple alone.

Dante held up his hand. “Look, you don’t have to send him away on my account. I know how important this is to you and—“

Braelin nodded, “You’re right, it is important, and that’s why I’m still going to do my photo shoot.”

“Without a photographer?”

Braelin shook her head, “I have a photographer, you.”

Dante laughed dryly, “I’m not a photographer.”

Braelin disagreed wholeheartedly. “Those pictures you took of me last night says otherwise.” She said, taking off her robe and tossing it to the side, “You just need the right motivation.”

Dante licked his lips. “Damn,” he whispered, taking the camera off its stand. “You trust me with this?”

“I trust you to make me look the same way you make me feel. That's why I couldn’t have picked a better man for this.”

Dante had a feeling they were no longer talking about the photoshoot “What are you saying?” he said while snapping pictures

“I’m saying that I choose you and will always choose you because I think you will be the best choice I’ll ever make.”

As friends, they’ve known each other for a long time, but as lovers, it’s new, but sometimes something new can be the thing that’s worth holding onto.

Dante sat the camera on the stand before taking Braelin in his arms and kissing her with everything he had. Braelin licked his lips in which he happily obliged as her tongue slid into his mouth. What had started out gentle quickly became passionate and heated as his large hand slid into her hair and gave it a gentle tug as his tongue trailed a hot path down her neck, causing her shiver.

“Fuck.” Dante whispered heatedly, “I want you so much right now.”

She whimpered as he captured her lips with his once more “I want to taste you, please baby, let me taste.”

Seeing Braelin's green eyes was so clouded with lust that the sight made his dick jump, “I want you to do a lot more than taste.” She said, biting his chin gently.

That was all he needed to hear.

Braelin legs cleared the floor and were instantly wrapped around Dante’s waist. He sat her down on a pile of pillows that was going to be used as props for the photoshoot but would come in handy for what he had in mind.

Dante removed his shirt, followed by the grey jogging pants he was wearing, causing his dick to spring free.

Damn. Braelin thought. He had to be nine inches long and thick enough to fill her in all the places she hasn’t been filled since.

Don’t even go there, her mind chastised. 

Dante’s dick was a thing of beauty as it pointed accusingly at her while leaking precum.

 Dante gave his dick two pumps before crawling over Braelin and capturing her lips once more. “I think I said something about tasting” he grinned against her lips.

“Let’s see what that tongue can do.” she whispered.

Dante smirked before leaving wet kisses down her protruding stomach and thighs. She didn’t have to wait long as his tongue jutted out and lapped at her clit like a kitten causing Braelin to moan loudly.

“You taste so good baby.” he said in between licks spreading her legs wider and inserting a finger which almost caused Braelin to shoot off the pillows. “So fucking good.”

Dante played her pussy like an instrument. He knew how lick and how to rotate his finger enough to make her squirm so her end was coming sooner than she liked “I’m finna come.”

Dante took that as a sign to double his efforts by literally fucking her with his tongue and that did it she came so fucking hard.

When Dante came up from between her thighs the top of his nose and the whiskers of his beard was covered in her juices “Ready for round one?” He whispered against her lips.

[sparklycitrus]

Yet Another Omegaverse Setup - Part 3

And here comes the not-yet-but-def-coming 00q headcanon. The really, really fun part. I noticed I like torturing James a lot more than Q. Hmm...a writing quirk, me thinks.

And it’s AU day! So, this counts as an extra on my point sheet. XD

Link to Part 1 here.  Link to Part 2 here.

Omegaverse Setup Part 3 - Bond & Q 

Bond has been on alpha suppressants since his days in the navy. They were nothing fancy, just the generic brand carried by any navy physician, and didn’t really do much except prolonged his rut cycle by a few weeks. Having ruts while confined at sea was a nightmare, so he tried to time the doses to keep his schedule to twice a year. (Alpha suppressants aren’t as fine-tuned as omega ones, and so are much more unpredictable.) His rut was usually every four to five months. With suppressants, sometimes he’d luck out and stretch it out to six.

When he became an agent of MI6 his meds more or less stayed the same. They didn’t really send him out on that many mission before he was fast-tracked to double-oh for exemplary performance. When M called him into her office on the day of his promotion, he at first thought there was a misprint on the paperwork. 007? That’s a beta position, isn’t it? (It did kind of explain the presence of a doctor from MI6 Medical and the Chief of Staff being included in the meeting.) She stated her displeasure with the current system, and asked Bond to be a trial case. For all intents and purposes he has now become a beta – all of his files have been altered, he is in a beta-exclusive position, and the only people who are aware of it were in this room. “You are too good to be saddled with endless missions that only require a working knot,” she declared, to which Bond wholeheartedly agreed.

His new suppressants are specialized now, made exclusively in the MI6 labs as top secret R&D (and classified as such). It keeps his rut cycle at around five months, and shortens its duration to fifty hours, easily concealable by his usual habit of disappearing off the grid during downtime. His alpha scent is almost nonexistent, and the glands on his neck, if not in rut, are barely larger than a beta’s. He can achieve an erection when needed, although knotting is almost impossible outside ruts. It mean he gets less satisfying orgasms, but Bond brushes that off as part of the tradeoff - it’s a miracle he can still perform on such a strong suppressant in the first place. There’s also a booster shot he can take if he happens to go into rut at an inconvenient time. It’ll delay it for another day or so, which is usually long enough for him to get to safety.

The medicine is delivered on a strict schedule in the form of a shot every three months, no exceptions. For national security reasons Bond spends all of his ruts alone, sometimes resorting to outside drugs and alcohol to dampen its effects. It’s always a miserable experience and he hasn’t taken an omega to bed for a proper rut in years. Bond just sees this as another sacrifice for the Country and deals with it by gritting his teeth and trudging on.

Q has been on omega suppressants since puberty. The mother of one of his schoolmates was a nurse, through whom Q got a steady supply of high-quality meds since the initial presentation. Still, he disliked the various side effects – cystic acne being one of the most irritating – and switched brands throughout his teenage years. He always hated the fact that being an omega meant people underestimated him or saw him as nothing but a hole to fuck. So he avoided the whole hassle by pretending to be a beta, and should anyone come too close to the truth, well, there’s nothing that threatening to publicize all their digital dirty laundry couldn’t fix.

He became the Quartermaster through his own sheer brilliance. It’s hard to stand out amongst the bright youth of Q-branch, especially as a nameless beta. In truth Q-branch is a very merit-based place, so Q’s not 100% sure if he were an out-and-proud omega anything would change, but he has spent his whole life this way and didn’t want to make the change. He has the skills to lock and change his own files, so he did, with no one in MI6 the wiser. He is a workaholic, but timing his heats to a few off days has never been a problem.

His current suppressants are a concoction made from years of experimenting and tailored to his physique. They completely eliminate his scent, shrink his glands to beta size, act as hormonal birth control, and give him control as to when he wants to have his heats. The only side effects are the occasional cramps and night sweats. However, this doesn’t mean he can’t smell other alphas when they’re around. Sometimes he gets involuntarily wet from alpha personnel strutting by his desk, dripping pheromones all over and thinking he’s unaffected. After the third time he puts up a sign outside Q-branch reminding alphas that there are a lot of omegas working in the bullpen who like to continue to work un-harassed. They wouldn’t go into the secretarial pool and rile up all the omega girls in front of their executives, would they? The incidents lessened a few days after the sign went up, and eventually stopping being a problem.

His natural cycle is around two months and lasts three days, and Q likes to artificially keep it to that also. Eventually when he comes off suppressants – a long time from now, but it will happen – it will make the transition easier. His med is a daily white pill, with two transition yellow pills before and after his heats, and nothing during. Sometimes he spends his heats alone with various toys for company, and sometimes he invites in alphas whom he has carefully vetted in advance. No one from anything close to governmental agencies. They all gossip and the last thing Q wants is to be outed via an outside grapevine. There’s only one person who knows he’s an omega in MI6 – the Chief of Staff. Q has told Tanner himself, partly because he needs to inform at least one person at work just in case something happens – their profession is fairly dangerous, after all – and partly because they’re pretty good friends. Bill Tanner knows how to handle secrets like a boss, to which Q is very grateful.

