#and then I crawled up the stairs into a car and went to an urgent care the next day

[skyloftian-nutcase]

So earlier this year, we had an Incident and an ambulance came for my brother as a precaution (everything is back to normal, so no worries there!) and we find out that he and the EMT had one high school class together. At first, it was the fact that they were the same age, and then it was "where you in So-So's Grade 9 Geography class?".

Anyway, have you or Hyrule run into a situation where you know a patient and catch up a little a bit and it's kind of lighthearted because the situation isn't serious?

Seeing as I run squad duty in my hometown, I've had situations where I run into people who know me. I don't ever remember it being all too lighthearted, unfortunately.

Hyrule did get called for Aurora once because she was having such back pain she couldn't move. She summarily died of shame that anyone called an ambulance over that and said she'd just deal with it and refused to be transported. Hyrule came to see her after his shift was done and helped her go to an urgent care so she could get some muscle relaxers.

[hirik0]

Not a mamas boy anymore

Graves standing up to his controlling mother

Cw: use of the f slur

Graves never thought when he joined the US military with 18 it would mean it will shatter the picture he has of his mother one day. The resentment slowly build up with tine, because squad mates poked around asked question and often lookend horrifyed. Slowly bring Graves to the admission that his mother maybe is not the lovly southern woman he tought she is. The faithfull day the mask if his mother shattered in front if his eyes was a right after Easter. To the displeasure of his mother the phone ringed while they had breakfast, to call him back to base because of an emergency and of all people fellow Sergeant Daniel 'Jocker' Brown is picking him up. Jocker never talked nice about his family down in Texas, so hes more suprised to learn the other Sergeant only is a 2 hours drive away. After a 10 minutes disgusion with his Mother Elisabeth Graves about if he really has to go Yes he is promising to call more often. He really tried to call at often as posible but with missions and time zones it is hard to find the time. At least she stoped asking if he found a wife yet, after he asked her where on the battelfield hes supost to do that. He is now in his childhood room with his christian rock band posters that dont give him a nice nostalgic feeling just bitterness over been grounded for a long time and a lecture how rock music is demonic and him letting the devil in his heart. After that winning fights were just not worth it, atleast his father didn't got mad and beaten him what was a rare event and the only time he didn't got beat for making his mother cry. Because they were told that they likely are called back he luckily didn't unpack most of his travel bag so packing only took him maybe 10 minutes. He carries the bag down the stairs putting it next to the door so that hopefully Jocker and his mom will have as less interaction as possible, because with out even knowing his mother Jocker says pretty bad things about her, like shes a tow faced heck. His mother is loved by everyone in their church or atleast he thought that for a long time, but Jocker while they were in Iraq slowly was able to point out the cracks in his mother's act of being a lovely southern woman. They honestly don't have the time for Jocker having a disagreement with his mother from how urgent the call was. "Phillip, sweety can you help you father in the garden I will call you when whoever is picking you up is here", his mother asks orders him, so he goes out to help, against the feeling that his mind is screaming that will end really bad.

Jocker arrives 30 Minutes later, sitting in the car taking a deap breath. He will just pick up Phil and he will not be projecting the his feelings he has for his own grandmother on to Mrs. Graves, even if he convinced this two woman could be the same person. He gets out the car instantly spoted by all the people taking care of their front yards, great he also has a audience now, if things go south. He walks up the front porch and is ringing the bell. Mrs Graves don't even smiles when she opens the door clearly displeased with her only son leaving again. "Good morning Mrs. Graves I'm here to pick up Phil", Jocker says trying his best to not be pessimistic about how this will went down. His skin crawls from Mrs Graves looking him over as to make sure she can allowhim to take her son with him. The way she presses her lips together and the smile turn fake he did not own her aproval. "They let fagots serve now?"Mrs. Graves is the very first thing says, having Jocker frown confused till he rembers that his niece begged him to paint his nails. "Are you also telling me I'm going yo hell?", Jocker asks unintressed really he just want to pick up his fellow Sergeant. "Well clearly you already know you go there for being a sick pervert so I don't have to." Mrs Graves is giving him her best fake smile but the disgust is bleeding throughher white theet. "I will not enjoy seeing you there." This response clearly hit a big nerve because the smile freezes till it turns in to pure hatred. Unbeknown to Mrs. Graves her son is just re-entering the house. "You're lucky that you are not living here, because in a small town like this, we know exactly what to do with people like you. Dirty fagots are not welcome here and you're a disgrace to the all the brave men serving in the military and I will make sure to get you away from my son, because he should not have to work an abomination to god, like you." Graves jaw is on the floor he never heared his mother talk to anyone like this before. He frezzes, wanting to speak up wanting to just get out of here. It also hurts, it's like a part of his heart is breaking of, his inner child desperately clinging to the picture he has from his mother, while the angry teenager is shattering it in a thousand littel pieces with a bat. "Yes please tell our Captain what a horrible person I am letting my very ill 7 year old niece paint my nails blue, really unacceptable behaivor of me." And Jocker for sure said this loud enough for the older lady that is just predenting to water her plants is hearing him, and the older man that stoped trimming his bushes the moment the word fagot was used. "Well its clearly a punishment of God your niece is that sick", Mrs Graves response the shocked gasp from the neighbour next door audible and Graves he is turning angry at this, how can his mother just say something like this over a 7 year old. Phillip's inner child is crying by now, because if she say this about a child she doesn't know what did she say about him.

Logically Graves knows that Jocker can handel this himself, but he has to say something, show his team mate he dont think this is acceptable, that he is not like that. "Mother, how dare you say something like this about a 7 year old girl?", Phillip asks shocked having struggel to not raise his voice. "Phillip", his mother gasp and a "I wait at the car", from Jocker who is getting the fuck away from what ever will happen next. Thousands of tiny pyzzel pieces are falling in to place in Graves memoriesthat made no dence till now. "I, I , yo...you need to understand", Elizabeth stammers struggels to find away to not look like the bad guy. "No, I understand because I heared enough of what ever conversation you had with Jocker. I honestly understand a lot now, why some of the people in church are afrait of you, why people predent they don't know you that well when they were in your close circel for years and why your friend circel is constanly changing." Graves voice is calm but his hands are trembling in rage, his emotions are totally out of control to many big feelings and so few space in his body for them. Anger making his blood boil, grieve turning his stomach in a rock, hurt making his chest arch. "He's a fagot Phillip, he's a abomination to the bible.", his mother trys to defend herself despreate trying to get her son back on her site, just making Phillip's blood boil even more. "First if all he's not gay, Mom, second this has nothing to do with the stupid bible but with your small minded views and", Graves didn't even notices how he's getting louder and louder while his voice turns ice cold he grabs his back walks past his mother out of the house, "and with out Jocker I would have returned in a fucking body bag so maybe be atleast a littel bit thankfull!" The last part is screamed and the whole street is hearing him at this point. Mrs Graves is frezzing having no idea what to do how to get the control back. "Phillip he started this." With this Phillip is exploding. "No I'm pretty sure he didn't because compared to you he knows how to be a decent human. For fucks sack Mom this behaivor is the reason that Claire and Judy don't talk to you and you will never see your grandkids or can have a friend for more then 4 years. You're a judgmental asshole and people don't want to be around you more then necessary. The only think that matters to you is you and your overblown ego. Fuck I had to apologise to all my ex girlfriends because you bullied them so bad, after you pressured me into dating them in the first place!" 15 years of bottled up emotions are breaking at the same time, the whole neighbourhood is pretending to be busy on the front porch to not miss the show, some even on the phone with church members that live in other part of the city so they are not missing what is happening. Phillip Graves standing up to his mother will not leave the rumor mille for months, probaly years. Jocker starts the car opens the door at the passenger site so they can leave the moment Graves is done with airing his family's dirty air. Because he has nothing else to say he's storming towards the car he needs to get the fuck away from here.

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 1) Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: I Should Really Start Exercising

Trigger Warning: Brief description of panic attack

            “This doesn’t prove Connor’s the Spider.” Father Lawrence denied the photographic evidence in front of him.

            “It’s pretty damning, Father,” said Chloe. She and Lucifer had followed their lead but ended up getting information on the original drive-by shooting targeted at Father Lawrence. “And it’s enough for the APB that just went out. Connor’s been declared armed and dangerous.”

            “Armed and dangerous? The boy needs to be helped, convinced to turn himself in,” said Father Lawrence.

            “Father, he shot you. He fired into a room full of kids,” said Chloe.

            “Yes, but he shot up, didn’t he?” asked Father Lawrence.

            “We’ll do everything we can to bring him in peacefully,” said Chloe.

            “If you’ll excuse me, I…need some air.” He walked onto the balcony.

            “I have some digging to do,” said Chloe. “Will you watch him until I come back?”

            “You want me to babysit the priest? I already have (Y/N),” said Lucifer.

            “I babysit you all the time,” said Chloe, smirking as she left.

            “Have fun with the priest,” said (Y/N), turning towards the stairs.

            “I’m paying for that comment later, aren’t I?”

            “Oh, yeah.”

            “Damn.”

l

            (Y/N) awoke to the sound of someone speaking. They were in the more secluded area of the house, the corridor where their room was.

            “Of course…I’ll be there soon. I promise, we’ll figure everything.”

            They sat up blearily. Father Lawrence? Isn’t he supposed to stay here…?

            “Alright, Connor.” Footsteps sounded as the priest walked away.

            Rolling out of bed, (Y/N) snatched up their hoodie. I gotta tell Lucifer and Detective Decker!

            Father Lawrence was already in the elevator, so (Y/N) ran down the emergency stairs. I should really start exercising with Maze, this is not fun! Still, they persevered. They knew Father Lawrence was going to do something stupid; they needed to tell Lucifer.

Trigger Warning Start

            When (Y/N) burst into Lux, the smell of alcohol and perfume and the sounds of cheers and music hit them full force. Their head spun. Scrunching up their nose, they cried, “Lucifer!” No answer. “Lucifer!” From the corner of their eye, she could see Father Lawrence moving quickly through the crowd to the door. No! “Lucifer!” Spotting him at the bar with Maze and Chloe, (Y/N) pushed their way the crowd. Their skin crawled at the sensation of so many surrounding them.

            Lucifer finally heard their voice. Surprised at their arrival, he cleared a path for them to get to the bar. “What are you doing here?”

            “I heard Father Lawrence talking to Connor on the phone. He’s being an idiot and meeting him,” said (Y/N) urgently. Lucifer’s eyes widened.

            “What?” demanded Chloe, stepping forward.

            “I got down here as soon as I could, but I think he’s gone already!” As the music swelled around them and the anxiety surged forward, (Y/N) felt their hands shake and heart pound.

            “Dammit,” breathed Chloe. She pulled out her phone and began alerting backup while walking towards the doors. “We need to find him.”

            “Do you know where he was going?” asked Lucifer. When he saw (Y/N)’s eyes swiveling around the room alertly, clearly not alright, he gripped their shoulders carefully to root them in place. “Where did he go?”

            (Y/N) shook their head frantically. “Don’t know.” They squeezed their eyes shut and shook their head.

            “That’s alright, we’ll send men out to their houses,” said Chloe. “And we’ll head to the church.” As they walked, Lucifer guided (Y/N) through the crowd and to the car. Chloe glanced at the child, currently taking deep breaths to calm down. “Lucifer, I don’t think they should come.”

            Lucifer looked at Chloe seriously. “I’m not leaving them alone.”

            Chloe relented, proud of Lucifer for being so unknowingly selfless. “Fine, but they have to stay in the car when we get to the church.”

l

            (Y/N) sat curled up in Chloe’s backseat. Their attack had passed, and though there was residual anxiety and alertness, they were just tired and drained. Their relatively drowsy state was broken as a gunshot sounded from the church. They jerked up.

            Lucifer!

            As the fear of someone else dying near them set in, their panic set in. They couldn’t think of anything but the possibility of Lucifer being hurt. Jumping from the car, they burst through the church doors.

            Lucifer’s eyes widened when he saw (Y/N) entered. In the moment it took for their eyes to connect and Chloe to turn her back, Lucifer gave a lightning-quick flap of his wings and landed in front of them. He covered their eyes before they could see the body of Father Lawrence any better.

            “H-He’s dead…”

            Lucifer tightened his grip on (Y/N). “Yes.”

            Blinking back their tears as the anxiety swelled again, (Y/N) tightened their grip on his shoulders. “He didn’t deserve this…” They swallowed. “He’s in heaven, right Lucifer?”

            “He is, I’m sure of it.”

            “I’m glad.”

Trigger Warning End

l

            Lucifer yelled in frustration as he tried to light his cigarette. On the coach of the penthouse, (Y/N) lay wrapped up in blankets. After giving their statements, Lucifer had brought them back to the penthouse. He was glad they were now sleeping, free from the horrors they had just experienced once again. He clenched his fist.

            “You cruel, manipulative bastard!” Lucifer yelled at his Father. “Was this all part of Your plan? It’s all just a game to You, isn’t it?” He laughed sadly. “Well, I know punishment, and they do not deserve that! He didn’t deserve that; they don't deserve that!”

            Maybe we were put in your path for a reason.

            Father Lawrence’s words echoed in Lucifer’s mind. “He died! He followed Your stupid rules, and it still wasn’t good enough! So what does it take to please you? Break Your rules and fall! Follow them and you still lose?! Doesn’t matter whether you’re a sinner! Doesn’t matter whether you’re a saint! Nobody can win, so what’s the point? What’s the bloody point?”

            He sighed resignedly and turned around. As his eyes fell on the sleeping child, Lucifer’s eyes softened. I don’t want them to lose.

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 18

Masterpost

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory

CW: recovering pet whumpee, environmental whump, references to an amputated finger, paranoia/hallucinations

-

As he turned to lock the final door behind him, Rowe could see that he had been in a warehouse, evidently a rarely-used one. A single floodlight was on, illuminating nothing but a bare wall and the road leading up to it. Rowe had been correct- it was night. The open air was a thousand blessings as he breathed it in. His eyes felt clean, he could stand up properly, he wasn’t wearing that fucking collar anymore.

The happiness was short-lived, but he let himself have it. He was free. He just had to get home, now.

Rowe would have panicked, at that moment, but instead his heart toughened, because Kasia hadn’t been able to break him down. He was missing a finger, and the throbbing pain made sure he wouldn’t forget in a hurry, but he was still there, still himself. His nightmares would probably take a new form, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep alone again, but he was fine. He was a Pet. He was a person. Surviving was a skill of his.

He rested a hand on the wall, making sure he was hidden in shadow, and let himself take some of the weight off his scarred leg. Burnt, smashed, sewn up and burnt again. He would be limping, by the time he got home. But get home he would, and in some way, it was thanks to his leg. He had been sat on his bed, back when he couldn’t walk, looking for something to distract him from the feelings of anger and uselessness and what if he throws me out?

So he’d looked down and practised his reading. He remembered it perfectly. Tomas G…Grz…. something… 12 h-a-r-t… Hartland Road… your Pet… s-p-l-i-n-t…. bed rest for up to one week…

Rowe had read the address, and perhaps even then he’d known he might one day need it. It didn’t solve the problem of knowing whereHartland Road was, or whether he’d make it there without being stolen or beaten up or killed, but he had to try.

Kidnapped, he thought. You’d only say stolen for a piece of property.

The warehouse was evidently on the outskirts of town. Was it the right town? Rowe thought so, as he studied the lights shining down the road. Several of the shapes were familiar to him. The colourful string bulbs that were hung up along the shopping streets, the glow from the theatre on the hill, the dark spot where the graveyard sat. From his bedroom window he had to crane to get a good look, but he could see it well from the office. He ached to be back there. In the warmth and familiarity of it. Back with- Master? The word sounded strange now. Especially since- since Rowe felt like he understood him now. Understood his intentions.

He started to walk. Kasia’s jacket rested on his shoulders, and he couldn’t bear to put his arms in. The idea alone made him feel trapped. The thing smelt distinctly of the bastard, but Rowe knew it was preferable to the cold of a dead night. He found a main road soon enough, built up above the rest of the grassy flatland, so he gingerly climbed down the hill and walked alongside. He would be hidden from passing cars well enough, but his bare feet soon began to take the brunt of the choice of rough land over tarmac. Stones, sticks, was that roadkill, oh, god, all were littered through his journey which was only sparsely lit by the occasional road light. After a particularly sharp stone, or possibly even a discarded glass bottle, Rowe knew his foot was bleeding. He ground his teeth together. It wasn’t real if he couldn’t see it. And right now, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him.

He kept his eyes on the lights from the town before him, slowly drawing closer.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him, running closer with horrifying speed. As they drew near he could hear Kasia screaming at him.

You think you can fucking get away from me? You think you locked that collar? You really think I won’t come back?

He kept his eyes fixed on the town. “It-it-it’s n-not real,” he whispered past the lump in his throat. He was trembling with fear. “It’s not real, I locked him up, I st-stopped him, it’s not real, it’s not.”