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

In The Space Between A Zowens Fanfic (Into The Horizon Universe... vaguely)

OK, so I’ve decided. I’m not posting it on AO3 because people on there might not want spoilers. But I WILL post it here because I’ve already told all yinz how that Future Fic ends for Sami and Kevin. So here you go. One songfic, behind the cut.

EDIT TO ADD: The song is “Until Eternity” by Blackbriar and the idea came from @write-it-motherfuckers

Being soulmates, or whatever the hell Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn were, it was a concept hard to express through simply one term.

There were many different languages and cultures across the globe and beyond that had notions of what two lovers, forever entwined would look like. Earth alone had more than Kevin could personally keep track of, although he’d always tried. One of the earliest accounts dated back to Plato, who wrote about how originally, people had four arms, four legs, and two heads, and Zeus split the humans in half, leaving them forever yearning for the rest of themselves. It was a quaint enough notion but didn’t quite cover it. In Buddhism, the idea was that all lives were interconnected. Those connected in one life were connected in the next. That was closer, but if you were to ask Kevin, it wasn’t quite the right idea either. In Hinduism, they believed that in the karmic cycle, a force called lenhu caused two souls to forever intersect, positively impacting each other in every lifetime. That one seemed fairly accurate in Kevin’s eyes, except for the “positive” part. Truth be told, his impact on Sami Zayn over the many lifetimes they shared was far from exclusively positive. Personally, Kevin always liked Sami’s explanation of the Twin Flames, two souls fundamentally identical on a cosmic level that, when brought together, can lead to either tremendous beauty, or absolute havoc and chaos.

Kevin had never been so sure about the first part of that, but the second part was spot on. Between the two of them, in every lifetime they’d shared together, it was either beauty, chaos, or sometimes both. But there was rarely ever indifference. No, the universe wasn’t indifferent to Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens. They’d always thought, upon having their first match, that they were destined to fight forever. Now, looking upon the thousands of paths they’d walked, Kevin realized that, by that point, they already had.

And now, floating beside his soulmate, resting dormant once more in the space between worlds, Kevin couldn’t help but wonder what the cosmos held for them next. He never had any idea beforehand who or what he’d be. He’d given up long ago trying to guess genders. If living thousands of lives had taught him anything, it was that gender was an absolute fallacy. Earth was one tiny speck in an infinite ocean of possibilities, and they weren’t always the same species let alone the same gender. The universe was a funny thing like that; much like Forrest and his damn box of chocolates, you never knew what you were going to get. The only constant in their infinite existence was each other and, while they never retained their memories from lifetime to lifetime, they always found themselves together in the end. One way, or another, be it as friends, lovers, companions, rivals, or even bitter enemies, they were together.

Actually, Kevin was pretty sure that wasn’t how it was supposed to work. It had been countless lifetimes since their time as 21st Century humans trapped in the future, but he was still certain he recalled something being said about their souls always being in love.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. It certainly wasn’t how it had turned out.

Kevin felt movement beside him in the aether.

Sami was stirring from his sleep, curling instinctively around Kevin. KO didn’t push him away, instead placing a ghostly kiss on Sami’s copper curls. In that place, wherever they stayed between lives, you appeared as you best knew yourself. They’d had so many different bodies and appearances since their souls were made one that even Kevin was surprised that they still kept their old human visages. But after thousands of years, thousands of lives, they were still Sami and Kevin.

And Kevin was just fine with that.

He’d always found Sami attractive as a redhead.

Sami yawned, stretching his arms out and arching his back.

“Nnnng, how long was I out?” he asked Kevin.

Kevin groaned. If there was one thing that never changed, it was his tendency to ask stupid questions.

“Come on, Sami,” he replied. “You know time has no meaning here.”

“Yeah, I know,” conceded Sami, before adding, “but you’d think there’d be some measure of time here in the time vortex.”

“The time vortex? Wasn’t that Back to the Future or something?”

“Mmm, Doctor Who. Back to the Future was the space-time continuum.”

Kevin sighed, rolling his eyes.

“You’ve spent too many lifetimes as nerds,” he told his lover, the annoyance in his voice dancing with joviality.

Sami raised an eyebrow.

“And what about the one where you were a 1960’s single woman writing Star Trek fanfiction?”

“Hey, I had Leonard Nimoy over for dinner, that life was pretty fucking cool. Got better after you showed up, though. God that was scandalous.”

Sami smiled. “It always is between us.”

Kevin laughed, before Sami suddenly leaned over to put his face directly beside Kevin’s.

“Nerd,” Sami whispered at him, before breaking away and laughing.

Kevin’s jaw dropped slightly at his own accusation returned to him, before shutting his mouth and pushing Sami away.

“Oh shut up,” Kevin told him.

Sami began to drift away. It wasn’t like they had form there, at least nothing outside of what their minds created. It was almost like drifting in space, weightless and alone. Honestly, were it not for what had occurred back in the Gorosian Empire, they would both be floating alone, still cosmically linked to an extent, but without the companionship between lives.

And powers was Kevin grateful for the companionship.

Time had no meaning where they were, that much was true, but it still felt like an eternity. Even when you slept, you didn’t dream. You just woke up in the same empty space a moment later, right where you started. There really wasn’t anything to look at besides endless fog and darkness, although despite the darkness, he never had a problem seeing Sami next to him, as though his pale skin and ginger curls were bathed in unseen moonlight. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go, and nobody to talk to. You were just waiting.

At least now they could wait together.

Sami was still floating away, eyes closed and a content look on his face and Kevin willed himself closer to him.

“Sami, where the hell are you - “

Sami cut him off with a chuckle, pushing his foot off Kevin’s chest and doing a backflip. He spun himself around a few times amidst the fog before stopping, the grin on his face doing little to conceal his giggling.

Shaking his head, Kevin decided he should ask. Sami had something on his mind, and the guy was going to drive him crazy with his chipperness if he didn’t figure it out.

“Ok, Sami,” Kevin demanded, “What’s up. What’s got you so happy?”

Sami replied by floating over toward Kevin and placing a soft hand on his cheek.

“You,” he said, and pulled him into a passionate kiss. It wasn’t a needy or urgent kiss or anything like the affection they used to show each other back when they were in the Indies on Earth. It was the type of kiss that lovers shared when they knew each other completely. When they had been down a million roads together and knew full well there would be a million more.

When they weren’t two separate souls at all, but one, forever and eternally joined.

And as the soul energy surged between their spirits, Kevin knew he’d found home once again.

But therein lay the trouble, and with a creased brow, he broke off the kiss.

Sami’s pout was damn near audible.

“Shit Sami,” Kevin swore, “I don’t understand what’s got you so excited. You know the routine. We spend time here, then we get shoved into new bodies and have to spend another lifetime finding each other and getting back together. I don’t understand why we can’t just have this forever!”

The one-time Intercontinental Champion looked sad for a moment, before turning his eyes to Kevin.

“Do you want to know what I dreamt about?” he asked KO.

“Bullshit,” Kevin grumbled, “you didn’t dream anything.”

“No, I did, I swear. And it was glorious.”

There was that damn word again.

Glorious.

Kevin both hated and loved when Sami used that word. He hated it because somehow, in almost every situation they found themselves in, he had an equivalent for it and was far too liberal in its usage.

He loved it because, whenever Sami used the word, his eyes would brighten, catching whatever light was nearby, and Kevin would drown in them and fall in love all over again.

And this time was no different.

“Sami...” Kevin sighed, the word a breath across his lips. He gazed into Sami’s hazel eyes, they were always hazel in that space, and he could see himself there. With Sami, where he always belonged and where he always would be.

It was so damn easy to get lost there, but Sami noticed (he always did) and wrapped his hand around Kevin’s head pulling their foreheads together.

“Focus, Kev,” Sami told him, and after closing his eyes for a moment to do just that, Kevin reopened them and pulled away.

“Right,” he said, his mind clear once more, “what was this dream?”

Sami smiled. “It’s about our next lifetime.”

With a tilt of his head, Kevin looked at him like he was crazy.

“Sami. We never get any indication of our lives ahead of time. You know how it is. We’ve certainly been through this enough.”

The redhead shook his head. “No, I swear, I had a vision. You and me. A happily married couple. No fighting, no trauma. Just domestic bliss.”

Kevin made a face.

“Ew, yeargh,” He practically gagged at the idea. “Domestic? Who the fuck wants domestic?”

“You know, Luv,” Sami chided, “We don’t have to be at each other’s throats every time.”

“No, but it’s more fun that way.”

“Maybe for you. I’m usually the one on the receiving end of the beatings. I’ll take a round of domestic bliss if it means I don’t have to get beaten, threatened, tortured, whatever by you for a change. Why are you so determined to hurt me in every single possible future we have together?!”

“You know I don’t do it on purpose!” Kevin shouted, and immediately regretted it afterward. They rarely fought between the worlds, but Sami was right. It always seemed like Kevin had it out for Sami. No matter what configuration the universe put them in, there was always some level of pain involved.

Kevin closed his eyes to focus once more and started again.

“Sami,” he said, “You know I love you. Here, to eternity and back, I love you. I’ve loved you in more ways than either of us could have ever dreamed possible. In this space, looking ahead, you know I don’t want to hurt you. But, I don’t know, maybe it’s just my nature. Maybe I’m just a naturally negative person. All we’ve been through? I think I’m just the bad to your good. The rage to your peace. The darkness to your light.”

“The Yin to my Yang,” Sami added, a kind look on his face.

“Yeah, something like that,” Kevin responded.

Sami reached his hand out, taking hold of Kevin’s shoulder.

“You know, Kev, The Yin Yang? There’s always a bit of light in the darkness, and vice versa. They say that the yin and yang represent...”

“Nope,” Kevin said, shaking his head and cutting him off, “I’m stopping you there. Go much further and I guarantee you’ll lose me. Just stick with ‘there’s light in the darkness’, ok?”

“’K. But you know that means that there’s also always part of you in me as well, right? We’re one soul, not just joined or intertwined, but intermixed. Ever since the powers of the universe blinked us into existence, we’ve been together. I mean, who needs all the marriages, joinings, ceremonies, rituals, all that fluff and stuff. You and me, we’re one unit. Why the hell do you think we’ve always had such chemistry, even when we’re fighting? We’re meant to be together, one way or another. By whatever name, in whatever form. You’ve always been a part of me Kev. Your soul in my soul. Your heart in my heart...”

“... my mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts, yeah yeah, I got it. Fuck, Sami in what lifetime were you that much of a sappy romantic?”

Shrugging, Sami replied, “Probably most of them. You just never spent enough time in love with me to notice.”

Kevin smirked. “I’m always in love with you. Always have been, always will be. It’s just sometimes I’m too stubborn to realize it.”

Sami couldn’t contain his snort. “Now who’s the sappy romantic?”

It was a fair enough question, but one that Kevin didn’t feel like answering. Instead, he shut his lover up by pressing his lips against him, kissing him once more. And once more the energy surged. Granted, even in their living forms there was always some amount of electricity that flowed between them, but in that netherworld-like space, it flowed the strongest, unhindered by any physical forms or bodies. There it was just their combined soul, floating and waiting to be reborn, and as Kevin tasted the sparks on Sami’s lips, he felt himself start to grow heavier, the way he always did before he was pulled into a new body.

He felt Sami start to pull away, obviously feeling a similar sensation, but Kevin grabbed ahold of Sami’s head and maintained contact. Wherever they were going, it would likely be years before they could kiss once more, and Kevin wasn’t going to miss out on his last chance for who knew how long.

A white light began to glow and blossom between them, starting first in their chests before wrapping its way around their bodies and encircling their arms and legs. He could hear wind blowing, like something out of a blustery spring day, and the sound began to engulf them both.

Still, Kevin didn’t let go. He could feel Sami’s energy pulling away and he struggled to hold on, but it was no use. The contact was broken and as the white light turned to gold, he felt his astral connection to Sami break as he was pulled through the cosmos to whatever destination the powers of the universe had picked for him this time around.

And as he flew through space-time towards his new, waiting life, a thought sat firmly in his mind.

Domestic, huh?

Wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Might be nice even. Possibly glorious.

Maybe we don’t have to fight forever after all.

And then his consciousness lapsed as the light turned to darkness and his new life began.

[spideyxchelle]

the odds are never in our favor

or, the hunger games headcanon that has been rattling around in my brain 

her name is in the reaping bowl 47 times

that is nearly seven times more than the average eighteen year old. the odds are certainly not in her favor. but they never could be for an outskirter kid from seven. her family is not one of the merchant class. she has had to beg, borrow and sometimes steal to feed her family. there is too little to go around and too many mouths to feed. still. she perseveres. she has no other choice. 

if today is the day she is reaped, she will go to her death knowing she did all she could for her family. 

besides, she tells herself as she shakily walks to the town square for reaping day, she could win. it isn’t common, but people from seven do win the games. while they do not have the training of the careers or the brilliance of people from three, people from seven have brute force. and sometimes a little brute force can make all the difference. 

hell, four years ago, a kid from seven won. at sixteen, too. he had outsmarted all of the contestants, hiding in trees and swinging from them to get around the arena, like a spider would from its webs. he had been fast. and a quick talker, too. he had a good humor about him. people in the capitol said he was charming. but Michelle didn’t think so.

even though he was two years older than her, MJ had known Peter Parker in school. he had been quiet. he had one friend, maybe two. when he had been reaped and this other persona, another identity, came flashing out on screen, it had been the antithesis of the boy he knew back home. it was as if he had put on a mask to bare the atrocities of the games. 

with his mask on, no one could see him flinch. 

it was brilliant. the capitol ate it up. they loved him. he was their golden boy. 

people from seven could win. and if she was reaped, MJ could win, too.

it wouldn’t come to that, she reminds herself. she is in the reaping bowl 47 times. but she cannot be the only one. there are other half-starving kids from all over seven. she could go home to her family after this entire affair. and just like that the last seven years of horror, the sleepless nights where she woke up screaming that she had been picked, would cease to exist. she would finally have aged out. 

one more day.

she can make it one more day.

the preening drone from the capitol welcomes everyone in the square, grinning from ear to ear about the games and the capitol and all of the good and glory the yearly spectacle brings to their great nation. it makes michelle sick. there is nothing noble about killing children. 

her fury travels down to her clenched fists that clasp at the worn lace of her reaping day dress. she hates the capitol. she hates every last one of those smiling dolls that paint their faces like murder is funny. 

her eyes search the dead eyes of the victors from seven that sit silently on the stage, awaiting the reaping. they will do nothing, just like she will in the crowd. and the cycle will continue. every year. forever and ever. 

children will be reaped and slaughtered for sport, and nothing good will ever be safe in this world of nightmares. 

“ladies first”, the disjointed voice of the capitol puppet chirps. michelle glances across the square to count off the top of her sisters’ heads. all four of her younger sisters stand rigid as stone. terrified. she wants to call out to them, to tell them it will be okay, that she will protect them. she will always protect them. 