The paranoia wouldn’t leave him, though. Every passing car, though they were few and far between, made him jump and crouch down, hands clamped over his mouth. He couldn’t shake the fear that it was Kasia after him, out searching for the rotten escaped Pet. His leg burst with pain every time, making him whimper and cry when he tried to stand back up.

The sounds of footsteps gradually stopped, and Kasia’s voice faded, but Rowe could still feel his hands clawing at him. His back tingled with the overwhelming sensation that someone was behind him, creeping up and reaching out to grab-

Against his better judgement, he turned back. Darkness there, and nothing more. “Fuck, f-fuck, keep it together,” he muttered.

Just up ahead, he could see streetlamps. Proper ones, glowing a gentle orange. He went as far as he could along the grass, then climbed up, wetting his hands in the dew. He checked for cars, and seeing none, scrambled fully onto the road.

He realised he couldn’t run anymore- his leg would give out, or he wouldn’t be able to contain a howl of pain- so he limped as quickly as he could towards the next patch of shadow, over and over.

Eventually he came upon a sign: Welcome to….

It was half shadowed, but it was a map. He pushed himself up on his tip-toes, eyes scanning the jumble of letters and lines and symbols. Eventually he spotted it. Hartland Road. He traced the direction in his head, making sure it was committed to memory, although he knew he wouldn’t forget it even if someone tried to beat it out of him. And then, he started walking.

He couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but he would have guessed around three or four in the morning. The pub, as he passed it, was quiet, although he still kept his distance, hugging the shadows.

He soon reached the base of the hill he knew he’d have to climb. As he started to ascend, he saw the Pet hospital in the distance. Oh god, would he have to go back there to get his finger treated? He pushed the question to the back of his mind. If he did, there wasn’t anything he could do.

A few cars drove by, as he walked. He wanted to duck into one of the smaller streets that branched off, but he had only memorised one route home, and he didn’t trust himself to improvise in the dark. So instead he squared his shoulders, stopped hunching, tried his best to look like a person walking home in his heavy jacket, not afraid, not prey. It didn’t feel quite right, but it was easier than he’d expected. And it worked- no cars stopped, no one seemed to give him a second glance.

He finally reached the street, the name lit up. Hartland Road. The sign was scuffed, like kids had popped the cap off their beers along its edge. It was fixed to the wall of a garden, weeds poking out through the bricks, a flyer from the council tied at eye-level to the neck of the streetlamp. Rowe took everything in as he walked. The bicycle clipped to a fence, the parked cars, the black bins left out for collection. Before, he never would have taken notice. None of it had mattered. But now, Rowe felt as if he had a new connection to the world around him. He could interact with it. He wasn’t leashed or under the watchful eye of an owner, he wasn’t crawling or blindfolded in the boot of a car. He was in pain, yes, but he was always in pain, so constantly that it hardly registered anymore. He was free.

Rowe didn’t recognise the house itself. The only times he’d ever left it, he’d been unconscious, or practically so.

But when he turned around, he saw the same view he’d had from his bedroom window every morning and night. He was home.

He remembered Kasia’s key, but it no longer fit into the front door. The lock must have been changed. Rowe hated that the alternative was to make a loud noise, at this hour, but perhaps that was the smarter way than simply slipping inside like- like Kasia. So he hesitantly pressed down on the doorbell, hitting his fist against the wood as well. He waited. He thought about how he’d never rung a doorbell before in his life.

Silence. Rowe wasn’t exactly surprised, but his heart still tightened. Suddenly the fresh air didn’t feel freeing, it felt exposed. He rang again, knocking harder, not giving up. Surely he would know it was urgent? Surely he would come down, and Rowe would get to see his face again?

Faintly, he heard the creaking of the stairs. “I-I-It’s me!” he said, hushed. “It’s me, I…”

His words died as the door slowly opened. Half a face, an eye framed by blond curls peered out, full of apprehension. In a heartbeat it landed on Rowe and widened, and the door flew open.

“Tomas,” Rowe said, loving how it felt to say his name, loving him, loving everything. “I’m back, I, I’m back, I’m back.”

Tomas raised a hand over his mouth, and for once he was the one shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god.”

And then he was reaching both arms out for Rowe with a sob. Rowe threw the horrible jacket to the ground and fell into him, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on tight. He couldn’t have known whose knees failed first, but suddenly they had collapsed on the floor, clinging onto each other, not leaving a shred of space between as they both cried. Soaked in the orange light that pooled through the still-open front door.

[xaphrin]

This is way longer than I anticipated, and also I hope you don’t mind it gets a little adult-ish at the end there. 

- - -

Ending up in urgent care at ten in the evening was not where Damian had expected this night to end, but here he was. He perused the eight month-old issue of Golf Digest a third time, looking at the pictures, but not quite reading. He felt uncomfortable and helpless, sitting out here in the waiting room. He’d driven her to the urgent care, but Raven had been too embarrassed to allow him into the examination room, and so he was relegated to this corner of the room, trying not to feel panicked and worried about her. It was just a fall down the stairs, painful and probably mortifying, but nothing life-threatening. But, still… that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to worry about her either. Of course he was going to worry about her.

He leaned back, his head resting against the wall as he stared at the ceiling, and let his mind wander. 

It doesn’t mean that I can’t change my mind in the future.  

His stomach tightened as he thought about what that implied - that Raven might actually like him. Or, was at least learning to tolerate him a bit more. He knew that finding himself even kissing her was a pipe dream, but actually making love to her? Ugh. He’d already had one too many sleepless nights thinking about what he would do to her and with her if he was ever blessed with the opportunity to have Raven in his arms. His tongue wet his lower lip, and he let go of a frustrated sigh, reminding himself that this was just a date. She’d made it perfectly clear that this was nothing more… even if her purse was packed full of condoms.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to calm his breathing. Just because he was eighteen months into his self-imposed dry spell, didn’t mean that he had to start thinking about Raven like he was a horny teenager discovering his dick for the first time. Jeeze. Damian ran his fingers through his hair and looked over towards the examination rooms when his name was politely called from the doorway. 

“Mister Wayne?” 

Raven was hobbling out of the exam room on crutches, her ankle wrapped tightly with a bandage and a new still-healing scrape along her left cheek and over her chin. She met his stare with a frown and then walked over to him, looking more than just sheepish. She looked like she wanted to crawl in a hole and die. 

Damian stood up and walked to where she was. 

The nurse padded up behind her, looking sympathetic. “Luckily, it’s just a sprain. Raven is advised to stay off it for the next few weeks, and only go out if absolutely necessary. She may need some help getting paperwork and classwork if she can’t make it out on campus.” The nurse gave a polite smile, her eyes darting between them as if seeing something Damian didn’t. “And I wanted to make sure she had someone to get her home safe and sound.” 

“I’ll make sure she gets back right away.” Damian gave a polite smile. “Thank you.” 

The nurse nodded and bid them good night before taking another patient back with her. Damian stared down at Raven, but she refused to make eye contact with him. He nodded slowly, his voice sympathetic and soft. “So… I take it our date is officially over?”

Raven groaned and turned away from him, accompanied by the soft click click of her crutches on the linoleum floor. She hobbled towards the exit, ignoring Damian as he caught up with her. 

“I thought your flirting was cute.” Damian smirked, and she glared at him from the corner of her eye, but continued to stay quiet. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, pretending to think. “Admittedly your tumble down the stairs was somewhat left to be desired.”

Her eyes narrowed and she whispered a curse under her breath. “Jerk.”

He just smiled and guided her to the car. “If anything, this will be an interesting first date story to tell our friends.”

Raven’s face paled and she stopped hobbling long enough to turn towards him. “We are never going to speak of this again. And our friends will never know. No one will ever know.” 

Damian opened the car door and helped her inside, putting her crutches in the backseat. “You sure? I think it’s pretty funny. You trying to charm the pants off me, and end up careening down the stairs, barely missing the murky water of the marina.” He walked around the car and slid behind the wheel. “It’s almost like a romantic comedy.”  

“Please. Stop talking. I don’t want to talk about this ever again.” She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Our first date and instead of making out by the bay, you ended up taking me to urgent care.”

Damian glanced over at her and lifted an eyebrow. “You make it sound like we were going to make out by the bay.” His heart skipped beats, and he swallowed, letting her words ring in his ears. Make out. She wanted to make out with him? His stomach clenched again, and he tried to keep his voice calm. “After you explicitly said you weren’t going to sleep with me?”

“Sleeping with you and making out are two very different things.” She sniffed and glanced away, her lips pursing in annoyance. “Besides…” She shrugged, as if thinking about what she said to him. “You were making me forget why I wasn’t going to make out with you in the first place. You’re unnervingly charming sometimes.” 

Damian’s eyebrows lifted, and he glanced over at her as he pulled the car onto the road. “Is that an offhanded way of saying you were actually enjoying our date?”

She glanced at him before looking out the window again. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Yes. Yes, he would. If she still wanted to make out with him he would pull this car over the side of the road and crawl into the back seat with her. Bury his hands in her hair. Feel her breath against his own lips. Hell, he would do anything she wanted just so he could taste that vanilla chapstick she was always using. His heart twisted his chest and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep his body from reacting to the sudden onslaught of need. She was injured, and he needed to stop acting like a horny idiot. All he had to so, was take her home.  

Raven sighed and rubbed at her cheek. “I just want to go back to the house and pretend this night never happened.” 

Damian nodded and pressed down on the gas, making his way back to her house. The sooner he got her out of the car, the sooner he could turn around and pretend that this night was over, and they could go back to being whatever they were before. Although… he wasn’t sure if that was what he really wanted. After tonight, he realized that he couldn’t keep pretending for much longer. He couldn’t keep making himself believe that he could ignore her or keep her at a distance. Damian wanted Raven in his life, in a way he didn’t want anyone else. He might get hurt, and his heart might shatter into a million pieces, but… he had to at least try. Right?

Damian found himself lost in thought as he pulled up next to her house, the lights turned down dark.  

“Donna and Karen went out to a party, so…” 

Raven’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he glanced over at her. “I’ll help you to your room.”

“Please don’t. I’m already going to die from embarrassment, please don’t add insult to injury.” Raven hobbled out of the car, struggling to pull her crutches out of the backseat as she leaned all her weight on her good ankle. “I’ll be fine. Slow. But fine. So, good night.”

Damian stepped out of the car and watched her with amused fascination. She pulled out the crutches, hobbled up the short walk, and stopped at the porch steps, staring at them as if they were a mountain she was supposed to climb. She stood there for a moment, obviously trying to figure out how to navigate the walk into the house. Honestly. She was so damn stubborn. With an annoyed sigh, he walked up to her, bent down, and hefted Raven over his shoulder, carrying her fireman-style up the porch steps. 

“Put me down!” 

Ignoring Raven’s complaints, he reached into her purse, still packed with condoms, pulled out her keys, and opened the front door. 

“I am serious! I am not going to let you just manhandle me like this, Damian Wayne.” 

Damian just rolled his eyes, but made a note that she wasn’t really struggling against him. Her anger seemed more of an indignant act to save face, and he would let her have that small bit of pride if she needed it. He walked into her house and set her purse on the sofa, before heading upstairs. “Which one is yours?”

“First door on the right.” Raven sighed, obviously defeated. “It’s open.” 

 “Okay.” He opened the door and walked in, suddenly assaulted with how much of her was packed into such a small space. Books lined every wall and were stacked neatly by her bed. Her room was clean and organized, decorated with artistic prints and photos of her friends. His stomach clenched as he took in the scent of her - vanilla and lavender, and he found himself wanting to stay here forever, in this little oasis of her. 

He was hopeless. 

“You can put me down now, Dami.” 

Damian shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and set her down on the bed. With a smirk, he stared down at her. “See? I saved you ten minutes of struggling.” 

Raven gave him a deadpan stare. “How heroic.” Without really thinking, she reached behind her and started to unfasten the dress she was wearing. “Can you grab my t-shirt and leggings on the chair by the door. If I have to spend one more minute in this dress, I swear I’m going to scream.” 

Damian grabbed her clothes and when he turned back around, Raven was sitting in nothing more than a black bra and a pair of lacy underwear. Well, fuck. It felt like he could see miles of creamy skin, her body gently toned from her yoga and pilates classes, and her secrets hidden by only a thin barrier of lace. The soft light from a bedside lamp cast beautiful shadows over her skin, and he watched to trace every single one of them. His mouth watered and he stood there, feeling helpless as he stared at her. Blood rushed between his legs and she found himself desperate to touch.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a girl in her underwear?” Raven grabbed the clothes from his hands, and wiggled into them, giving him a flat stare. “I would have thought with the way girls on campus talk about your-” She paused and pitched her voice high and breathy, fluttering her eyelashes in a tease. “-giant cock that you’ve seen more than your fair share of half-naked girls.” 

Oh. Ouch. Sure, he’d gone through a spell where he had slept with every girl who wanted to find themselves in his bed. But he learned quickly that it wasn’t really about sex. It had never been about the sex. The only thing he really wanted was to drive Raven from his mind, and he thought that if he found the right girl, maybe it would make him forget all about her. Maybe he wouldn’t find himself dreaming about her every night, and watching her from across the room. But, it never worked. And all it had done was hurt him even more. It had been eighteen months since he slept with anyone. Eighteen months since Raven had been at the frat house, and watched the trail of girls come into his room and leave with wistful smiles on their faces. 

He remembered the sharp bite to her voice as she pushed past him to Jaime’s room for her Spanish tutoring. 

Whore. 

“None of them were you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and Damian felt panic claw at his chest. What was it about Raven that made him feel like he was a damned idiot? He needed to learn how to control his thoughts, or he really was going to make himself a fool in front of her. He swallowed and glanced away, pretending to look at one of the prints on the wall. 

“You make it sound like you like me, Dami.” There was a sharpness to her voice, as if she was trying to guard her heart against him. “And we both know-”

“Oh, shut up.” Damian turned and stared at her again, feeling anger rise into his chest before he could stop it. He wanted to fight with her, to try and make her understand what she was saying. Didn’t she realize that he didn’t believe her anymore? “Come on, Raven. We already had this conversation tonight. You want to push at me because it puts distance between us. And, if there’s distance between us, then you don’t have to admit that you had a good time tonight. You wouldn’t have to admit that maybe you kind of like me, and maybe you still want to make out with me.” His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’re just a little bit jealous of the girls I slept with.” 

Her face burned. “I am not!”

“No?”

“No. I bet I’m not missing a damned thing.” Raven tilted her head up, staring at him from the end of the bed. “I bet you’re a terrible kisser, Damian Wayne.”

His lips tilted to the side. “Are you goading me?” He leaned over her, his hands resting on either side of her hips. “Because if you want me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask.”

There was a moment’s pause and she continued to glare at him, a sharp, unspoken retort dancing on her lips. And then everything seemed to slow. 

Raven fisted her hand in the front of his shirt. 

She pulled him forward.

And kissed him. 

Damian groaned and slammed his eyes shut, giving into the sensation of Raven’s lips on his own. He had never allowed himself the luxury of imagining what it would be like kissing Raven, but it surpassed all possible expectations. She was soft and cautious, as if she found herself in a new and unfamiliar situation, and she wasn’t sure what she needed to do next. He’d be more that happy to guide her. His tongue darted out to stroke along the swell of her lower lip, and his fingers curled into her hair, scattering bobby pins over the floor as he dragged her closer. He tasted that sweet flavor of vanilla chapstick, and before he could stop himself, Damian pushed her back against the bed. Raven met his low groan with one of her own, and her hands shot to hair, as if to keep him pinned to her. 

He wasn’t ever going to let go. 

Damian crawled over her, his arms caging her in as he carefully navigated her body, trying to avoid her injured ankle. Her mouth was like fire, burning hot and destroying every good thought in his head with each pass of her lips. He found his fingers trailing over her, unable to tear his touch away from her skin. His palm rested against her collarbone,not daring to let his fingers travel any further south, but with a whine, Raven wrapped her fingers around his wrist and brought his hand to her breast. Damian lost all contact with the real world. 

He cupped her breast through her t-shirt, feeling her nipple tighten under his touch. She arched her back, thrusting her soft breast into his hand as another moan hummed along his lips. She wanted this, and he wanted to give it to her. And then some. Damian teased her nipple, ran his thumb along it, traced it. He let himself learn everything she wanted from this touch alone, reading every sigh and twitch and gasp, until it felt like his head was going to burst.  

Slowly, he kissed down to her ear and nipped at the lobe. “I want to make you come.” 

He felt her stiffen under him, unsure about what he had said, and Damian pulled back, letting his hand fall to the side. Stupid. So, fucking stupid. What in the world was he thinking? That was way too much, way too fast. Just because he’d been pining for her for four years, it didn’t mean that she felt the same way. He was an idiot.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stepped off the bed and stumbled backward. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

“No. It’s not…” Raven flushed and looked away, shifting uncomfortably as she searched for the right response. “I… haven’t… done that before.” 

Damian was turned away from her, trying to will his erection away. Her words struck him, and he glanced back at her, trying to understand what she meant. “Made out? I thought you dated Gar?”

“No.” She flushed and pulled her shirt down. It had ridden up with their… activities. “That’s not what I meant.”   