“MICHELLE JONES”, the capitol official says gleefully. 

and michelle ceases to breathe. or think. or feel. it all goes away. like she had never been a person to begin with. everything that made her human eroded away in one horrible, endless moment. 

her eyes snap up to the stage and the traitorous friends and neighbors she had known all of her life make room for her to march up to the stage. no one says anything. no one tries to stop the injustice. she hates them all. she doesn’t blame them. 

the world is cruel.

something, maybe muscle memory or perhaps it is a peacekeeper, thrusts her forward and she begins to take the long walk up to the stage. someone in the distance is crying muffled sobs. she wonders if it is her mother. it could be. she does not turn around to check. her eyes are too focused on the stage and the stairs she will be expected to climb without fainting. 

suddenly she remembers the year twelve year old Cissy Cartright had been reaped. she had collapsed when her name had been called. the peacekeepers had dragged her through the square and dropped her heavy heap of a body on the stage. it had been horrible to watch. 

she will not be remembered that way. no. michelle finds some strength beneath her numbness and climbs the stairs. she stands silently beside her capitol executioner who pulls the male name from the reaping bowl. 

she does not hear who will join her in hell. she is frozen. unfeeling. and has the faintest sense that someone is watching her intensely, too intensely, from the stage. some peacekeeper amused at her shaking knees, no doubt. 

when her and the boy are escorted from the stage. she is taken straight to the train. she does not get to say goodbye. she is silently glad. she does not know what she would say to her family. maybe she would ask them to bury her under her favorite tree just at the edge of the forest. or maybe she would do something stupid. like cry. 

no, it is better that she is taken right from her sentencing to her death. there will be no time to reflect on what she has lost. she is completely lost in her thoughts. someone is talking to her on the fast moving train. she can hear the warped version of speaking distantly, but it is as if the radio is out of frequency. she sits, motionlessly.

until someone touches her knee. she jumps out of her skin and snatches the fork on the table in front of her, posing it as a weapon. 

the entire train car goes quiet. when her eyes focus, she realizes she has a fork at the jugular of Peter Parker. he is wide-eyed and intently watching her. she notices he is not afraid. he looks surprised, maybe even daring but not scared.

“you’re quick,” he observes. she nods, dumbly. “put that fork down, MJ.” on autopilot, she corrects, “only my friends call me MJ.” he quirks a grin. “I think, based on the circumstances, I can call you MJ.” she almost asks why. and then it hits her. 

she has been reaped for the hunger games. she is going to die in that stupid arena, fighting for her life. she is going to be forced to become someone that she is not. when it comes down to it, she will fight and lose whatever last glimmer of humanity she has been keeping from the capitol all of these years. 

she will become a shadow of who she once was. people will remember her as a killer. or the killed. or both. 

she drops the fork. she begins to shake. there is another commotion. but she pays it no mind. she is having a breakdown. she cannot breathe. why can’t she breathe? there is no oxygen on this train. it isn’t like the forest, her forest, with all of her trees that stretch to the high heavens. this metal box is going to kill her. it is racing toward her death. 

someone hauls her up into their arms, the embrace is strong and certain. and when she finally passes out from the stress of the day, she hears a quiet voice reassure her, “I won’t let you die, MJ. I promise.” 

when she wakes, the train is dark. she is pillowed in the softest bed she has ever slept in and someone has taken the time to tuck her in. she rubs at her weary eyes. no one has tucked her in since she was a child, and even then she had been so fiercely independent her mother had given up by the time she was four. 

“you’re awake,” someone from the shadowy corner of her room says. she sits up, like a shot, looking for something to use as a weapon. the lamp on the bedside table seems to work just fine. the voice chuckles, roughly, “relax, MJ. I’m not going to hurt you.” she cautiously turns the lamp in her hand on. her not-attacker is Peter Parker. victor of the hunger games. he is sitting quietly in her room. it is strange, bizarre even. the kind of thing that happens to other people and not her. after all, he is a superstar who became famous because he was unfortunate enough to be chosen to murder children in a sadistic game. 

it is bizarre because she knows his face better than she knows her own. he is on every screen in seven. all the time. he is not someone that should be sitting quietly in her room. but she tries to breathe. he does not seem like an immediate threat. 

after a moment of hesitation, she puts her lamp on the bedside table. the room is still hazily illuminated. his face gives nothing away. the mask again, she thinks. 

“what are you doing here?” she asks. “you passed out,” he answers. “earlier. when we were trying to talk with you and Eugene about the games. strategy. the doctor thinks you’re having some kind of stress induced breakdown.” he smiles. it is rueful. “I said I couldn’t understand why.” michelle blinks. she tries to piece together the conversation that is happening to her and notes, “you’re teasing me.”

“no,” he says, seriously. “I would never do that.” and MJ does something stupid. she believes him. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he continues. “its an honor to fight for my district.” peter looks disappointed and says, “of course. well. I wanted to wait until you woke up to see if you were okay. I guess I’ll...go.” 

she nods. he hauls himself out of his chair. and before he goes, he lingers at the door and looks at her over his shoulder. “I am sorry, MJ.” 

she sleeps fitfully that night. she keeps hearing the resounding boom of the canon fire. she sees her face flash in the sky of the arena. she does not want to die. she tries to feel something. it is impossible. the capitol took it all when they called her name. 

she has a brief moment of clarity, sometime around three in the morning, when she realizes that THAT is why the hunger games exist. they make the tributes less than human so the rest of the districts know, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are less than. barely human. a means to an end. better to feel nothing. do nothing. 

never revolt. 

she will, she thinks. I will, she pledges to herself. 

and when she wakes the next morning, padding into the food car of the train, she sits opposite of Peter, who is locked in conversation with an older victor from a games twelve years ago, and says, “tell me how to win.” 

something in his eyes shifts. she cannot read it. mask mask mask, she thinks. but she waits for him to speak. patient and furious at her fate. he sees resolve in her now, she knows he does, and with the smallest smile, he says, “let’s begin.” 

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 5 - "spare you"

Season 6, episode 19 "With friends like these" (the one where Reid is having one of his headaches while they're delivering a profile, hence Morgan follows him to the bathroom to talk to him)

Back at it again with another unrequested long ass fic

Update like 5 months later: I basically re-wrote this. Well, parts of it; and I added other parts

Read it on AO3

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

Reid had been behaving weirdly for weeks now. Everyone on the team had noticed and asked, but he'd always given vague answers.

One would expect that only Morgan, aka his boyfriend, would know something more about it and, in fact, the others had tried to ask him too. Truth was, not even Morgan had it quite figured out. Which was concerning.

He'd tried to ask Reid what was going on several times: while they were working on cases, on the jet, in private, even at home, the few times in those past weeks that he had convinced him to come over, to try and make him spit it out. At a certain point, he just gave up. But seeing someone you love so much suffer and try to cope with something clearly bigger than them, isn't fun. Especially if you think that maybe you could do something about it, if only they let you.

The times he'd asked, Reid had told him that it was his migraine, which caused him insomnia and vice versa, in an endless vicious cycle. That could've been true: it happened to him from time to time. Especially after the drug problem he had dealt with a couple of years before; but Morgan didn't know much about that because they weren't "dating" at that time - and if Reid was one to keep things secret from him as a couple, imagine when they were just friends.

-

They were delivering the profile to the local pd agents, and Reid was clearly distracted. He didn't say a word during the whole thing, except when Hotch directly called him out to explain which was the unsub's "comfort zone".

Since they were all used to him intervening to give some statistics or make comparisons with other famous criminals, to the point where, sometimes, Hotch or Morgan had to shut him up because he was getting too excited; it was safe to say that such behavior wasn't normal for Spencer. 

In that specific situation, though, it was understandable that he wasn't saying anything: first of all, the unsub was supposedly schizophrenic, and when an unsub showed signs of mental illness - let alone if it was the same his mom had - it was very triggering for Reid. But most of all, it was their first case after Emily's "death".

-

"If you find someone who fits this description, let the sheriff know. Thank you for your attention." Hotch concluded.

Reid was still sitting on the desk. The moment Morgan's eyes met his for a split second, he stood up and immediately strode toward the bathroom; like he had been "caught" and had to flee as far as his feet could take him.

Spencer's headache was killing him in that moment. He hoped not to look so clearly uncomfortable, but he knew Derek - and literally everyone else - had noticed. And he knew that time he'd have to tell him the truth. He was NOT enjoying the continuous lying at all, especially when it came to lying to Derek. His Derek. It wasn't fair to him.

He walked toward the bathroom as fast as possible so that the others wouldn't have the time to ask him what was going on. On the other hand though, to Morgan that must have clearly looked like Reid was unspokenly asking for him to follow, and that he was ready to finally talk - which he wasn't. He would NEVER be ready to talk about it.

Spencer got in the bathroom, but couldn't hear Derek's footsteps yet. Maybe Hotch had to tell him something? Maybe he was too busy on the case to worry about his stupid headache? Maybe he wasn't even going to follow him in the first place, because he was done with his bullshit? No, that surely wasn't possible. And anyway Reid didn't even know whether he was hoping for that to be true or not.

He closed the door, - noise made the headaches way worse - washed his face and started taking deep breaths, which was what he usually did to try and make the migraine better; obviously failing 9 times out of 10.

He finally heard someone open the door, hoping it wasn't any member of the team apart from Morgan or - even worse - some officer who would've thought he was crazy.

-

When Morgan entered the bathroom, he found Reid bending over the sink, leaning on his arms with his head down. He had a feeling he was gonna talk for real, this time, instead of using lame excuses or avoiding the topic completely.

Reid finally found the courage to look up at him, not directly, but through the mirror - though even just that was enough to make him nervous.

Morgan was now right beside him, with his arms crossed on his broad chest, like he was waiting for him to talk first. Reid sighed and finally turned around, leaning on the sink. But he couldn't bring himself to talk: he didn't even know where to start.

Derek lightly put his index under Spencer's chin and raised his face, to make him look into his eyes instead of facing the ground.

"I'm not here to judge you. Is that what you want me to say so you can finally speak? Like you don't know it already." Derek broke the silence.

Spencer couldn't find the right words to explain that he had been feeling like crap for the past 2 weeks.

"I've been feeling like shit." he finally murmured in resignation: that's just how it was.

Derek's eyebrows shot up. He wasn't expecting him to be so direct.

"Yeah, I noticed. Everyone has, to be fair."

Reid nodded and went back to look at his feet.

Morgan continued, softening his tone. "Listen, kid. This can't be a normal migraine, am I right? If it makes you feel so sick."

"That's what I thought." Spencer answered.

"...so did you go to a doctor?" Derek asked after a few seconds of silence, during which he would've expected him to continue with his explanation.

"I went to three different doctors, actually. And basically, they told me I have nothing."

Derek looked confused. His mind started to wrap around the idea that the migraines could be a symptom of something way more serious.

"Maybe..." Derek started. He wanted to say it, but wasn't sure if A) Spencer had already wondered about it and was gonna accuse him of thinking he's dumb, or B) on the contrary, saying it would heat him up because the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Either way, he wasn't expecting him to react well, but he had to say SOMETHING, for Christ's sake.

"...maybe the headaches mean something else? " He decided to stay vague.

Reid stood up straight and faced him. That whole dancing around the problem was starting to annoy him.

"If you want to say that you think I'm showing signs of... of schizophrenia, just- just say it."

Derek wanted to answer with something that would calm him down, but Spencer interrupted him the second he opened his mouth.

"It's like I told Emily, I knew you would all treat me like a baby if I ever talked to any of you about this. Do you think I wouldn't have told you or- or anybody else, if the doctors had said that I'm having symptoms of mental illness?" Reid could feel his eyes filling up with tears the moment he mentioned Emily's name out loud.

He still couldn't believe he had talked to her about his stupid migraine while she was dealing with way more important stuff, and that maybe if he had been the one to ask her what was going on, instead of the other way around, she would still be alive.

Derek's expression changed from being comprehensive to being irritated as soon as he picked up that Spencer had talked about this to Emily before anyone else. Before him.

"So you told her. But didn't tell me. Even though I asked you a MILLION times." he said frowning, his voice deep.

Reid didn't answer. He realized he shouldn't have mentioned it. He couldn't bear with Morgan's look anymore, so he turned his back on him to face the mirror again, looking down at his distorted reflection on the steel tap.

"Alright look, I don't know why you told Emily before telling me that's- that's beside the point here, honestly. I don't blame you for it, I know she is-" Derek stopped for a second and gulped. "-was. I know she was your friend- OUR friend, I used to tell her about my stuff too, cause I trusted her with it, so I get it, alright?" he sighed heavily. "I blame you for not trusting ME, too. It's not like I didn't give you the right circumstances to tell me."

Derek paused and tried to calm down, lowering his voice. "but you and I, Spencer, we- we're not friends. We never were just friends. You're always THE FIRST ONE to know about my stuff and I'm the first to know about yours - or at least I used to be - because we get each other way before the others get us. And I did- I DID get you before anyone else even this time. You were just too damn blind to notice it."

"I DO trust you. Don't talk like you don't know that. It's not because of trust that I haven't told you yet." Spencer finally found the words to answer, without hesitation.

"Then what? What is it?? If it's because of the 'treating you like a baby' bullshit- don't even get me started. I don't care how you call it, but what that actually is, is worrying and CARING about yo-"

"I know." That's all Spencer managed to say, coldly, before letting the conversation fall into a long, tense silence.

Derek was waiting for him to say something - anything - with his arms folded on his chest, but his patience had a limit - EVEN when it came to Spencer. And it wasn't because he got tired of him - there was no such thing - but because it was too painful to see him like that.

-

"A'ight." He sighed frustratedly, dropping his arms down his sides as he turned on his heels. He just couldn't stand being there any longer.

He was about to walk away, but Spencer turned around and grabbed his arm to stop him.

"W-Wait. There is a reason why I didn't wanna tell you at all, to be honest, and I- I even hoped you'd let it go at some point..." Spencer found the courage to say, now looking straight into Derek's dark eyes. He let go of his arm and tucked his hair behind his ears, as if preparing to explain properly.

"One of the doctors said that these migraines could be psychosomatic. He didn't mention schizophrenia though." he confessed, getting to the point, pausing a second after to catch Derek's reaction. But his expression remained pretty much the same: Spencer wasn't sure whether that could be because he was someway expecting it; or he was simply trying to hide how startled he actually was at the news, afraid to discourage him from talking.

"It's hard enough for me to get the work done and...actually, to- to live, with these headaches" he paused again, this time in the attempt to stop the urge of crying, but his voice was already cracking. "I can't concentrate, even light bothers me, let alone noise, I can't- I get 20 hours of actual sleep a week if I'm lucky. I feel pain and- and exhaustion, all the time..."

Now he was crying. He quickly wiped away the tears with the back of his nervously trembling hand, and shook his head to compose himself. "When I'm with you I feel guilty because I- I can't actually enjoy it and I can see that that's affecting you and that's SO not fair to you Derek I-" he sniffled, stopping himself from continuing with that train of thought, afraid that if he went on to say how much Derek didn't deserve to go through all of that for him, to have to adjust in order to keep up with his garbage, how he didn't understand why he hadn't yet ran away in the arms of someone normal, someone just as amazing as he was because he shouldn't settle for anything less, someone who could lift from his chest some of his pain instead of adding to it- Spencer was afraid if he'd went on to say that, not only he would crumble on the floor at his very knees, which would've been quite the pathetic scene; but most of all Derek would've thought he was praising him just to distract him from how mad he was at Spencer - righteously, he thought. Derek wasn't mad at Spencer for feeling sick, by the way. He could never.

Spencer was somewhat ready to continue, getting back to the problem. "The times that you've convinced me to come over, lately, were few not because I didn't want- actually it's a bit easier for me to sleep when I'm with you, in general, at least more than I manage alone- it's- it was just because I can imagine that having to babysit me is not how you- we, that's not... how we wish to spend time together. So what I'm saying is that the reason why I didn't wanna tell you is because if the doctor is right, it means I'm gonna have to go through therapy to fix this and it's gonna take a while...maybe it's never even gonna go away I- I'm not sure, honestly. There's no way of knowing. And I don't wanna force you to be a part of this. Even just for these few weeks I can see I've been nothing but a burden to you- to everyone, to be fair, and..." he gulped and tried to slow down the pace of his talk. "and I want to be able to spare from this at least you."

-

They stared into each other's eyes for a while. Derek understood what Spencer meant to say with all of that, he just needed a minute to process a proper answer - or at least one that would make some kind of sense.

"So uhm, let me- let me get this straight" he said shaking his head, his voice hoarse, his eyes squeezed shut trying to soothe the itching of tears poking at his lids. "Your best solution would be to... to break up ?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

Spencer nodded and returned to face the ground, ashamed of what he was implying and not really knowing what he was hoping for him to decide.