The confession clicked in his head. Oh. Oh. Orgasmed. She had never had an orgasm before. Damian blinked, finding himself trying to understand the confession. “I… um… never?”

“I… only ever slept with Gar, and he was high most of the time, and… just… didn’t really know what to do with my body. He tried though, he just… didn’t think to ask what I needed. So, I faked it a lot.” She shifted, and then scrambled for explanation, as if she needed to excuse herself to him. “I mean, I can… when I’m alone. And… not stressed out about school.” 

Which was never. But still, his mind was filled with a sudden image of her in this exact bed with her fingers between her legs, her head thrown back in pleasure. His cock sprang to life again and Damian turned away. Dear god, the last thing she needed to see was him this absolutely desperate for her.  He took a steadying breath and let it out slowly, hoping he could clear his head well enough to continue the conversation.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She pushed at her hair. There was a moment’s pause and she gave a teasing smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood between them. “But, I guess I have to say that I’ve been proved wrong. You are a pretty good kisser.” 

Damian gave a weak laugh, but it didn’t match the mood. His eyes searched her face for a long moment. “That wasn’t a heat-of-the-moment confession, Raven.” 

She blinked, color filling her face. “Oh.”

“I… you…” He raked his fingers through his hair, feeling himself stumble over everything. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, meeting her stare. “I should go.” 

Raven glanced away. “You don’t even want to try?”

His stomach dropped and his cock twitched again. Try to give her an orgasm? Yes. Yes, he desperately wanted to try. But… she wasn’t sure, and he could hear it in her voice. He slammed his eyes close and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Are you asking?”

“I don’t know what I want.” Raven pushed at her hair and looked back at him, her eyes dark with confusion. “I just know that you’re making me change my opinions on you. Including whether or not I would make out with you… and let you finger me.”

His fingers clenched. “Maybe I wasn’t going to use my hand.” He wet his lips, watching as Raven’s eyes followed the line of his tongue. He wanted to strip her down, to make her realize that not only did he know exactly what he was doing, but he was damned good at it. He wanted to watch her break apart under his touch over and over and over. He wanted to do everything he never dared to let himself dream about. 

But… he could sense her hesitation, and he knew one thing for sure, he didn’t want her to regret this. He wanted nothing less than her enthusiastic consent when they slept together for the first time. 

“I’m not going to take anything more than you want to give me, Raven.” He turned to her and gave her a soft smile. “So… let’s leave it here tonight. And if you want to revisit this conversation at another time, you know where to find me.” 

Raven lifted her eyes to his face, searching his expression for a long moment. Finally, she gave a slow smile and pitched forward. “You’re a surprisingly good guy, Damian Wayne.” 

He snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“Keep making me change my mind about you.” 

His heart turned over, and at the sight of her soft smile, he thought he might melt right there in front of her.

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night: Part VII

Author’s Notes at the end... but if you’re just joining us:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

At some point, she wasn’t sure when, Cordelia had laid down on the hard tempered ground. She stared up at the smoke colored sky and watched the clouds above her dance and swirl in airy shapes. The wound on her side had stopped hurting; all that was left was a dull ache, and a burning underneath her skin. She didn’t need to look down at her arms to see the black veins that crawled underneath her now ashen, skin. Her breathing had become labored, shallow, and her chest stretched as it tried to take its fill of the putrid air.

There was still so much she needed to say. There was so much she wanted to do.

“There’s time for that.” Her mother would say to her. “Stop being in such a rush. There is time for all that.”

It seemed she was running out of time.

The once hot hair now left her feeling cold. Her eyelids felt heavy. All she wanted was to close them, just for a moment, but she forced herself to keep them open.

Tragic.

She contemplated the word. Imagined it would be thrown around at her funeral— if she was to have one. If Belial was defeated and they managed to recover her body from this place, the word tragic would define the end of her life, as it did for so many Shadowhunters before her, all lives lost too early.

But that would not be what would make her death tragic. It would be because she died the same way she lived… alone.

The thought made her cry out and her hands gripped the sand that scratched beneath her skin.

It’s this place, she thought. It turns even your inner thoughts dark and dreadful.

She chased after images of people and things that she loved but even those left her feeling hollow and alone.

Then a memory came to her mind.

It was nothing grand or spectacular, a small moment actually. It was a week after she’d become engaged to James. Her mother had been dragging her to appointment after appointment claiming it would be ‘the wedding of the century’. The binding of a Herondale and a Carstairs. She’d grown weary and sick of dress appointments, cake shops, flowers, table clothes, and just craved some semblance of normal. She wanted to take Cortana in her hands, feel the bite of the metaled handle, hear the slight whistle as the blade arched through the air and slice the heads off the perfectly assorted flower arrangements in one clean sweep.

Most appointments, Cordelia had Lucie to keep her company, making the day a bit more bearable. But when Lucie had a previous engagement that she refused to tell Cordelia about James offered to come along to keep Cordelia company. 

He came to stand beside her in the center of an ostentatious ballroom that had a hand painted mural on the ceiling. Cordelia had her head all the way back staring at the image of Jonathon Shadowhunter, with great enormous white wings spread out from his back, charging after a group of mangy looking demon dogs. Their mothers were bent over a catalogue, conversing over decorations for the reception when she felt his shoulder brush against hers.

He leaned into her and his hair brushed her cheek. “Do you like ice cream?”

Thinking it was a joke, she laughed, but when she turned to look at him, his eyes blazed with mischief.

“Mother doesn’t allow me to have ice cream,” she said, and looked back up at the mural. “She says it will go right to my hips and rot my teeth.”

“Give me your shoes,” he said, suddenly urgent.

“What?”

He pressed his hand over her mouth and glanced at their mother’s. Tessa was leading Sona into the hall and went on about lining the floor in imported silks to cover the scuff marks in the wood.

“Give me your shoes,” he repeated. “They’ll make too much noise.”

A rush of excitement went through Cordelia as she reached down and slid her feet out of her pale pink heels and handed them to James.

He cradled them in-between his arm and his side and motioned for her to follow him.

“What are we doing?” She whispered once out of the hallway.

He grinned down at her; she felt her cheeks redden, as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door.

Once out on the busy London street, he handed her back her shoes, and offered her his arm to hold while she slid them back on. He nodded at nosy pedestrians that looked at Cordelia curiously.

When she was situated, he grabbed her hand again and he was pulling her down the street. He weaved deftly around people, leapt over a dog on a leash, and skirted past solicitors while Cordelia muttered their apologies.

When he stopped, she nearly slammed into him. His cheeks were flushed, his crown of black hair curled away from his face, and a cheeky grin lifted one corner of his perfect mouth. She couldn’t remember a time when he looked more beautiful to her.

The smell of the shop was the first thing she noticed. A heavenly aroma of vanilla, spun sugar, chocolate, and creme. Her mouth instantly watered and her stomach groaned.

“I saw it on the carriage ride over.” He glanced over at her. “Do we dare?”

She was stalled by a moment of guilt.

He hopped up on the first step leading towards the glass door and noticed that she hadn’t followed.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“I really shouldn’t.” She groaned as the door opened again and a girl with blonde braids down her shoulders walked out with a cone dripping with the sweet dessert. Her mouth watered, betraying her.

“Come on, Daisy.” James stepped back down so he was right in front of her. His mouth curved into a vexatious grin that left her warm and breathless. “Unless you prefer we go back to our mothers and talk about seating arrangements.”

She grabbed his hand this time and led him up the stairs to the door.

After they chose their ice cream, James picked a raspberry swirl in a cone and Cordelia chose chocolate, they walked across the bustling street to the small lake with a trail around it and settled into a leisurely stroll beside one another.

He ate his ice cream quickly and poked fun at her for eating hers slow when it dripped down her fingers. She taught him words in her native tongue and fought back laughter when he butchered the pronunciation. He told her stories about The Merry Thieves, and Lucie, and his parents. There was only one strange encounter with a duck where he switched to walk on the other side of her, so she was closest to the creature, and then switched back as if nothing had happened.

When she’d lost count of how many times they’d circled the pond, they stopped at a vacant bench underneath a tilting willow tree with branches that swayed and grazed the ground below it. 

“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said and leaned to press a kiss to his cheek, but he’d moved his head slightly so her lips grazed the corner of his mouth instead.

Horrified, she’d begun to make her apologies, when he brushed a curl that had fallen into her face and secured it behind her ear, letting his fingers graze the shell of her ear before he cupped her jaw in his hand. “My Daisy, you require no one’s rescuing."

A lifetime of this, she thought painfully. I want a lifetime of this.

“James?” She smiled to herself and the ache in her chest became something different. “James, can you hear me?”

For the longest time, she believed there were two versions of James that existed: hers and the other one. Her James caught her when she fell from carriages, rescued her from public scrutiny, kissed her on top of tables, and made her smile until it felt like her cheeks might pop. The other James abandoned her on dance floors, left her in mid-conversation, and was completely enraptured by someone else.

Would she ever learn who the real James was?

When Grace’s hold on him is finally removed, would his affections change?  

Would it be too late?

“James.”

She waited a moment on bated breath but nothing could be heard except for the sound of the wind rushing through her ears and her own heartbeat failing to pump what limited blood remained through her body.

“Not long now,” said Belial. She’d thought he’d left or perhaps he’d only just returned. He squatted down next to her. The tip of a dagger that hung at his side in a gilded scabbard nudged her thigh. His head loomed over hers blocking out the red sun. “They’re approaching. Soon this will all be over.”

She’d waited long enough for someone to come save her. It was well past time that she saved herself.

Her death would not be tragic.

No. It’d be heroic.

Her hands gripped the sand underneath her and with the last ounce of energy she had left, she flung her handful at his looming face.  

~

James.

The car was tilting heavily to the left as Matthew took a turn at an alarming speed when James heard her voice inside of his head. He straightened himself and leaned forward trying to listen over the sounds of grumblings from the people around him, but nothing else came. He thought for a moment that he smelt vanilla and tasted raspberry on his tongue.

The headache behind his eyes was present, but not getting any worse. He didn’t chance a look at his wrist with Thomas sitting so close beside him and Lucie looming over his shoulder. He thought about putting the bracelet back on, just to stop any damage that might be occurring because of his impulsive decision. But now that he was free of it, the last thing he wanted was to put it back on. In fact, he thought constantly of throwing the bloody thing into the street and being rid of it forever.

His mind felt clear for the first time in a long time. For so long his thoughts had been hazy, unfocus, reverting back to Grace as if they were tied to her name by an invisible string and being flung back to her whenever they would wander too far.

How did he not see it?

How could he not know?

“Can this thing not go any faster?” asked Lucie, who was half on top of a scandalized Christopher in the back seat.

“There are no runes to hide automobiles,” said Matthew jerked the gear shift. “As long as Mundanes can see us, I have to abide by Mundane rules.”

“It’s dark outside.” Anna pointed out. “There is no one out to spot us. Just admit that this piece of rubbish doesn’t go any faster.”

“Thomas, I cannot think of an equally demoralizing response and drive at the same time,” said Matthew over his shoulder. “Please proceed to make Anna cry with your words on my behalf.”

“No.”

James had only just noticed that Thomas knee had not stopped bouncing. His usually calm friend seemed as perturbed as he felt, but for what reason James didn’t know.

“STOP!” Lucie yelled over James’ shoulder.

The tires screeched and James was nearly thrown over the hood of the automobile and out into the street if not for Thomas’ arms outstretched across both he and Matthew. The three occupants in the back hit the first row hard jolting them forward.

A chorus of curses filled the automobile, followed by an explosion of air and steam from the hood of the car.

“Algernon.” Matthew whimpered.

When James looked up, a wall of thick gray fog stood just inches away from the car. He leaned out the door to see the edge of it lapping against the pavement like the shore of a lake but never moving any farther. His eyes followed it up into the sky merging with the clouds that still lingered there.

Lucie jumped from the backseat and ran past James.

He was out of the car in a moment, following after her, as she disappeared into the thick of it without hesitation.

“Lucie!” He stepped in after her. The air crackled around James. His runes sang underneath his skin as if aware of something his mind wasn’t yet aware of. The smell of stale ale, sulfur, and blood clung to his nostrils. “Lucie!”

“James?” He heard her on his left.

“Lucie!” The air clung to his skin, cold yet humid. He waved his hand out in front of his face in an attempt to clear it. “Can you hear me? Come back.”

“James?” He could hear the fear rising in her voice. She sounded farther away than before.

“Stop moving!” He yelled. “Just wait for me where you are. Keep talking.”

He ran in the direction he’d heard her voice, but he couldn’t see even an inch in front of him. It was like swimming with your eyes closed, unsure of which way is up and down.

“James!” Matthew called from behind him. “What’s going on in there?”

“Stay together,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Hold hands or tie yourself to something.”

“What do you see?” Thomas asked.

“Nothing,” said James. “I can’t see anything. Lucie!”

“James!”

It came from behind him now, only feet away. He ran in the direction and thought that he saw a figure taking shape in front of him. He exploded into a run and like a picture behind changed on a projector, he stepped out and was in front of the car again.

Matthew was tying himself to the car with a long rope. Thomas looked restless, muttering something to himself, while Christopher poked his finger in and out of the fog curiously. Anna was the first to see James.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

James' heart rate leapt in his chest as he turned back around to face the fog. “Lucie.” He pushed back in and ran forward in the direction he’d first seen her go in.

“LUCIE!”

No response.

The fog burned his lungs as his breathing quickened. Every muscle in his body felt taut. She couldn’t be gone. She had to be here, somewhere. He’d find her. He had to.

“Lucie, answer me!”

“James!” Her soft clear voice rang from behind him again.

He spun around and ran towards her voice. Not even ten steps and he popped out of the fog again to meet the others.

“No.” He exhaled and dragged his hands through his damp hair. 

A hand clamped down on his shoulder preventing him from taking another step forward.

He spun around to shove whoever it was off, but Matthew stepped away before he could.

“Stop and think for a moment.” Matthew shouted and grabbed James by the shirt. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep running in there blind. We need a strategy, a plan!”

“James,” said Anna from the car. “Matthew.”

But James was too busy fighting Matthew off to notice her. “Lucie is in there.”

“I know that!” said Matthew. “I’ve been listening to you call her name for the past ten minutes. Now calm down and think.”

“James!” Anna shouted. “Matthew, look!”

When he turned back around, the fog had begun to clear as if it were being physically sucked away. The street was empty, the cobblestone path glistened with condensation, and lying in the middle of it was a body.

Author’s Notes: Fun fact, ice cream became popular and inexpensive in England in the mid-nineteenth century, when Swiss émigré Carlo Gatti set up the first stand outside Charing Cross station in 1851. He sold scoops in shells for one penny. The fun things you learn when you’re researching things for your fanfiction to insure that you remain historically accurate. I’m on a diet (need to lose some of this quarantine weight) so writing this ice cream scene was really just me wishing I was on a date with my non-existent boyfriend eating ice cream while walking around a lake... I hope you enjoy it. Also, I know that James doesn’t have an affliction with ducks quite like his father does, but I can still see him being hesitant of them, because we all know Will told him horror stories when James was a child. Please hit the like, comment, reblog, and follow along for more updates. I just wish I could hug and smother all of you in love for supporting this fanfiction. I’m having a blast creating it (flaws and all). A million thank you’s to each and every one of you!

[thefirstcourtesan]

First Love and Other Complications: A My Two First Loves rewrite Chapter 1

First Love and Other Complications

By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine.

Author’s Notes- This chapter combines the first 2.5 chapters of MTFL and introduces all the LIs but changes things around a bit as we set up the premise. The MTFL timeline sucks (like every choices book), so I will be playing around with that too.

Pairings- Mason/MC, eventual Noah/MC

Summary- Jess and Mason take a big step but not everyone seems thrilled and Jess is saved by a mysterious stranger.

Rating- PG-13

Chapter One- The Beginning of Everything

“Mason, I like you.”

I practiced it out loud and then groaned. “Ugh. That sounds stupid. Of course he knows I like him.”

I took a deep breath and tried again. “Mason, I like like you.”

Another groan, that was even worse.

“Mason, I—“

My final attempt at preparation was cut off by a sound at my window. He was here!

Mason had been crawling in my window for years, although it was a little harder now that he lived a few blocks away instead of next door, but it felt right. Especially tonight.

I let him in and drank in the sight of him. Tall and muscular with a friendly grin that melted my heart. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice me staring, instead he seemed just as focused on me as I was on him and my heart skipped a beat. Could he feel the same?

I stepped closer, almost hesitantly, and Mason immediately wrapped me in a warm hug. Instantly everything felt right again. Mason’s arms had always been my safe place. Suddenly I felt doubt about my decision. What if he didn’t feel teh same and I lost him? Could I handle that?

I pushed that thought aside. No, I had to do this. I had to know.

“Mason-“

“Jess-“

We started to speak at the exact same moment.

“Great minds, I guess,” Mason said with a laugh as we stepped back from the hug, “you first.”

Great. I could do this. I had to do this.

“Mason... I love you,” the words came out in a rush and I could feel the heat rushing to my cheek, “and not... not as a friend.”

There. I had done it. After three years of bottling it inside, I had told Mason Jennings how I felt and now it was out of my hands.

Mason looked stunned by my words and he was silent for a long moment, long enough that dread started creeping in and I wished I was anywhere else. Why had I said that? What had I done?

Just as I was about to tell him it was a joke or something, I felt Mason’s hands on my waist and realized I was being pulled into his arms, pressed right up against his muscular chest.

“I have wanted to hear that for so long,” Mason said, “I feel the same way. It’s you, Jess, it’s always been you, I have just been so worried about losing our friendship, afraid that you didn’t feel the same way.” He gazed at me with wonder. “But you do.”

I nodded shyly. “Yeah.” My hands rested on his shoulders, wondering what came next,

I didn’t have to wonder for long because Mason lowered his head and his lips met mine. I had spent all of high school daydreaming about kissing Mason Jennings and the reality was better than anything I could ever have imagined. It was easy to lose myself in the kiss, the feel of Mason’s arms around me and i could have stayed like that forever, except for the sound of footprints coming up the stairs.

Mason and I broke apart in a hurry.

“My dad!”

“I guess I should go,” Mason said reluctantly, moving towards the window, he turned back to smile at me, “Jess, I am glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too.” I told him, though I wasn’t quite sure what he meant. Kissing? Talking  about our feelings? Where did we stand?

The footsteps got louder.

“Mason!” I whispered urgently.

He grinned. “I’m going. After all, it would be a bad start to Senior Year, if I got murdered by my girlfriend’s father for being caught in her room after curfew.” He said the words so easily and I felt warmth rush through me again.

Girlfriend.

Just like that I was Mason Jenning’s girlfriend. I had everything I had ever wanted and as I watched Mason climb out the window, our eyes meeting to share one last smile, I was confident that Senior year was going to exactly the way I planned.

I was so naive.

**

The next morning I was floating on air when I went for breakfast but that faded fast after a fight with my dad over my outfit. A fight that left me standing in my room trying to figure out what to wear that wouldn’t make me look like a soccer mom.

I was weighing my options, these jeans weren’t too bad, when my door opened.

“Coast is clear, Dad got called into work,” my sister Mackenzie told me from the door way.

I sighed with relief. “Oh thank god.”

“Yeah, now you don’t have to show up your first day as Mason Jenning’s girlfriend dressed like you are 40,” she teased.

I turned to look at her. “How did you...?”

“Thin walls,” she answered with a shrug, “besides I spent the entire summer watching you obsess over your cell signal and waiting for texts from him, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out there was something going on.”

Before I could think of a response, my phone went off and Mack slipped away as I checked the text.

Forgot to ask last night, do you need a ride?

No, I am riding with Ava, but thanks for asking. ❤️ 

See you at school then. Bet you look beautiful. But then you always do. 😘

I was smiling widely as I read Mason’s texts. He really was such a sweet guy and officially mine. If it was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

I was back to feeling like I was floating on air when I ran out the door to meet my best friend, Ava Lawrence, the Cheer Captain to my Vice Captain and my partner in crime since Freshman year.

“Jess, you look amazing!” She exclaimed, taking in my short skirt and pink crop top, “two months in the wilderness obviously agreed with you!” She wrapped her arms around me in a quick, enthusiastic hug before we got in her car. “I am so glad hare back!”

“Me too, fill me in everything I missed,” I encouraged, “the parties, the fights, the breakups.”

Ava laughed, “that will take more than 5 minutes but I will give you the highlights.” She gave me a quick rundown on the most intense hook-ups and break-ups and then gave me a sly smile, “what about you? Did you fall madly in love while in the middle of nowhere?”

I laughed, “not while I was in Wyoming, no, but I do have news.” I smiled widely, unable to contain my happiness, “Mason and I... We’re together.”

Ava froze as she was about to get out of her car, her hand on the door. “You and Mason?”

I nodded, “yeah, I know we have been friends for so long that it might seem surprising, but I have been in love with him forever and I finally got the guts to tell him.”

“That’s... great,” Ava told me, though her expression was more surprised than thrilled, “I’m really happy for you.”

I would have questioned her reaction, but as soon as I stepped out of Ava’s car I was wrapped in strong arms.

“Hey, you.” Mason told me, smiling down at me.

“Hey,” I said softly, leaning into him. I let myself melt into the warmth of his embrace and bask in the fact that this was my new normal. It was a long moment before I even realized that Ava had slipped away.

I wondered a little bit about her strange reaction, but then Mason tilted my face up to his and all thoughts of anyone else faded as I gazed up at him. “We need to plan a first date,” he reminded me, “I have football practice and I know you have cheer, but after that?”

“I’d like that,” I told him, leaning against him for another moment before sighing, “but first I guess I should go to class.”

“Yeah, my dead would murder me if I skipped,” Mason agreed, he kissed the top of my head and let me go, giving me one more heart-melting grin before we parted ways.

**

“Oh look who it is, Jess Price. Looking hot as usual, Jess.”

I groaned at the sound of the voice. Darren Hastings was Eastridge’s resident creep and he had been harassing me since Freshman year.

I shoved my books in my locker and turned around. “What do you want Darren?”

“Since you’re asking so nicely, how about a date?” He said with a slimy grin, leaning in and pinning me against the locker.

“Not in your wildest dreams.” I told him, trying to push him away. I was strong from four years of cheerleading, but not strong enough.

Darren took it as a challenge and leaned in closer. “Oh come on, you don’t mean that.”

Just as I was considering my options (including a kick to the groin), someone pulled him away forcibly.

“I believe the lady said no.”

I looked up into the incredibly handsome face of a boy I had never seen before.

Darren was scowling. “Noah Harris, they let you come back, huh? I thought this school had standards.”

Noah, if that was his name, looked unphased by the insult. “Apparently not, since the let you attend.” He shot Darren a decidedly unfriendly look. “I think you should find somewhere else to be. Pronto.”

Darren took the hint and scampered off, after giving Noah one more nasty look.

“Are you ok?” Noah asked, turning his attention to me for the first time.

I smiled. “I am. Thanks for that, I have been telling Darren no for years and he just never stops. Usually, it’s more annoying than anything, but...”

“No, I get it,” Noah assured me, “you shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“Are you new here?” I asked after a moment, “I thought I knew everyone.”

“Not new, exactly,” Noah answered slowly, “I’ve been... away.”

That sounded mysterious but at the same time I didn’t want to pry. “I guess I don’t need to offer a school tour then?” I teased.

Noah grinned. “I don’t know, a tour could be nice, re-acquaint with me all the hot spots. If you are willing, of course.”

The offer had been in jest, but he had done me a favor, so... “of course, follow me.” I laughed. “I guess I should introduce myself first, I’m Jess.”

He took the hand I held out and shook it. His grip was warm and firm. “Noah.”

“Well, Noah, follow me and I will give you the official Welcome to Eastridge tour.”

**

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Dark and Twisted or Fighting Love

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage contains potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and very smutty content.

Summary: Kirby and Roddy push their relationship boundaries a step too far and actually appear on television together but not as a couple.

Kirby's POV:

Rod cut me off my stopping the car again, and pulling me into a heated kiss, lips locked with mine and his right hand tangled in my hair, slipping his tongue into my mouth for a second before pulling away for air.

"Don't tell me what to do, or I'll pin you to the seat and shag you till neither of us can walk tomorrow."

"You wouldn't." I mumbled, incredulous to what he had just said.

"Oh, I would. I absolutely would."

"Rod, can't you wait until Valentine's day?"

"Oh sure, but where would be the fun in that?"

"Roddy!" I glared at him, eyes locked.

"Yes, sweetheart." He meeped, backing off

"You handsome fool" I whispered, pulling him into a kiss.

The moment I tried to pull away, he pulled me back in, deepening the kiss and whispering out small 'I love you's' between each breath, slowly pushing me down against the upholstered seat bed of the D200

He pinned me underneath him, legs either side of my own, left arm curled around my back and his right hand playing with my hair, I had my right hand against the floor of the car and my left against his lower back, just underneath his T-shirt. Due to our positioning I could feel Roddy's chest rise and fall with each breath, fast and uncontrolled, much like Rod himself. I moved my left hand slightly further up his back, towards the middle of his shoulder blades and stopped mid-way, feeling not just Rod's chest but another part of him rise too.

"You're trying to set me off, aren't ya." He whispered, accusatory.

"Rod, if I knew how to avoid your 'Loch Ness monster' believe me, I would, f'anwylyd."

"What's that mean?"

"My dearest."

"Ya won't be calling me that after ya hear the bagpipes."

"Rod, shame on you, I like bagpipe music, and anyway, it's not like you could be any worse than Erik."

I should not have mentioned his name, as it sent Rod right back into a frenzy of kisses and sweet words, it wasn't until Rod's hips bucked into mine that he realised what he was doing.

"Ya mentioned him on purpose."

"I did no such thing. You just can't control yourself when you get jealous. admit it."

"Never, me, jealous, never in a million years."

"Would you like to hear about Erik and My first weekend together."

"What do you mean together?" he half whispered, half growled, "Wait, I don't wanna hear about that geek."

"Are ya sure?"

His hips rolling against mine answered before his mouth got the chance. I couldn't stop myself from trying to see what making him jealous would do to him and so, I egged him on further.

"Y'know Erik would take me out to graveyards and we would walk through them all alone."

He growled and kissed my neck.

"And he would buy me cases of beer and bottles of wine and he'd cook somethin' just for the two of us."

Another growl but this time he kissed my jawline and his hips were pressed firmly against mine, letting me feel just how 'hard' I had gotten him.

I decided to see if a lie about just how romantic Erik and me were with each other would push him over the edge "And the way he kissed me, and the way he-"

Roddy cut me off with a rough kiss and his hips bucking against mine, hard enough to bruise, or at least hard enough to feel like it bruised me. He shifted his position so he could hold one of my legs up and push his groin further against my own.

"Rod, I'm just messin' with ya on that last one." I admitted, sending him further into this passionate rage, and making me have to bite my lip to avoid yelping out his name when he bit the flesh on my collarbone.

"Never lie to me again," He growled, pumping his hips against mine, cloth against cloth but, with no doubt, kilt against bare flesh underneath.

Rod had leant backwards, sitting up against my lap, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor of the D200, before edging up the hem of my own shirt. I relented, removing both my jacket and tank top, letting Rod explore my chest with his hands, his warm hands against my cool flesh made me jump slightly, Rod's eyes looked as if they would bulge out of his head at a moments notice.

"Oh, baby."

"Roddy, are ya alright."

"I think I'm in Heaven."

I let out a giggle and Rod started fumbling with his belt and the buckles on his kilt.

"I don't think this can wait 'til Valentines."

I leant up to meet him, face to face, kissing him, "Rod, if you want this, then let's stop off at a store, get some 'stuff' and go back to the hotel."

"Oh, absolutely. I mean," He grabbed his shirt and readjusted himself, "I wouldn't want to ruin the seats, or worse, get ya pregnant."

I reached over to where my shirt had landed and felt Roddy's hand travel up my back and unbuckle my bra.

"You fucker." I groaned in an annoyed tone.

He chuckled to himself before I felt both of his hands brush against my back and heard the small 'click' of my bra being re-buckled.

"Thank you, Roddy." I whispered, putting my tank top back on, but leaving my jacket on the floor.

He started the car and placed his hand on my thigh, I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and he looked over at me before driving us to a nearby gas station.

"Uh, Roddy, Roddy no."

"Whaddya mean, no, we get a box of condoms from he-"

"From a fucking GAS STATION?!"

"What's wrong with my idea?"

"You expect me to let you get a box of condoms, from a gas station, y'know a place where I wouldn't even trust the food, let alone the prophylactics."

We locked eyes for a moment and Rod proceeded to park and get out of the car, with me following close behind him.

"Rod."

"Go back to the car and fill the tank."

"Roderick."

He spun around, placing a kiss on my cheek, "Go back to the car, fill the tank. I love you and would never hurt you. Ok?"

"Okay."

I fast walked back to the car and did exactly as Roddy said, I filled the tank and grabbed my wallet from inside the car, heading into the small and shoddy looking building and meeting up with Roddy.

"Ya filled the tank?" He asked, passing me the box of condoms and proceeding to scan the shelves and grabbing a case of beer.

"Yes, you are not getting drunk, Roddy. Roderick put the beer back."

"No, and anyway, we're not getting drunk."

"Oh, really."

"At least not before I make love to ya."

We walked over to the counter and I paid despite Rod's insistence, going back to the car and headed back to the hotel, rushing up the stairs and into our shared room. Rod locked the door behind us and pushed me onto the bed, crawling over me to pin me down, kissing me roughly and gently pressing his groin against mine, still fully clothed.

He sat up and pulled his shirt off, tossing it behind him and started edging my own shirt off of me, letting me whip it off my body and throwing it over to where his own shirt had landed.

"Do ya really want me?"

I gazed up at Roddy, realising he was asking consent to let him try and shag my brains out, I let out a soft, "Yes, Roddy, yes."

That was all he needed, he set to 'work' kissing my neck and grinding against me, I could feel the heat radiating off his body and the tension building in his groin, feeling the bulge under his kilt getting harder and bigger, until he got off me and whipped his kilt off, exposing his already erect member and grabbing a condom, I looked away and let my head hit the pillows, shifting myself so I was comfortable, removing my trousers and boxer shorts.

I felt Rod climb back over me, aligning himself with me and easing himself in, his shorter frame against my 'oversized' body. I gasped and he stopped immediately, putting his left hand against my jawline.

"Ya alright?"

"I'm fine, I just…"

I couldn't put my thoughts into words but he nodded, fully understanding that it would take some time for me to get used to him, as it was my first time being with anyone. In a weird way I felt glad that my first time was with Roddy, sure he could be hot headed, but I felt as though I could trust him with my whole life.

He eased himself into a steady rhythm of pumping in and out, grunting and groaning in pleasure, I bit my lip, not wanting to put him off the rhythm he had gotten into but also wanting him to go faster or harder, to roughen it up slightly as it was starting to feel to, for lack of a better word, clinical.

"Rod."

"Yes, baby."

"Could you go, rougher?" I quizzed, hoping he'd get the hint.

He quickened his pace, his breathing fastened along with it, the headboard hitting the wall and I found myself unable to keep myself from moaning out small 'Oh God's and 'Yes's as Rod pounded into me with each stroke. We had promised each other we would wait, but truth be told, I'm glad we broke that promise, feeling Rod's flesh against my own was the most intimate I'd ever been with anyone and I was glad it was him.

He kissed me and groaned in relief, I could feel his hips bucking into mine urgently, as if he were trying to bury himself in me, no doubt finding that release, it wasn't too long later when I got my own release upon feeling Roddy's fingers graze my groin, hearing Rod grunt out my name under his breath.

"Roddy."

"Yes, my love."

"Let's only do that again when we want to have kids."

"Agreed." He breathlessly replied.

He got himself cleaned up and I quickly passed out after feeling a haze of tiredness wash over me.

I woke up on the morning of the Twenty-Third to the smell of coffee and Rod pacing back and forth, some of my clothes laid out on the end of the bed.

"Mornin' Kirbs."

"What's wrong?"

I wiped the sleep from my eyes and went about my normal routine, watching as Roddy went back to pacing back and forth. I changed, putting on the clothes laid out at the bottom of the bed. Walking down to the arena rather than driving, with our gym bags over our shoulders I felt Rod reach over and intertwine his fingers with mine.

After both Orndorff and my own matches against Bellomo and Rodz respectively, there was a dual Interview with myself, Roddy and Orndorff being interviewed by Gene.

"We're here with 'Mr Wonderful', Paul Orndorff, 'Rowdy' Roddy Piper and the tallest female professional wrestler Kirby 'Gluttony' Lucifarian."

Rod sized me up as I stood stoically beside Gene.

"You talk about height, you talk about her being the tallest female professional wrestler."

"Well now, you are the tallest aren't you, miss Lucifarian?"

"Yes. Gene," I covered Rod's mouth with my hand effectively silencing him before he got a chance to interrupt, "I am Six-Foot-Eight, the tallest woman and the only woman who can fight any man you put me against, Rodz was nothing, one day I will get my hands on someone who's actually a challenge." I removed my hand and Rod was already getting angry.

"You want a challenge? I'll give you a challenge."

I walked off, leaving Orndorff to hold Piper back.

"Come back here and face me you coward!"

Gene ended the interview quickly and Rod ran up to me, while I was talking to André.

"You're getting good out there."

"Drey, Rodz not that tough. I need a real challenge."

"Like who?"

"I dunno, maybe Rocky Johnson, Atlas or St-"

"What was that back there?!"

"Oh, hi Roddy."

André took the opportunity to avoid Piper by walking away rather quickly for his size.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You covered my mouth with your hand."

"Yeah, and you would've interrupted me, what about it?"

"Did you have to be wearing the same perfume as last night?"

"Oh, that's not perfume Rod, that would be the body wash I use, it's apricot, why?"

"Kirby, Imagine you're a guy with a sex drive for a moment. Now imagine your hot as sin girlfriend covering your mouth with her hand. Now add in the fact that you remember that scent on her skin from when you were having sex the night before."