Derek couldn't find the right words to say next. So he walked toward the door.

-

Spencer thought that that was it. That he was about to be abandoned yet once more - and for the first time he wanted to punch himself in the guts at the awareness that it was no one else's but his own fault; surely not Derek's. He thought the best thing that had God-willingly fallen into his arms in years was about to walk away through that door.

And, despite knowing there was no such thing, Spencer could swear he felt his heart physically break. The amount of tears heaping up before his pupils blinded him and made his eyes literally burn; his jaw was clenched so tight in the attempt to put a stop to the desperate sobs about to escape that his teeth seemed to be cracking, just before shattering altogether.

But he didn't really have the right to stop him, since he basically asked for it and since he knew sticking with him through that would be a big responsibility and an even bigger burden, other than a distraction.

That's why he wanted to break up with him first. He wanted to rip off the band-aid. At least he would've spared them both the mess that would've happened if Derek had stayed with him for a while longer and then dumped him at a certain point, out of having enough, when Spencer would've already convinced himself that he could trust him to stick around till the "end". Whatever that meant.

-

Unexpectedly, when Derek got to the door, he did not open it and leave. He locked it, instead. He didn't really care if anyone got in anyway, but the situation was already uncomfortable enough.

He went back to Spencer and took him in his arms, with one hand on the back of his head, tied in his curls. And he kissed him.

Spencer was definitely not expecting that. His heart started beating again, so loud he could feel it in his ears. His eyes shut while his mouth was moving almost on itself, like it got carried away by his feelings. As for his arms, though, at first he hadn't figured out what to do with them yet, leaving them hanging idle along his sides.

Then he stopped for a second to catch his breath, and when their mouths met again, making the kiss more intense and wet; whether that be from the tears coating Spencer's face entirely or the drool he didn't even have the strength to contain - just then, his arms found their way, wrapping Derek as tightly as he possibly could.

Just when it was starting to get too needy and Derek's mind was about to go places it shouldn't have - considering the context and the importance of the matter - Spencer placed his hand on Derek's jaw to pull away, abruptly.

"W-wait" he whispered breathily. "Did you mean for this to be our- our last kiss?" he blurted out worriedly, the bad thoughts doubling back to hit him in the stomach all at once. "Is this a goodbye?"

Derek didn't answer immediately - instead, he drew him closer into his arms and hugged him tight, burying his face into his soft hair, keeping his eyes closed.

The lack of response left Reid even more confused. He slightly furrowed his brows but let himself melt into the comfort of Morgan's broad and warm body, returning the hug a few seconds later.

He could feel the rhythm of Derek's breath softly blowing into his ear, and the beat of his heart against his chest. And Spencer knew that to feel a person's heart through a hug it would have to be really pounding. Like, he could give you the numbers.

-

"I can't even imagine there being a last kiss with you, Spencer. I love you." Derek finally murmured into his ear, pausing to sniffle. "So much. I love you so much, I need you to understand that."

The only reason why Spencer didn't say it back, was because the smile printed on his face was too wide to speak; he didn't even know he could smile that big. And Derek felt such smile against his neck, so how could the lack of answer bother him? 

Derek opened his eyes and pulled away to look at him, shifting his hands to cup his face. Spencer placed his hands around his wrists, holding onto them like he wanted to secure the grip.

He leaned closer and laid a gentle kiss on one of his boyfriend's eyelids. It was an affectionate and pure gesture in itself, but he didn't do it randomly: Spencer's mom used to kiss him goodnight like that when he was little, before tucking him in the blankets. In that moment, Spencer probably wished Derek had long forgotten about that thing, thinking it sounded childish and embarrassing. Derek didn't find it either of those things.

"Can't believe a smartass like you could think I'd just leave." Derek said. Spencer snorted and nodded: he realized just in that moment that he had no excuse for even CONSIDERING that, even if before it seemed to him like the only way out.

Morgan let go of him. "C'mon pretty boy. Let's get back to work."

-

He walked toward the door first: if they had got out together, maybe someone would've suspected something - what that "something" was, he still had to figure out. They got lucky enough that no one had tried to get in during all that.

He unlocked the door but waited a second to get out.

"Thank you, by the way."

Reid frowned.

"For what exactly? Doubting about you and making you angry?" he smiled sheepishly; his eyes still flushed and his voice wavering. "Also, my headache has completely gone away so I'm the one who should be thankful".

"No, no." Derek shook his head, smiling back at him in that way, the way that made everyone always melt on the ground. "Thank you for telling me, I mean. Even if it took a while."

Silence.

"I know it's hard for you, kid." he added in a gentle tone.

He got out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

[thintiny]

I started struggling with my weight when I was born, I weighed 7.8 pounds and my ped told my mother that I should only drink "low fat milk". The rest is just an endless cycle of me being fat shamed constantly, I have heard almost anything.

There was this time, when I was around 4 or 5 when kids didn't want to be friends with me because I was the fat kid.

Or when my aunt bought for me a twix bar and told me to 'eat tiny pieces' so that I would not get fatter.

Also that time when my other aunt took me on a walk and told me that I needed to exercise because I was simply a 'fat fuck'.

When I was on second grade and girls started asking me how much I weighted, and for the first time I compared my, much higher, weight to the weight of my classmates.

Or that time I went to the doctor when I was 8 to get a flu shot or something, and she refused to give me a lolly because I was 'too fat'.

The time I was 9 and I got sick, they took me to the doctor and he told me that if I was that fat nobody would ever love me.

Or that time when another doctor told me that if I didn't lose weight they would have to feed me with a tube.

Mind you through all this episodes I was just about 15 or 16 pounds above the ideal weight for my age.

Also there was that time when I was about 10 that two girls from my class asked me how much I weighted and before I had the chance to answer they said "500 tons".

Anyway, when I was 12 I began my first official diet. And thankfully I lost the extra weight but then I gained it all back and with a little extra.

There was one day when I was in middle school that I needed to stand in front of the class and I couldn't fit through the space to get to the front because a couple of my classmates had moved their chairs so they could chat, and everyone laughed at me.

Or when I started a new diet and my aunt told me that I needed to lose weight because I wasn't pretty enough.

I began purging and restricting my meals but that didn't last long, and I thought I was a complete failure because I couldn't have a proper E.D.

By the time I was 15 I had been in more diets than I can count, and I ended up with a new doctor who ran all the necessary tests and told me that my thyroid was not normal but not necessarily 'functiong'.

I started taking amphetamines, with a prescription, and I started losing weight again. Before going with this doctor I weighted 175 pounds and I managed to get to 142 pounds and I was elated.

Then due to some financial issues I had to cut off the meds, stopped visiting the doctor and even though I tried to continue the diet it was kind of expensive so...

But then I got it all back, and then my parents started restricting the food I was allowed to eat and then I would sneak food into my room and binged.

I finished high school weighting about 170 pounds.

I started college and in my first semester I gained about 10 pounds.

Before my second semester started my grandma gave me laxatives and she told me that that would make me pretty.

I decided not to take them, I was starting a somewhat strict exercise regime and I was faithful that I would lose weight with that.

I lost almost nothing and then one day I was fighting with my mother and she told me that I was a cow, and so I decided to start taking them, honestly how could they hurt me?

I lost a ton of weight in a really short amount of time, seriously in one month I went from 180 pounds to almost 165 and it was showing.

I spent that summer far away from home and I stopped taking laxatives but I managed to get to 150 pounds.

When I went back home I got it all back, I had been struggling with depression during my teenage years and just before my second year of college I had a terrible episode and yeah, that happened.

During those months I also changed my hair and became much more quiet. It was a really bad time but I managed to get through it.

Then before the second half of my second year I was Christmas shopping with my family and my mom was discussing something with one of my aunts and the conversation was something like this.

'Well if x (my cousin) is so stressed, why doesn't she stop doing gymnastics?' asked my mother and then my aunt said something like 'She needs to excercise I don't want her to look like her (me).'