"Oh, I got you hot, Rod?"

"Never make me wanna do that again."

"Do what?"

"Have sex, with you, in the locker room."

I fake gagged and Rod shook the 'cobwebs' from his mind, clearly wanting to forget that mental image.

END OF DARK AND TWISTED or FIGHTING LOVE

[paodequeijofeliz-blog]

Don’t you remember?

Bloodbound Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed and MC (Annie)

Information: this takes place long after Bloodbound 3. In this scenario, MC was Turned only after giving birth to their daughter.

Summary: Thirty years after meeting Annie for the first time, now Kamilah is married and has a daughter who is about to get married as well. While preparing the wedding, they decide to remember Lysia’s childhood stories.

Warnings: just fluff.

Part 1 Part 3

Don’t you remember? - Part 2

January 8th, 2049

           They decided to have lunch at Annie’s favourite Italian restaurant. It was right around the corner, and Kamilah was definitely in the mood for some good wine. She asked for their best bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, watching as her wife smiled across the table. So many years ago, they sat at a different restaurant and shared their first bottle of wine. Ever since, Kamilah kept asking for the same type, even though it wasn’t her favourite. It had good memories attached to it.

           “Bring five glasses, please. And make it two bottles. We’re expecting more company.” Annie smiled at their confuse expressions. “I texted Adrian and Lily, they’re coming for lunch too.”

           “Aunt Lily is back already? The wedding is not until two weeks.” Lysia crossed her legs, a proud and perfect posture, just like Kamilah.

           Annie, on the other hand, looked like a child playing with the fork and the empty plate. “She’s your godmother, it’s her duty to help us organizing it. Annnnnnnnnd Lil loves planning parties. We stayed up all night putting together the perfect playlist.”

           “Should I be afraid?” Lysia sighed, already imagining what kind of songs they chose.

           “Nah, I promise we behaved.” She winked at her daughter, watching the waiter bring their wine almost at the same time Adrian and Lily walked in. “Perfect timing, you two.”

           “Lucky us for being just down the street. Hi, sweetie.” Adrian gave Lysia a tight hug, sitting right beside her, while Lily placed loud kisses on both girl’s cheeks before going to Annie’s side.

           Kamilah was the first to lift her glass, already used to her wife’s love for toasts.

           “To the best person ever born in this planet!” said Annie, followed by ‘cheers’ from the rest of the group.

           After a sip of wine, the Egyptian gently placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, I believe we promised your mother we would tell baby stories now.”

           “Yes, you did promise me that!!!”

           “Oooh yeah, let’s do it!! My favourite is when I accidentally forgot a chocolate bar on the table, and she ate it all.” Lily chuckled, ignoring the dangerous glare from Kamilah. “Girl, you were a happy kid that day. But I almost got killed because of it.”

           “There was also that time we took you to Disney, and none of these two party pooper over here wanted to let you ride the roller coaster.” Annie pointed at her wife and Adrian with her half empty glass. “Not until you cried so much, they decided to accompany you there. Remember that?”

           “Yes, I would give anything to see it again. Everybody laughing, breathless, messy hair, wrinkled clothes, heart raced, and you two looked like nothing had happened.” Lysia shook her head in disbelief.

           Kamilah smiled proudly. “It takes way more than a kid’s playground to put me breathless.”

           “Yeah. It takes me.” Annie bit her lip, quickly finding her wife’s leg under the table. That only made Lysia sigh at her shameless mother.

“What about you, Uncle Adrian? Do you have a favourite memory?”

           “I do.” His smile was soft as he took one of the girl’s hands. “You were just three years old. The first time you said my name. Don’t you remember, Annie? Tell us.”

           “Hum, I think I do… It was during the spring…”

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

May 22nd, 2023

           Kamilah was late. Not a surprise there.

           Annie got so used to it. Every time they had a night out planned, a sudden phone call or an urgent email would pop up and delay things. That’s why she started to set their dates a couple hours earlier than usual. Now, her wife was an hour late, but it wasn’t even 6pm yet, so there was still plenty of time to finish combing her hair while mumbling alone. “I swear, one of these days I’ll call her assistant and book a fake business meeting. This way, she will be on time.”

           “You actually did it.” Kamilah pinched her nose, interrupting the story.

           “Really, mom?”

           “Yeah. I booked a meeting under the name of Jaden Marshall. You should’ve seen her face when she realized what happened … Anyway, focus.”

           “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa” screamed Lysia, giggling as trying to run towards the door. Annie already knew what that meant.

           “Hi, Adrian!”

           “Evening, Ann! And hi to you, baby.” He took the girl into his arms and lifted her above his head. Those baby laughs filled the house, echoing through the hallway from where Annie appeared. “Am I late?”

           “No, you’re early. Kamilah is still on the phone.”

           Lysia, who now was well nested on her godfather’s arms, looked back at her mother with those huge dark eyes. “Mommy late.”

           “I know, sweetie. Your mother is always late.” Annie kissed the tip of her nose. “You better behave, okay? And Adrian, please, don’t spoil my baby too much. Between you doing everything she wants and Kamilah wanting her to be totally independent, I’ll go crazy over here.”

           “I won’t make such a promise.” His gaze lingered on Lysia’s face for a moment as slowly walking to sit on the couch. “How can I say no to those eyes?”

           “Ask Kamilah, she does that all the time. Last week, I caught her watching Lysia fall when she was trying to get on top of the bed, and refused to help because, and I quote, ‘mortals need to develop their skills from an early age’.”

           “Talking about me again? Save it for the date tonight, my love.” The Vampire Queen emerged from the stairs, a tone of irony on her voice. She had put an astonishing tight white dress. “Thank you for being here, Adrian.”

           “Not a problem. Take your time tonight. We’ll be fine.”

           Kamilah smiled fondly at them, gently leaning in to kiss her wife, but they were interrupted by Lysia’s voice. The girl had crawled out of Adrian’s lap to energetically point at her mothers.

           “Mommy Kami” she giggled, then shifted to point at Annie. “And silly mommy Anna”.

           “You taught her that, didn’t you?” the Brazilian narrowed her eyes to Kamilah.

           “I have no idea what you’re talking about. She added the ‘silly’ on her own.”

           “Lyshia” the girl pointed at herself while sticking her tongue out, not being able to pronounce her name correctly yet. Then, she turned around, running back to Adrian’s lap. Her small hands went to cup his face, putting their foreheads together. “Andi you, my baby. You are my baby Adian.”

           Kamilah arched her eyebrows, confused. “No, sweetie. You’re the baby. That’s how we call you.”

           But Adrian didn’t listen. He had tears on his eyes, arms holding the girl even closer. “You are the most precious thing in this world. How is Kamilah even able to say no to you?”

           “Easy. Look. Lysia, no.”  

           Annie shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. Let’s go. It’s time.”

           As they were leaving the apartment, even from the elevator, it was possible to hear Lysia giggling happily in there. That sound was so perfect, it would always make Annie’s heart melt inside her chest. She smiled when felt her wife’s arms involving her by the waist, bringing them closer to another kiss.

           “Darling… Do you think something is wrong with Adrian? He has been crying a lot lately.” Kamilah sighed, concerned.

           “No, you shouldn’t worry. He’s just healing.”

           “Healing?”

           “His heart. After those deep wounds, losing a wife and a child, Lysia is helping him heal. Sometimes, babies do that with us. It’s their superpower.”

           “I see…” Kamilah’s expression became serious for a moment. They were already in the parking lot, so she trapped her wife against the car’s door. “If that’s true… Why don’t we make another one of those?”

           Annie gasped. Cofed. Then laughed. “Not that fast, Mrs. Sayeed. If you want another, don’t look at me. Pushing one out was hard enough.”

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

January 8th, 2049

           “WAIT!” Lily held her hands high to stop Annie’s story. “Kamilah wanted another child? How come I never knew about it?”            

           “Because she changed her mind one month after that, when Lysia went inside her office and draw all over her papers. Besides…” her gaze lingered on Kamilah’s face for a moment, considering carefully what to say. “She wanted me to get pregnant again just to delay things. You were worried about me being Turned, weren’t you?”

           “I was just afraid you could regret it. What if a year later you wanted another baby? I needed to be sure you had considered all the alternatives.” The Egyptian leaned to hold her wife’s hands across the table. “I would never forgive myself for taking away your chances of experiencing what I couldn’t.”

           “You didn’t take away anything. I was sure. Still am.” She intertwined their fingers, both sharing a soft smile.

           Next to them, there was Lily trying to steal a picture with her cell phone. “Perfect. This will go to the slideshow for the wedding.”

           “Wait, what slideshow? Oh, for god’s sake, what are you two up to?” Lysia finished her wine in a gulp. “If I see a naked baby picture there…”

           “You won’t.” reassured Lily.

           “…or you will.” completed Annie, dramatically wiggling her eyebrows. “Sorry, kiddo. That’s the family you got.”

           The weirdest and most perfect family it could exist, in Lysia’s opinion.

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

vii. THE HORSE AUCTION

          Ivy left the office, her eyes darted around the pub, trying to find where Michael went. "Ivy," He walked over to her from the bar. "I was just looking around." She flashed him a small smile. "Okay. We should get going, Polly would be getting worried by now." They began their slow walk back to Polly's house. "So, you're a Solomons, then?" She didn't want to look at Michael. Ivy wasn't ashamed of her family, for the most part. She just didn't want people thinking that she was like her father, a complete and utter lunatic. The girl sighed before speaking, "Yep, the one and only Alfie Solomons is my father," The look on Michael's face was confusing for her. Usually, Ivy could read people. Similar to how Polly could. But, for some reason, she couldn't read Michael. Ivy thought it was a look of shock but she couldn't be sure. "How do you know who my father is?" She asked him, digging her hands further into her pockets to stop them from getting cold. "Well, I love horses and my uncle would take me to horse auctions all the time and your father would be at some of them. He would always be with a woman with brown hair and brown eyes. But, he's a strange man. I wouldn't expect a lovely, little girl like you to be related to a man like him." Ivy smirked when he called her lovely, "I'm not as lovely as you might think."

"And I'm not as innocent as you think." He could read Ivy, and she couldn't read him. And it worried her. They reached the front door of Polly's house and Ivy walked in first. "Pol, we're home." She shouted for her. She came walking down the stairs, as elegant as ever. She held a kind smile but one that you would give a child.

They were certainly not children.

Michael returned the smile, however it was more of a grin. Polly walked over to them and engulfed him in another hug. She was happy to finally have her son back again, and rightly so. Ivy thought that was the reason she was off with her last night, Tommo didn't let her see him. What happened to her shouldn't have to happen to anyone, no matter what they had done wrong in the past. "Ivy, I want you to grab some of your things. We're going to stay in the new house for a while." She nodded, going up the stairs to pack the things that she would need for the next couple of days. Essentials like clothes, underwear, her hairbrush... Ivy was back downstairs within twenty minutes, ready to go to the new house.

The journey there went by fairly quickly. Ivy's hangover came crashing down on her like a pile of bricks so she took a small nap that lasted longer than it probably should've. "Ivy," She felt someone nudging her shoulder. Her eyes flickered open to meet blue ones, Michael. "We're here." They all climbed out of the car and stood on the pavement to admire the house for a minute, "Out we get then," Polly commentated as they did so. The woman had lit a cigarette and it loosely hung from her lips. "This house is mine," She pointed at it "And Ivy's of course," She wrapped her arm around Ivy's shoulder and squeezed it. "I've taken on a maid. She's made up the big room for you, Michael and Ivy, you'll know your room when you see it," Michael crossed his arms over his chest, Ivy shoved her hands in her pockets and Polly threw her cigarette to the ground. "Come on, let's have a look," She strided down the path, Ivy and Michael close behind. They followed her into the main room. It was as beautiful as the first time the girl had seen it. She threw her bag on the floor next to the sofa and took a seat on it, it was technically her house. "We can spend the week here, if you want." Polly offered. Ivy put her feet up on the coffee table and lent back "I don't mind." The girl closed her eyes and relaxed. Polly lightly laughed at the girl's actions but quickly scolded her afterwards "Feet off the table, petal." The nickname flowed out of her mouth so naturally Ivy almost didn't even notice it.

It was what her mother and Ezekiel used to call her.

She took her feet off of the table like Polly had asked her to but she cast her mother to the back of her mind. Ivy needed to move on, she was in the past and this was the present. She was one memory against hundreds. Michael sat down next to the teen and placed his hat on the coffee table. "You know, we could get to know each other again. And you two could get to know each other," They both looked at one another, a smile played upon both of their lips. Ivy could tell he was going to be an annoying little thorn in her side. "I've got ham. Do you like ham?" Polly asked Michael almost urgently. She was acting like she did when Ivy and her first met. It must be a strange situation, losing your kids and then to have one come back to you. "I like ham, yes." His lips curved up at the end of his sentence. She put all of her things down and almost went to do it herself. She stopped and reminded them, "I've got a maid." Michael and Ivy chuckled, "Yes, you said." The pair said in unison. The girl looked at him and cocked her eyebrow. Ivy could see Polly smiling upon them with great admiration. "She's upstairs," Pol took a pause between her words. "She could get us some tea. Look, I ring this bell. Watch." She rang the bell and took a step back so she could wait for the maid. The maid walked into the room and politely waited at the door, "Yes, madam?" She said. Polly stayed silent, still not used to the idea of having a maid. "I think we'd like some tea," The maid rushed off at Michael's request. "You get used to it." He told his mum. The maid came back shortly, a tray of tea and biscuits held in her hands. "Where do you want the tea, madam?"

"Just on the table." The maid placed the tea onto the small table and scurried off back upstairs. Ivy stood up from the couch. "I'll leave you two to it. You should have some time alone to catch up." She went to leave the room but Michael stopped her. "I think you should stay, so we could get to know each other too." Ivy glanced at Polly and she nodded with a motherly smile. She sat back down on the sofa and reached for a cup of tea.

They talked for what felt like hours. Polly and Michael had some quality time to catch up whilst she generally got to know the pair of them better. They were more alike than they were aware.

"I'm off for a little sleep," Ivy stood up and was not intending to be interrupted this time. "Hangover." Polly nodded again. She made her way up to her new room. A wooden door with a plaque on it caught her eye. 'Ivy' was engraved on the golden metal. 'Tommy really does work fast.' Ivy turned the knob and slowly pushed on the slab of wood. The inside was beautiful. A four-poster bed lay directly in the middle of the room, a crimson rug rested underneath it, golden embroidery neatly stitched onto it. The pattern on the quilt matched the rug: red, gold and black. The room screamed elegance and class. Dark wood furniture decorated the room. A wardrobe, dresser and dressing table were in there. There was even a chaise, a sofa with a slope, in there. She chucked her bag in a corner, along with her coat and boots and jumped onto the plush bed. It engulfed the small girl, she felt like she was floating on a cloud. Her eyes closed and suddenly she was whisked away into a peaceful sleep.

Well, it started as peaceful.

The white cloud she was floating on turned grey and stormy. Ivy was dragged into a void of paranoia and night terrors. The girl had frequently suffered from night terrors in her life but since staying with the Shelbys they had ceased, until that night.

"I saw two children, the girl looked around thirteen or fourteen years old and the boy around eleven or twelve. They had their backs to me. I could tell it was my brother and me, though. He was cowering under my arm. We were both sitting on the floor, in a dark and dank room. There was shouting in the distance, indistinguishable but audible. The noise got louder and closer. My brother's hand slapped over his ears trying to block out the noise of the screaming. As the noise got closer, I could tell who was responsible for the shouting. It was our parents. "I'm tired of your fucking games, Alfie! This is why I took him away, I was a fool to bring him back!"

I could see my mother's face now. Her gorgeous chocolate eyes were now puffy and red from where she had been crying. "Mummy!" My brother cried. He tried to reach out to her but she couldn't see or hear him. He repeated his words over and over again but the only sound that could be heard was a harsh,

Slap!

He had hit her. He had fucking hit her. "Petal. Ivy, my darling. Ivy." It was my mother's voice but it gradually got lower and lower until I felt something shaking my shoulders."

Ivy sat bolt upright, a shrill scream erupted out of her mouth. Someone was sitting behind the girl, their arms wrapped around her chest, rocking her back and forth. "Ivy, it's okay, princess. I'm here," Michael. Ivy rested her head on his shoulder, slightly calmer after hearing his voice. "It's alright. I'm 'ere." Her breathing stilled, and her heart rate sank back to normal. The dream wasn't just a dream; it was a memory. Ivy placed her hands onto Michael's arms and they lied there for a minute or two. He waited for the girl to fully calm down before asking her anything, "What was that all about?" Ivy sat up from her position against his chest. "I-I-I don't wanna t-talk about it." She stumbled over her words. Michael's hands ran up and down her shoulders, she was facing him now. "You can trust me, Ivy," The girl nodded but no words left her mouth. "Come 'ere, princess." He opened his arms up for Ivy and she crawled into them. She lied on his chest trying to make sense of what had just happened in her head. "Where's Pol gone?" Ivy asked eventually. "She went to the shops to get some food for us. She told me to come and check on you and when I found you, you were muttering something. A name," The girl shifted from Michael's chest. She was okay with him knowing who her father was but not her entire backstory, some secrets need to stay a secret. "Who's Joe?" Ivy didn't answer. "Ivy," He said in a warning manner. He then placed his hands on her shoulders again. "Who's Joe?"

"Fuck off!" She screamed. Ivy swiped his hands off of her shoulders and got off of the bed. Tears began to pour from her eyes. They didn't stop and Michael didn't leave. He had stopped asking questions but was still sitting on her bed. She dropped to her knees, her hands covering her eyes, trying to stop the tidal waves of tears that kept flowing from them. "Ivy." Michael came to the girl on the floor. He pulled her into another hug. It was warm, soft, comforting. Ivy was too tired to fight back at this point. "I'm sorry." She croaked out. He didn't ask questions. He knew what she had apologised for. "S'alright." A couple of minutes went by, then half an hour, then an hour. It was only when a knock came from the door when they moved. "Ivy, get ready. We've got business with Tommy." Polly didn't know Michael was in there with Ivy which was a good thing and it stopped questions being asked and awkward conversations. "I better get ready myself," Michael informed the girl. "Will you be okay?" She nodded even though she knew she wasn't fully alright. Michael smiled and left to go to his own room.

When they got to Tommy's house, Polly stopped them before they could walk into the gaming den. "I think it would be best if you two stay in here." She said to the pair. Ivy looked towards Michael and scoffed, she tried to walk into the betting shop but she only ran into John.

"You alright, Vee?" He asked her. She ignored his question because Michael interrupted her before she could speak. "We just want to say hello."

"No, you're not getting involved with this business." Ivy walked towards Polly and softened her words. "I'm already involved, Pol." She still protested the girl's wishes and her and John left the room. John looked back at Ivy and gave her a sympathetic smile before closing and locking the door. Ivy slumped into one of the dining chairs and put her hands over her eyes. Michael walked over to the door and pushed his ear against it, trying to listen in to the conversation. "Ivy," He called "Come 'ere," She went over to him and he gestured to the door. "Help me listen." The girl sighed but pressed her ear against the door. There were indistinct mumbles from the other side, but it was possible to pick out when Polly was speaking because her voice was a much higher pitch to the others. They were talking about horses and Ivy raised her eyebrow at Polly's son. "They're going to a horse auction." Michael's hand moved to the key on a hook and pushed it into the keyhole. He went to open it but Ivy stopped him before he could do anything. "Wait! What're you doing?"

"I'm gonna ask if I can go." His expression didn't change. "Do you know what you're gonna say?" Ivy quizzed him. He thought about it before relaying it to the girl. "I'll just say I want to go and that I'm good with horses and that my uncle used to take me all the time. Do you want to come as well?" Ivy nodded and hummed as a response."Ready?" Michael bobbed his head and he pushed the door open. It was only by an inch or two but it was just enough to hear what they were saying in more detail. "So, you're going to close up the shop, go out on a piss up and blow 1000 guineas on a horse that's not even a whole Arab?" Polly complained to the boys about their plan. Michael looked at Ivy for confirmation, "Go." She told him. "Quarter Arab is better." One of the men chuckled in a child-like manner after he spoke. Polly's head snapped towards them as soon as they walked in.

"Curly, shut up." Polly told the childish man. Finn's eyes immediately met Ivy's when she walked in. "I thought I told you to lock that door." Polly claimed. "He did, we used the key on the nail." Ivy told her. "Look, we've been listening. We want to go with them." Michael stepped in. "You see?" Polly complained again. Tommo stared at his aunt who was freaking out that they could be put in danger. "I love horses. We could even help. Ivy-" Polly cut her son off, "Over my dead body!" She said, concern in her usually calm voice. "It will be alright, mum. I've been to loads of horse auctions with my uncle." Ivy cut Michael off so she could lay down her own pitch, "My parents used to go to auctions all the time, Pol. They owned horses together before they split up. My mother used to train them. Plus, I can protect myself and Michael and all the boys if I need to!" Michael stepped in next to speak again, "The auctions are very respectable. People bring their butlers."

"And their posh wives." Arthur added as he took back a shot of whiskey. "And their mistresses." John slapped Michael's arm when he spoke. "Let them come, Polly," Arthur defended us. "We'll go there, buy a horse and come back."

"I'll drop them at the house in Sutton before it gets dark." John finished off. Surely she couldn't say no to that. "No," Polly protested. Ivy rolled her eyes, this is what the brothers had been warning her about. Michael looked at the floor, upset he couldn't go. "Fucking no."

The room was silent, except from the occasional shuffle of someone's feet. Ivy's eyes turned to Finn, he was staring at her and Michael. When he saw the girl looking, his glare stopped and he shot her a comforting smile. "Sorry." He mouthed. "It's okay." She mouthed back. Michael spun on his heels and made his way out of the room. "Please, Pol." Ivy begged one last time before following Michael. His anger flared up inside of him and he reached his hand out to swipe some papers off a desk. He slammed the door behind them when they were both fully out of the room. He threw himself in a chair and Ivy sat in the one next to him. She moved her hand out to rub his arm, "It's alright. The boys will say something that'll convince her." She comforted. Finn came through the doors shortly after Michael and Ivy. "John just spoke to Pol..." His voice trailed off at the end of his sentence when he saw Ivy's hand on Michael's arm. "And?" She stood up and encouraged Finn to continue. His eyes darted around the room, meeting everything else but her icy eyes. "She said you can go." A large smile blew up on her face, she looked back at Michael to see a similar one playing on his lips.

The first night in the new house was wonderful. Ivy didn't know if it was the expensive furniture or her hangover, but she slept like a baby. Luckily, the nightmares didn't return that night. In the morning, she got dressed into some of the clothes that Ada and Polly had brought her over a week ago and applied light make-up to her face but left her hair down. Ivy walked over to her bag that lay strewn on the floor. She rustled around inside of it for a bit before her hands finally found what they were looking for, her gun and knives. Pulling the holster out of the bag, she attached it to her thigh and slipped the gun inside of it. The knives went into the girl's boots. Better safe than sorry.

Ivy made her way downstairs to see Michael already down there with Polly. He had borrowed some of John's old clothes and they fitted him perfectly. Excitement started to bubble up inside of Ivy, they were actually going to a horse auction! Polly was lent over a table, making some sandwiches for everyone. "Morning!" Ivy said in a happy tone as she walked into the room. "Good morning, petal." She flinched at the name, the girl hadn't really got used to Polly saying it yet. Michael didn't turn in his chair but also said 'Good morning' to her. "Your father could sing, play the piano. His smile would break your heart," Ivy sat at the table, slightly uncomfortable because they were talking about Michael's father. "You've got the same beautiful eyes." The girl remembered when she saw him for the first time and the very first thing she saw were his eyes.

Polly wrapped the sandwiches up and put them in a bag for them. "When he was sober, he was kind and gentle." Ivy reminisced of her father and their complicated relationship. She longed for a simple time where her and her family could be reunited together; happy, content. Her despair was clear on her face but when she felt a hand on her thigh, the girl immediately came back to reality. Polly continued to talk about Michael's dad but Ivy wasn't listening. Michael's hand caressed her thigh, her heart rate rose to a worrying height. She could feel it thumping against her chest. A car horn blew from outside, signifying it was time to leave. The hand finally left her thigh and Michael and Ivy both stood up to leave. "I have told them not to blow that horn," They laughed at Polly's minor anger, Michael still firmly in Ivy's thoughts. "This is a respectable fucking neighborhood!" She rushed to the door to yell at her nephews. Michael picked up the bag of food and they followed Polly to the door.

About halfway to the auction house, the car broke down. They had to pull over to the side of the road and wait for one of the boys to fix it. Tommo climbed out of the front of the car and walked round to the back so he could tell everyone what was happening. "She's heating up Curly. Take a look." Tommy pulled the door open and Curly followed his orders. He was such a lovely man, bless him. "Let me out for a piss." Charlie Strong climbed out of the car, leaving Arthur, Michael and Ivy there. She put her feet over Arthur's lap and lent back. Arthur put his cold hands onto her shins. They rested just above her boots, sending shivers up her legs. "Shit, it's cold." Ivy complained. Arthur rubbed his hands up and down her shins, trying to warm the girl up. "That helping, Vee?" Arthur quizzed. She laughed, it just hurt. "Not really." He slowed his actions down a little bit. Michael lifted the bag of food onto his lap and pulled out the food. 'Oh no. He's gonna get bullied.'

She closed her eyes and waited for Arthur and John to start to toy with him. "She made loads. Do you want one?" A light drizzle had begun to fall from the sky, Ivy opened her eyes to watch it fall to the ground. "What the bloody hell's that?" Arthur's eyebrows furrowed together and the girl saw John glare at them from the bushes. "Sandwiches, ya' never seen one before, Artie?" Sarcasm dripped from Ivy's voice and Arthur tapped her leg in a joking manner. "They're ham, I think she said. Shrimp paste too." Ivy added with the same sarcastic tone as before. Michael's eyebrows were raised at her tone of voice. John got closer to the truck, eyeing up the food with a cigar hanging from his mouth. "There's tea. We'll have to take turns 'cause there's only one cup." Arthur and John both stared at the sandwiches and Ivy just laughed. John swiped the tea from the bench. "What?" Michael was confused at their reactions. "Sandwiches?" Arthur looked at his brother. "Yeah." Michael was still innocent to what was happening. "Polly made bloody sandwiches?"

"She's going soft." Ivy notified Arthur. "What's this? Teddy bear's fucking picnic." Charlie was next to pick up on the pack lunch that Polly had made. Tommy coughed and decided to finally speak up, "All right. We will drink the tea, eat the sandwiches, then we'll drive on. All right? No crumbs, Charlie." Tommo tapped him on the shoulder and walked back to the front of the car.

The Solomons changed seats to sit next to Michael so she could have full access to the food. "Come on." Arthur said and waved his hand at Michael. He started shoving food in his mouth, "You fat bastard." John shouted at him. "Fuck off." He quipped back, food threatening to spill out of his mouth.

The rest of the journey was filled with everyone stuffing themselves with tea and food. Short grumbles came from the men as they ate. When they got to the auction, Tommo made sure to give them all a lecture before going in there. He wanted them to be on their 'best behaviour'.

"This is a respectable event." He told everyone as they walked into the auction house. "And you'll behave accordingly. No weapons," Ivy's mind instantly thought of the gun and knives that she had possession of. "No drinking. John, we'll stay together. Arthur, keep an eye on Ivy and Michael. When our horse comes up, I'll bid. I've already registered with the auctioneer, he knows to expect my bids." They walked up the last staircase and into the hall where the horses were being exhibited. "Do I get to run a hand over her, Tommy?" Curly asked with great excitement. "We have a vet's report, Curly. Keep and eye open when she walks."

"I've got a feeling, Tommy. Something isn't right." He warned the Shelby man. "It's alright. You're just in an unfamiliar place. We all are." Curly continued, "I get feelings sometimes." Ivy followed behind everyone, keeping her head down. "It's alright, Curly. It's alright. Shut up, Curly." His last sentence was a bit harsh towards the man but Ivy cast it aside. The auctioneer shouted various bids to the people that stood around the ring. "Come on, Ivy. You wanted to be here." Tommo dragged the girl to the front of the huddle. She looked at the people that stood around the ring to see if anybody recognised her. Her eyes caught onto one woman. She was fairly short, brown hair. She was with an older man that was probably her father. Ivy couldn't properly see her face until she turned around...

"Mum?"

viii. CORRUPTION 

MASTERLIST

[lppsidefics]

Meihem Fanfic: Victim Parallel

Chapter 2: Instincts

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As the time passed, Mei retrieved a small paperback novel from her satchel and parted it open, pulling out the handmade snowflake page marker. Occasionally, she paused to give her ward a quick evaluation, checking his vitals and temperature, before returning to her reading.

Nurses had come and gone, but Bastion never stirred.

It was hours of waiting, reading and sitting. Mei didn’t know exactly how many, but it had been long enough that her back felt stiff and her legs tingled with sleep. Folding her book and setting it aside, she stood from the waiting chair and stretched her arms behind her head. She gave a moan as parts of her back popped and cracked, and then she dropped back into her seat.

She opened the book again and was about to refocus on it’s text when the door opened quietly. Dr Winston ducked into the room, scanning his sights over the monitors before noticing Mei’s presence. “Mei-ling? You’ve been waiting here this whole time?” She only responded with a nod, closing the book entirely. “Have you taken a break? Eaten lunch?”

Mei shook her head, and the Doctor approached the hospital bed, placing the flat piece of a thesis cope to the patients chest and listening intently. He checked the watch on his wrist, and then draped the tool over his neck before checking Bastions temperature.

“His condition is good, but he might not wake for a while…” Winston made his way around to the waiting chairs, gesturing a hand towards the open hospital room door. “…why don’t you take a late lunch. I’ll monitor Bastion for the time being, and I’ll call you if there’s any changes.”

“But, Dr Winston, I should really be here if he-”

Mei tried to argue but Winston gave her a gentle nudge, insisting that she should go. “There’s no sense in starving yourself Mei-ling. Please, just take a little break. I’m sure Bastion wouldn’t mind.”

“Well…” Mei pondered, but then relented and stood from the chair. “…maybe just a quick meal from down stairs. Then I’ll come right back here.” She looped her satchel over her shoulder, slipping her book into it’s pocket, and started for the door.

“We’ll be here when you return.” The grizzly doctor assured with a smile, and sat in the chair Mei had just been sitting in.

“Thank you Dr Winston. I’ll be right back Bastion!” She called back into the room, and then turned to head towards the elevator. Mei boarded the lift, pressed the lobby button and cheerfully rode it to the first floor. She then hurried through the lobby and passed the tall courtyard windows, the late days sun warming her skin as she went by. The hospitals cafeteria was just around the corner and she joined the line formed just outside the it’s entrance.

Rising onto her toes, Mei peeked over the crowd of people. It was mostly doctors, likely just getting out of surgeries, and the rest were volunteers like herself. The line was long enough to stretch out into the hall way, where the outside light beat down onto the back of her head.

The person in front of her stepped forward, and she did the same, but it wasn’t the leap ahead she was hoping it would be. With a sigh, Mei-ling crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, wondering just how long the line would take to move. Her gaze moved to the window where cars swished by in the street outside.

Flashing alarm lights reflected off the mirror like buildings as an ambulance sped into the E.R. loading dock, and a set of men dressed in white scrubs rushed a stretcher into the hospital. Mei watched but payed it little mind since it was on the other side of the hospital…

…The other side of the hospital. On the other side of the road. Her sights dully swept over the row of buildings. Beside the E.R. center was a selection of small businesses. A laundromat, a pawn shop, and a small sandwich shop.

Mei’s eyes stopped on the restaurant, taking a moment for it to register what it’s purpose was, but with the passing of another car she blinked at it. Bringing a hand up to her chin, she considered the time spent in this line verses the time it might take to cross the street.

As the man before her in line took a uselessly tiny step forward Mei decided to risk it, seeing as the queue was still all the way out into the hallway. She walked into the lobby again, but this time, exited the building and crossed the parking lot.

Stopping at the crosswalk Mei glanced in every direction, adjusting her glasses to see the intersection traffic lights. Her foot tapped impatiently as she waited for the light to change from red to green, the need to hurry almost overwhelming her.

The cars in the road all slowed to a stop, the crosswalk light blinked green, and Mei gave one last glance around before launching out into the street.

But as Mei reached the halfway point on the crosswalk, she could hear the squealing of tire against tar-mat. The sound was suddenly right behind her, and she quickly spun to face the fast approaching threat.

Barreling around the street corner, a large, iron plated truck spun and smashed into the hospital building, hurling debris and metal in every direction. The busted horn blared, and the unending noise impaired Mei’s hearing further.

As her blurry vision returned, Mei found herself face down on the concrete in the middle of the road. She scoured the space around her with a flat patting hand, searching along the dusty street for her glasses.

Finding them, she shakily replaced them onto her face, and then began patting along her own body, checking for wounds. By some miracle, the truck had missed her, and the flying hazards only knocked her down onto the ground. Mei wasn’t injured, just very disoriented, and realizing this, she quickly lifted into a sitting position.

People crowded, gathering along the sidewalk and lingering just outside their stopped cars. They were speaking, but Mei couldn’t understand the mess of words. Some had started recording on their phones, while others just gawked at it like a scene from a movie.

Mei’s eyes scanned over the destruction, also having trouble believing it was real, but then attempted to peer through the smoke obscuring the drivers side. She waited for a moment, watching for a sign of survival, but beyond the commotion the crash had attracted, there was a distressing lack of activity coming from the truck.

Sirens wailed somewhere in the far distance, barely audible at all over the earsplitting horn that still persisted in a continuous mewl, and Mei had a feeling they wouldn’t reach the location in time. The truck was definitely on fire, the black smoke was evident enough of that, and the danger was only growing more urgent.