Also fun fact this conversation happened right in front of me, and yeah I almost started crying.

The second half was pretty good I started with amphetamines again and I lost some weight but I couldn't keep it off, I lost one pound and the next week o had two more.

By that time I just simply gave up, everyone around me was talking about my weight, making it obvious that I was not normal so I just stopped trying.

Of course I would get episodes where I would be extremely healthy and eat what I had to ear excercise and all that but they wouldn't last long.

I tried fasting, detox, juices, even laxatives once again, and nothing happened and I just hated myself more and more everyday.

And then I got an internship in audit (pretty weird for a person who is fat) but I managed and then when I was in a course the lady said something that lightly resembles 'fat people will never be as formal looking or as trustworthy as skinny people' and I've tried to forget that.

I really did, but well she said that looking straight at me so, that kinda sucked.

Anyway I am now 23 years old, I have never dated anyone because as soon as I start liking someone I remember how I was constantly reminded that no one would ever love a fat person.

I ruined my teeth in hopes that my awful smile would distract people from my disgusting body, but now I just have another thing to hate myself for.

I have an Instagram with zero pictures because I can't bear to post anything and get absolutely zero likes.

I have an enormous fear of eating in front of people, because I know that if I eat too much they will judge me, if I eat too little they will judge me and if I eat something 'unhealthy' they will too.

I'm terrified of wearing tight clothes because everyone will be able to see the things I hate the most about myself.

I can't stand in front of a mirror because I never like what I see, the crooked smile and the fat belly, the ugly legs and the ugly arms, and all in all it just disgusts me.

I keep living and hoping that one day, I will be skinny and that I'll manage to look good but I feel as if that won't ever happen.

And I'm just tired of living like this, of feeling worthless and sad and ugly and disgusting because my whole life has been a constant cycle of me being called fat and going on diets and being fat and I'm just done.

[mileycyprus-hill]

Mistakes, A RDR2 Fanfic

It’s been a few weeks since your drunken night with Arthur. That morning, you rose to a splitting headache and severe dry mouth as the morning sun woke you through the windows of your rented room. You distinctly recall feeling Arthur roll over behind you and stiffen as he realized whose bare waist he had his arms wrapped around. You were shocked yourself and said nothing while pretending to be asleep as he snuck his arm away and quietly rose out of bed. You heard him silently dress himself and leave the room without a word, leaving yourself alone to question it.

It was a long, slow ride back to camp that day. While you rode König at a leisurely pace, you tried to remember all the events that happened the night before: Arthur’s camp, the rum, the saloon, the endless conversations, walking up to the hotel room for some reason--guess you didn’t want to ride your horses drunk...then things started to get hazy. Obviously, you and Arthur fooled around considering you both woke up naked in bed. The more you tried to remember, the more scenes faded away in your memory. Your head was throbbing. Maybe you’ll remember more once this hangover goes away.

Gradually, your spotty memory returned once you properly rested and hydrated yourself.

The way he tensed up behind you in that bed irked you for days. Did he regret what you two did? You surely didn’t. But as the days went on and Arthur avoided you, you began to second-guess yourself. 

You had wished you weren’t so bold that night, because now your friendship is ruined. 

John started to notice it too: the awkwardness between you two. Whenever you sat next to Arthur to eat with him-like you always did-he would jump up and walk away. He’d say he forgot to talk to Dutch about something, or that he needed to run to town. Sitting across the table from you, John would catch sight of the hurt painted across your face, while he sent you looks of confusion. 

What hurt worse was that you couldn’t talk to John about it. He’d ask you what happened that night. What did you say to him? What did you do? 

“Nothing,” would be all that you’d reply. John’s like a brother to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him what happened, no matter how much he pestered you. You know he wouldn’t understand.

It wasn’t easier with Arthur. He’d get short with John whenever he confronted him about it.

“What the hell happened that night, Arthur? Just what’d she do to piss you off so badly?” 

“Ain’t mad at her! Nothin’ happened,” he'd grumble.

“Oh really? Then why you been avoidin’ her? You won’t even go ridin’ with her no more! And she won’t even look at you-don’t act like I don't see it!” He quickly yells at you as you try to interject.

“...There’s something up with the both of ya, and I’m tired of it! Just kiss and make up already!”

Both of your eyes went wide at that last remark while John threw his arms up in frustration. 

“Mind your own damn business!” Arthur yelled, violently shoving John away. 

“Enough!” You finally yelled, your voice cutting through their quarreling.

John stomped off to his tent, leaving you and Arthur standing in front of each other in awkward silence.

It was true, you couldn’t make eye contact with him-but not for the same reasons John may be insinuating. Arthur may think you were embarrassed about that night, too ashamed to look at him anymore. If anything, you just didn’t want Arthur to be uncomfortable around you anymore; you wanted to give him space so he could warm up to you again. To go back to the way things were.

“Arthur, I--” 

“I ain’t mad at’cha, Y/N,” he interrupts with heat still lingering in the tone of his voice. He avoids your gaze with his head dropped down, eyes looking at his boots. Immediately, he turns to leave without giving you a chance to correct the situation. 

“No, lemme expl--” 

“Miss L/N! Mister Morgan! Quit bickering and get back to your chores!” screams the piercing voice of Ms. Grimshaw. The woman’s strides are like that of a military general, each step demanding authority as she nears you.

You look back to Arthur and realize he’s already gone, walking away with his back to you. You turn back to Ms. Grimshaw, her hands resting on her hips, nostrils flaring in irritation.

“Yes, Miss Grimshaw,” you reply meekly. 

A few more days roll by with Arthur no longer asking you to accompany him on jobs, and you involuntarily distance yourself from everyone else. You decided to keep yourself busy by washing laundry. You hated the chore, but it was something to do. Laundry is at least a mundane task enough to let you meditate in silence and organize your thoughts.

It was then you realize it’d been a while since you last menstruated. Contrary to what Ms. Grimshaw would stress to you, you never really kept track of your cycles. You weren’t all that sexually active. The men were slim pickings, and you didn’t want to risk getting pregnant or contracting diseases. (A popular scare tactic from Grimshaw when you were younger.)

Besides, you were fine with solving your sexual urges by yourself. Pleasing yourself with your fingers in your tent at night to the thought of Arthu–Shiiiiit!

Shit, shit, shit, SHIT! ARTHUR!

The vivid memories of that night come flaring back, like the ignition of flash powder in a photography studio. You frantically try to get your mind together. 

Think. When did I last have it?

Oh god, oh god, oh god! 

You’re frozen on your knees in front of the wash bucket, breathing heavily through your nostrils. Eyes focused on the soapy water as you try to remember. God, you can’t remember for the life of you! It couldn’t have been last month, could it? Two months? You had sex with Arthur when? Two weeks ago? How could you possibly forget? 

Oh yeah, we were drunk.

But how could you forget a night like that? A night you always wanted, craved even. The two of you tried to pretend that night never even happened. You both tried to go about your regular business, with Arthur acting more awkward than usual around you. You hated it. You constantly worried if he regretted laying with you. 

“Fuck.” You whispered.

You were too frightened to even think of the word.

Pregnant?

“No,” you assured yourself.

“You alright, Y/N?” a voice snaps you from your thoughts.

You jerk your head up to see Hosea standing over you, one hand on his hip, another holding a pipe to his lips.

“Fine,” you say, trying to still the shakiness in your voice.

“You look as if you’ve seen into the future in that dirty water,” he points with the mouthpiece of his pipe. 

“Perhaps I have,” you attempt to joke, forcing a cringe-worthy smile. 

“Nothing good, I take it?” he retorts. 

Your smile falters as you lower your head and return your attention to the wash bucket, watching the foamy ripples while still holding a wet shirt in your hands. Your skirt is soaked from the soggy fabric. You shake your head silently, trying to calm your anxious breathing as your vision gets blurry with tears. 