Jolted into action, Mei crawled to her feet and started towards the iron clad truck. “Heaaaay!” She screamed, stumbling as she tried to make her way to the drivers seat. “Are you alright?!”

Coughing in the smoke, Mei pulled the collar of her sweater over her face and reached her hand out in front of her, searching for the trucks outer wall. Her fingers came in contact with the hot metal, and retreated in a pained flinch.

“Āi-yō!” She hissed, but then reached out again, gliding her finger tips along the truck until she reached the drivers side window. The smoke was thickest here, rising from the engine in a steady stream, and swirling into a blinding fog.

Gripping onto the door handle, she yanked at it, but the lock mechanism was bent out of place and successfully trapped the person inside. Mei cupped her hands against the glass, squinting her eyes to see inside, but the window was layered in dirt, and dust, and… soot?

Without time to question it, Mei balled her fist and started beating it against the window, trying to scream over the horn’s bellow. “Is anyone in there?! Bù ānquán! You have to get out!”

The flame from the engine was getting higher, and Mei could feel its heat licking out across her cheek. Sweat poured down her face, but she didn’t stop her assault at the window until there was a metallic shaking noise coming from the doors handle.

Slowly, the broken cry of the horn died, and the jostling sound from the handle became a tearing one. Mei quickly took a few steps back, stumbling onto her rump in her retreat, as the trucks door slammed open, breaking off at its hinge and collapsing to the ground.

Mei watched in horror as a massive man, practically the size of a small car himself, stepped out of the burning crash, wearing a shark mask over his face. Her mind was caught in the surreal image of fire and colossus, and she was suddenly unable to breathe, frozen by fear.

Wheezing behind the mask, the Shark coughed against the hazy air. He moved one of his gigantic hands to the back of his neck and stretched it as if he’d just woken up from a long nap, giving a guttural moan as the stiff joint popped. Then, he reached back into the wrecked iron truck, and dragged a lumpy black duffel bag out onto the ground. The weighty thing clanked when it hit the concrete beside Mei-ling.

The big bag was the size of Mei’s entire body, and if the Shark-man had dropped it less than a foot to his left, then the weighty thing would have crushed her beneath it.

It was then that the Shark noticed her there, huddled like a child next to the giant, and he gave a grunt as if to greet her. The behavior only further frightened her, though it didn’t sound aggressive at all, and Mei gulped before lifting a hand for a meek little wave. “Nǐ hǎo…” She mustered, trying to hide the terror in her voice with a friendly smile.

The sirens Mei had heard in the distance were now echoing closer, and now the red and blue flashing lights could even be seen through the thick black smoke clouding around the truck. Police cruisers surrounded the disaster and Mei had expected them to hurry towards the blazing vehicle, and do some daring rescue of whoever else could be inside the vehicle, but instead, they created a barrier around the intersection.

The Officers drew their guns on the armored truck, and a man wearing a bright blue coat stepped ahead of the rest with a mega-phone in his hand. “You are under arrest for larceny and destruction of public property!” The man announced, and the Shark’s head snapped to the side, glaring at the officer he couldn’t actually see passed the thick screen of fog.

“Drop your weapons, put your hands in the air, and come out where we can see you!”

With heavy steps, the Shark-man came towards Mei, staring down at her through shielded eyes. She thought he was going to attack her, and raised her arms as a feeble attempt to defend against him, but he stopped just short of her, his height looming over her seated body.

“Move.” The man commanded in a deep husky voice that Mei couldn’t quite understand.

Mei’s timid voice cracked as she tried to respond, “W-wha-” but she couldn’t squeak out the words, and before she had the chance to try again, a disturbing bubbly voice interrupted her with deranged laughter.

The Shark moved quickly to shelter her as the iron clad truck blasted into bits and cinders, the sky filling with sparks of fire. Glass shattered on the building above, and the shards rained down onto the street, but beneath the giant man, Mei was completely protected from the deadly shower.

When the shock wave ceased, the Shark moved away, and Mei looked up at him with confusion. “…Xièxiè.” She muttered, but the man said nothing.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Nobody Matters Like You | John Wick x Reader (Oneshot)

Setting Prompt: Accidental Baby Acquisition

Words: 1680

Fandom: John Wick

Warning: Mentions of domestic abuse and cheating

Summary: John is assigned to protect an executive and their family, only to discover that he was killed by his wife who he told to just disappear, but she ended up leaving a baby behind. Now the task was to look after the baby until everything blows over, but he doesn’t know how, so he goes to you for help. Title inspired by Rockabye by Clean Bandit Ft. Anne Marie & Sean Paul

-

John cursed under his breath, knocking a drink back as he sat in Aurelio’s repair shop. The assignment was supposed to be simple, protect the executive businessman and his family until his enemies were dealt with. Turns out, the guy was a massive douche that slept around and constantly beat his wife. When John reached their estate, the executive was lying face down in a pool of blood in the kitchen with his wife standing over him, gun in hand.

“I had to,” she whispered, “Please…”

John nodded, pulling out a dishcloth from the counter and handed it to her to wipe the blood off of her. “I’ll get this cleaned up. You do what you can to disappear,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I know it was your job-”

“It’s fine. Hurry.”

He called it in, getting a cleanup crew to deal with the mess in the kitchen. He stood to the side as they did their thing before paying them. When they left, he went back inside, planning out how he could make it like the executive went off the radar with his wife.

John began to set everything up, walking around to get an idea of what kind of man he was. He walked up the stairs and peeked through the open doors of the guest rooms until he reached the opposite wing where he presumed were the executive’s room.

He could hear the wife whispering to someone from one of the rooms. He crept forward, hand hovering above his gun at his waist, just to be sure. The closer he got, he realized that she was crying. It was a baby room.

“I can’t do this,” she cried, kneeling next to the baby’s crib, two small luggage next to her.

“You should be leaving,” John reminded her.

She jumped, wiping her cheeks and sniffed. “I… I never wanted children. Not yet, at least. Then, when I heard my husband had been cheating with me… one of the women that he slept with showed up to our doorstep and just left her. She’s not my child, but I’m not heartless enough to just leave her and I’m still not ready to take the responsibility of caring for a child while I’m trying to disappear.”

“Is there no one you can take her to?”

She shook her head sadly.

John sighed. “I might know someone. I’ll take care of it. Just hurry and leave.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, getting up on shaking legs before grabbing her luggage, sparing one last look at the baby, then left.

Now, it was just John and the baby girl who just started to stir in her sleep. What should he do now?

-

You were humming in the kitchen with a movie playing in the living room when you heard urgent knocking on your door. You set your knife down and made your way over, looking through the peephole. What the hell was John Wick doing here?

You opened the door for him, hands on your hips. “Now, what occasion brought you over… is that a baby?”

John stood at your doorway looking haggard as he carried in a baby sleeping on a baby carrier along with a few bags filled with baby stuff. “There’s more in the car,” he muttered, immediately turning once he put the baby carrier on the couch.

You stared down at the baby with wide eyes, then sifted through the bags that had baby diapers, baby food, toys, and books. John came back with a folded crib, a stroller, and two small duffle bags.

“Um, John, what is all this? Who’s baby is this? Why is that baby here? Why do you have them? Why did you bring them here? What-”

“(Y/n), we’re best friends, right?” John cut you off.

You took in a sharp breath. “You knocked someone up?” For some reason, that thought made you feel uneasy.

“No,” he answered quickly, “My client did.” You exhaled, relieved.

“And where’s your client? Was your task to babysit?” you asked sarcastically, waving a hand over to the sleeping baby.

“My client’s dead. There’s no one to take care of her. I trust you, so I brought her here.”

“O… kay. So…,” you exhaled slowly, trying to wrap your head around the situation you were thrown in. You scratched your head, looking around at your now crowded living room. “If you think I’m going to take care of this baby on my own, I will kick your ass. I can’t ask my friends for help with her because they’re going to ask where she’s from. I know nothing about taking care of babies. What are we going to do about her anyways? Keep her?”

John looked at the baby, then at you. “We’ll deal with that later. I can stay over if you want. Some of my clothes are still here, right?”

You clear your throat, looking over at the dirty laundry you had yet to wash, a few of his shirts and sweatpants buried in it after you have used them around the house and as pajamas. They were very comfortable and you or may not have smelled them to remind you of John when he was away working.

“Yeah, let me finish dinner while you sort all of this,” you gestured to all the clutter, “and put them in… I don’t know, my room?”

John sighed in relief. He didn’t feel good about taking the baby somewhere else anyways. He had been an orphan himself and he didn’t like the idea of leaving her in the system. You were one of, if not, the most trusted friends he had, so you were the first person he thought of.

As he set up the corner of your room for the baby while you cooked, you couldn’t help but think how domestic it all was. You shook that thought away, though. It wasn’t like that with him.

-

One month later, you got the hand of taking care of baby Joana, as you named her, while John practically lived with you if he wasn’t busy with work. He used to stay at his own house when he was busy with a task or were taking time to himself after he finished one. That was happening less and less as time went on. Even his dog would be left with you to help watch over Joana.

You were sitting on the playing mat with Joana when John came home. Joana had to work on her crawling and rolling, both of which she only managed a little. At first when you put her on her back, she would try to roll, but stopped midway and lied on her side. Now, she could roll onto her stomach, but not onto her back. Crawling was another thing, too. She managed to crawl an inch, but instead of going forward, she would keep turning in a circle. Maybe she was copying Dog, who’d spin around before he lies down.

John watched the wholesome scene before him, patting his dog’s head as he leaned against the doorway. You were reluctant to look after the baby, but now you enjoyed Joana’s presence. You said that his help made a big difference, as caring for one baby could be stressful.

You patted at the space in front of you, encouraging Joana to crawl forward. She giggled, trying to coordinate her limbs.

“Come on, sweetie, you can do it,” you told her with a smile.

Joana frowned, crawling forward one inch, two inch, three inch, until she was right in front of you.

“Good job, Joana,” John said, taking off his shoes and knelt next to you.

Joana giggled, wiggling in place. You scooped her up and placed her on your lap as Dog came over. John swallowed, feeling his throat tightened seeing you and Joana smile at him with his dog wagging his tail. It was like something from a dream. A dream that he never knew possible when picked up work again after Helen was gone. It was all peaceful and normal.

“Look who’s home, sweetie?” you cooed, bouncing her on your thigh. It was your turn to giggle as Joana pulled a frowny face, much like John’s when he was serious. “So how was work, sweetie?”

John smirked. “Sweetie?” he teased.

You shot him a glare, your cheeks heating up at your slip. “It’s a habit. I’ve been talking to Jo and Dog all day and I call them sweetie,” you explained, avoiding his eyes.

He chuckled, but didn’t tease any further. “Well, I was actually thinking of retiring again. I have more than enough money for us to get by and maybe I can buy us a bigger house,” he said.

“Us?” you teased back, earning a glare from John. You grinned, stopping your bouncing and had Joana lean against you. “It’d be nice to have a bigger house, but does that mean that we’re actually keeping her?”

John shrugged. “Why not? You like her and she likes you. We’re both getting a hang of caring for her. Her father’s enemies had stopped looking for her and his wife, so she’s safe.”

You stared down at Joana who was getting drowsy. “You think I’ll be a good mother to her?” you asked John softly.

“You already are,” he assured you, leaning forward to kiss your head.

You closed your eyes, sighing in content. “John, I-”

“Hold that thought, I’m going to shower,” he said, standing up. Dog wagged his tail and followed his human around the house until John turned to him. “Stay by (Y/n) and Joana and protect them, okay?” Dog made a noise, turning back to sit in front of you.

John made his way through the room, your shared room, rifling through his side of the dresser drawer, tossing his dirty clothes in the hamper with your clothes, and grabbing his scrubber. This was practically his home. Walking through that door and seeing you with Joana and Dog, he felt like he was home.

His new home is all that mattered now.

[znaeb]

Heyho ! So fist if I want to say that your blog is absolutely AMAZING ! And second of i LOVE your Zion Fight oneshot and I wanna request something like that so that me an Zion are fighting really bad and the other guys hear us and are scared that we break up bc they love the relationship that me and Zion have..LOTS OF LOVE TO YOU 💗

Self Inflicted | Z.K.

Lots of love to you too, anon!

****

You sat on the bed in his room, crying. You’d been able to keep your tears in until Zion stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to shake the entire house.

The front door shut loudly downstairs and you tried to hold in the little sobs that were trying to force their way up your throat. You crawled to the head of the bed and hugged a pillow to your stomach, burying your face in it and letting yourself cry.

You hadn’t even been home from work an hour and you’d already gotten into a screaming match.

For 30 minutes you both shouted at each other from across the bedroom, each sentence meaner than the next. Your emotions running high and the stress of both of your jobs making you unable to see that the other was struggling also.

After Zion left, Austin came to check on you, he asked what was going on. If you guys were breaking up— which wasn’t an unreasonable question considering how often you two ended your days in an argument.

When Austin went back downstairs a while later your mind raced. You didn’t know what to do.

———

He was angry. So angry. And he didn’t know why.

On his lengthy walk down the street to his car he thought about everything. Everything he said, everything you said. Everything. He didn’t know how this was going to turn out. He felt like his whole relationship was falling apart, like his whole life was falling apart.

He felt like yelling at himself, he wanted to go back and talk about it. He wanted to hash everything out, he wanted to get over it... but he didn’t know how to fix things.

Tears of anger and frustration built up in his eyes as he got to his car, he groaned in frustration and hit his steering wheel. Hard.

“Ah, fuck!” He yelled as he clutched his right hand with his left, leaning foreword and resting his head against the top of the steering wheel.

He tried to sit up but every time he did he felt like he was going to pass out. Little black dots appearing in front of his eyes.

He used his un-injured hand to pull his phone out of his back pocket and selected your contact before hitting ‘call’.

It rang about 8 times and he almost thought you were going to let him go to voicemail, but then you picked up.

“Look if you’re just calling to scream at me again then I’m gonna to hang up.” He could tell you were crying and he immediately felt like the worst person in the entire world.

“No... I-I’m in my car and I think I broke my hand? I feel like I’m going to pass out, can you please drive me to the urgent care clinic? Please?” He cringed at how stupid he sounded.

“You what? How the hell did you break your hand? You left 20 minutes ago! Zion, what happened?” He could hear you walking down the stairs and shuffling around, little sniffles leaving her nose periodically.

“... I punched the steering wheel.”

“Zion!”

“I was upset!” Then he heard your footsteps as you jogged down the street towards his car.

“Oh my god.” You spoke as you opened the car door. He turned his head to look but kept his forehead on the wheel.

“Hi.” He sighed in embarrassment and closed his eyes, “please help.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed on to his shoulder to help him out of the drivers seat and around to the passenger side. You had to let him lean on you as he walked to the other side of the car, still feeling like he could faint.

———

The wait at the E.R. was tense. Zion bounced his leg and you leaned your head on your hand trying not to think about the events that lead up to you being here.

Between his broken hand and your tear stained cheeks you two were quite the pair, receiving odd looks from staff and other injured and sick people coming in.

Every once in a while one of you would glance at the other. Feeling infinitely guilty. You’d both been so nasty to each other, you couldn’t believe some of the things you’d said.

After about a half-hour of waiting they finally called for Zion. Normally you’d have gone with him, but today you didn’t. He came out a while later with a light blue cast on one hand and a prescription for pain killers in the other.

You stood as he approached, neither of you said anything as you walked to the car. When you got there you tried to pull open your door, but it was quickly shut again by Zion’s good hand pushing against the window.

You didn’t turn around, you could already feel your face getting hot and your eyes getting watery.

“Can I open my door, please?” You said weakly, wiping your cheek with your sleeve.

“Baby, I’m sorry...” you felt him step closer behind you, his hand leaving the car door and landing on your hip. His nose in your hair.

You covered your face with your hands as the tears started to fall. He wrapped his arms around your middle and kissed your neck, mumbling kind words softly into your ear.

You turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in your shoulder, his hand clutching your side.

When you pulled back he looked away, trying to wipe his cheek before you saw he’d been crying. You put your hands on either side of his face and he leaned down to kiss you, it was soft and apologetic.

You pulled apart and he walked around the car to his side. You drove home in the quiet, neither of you angry anymore, just tired.

———

When you got home it was nearing 1am. You both shlumped into the house, kicking off your shoes and making your way to the stairs.

On the way past the living room you heard someone say, “hey!”

You turned your head to see all four of the other boys sitting in front of the TV. All of them now staring at you two.

“Oh fuck, here we go.” Zion mumbled under his breath, then loud enough for them to hear: “what’s up guys?”

“How’s um... how’s mom and dad doing?” Edwin asked using the groups nickname for you two— since you were always the reliable, stable ones. Since since were always together.

There was an awkward pause. You hesitated to speak because, well, you didn’t know. “Um...” you looked at Zion, but before you could finish your sentence he placed a hand on your hip and stepped a tiny bit further into the room, eyes still on the boys.

“We’re okay...” he kissed the top of your head and gave your side a gentle squeeze, “It’s gonna be okay...”