A sigh comes from above you. Hosea crouches himself next to you and gently grasps your upper arm, taking the wet shirt from your hands. Ironically, it’s one of Arthur’s, the fabric stained and stretched from excessive use. He tosses it back into the bucket and cradles both of your hands in his. His touch is light and pleasant. A stranger would never guess his profession to be outlaw from the touch of his hands, but instead a gentler occupation like a tailor or doctor. He grips your hands as if he’s holding a small and fragile bird.

“Tell me...” he requests. “Is this about you and Arthur?”

You’re afraid to look him in the eyes when you look up, instead drawing your focus to his chest. You refrain from answering, but he can already guess your answer by your lack of response. 

He sighs again, “What happened?” The inflection in his voice curious and worried, “You two used to be so close. Now neither of you will give each other the time of day.” 

You shrug, like a guilty child avoiding the responsibility for breaking a valuable item after being caught at the scene. 

“I dunno,” you mutter.

“Now don’t give me that,” he replies sharply.

By now your chin is quivering while you attempt to hold yourself together. You’re too terrified to tell him what happened. How will he react when you tell him you both got drunk and ended up in bed? Hosea always taught you kids to be responsible. You’re afraid he’ll never again view you as his quick-witted daughter, the brain of the three kids-Arthur, John, and Y/N-who was always so safe and had a calculated plan. Instead, you’re worried he’d see you as a hussy who got herself knocked up; someone who swooped in to take advantage of a friend to fulfill her own selfish desires.

Deep down you know in your heart Hosea wouldn’t think that of you, but paranoia is taking control of your thoughts. What if he sent you away? Would the gang accept a baby into the group? Or would they view it and you as a nuisance?

“C’mon. Let’s go for a walk,” Hosea rises and opens his hand to you. “We’ll take all the time you need.” 

You take his hand and he pulls you up to stand. The two of you silently walk out of camp, away from prying eyes and open ears. 

You’re at least half a mile away from camp by now before Hosea stops you. He takes a step forward and turns to you, arms crossed.

“Now, tell me what happened,” he presses, with a stern yet sympathetic look.

You battle with yourself. Do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him the two of you got drunk and slept together? That you may or may not be pregnant?

Instead, you lie.

“I uh,” you clear your throat, “we got drunk and um...I said some pretty nasty things about Mary.”

You finally look up to Hosea and see his expression is unreadable, his chin tipped up as if he’s examining you.

You continue, “I tried to cheer him up, y’know? Tried to tell him he’s better off without her. That she’s not worth it, nothing but a money-grubbing, gold digger from a greedy family...”

You drop your head, “Said she wasn’t even pretty. Said that she couldn’t even pass for a two-penny whore.”

It agonized you to say these things. You feel them cut through your heart like a knife. 

“Y/N,” Hosea sighs disappointedly. “That ain’t like you. You know better than to say things like that. You liked Mary.”

“Well, I did but...not anymore.” You respond, straightening yourself to instill false confidence in your lie.

A moment passes in silence. You’re left feeling worse for lying to him. This is Hosea, the man who could always see right through you. You never lied to him. 

Does he even believe you?

Hosea raises his arm up and places his hand on your shoulder.

“I know your heart was in the right place, Y/N. But, it’s no good talking like that about a woman in front of a man who loves her...Even if she did break his heart.”

You discreetly nod in response. Shuffling your feet in the dry New Austin dirt.

“I know,” you agree softly. “I feel stupid ‘bout the whole thing.”

“I bet you do,” he responds, “I hope you had a chance to apologize.”

You shrug your shoulders again, “Not really. Man won’t even speak to me.”

At that, Hosea claps at your shoulder. “Well, let’s change that.”

He turns you to walk back towards camp, “Go tell him, Y/N. I’ll catch up with ya.” He gently nudges you forward and you step on towards camp, looking back at Hosea. He nods his head to encourage you on. 

Great. Now what do I do?

Your mind goes blank as your feet mindlessly walk you back towards the edge of camp. You don’t even realize you’re already standing by Arthur’s empty tent, with no idea how long you’ve been standing there.

Suddenly, a gruff voice behind you makes reality snap back into place.

“Y/N? What’ryou doin’ here?”

Quickly turning around, you see Arthur in a sweaty state, a pile of chopped wood behind him. His hat is abandoned and his head drenched in sweat, along with his buttoned shirt, or...partially buttoned. He walks to his tent panting and rubbing the sweat from his brow with his forearm, revealing a small portion of his lower stomach as his shirt rides up from his trousers. Your eyes involuntarily follow the familiar trail of hair down to his covered groin.

Stammering at what words to say, your tongue feels fat and your lips loose.

“I- uh, um...Arthur?”

“Yes?” He answers slowly with a slight annoyance.

Closing your eyes with a deep sigh, “We need to talk.”

»»————-　★　————-««

*ala Porky pig*

eh-beh-deh-b-bb-b That’s all folks! (For now at least.) I will admit, it took me longer than it should have to finish this and I have sooooo much more in my notes. I mean, our poor reader isn’t even sure if she’s pregnant or not 👀 And lawdy, we still gotta get through the trimesters and eventually the birth of our babe. 

In a few days, I’m gonna let y’all vote on the baby's name!! 😁🤗😮 

[renna-translations]

“This is for everyone who always supports me.”

I translated the tweet that Nanou (Koyama Hidekazu) made recently about having surgery for vocal nodules (noncancerous growths that form on the vocal cords, caused by straining or overusing your voice).

—

I’m writing this now for everyone who is always supporting me.

Early October of last year, I started to feel something off about the condition of my voice and singing—it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before—and after going to a specialist to receive a diagnosis in early November, I was told I had developed vocal cord nodules.

After receiving the diagnosis, and continuing treatment through medication, I was able to continue with our concerts and other band activities until the end of last year, all while going through the endless cycle of recovery and relapse. Before singing with this condition ultimately made it painful both mentally and physically for me, or before I started to hate singing altogether, I discussed with those involved that I planned to undergo surgery to remove the nodules.

Due to our schedule, and my own desire to have the surgery done as soon as possible, I had the nodules removed on January 23rd, the day after the first show on our solo tour. I was told to rest until the February shows in Osaka and Nagoya, and quite obviously, I had yet to grow accustomed to my voice post-surgery for those shows, which sadly resulted in a poor singing performance on my part.

My vocal condition is still unstable, and if you were to think of it in terms of a video game, it’s as if I’ve suddenly been reset back to the beginner levels. It feels as if I’m struggling to remember how to utilize my voice at all, but the condition of my vocal cords has clearly improved compared to before the surgery, and I feel that there’s a possibility that I can sing even better compared to before, as well.

The doctor told me,

“Although we’ve removed the nodules through surgery, if you continue to sing in the same way you have been in the past, there’s a high possibility they will form again in the same places.”

To be honest, when I heard those words, I thought, “Ah, this might just be the end.”

I believe that all things have a time limit.

There’s really no such thing as “it’s never too late.”

Because I hate my voice, I wanted to “become someone else,” and so I’ve been desperately running in that direction until now, but perhaps I would now have to put an end to that version of myself. Perhaps the time had finally come where I could no longer sing the way I have been.

It wasn’t about whether I like or dislike it, but perhaps I would soon have to forgive myself for only being able to sing with this kind of voice. If not, I might just lose my voice entirely, and that made me feel very afraid.

It’s almost funny.

I used to sing so carelessly, because I just wished my voice would hurry up and break already, but now that there’s a risk it really might stop functioning, I’m suddenly filled with this fear.

Since I haven’t missed any performances due to my illness or surgery, and it hasn’t disrupted our schedule at all, I could have always just come back to doing music without saying anything, as if nothing had happened. But people often tell me that they don’t know what I’m thinking, and since I have no other way to express my personal feelings these days besides my lyrics and performances, I thought I should properly put into words what I’ve been going through.

Although it was so painful, and frustrating, and shameful, I could have just kept it all a secret without anyone ever knowing, but that’s the very reason why I wanted you all to hear this. It was truly so difficult for me to sing these past five months. 

Even I can’t anticipate how my singing will change from here on out. It might not change that much, or it might change a lot, but my wish to create quality music remains unchanged, so please keep on showing me your support. Thank you.

Koyama Hidekazu