****

I hope this is okay! I’m not sure how I feel about it, but I didn’t want to leave you hanging :P thanks for reading and thank you again for requesting!

[mycatshuman]

Castle of Devils

Chapter 9 | It's Hard Going Through a Breakup When You Weren't Together in the First Place

So...I'm finally back with a new chapter. Sorry about that. Insecurities have been raising the roof for a while now. Even to the point where I have the next chapter of another fic done but haven't asked my beta reader because of my chuck they're tired of me! So...here.

Masterlist | First | Previous Chapter | Next | More Chapters

Thank you @ icequeenoriginal for beta reading for me.

Warnings: uhh none? I think? Oh there's some fluff so...don't be shocked. Let me know if I missed any.

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety, Logicality (Oh? New characters?)

Word Count: 2,191

-------

When Roman's plane landed he wasn't feeling much better. He almost felt inherently worse. The dismal white halls of the airport certainly weren't helping. And it was late. The airport was fairly deserted aside from the people required to be there due to jobs or flights and after the long flight, Roman just wanted to drop down and sleep forever. However, he couldn't and he knew that. 

With a tired sigh, Roman pulled his luggage behind him as he left the baggage claim area and moved toward the exit, pulling out his phone as he did so. He stepped outside and found a seat to sit down, the world around him filled with darkness, not unlike how he was feeling inside. He dialed a taxi service and waited. When the cab came, he hurried into the back seat and quickly told the driver his address, before sitting back and letting out a deep breath. After a decently sized drive, the car stopped in front of his home and he quickly climbed out pulling out the money to pay his fair. He stumbled the walk to his door and unlocked it, pushing it open before stepping inside. 

As soon as the door was closed, Roman dropped his things and locked the door. Making sure he had his carry on, he carefully made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom. He plugged in his phone and charger before going to the bathroom to change. Throughout the whole process he avoided looking in the mirror, knowing that if he did, he would see an exhausted and heartbroken man. He knew he would have to address what had happened only hours ago, but he knew that if he tried to right now, he would just burst out into tears. And he was too tired to deal with that right now. So, with a heavy heart, he crawled into bed and fell into a restless slumber. 

---- 

Patton loved mornings. While his husband wasn't much of a morning person, he was and it allowed him time to cook breakfast in bed for his love and that was the best thing ever in Patton's personal opinion. So he gently climbed out of the comfy bed and tiptoed to the door. Before he left, he glanced back and smiled softly at the sight of his content husband sleeping peacefully in their big bed. 

With a hop in his step, Patton walked downstairs into the kitchen to make breakfast for Logan. He pulled down two bagels and popped them into the toaster as he grabbed some cream cheese and Crofters jam from the fridge. The bagels popped up and Patton quickly placed them on two plates before smearing cream cheese over the halves of one and Crofters of the halves of the other bagel. He smiled as the scent of fresh bagels tickled his nose and turned to pull out some orange juice as he set the coffee on. 

Patton giggled lightly as he noted he probably should have put the coffee on first. He set about grabbing a mug and poured some coffee for Logan once there was enough in the pot to fill the mug. He carefully set everything on the breakfast trey and made his way upstairs into the bedroom. He smiled upon seeing Logan still fast asleep. He pressed a light kiss to his forehead and moved over to open the curtains ever so slightly to allow enough light in the room to see but not enough to blind anyone. 

"Loggybear," Patton called softly as gently shook Logan from sleep. "It's time to get up." 

"Mmmm." A groan. 

Patton grinned. "Come on, Mr. Sanders, it's time to get up. I brought Crofters." 

Before Patton could even finish the first syllable, Logan had shot upright as he blearily looked around trying to find his favorite jam. "Croft-" he yawned. "-ers?" 

Patton giggled once more and picked up the trey from where he had placed it on the bedside table. "Bagel and Crofters," he confirmed as he set it down on the bed beside Logan. Logan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and squinted at the trey. He reached forward and grabbed the mug as he picked up one half of his bagel. He took a sip before setting it back down and began to munch on his bagel. He let out a happy hum. 

Patton grinned and picked up his own bagel. The couple sat in blissful silence as they are their breakfast. Slowly, Logan woke up. By the time he finished his bagel and coffee, he was coherent enough to find his glasses and put them on. "Good morning, love," he called to Patton softly. 

Patton visibly brightened (if that was even possible) and leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Logan's cheek. "Good morning, Lo. How'd you sleep?" 

"Satisfactory. How did you sleep?" 

Patton smiled fondly. "I slept well." 

The two sat in pleasant silence some more, just enjoying the others company before it was broken by a ping from Logan's phone. Patton jumped with Logan glanced over and picked his phone up from the nightstand. "Oh, it's from Roman." Patton brightened. His kiddo! He hadn't heard from him in so long! "He says he's home now." 

"Oh! Yay! We should go see him today Logan!" Patton exclaimed as he bounced up and down on the bed excitedly before calming and stopping. "What else did he say? Did he say how it went? Did he say how excited he was to be home? Did he-" Patton stopped as he took in Logan's frowning features. "What's wrong?" He asked as he scooted closer, pushing the trey to the other side of the bed. "What did he say?" 

Logan set his phone down as he puzzled. "That's exactly it, Patton. He didn't say anything else aside from, 'I'm home now.'" 

Patton's expression morphed into one of worry and concern. "Is that really all he said?" Logan nodded and handed his phone to Patton so his husband could see for himself. Patton felt tears burn at the back of his eyes as tried to process exactly what was going on. Roman was home. But he wasn't calling them immediately or even barging into their home to tell them all about his trip. And that was unusual. Roman was always a very excitable person. And they always had to sit through at least two hours of him recounting exactly what happened on trips he sometimes took and the fact that he wasn't doing that, not even a call but a text and such a simple one at that. It was concerning. "What do you think is wrong?" Patton asked. 

Logan frowned. "I don't know. Last we talked to him he was making great progress and said he would be home soon." Logan's frown deepened. "Assuming he would have arrived home in the last 8 or so hours considering if he knew we were awake he surely would have asked us to pick him up. And his flight his around 19 or so hours flight he would had to have left around 4 or 5? What would be so urgent to make him leave so early?" 

Patton bit his lip nervously. "I don't know but I think we should go to Roman's place and make sure he's okay." 

Logan adjusted his glasses. "Yes, that would be the best course of action to confirm our friend's feelings and comfort him." 

Patton stood and walked to his closet. He pulled clothes out and got dressed. On his way out the bedroom door, he paused. "I think we should stop by the store and grab him something for breakfast. I have a feeling he's not going to feel like eating." 

Logan nodded and stood to get dressed. "Yes, that would be wise." With that, the couple went about finishing getting ready. 

-----

The first time Roman woke up he was still tired and as soon as he woke up his mind went gay to Virgil. So he sent a quick message to Logan and Patton telling them he was home before he rolled over and went back to bed, trying to ignore the tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. He wasn't upset. He was just tired. He couldn't be upset, the man lied to him and was a vampire. He really wasn't upset. He was just tired. That's all. 

-----

The next time Roman woke up, it was to soft humming as someone gently played with his hair. "Where the north wind meets the sea, there's a river full of memories," the voice sang gently as one does when singing a lullaby. Roman shifted and the voice paused. 

"Is that Disney?" Roman asked sleepily. 

A soft chuckle was heard from further away from him, towards his dresser. "Only you would up out of a dead sleep to Disney," the voice said. A voice that sounded quite similar. 

"Logan?" Roman grumbled as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. 

"Yes, it is I. And Patton is sitting next to you." 

Roman opened his eyes and groaned as he tried to adjust to the lighting. Maybe he needed to invest in darker curtains. "When did you guys get here?" 

"Not that long ago. Maybe half an hour," Logan answered. Now that Roman's eyes were open, he could see that his childhood best friend was putting his clothes and such away.

"How'd you sleep, kiddo?" Patton asked. Roman turned and saw the other leaning back against his headboard. 

"Uh, I'm still a little tired," he answered. Patton hummed. Roman looked between the married couple and took note of a few things they must have been leaving unsaid. "So….what are you doing here?" 

Patton shifted a little uncomfortably, unsure if they should bring it up while Logan cut right to the chase. "We became concerned when we didn't receive your usual fanfare when you returned. Even more so when we arrived to find your things still packed and you still sleeping despite it being past your usual wake up times. Now, we could excuse these as jet lag but we would rather make sure you were actually okay." 

Roman sighed. He didn't really want to confront anything at this moment. He'd rather just forget it all happened. "I'd rather not talk about it," he answered slowly. "At least not now." 

Logan and Patton frowned but didn't push. And for that Roman was grateful. They say in a not quite pleasant silence for a few moments. A silence that was broken as Logan reached the bottom of Roman's duffel bag. 

"What the hell is this??!" He shrieked. 

Under different circumstances, Roman might have laughed at Logan shrieking, but at this moment, he was already a little on edge. Scared that Virgil might have left some kind of vampire egg or something in his bag, he leaped out of bed and raced over only to see Logan pulling a huge stack of cash. 

Roman froze. "What?" He asked. 

Patton and Logan turned to him. "Where did this come from?" 

Roman could only shake his head. "I-I don't know." Fear flashed in his eyes. "All I know is that I was just throwing my stuff in my suitcase and stuffing things in my bags and hurrying to get out of there!" Roman began hyperventilating as he crouched down, holding his hands against his head. "He had to have put it there. He probably knows where I live now! Oh no! He's gonna come here and kill us and they're be nothing we can do to stop him!" Logan and Patton shared a glance before kneeling down in front of their friend. "Roman," Patton started softly. "You're gonna have to tell exactly what happened, kiddo. We want to understand but we can't unless you help us to." 

Roman whimpered. "I-I...I just-" he coughed. "A few moments." Once he had calmed down enough to talk and breathe better, Roman took a deep breath and began to tell his friends about everything. 

-----

A week had passed since Roman told his friends of what happened the night he rushed onto a plane and came home. They hadn't believed him completely. To them, the part about his host being a vampire was impossible. However, they concluded that Roman was indeed telling the truth and tried to come up with the idea that Virgil was possibly just a serial killer and not some kind of mythical creature. The idea wasn't one that Roman was fond of but maybe it could explain what he thought he saw. 

Since coming home, he had to adjust back to life outside of a castle and its grounds. It was fairly easy. He didn't feel so confined as he had at the castle. And adjusting back to an environment filled with people was fairly easy as well. The first day was hard. His heart missed Virgil. And while his mind tried to convince it he was better off without him, his heart just couldn't be convinced, almost as if things were not as they seemed. But for the first time in forever, Roman found himself ignoring his heart. 

-------

Everything taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

Castle of Devils Taglist: @kittycake574 @rainbow-roman @icequeenoriginal @ilovemygaydad @comicsimpson @notalwaysthebadguy @loveyatothemoonandback

[misstinfoilhat]

Whumptober 2019 #8: Stab wound - Bungou Stray Dogs

This might get a continuation. Just kind of a "recovery chapter", because I usually like them and find that many stories lack them. I'm not sure if it's going to be a part of this whumptober thing or not, but I thought I'd give you guys a heads up! ------------------------ Dazai loafed his way across the concrete flooring of the underground parking garage where he was supposed to meet up with his ride. Apparently, he wasn't fit to drive himself- mostly because he wasn't old enough yet. But also, he didn't really know how to, but he was sure he could've figured it out. According to Mori, he would never actually be allowed to drive because his eyesight, with the partial blindness to his right eye, wouldn't meet the legal requirements for having a license.

That was annoying. Chuuya was already riding a light motorcycle and was saving up to buy a motorbike once he turned eighteen in a couple of months. The vertically impaired mafioso didn't miss a single chance to rub it in his face.

Sighing heavily, Dazai leaned against a stone column, looking at the clock on his phone impatiently. His driver was late, and he had had a growing uneasiness in his stomach all day. Something about this mission just didn't sit right with him. The meeting he'd just attended with the clients didn't make him calmer. This guy seemed like a rich, power-hungry sleazeball. Even Mori had some reluctance when accepting this mission, but it was apparently nothing a hefty payment couldn't fix, so he'd send his brightest executive to negotiate the details. So now, Dazai was standing there, freezing his butt off in the frigid Yokohama autumn chill, wrapping his coat tightly around himself and looking for a car matching the description they had gotten earlier that day. Finally, twenty minutes after the time they had agreed on, a black SUV rolled slowly in his direction. Dazai immediately disliked the tinted windows and felt his hand twitch against the pocket in his jacket where he held his gun.

Wait- where he should have held his gun. Where the fuck was his gun?! Distracted by the swift realization, several hooded figures got out of the car and grabbed him brutally, giving him a sharp blow to the solar plexus that made him buckle over and heave for air, before they pulled him into the waiting car. Dazai wasted no time in fighting back. As soon as he had gathered himself a little, taking advantage of the fact that they (hopefully) thought he was still subdued, he tore himself away, leaving his coat in their grasps and threw himself at the door before they were able to close them properly. He caught himself, scratching his knees and palms at the hard stone flooring and quickly got up on his feet and ran as fast as he could between the several parked cars, making it as hard as possible for them to follow him with their vehicle.

Glancing back, he could see that some of his pursuers were chasing him on foot, while the car backed away. They were shouting at each other in a different language that Dazai couldn't place- likely European.

He turned his head towards where he was running again. Abruptly, his vision went black and his body slammed into something big and hard. He bounced back, discombobulated and peered up at an oversized man, grinning viciously down at him. The man was holding a classic Japanese tuna filèing knife. The long slender blade gleamed in the dim lighting of the garage, looking like a shimmering bolt of lightning in his hands.

A sadistic smile stretched unnaturally across his face as he let the light play off the blade, and Dazai already envisioned how the blood would run down the steel after tearing through his flesh.

Like an echo of his thoughts, the man quickly launched forward, piercing through Dazai's stomach with the cold knife. Dazai's hands shot up to grab at the blade, trying, failing to stop it from going further into his body. At first, he felt nothing. He could clearly see the sizable knife sticking out of the side of his stomach, but somehow, the pain didn't register. The man retracted the knife forcefully, cutting even deeper into the palms of Dazai's hands as it slipped out of his body. Dazai stumbled back a few steps, clutching at his wound.

Someone grabbed him from behind and turned him around, yelling at him in heavily accented Japanese that he was unable to comprehend. His mind was fuzzy and he was starting to feel nauseous and dizzy.

The hooded figure let go of his shirt, and Dazai tumbled to the ground, quickly crawling in the other direction where he was met with a kick to the face by a heavy boot. The rest of the group had caught up to them, and he was now completely surrounded.

Why the hell don't they just kill me and get it over with?

Another kick was dealt to his back, and soon, workman boots and fists pounded all over him like an avalanche. His left hand suddenly landed under one of the bulky boots, and he heard the sickening crack of bones breaking.

Dazai crawled in on himself, trying to protect his vitals. The gut wound had started to bleed heavily, leaving a crimson puddle where he was lying.

The car once again approached them and stopped a couple of feet away. If they were going to try and take him again, it might leave a window open for escape. Dazai braced himself, waiting for the right moment. His body screamed with pain, but he knew that if they had wanted him dead yet, they would have done it already. They had plenty of opportunities. This could only mean that they were either going to take him as a hostage or torture him for information.

Both scenarios seemed equally undesirable.

As soon as one of the men encircling him turned away, he jolted forward and flung himself out of the circle of men, unsteadily getting to his feet and ran off, trying his best to block out the searing anguish that radiated through his body.

This time, he wasn't going to make the mistake of looking back. Only concentrating on getting as much distance between himself and the group of ruffians, he held his breath and ran for the staircase at the end of the large room.

He threw the door open and started his journey up the stairs. His heart raced and he could taste an unappetizing blend of bile and blood in his mouth. With his right arm, he clung onto the wound as tightly as he could, while his left hand was cradled slightly on top of it.

The door behind him slammed open, and he picked up his pace. The hope of reaching ground level was quickly diminishing, so he slammed open the first door he found and headed for a different set of stairs at the other end of the parking lot.

Thank God he was fast. His lanky legs were the center of many jokes, but they sure came in handy. For some time, he had kept running, entering different staircases and changing between running up and down the steps to confuse his hunters.

The issue was that he had also confused himself. Usually, his sense of direction was impeccable- one of the perks of having a nearly photographic memory. But the blood loss was really starting to get to him and his mind wasn't working as fast as it usually did.

Small, black dots swarmed across his sight, and all of a sudden, he felt faint. His arm automatically reached out to steady himself on the wall, leaving a bloodied handprint on it.

This was bad.

Unable to part from the wall, he carefully made his way towards a new door, leaning sluggishly towards his only mean of support, trying to stay awake.

A buzzing was felt in his pant-pocket, and he remembered his phone. Sighing in relief, he let himself slide to the floor behind a car and struggled a little to use his right arm to pick up the phone in the opposite pocket.

Never had Chuuya's nickname been so welcoming on the screen of his phone. Taking one last glance around the nearly empty garage, holding his breath and listening for footsteps, he finally clicked on the accept button.

“Where the hell are you?! You were supposed to report back at the HQ over an hour ago! I'm so sick of always running late because of your inconsideration for anyone but yourself, shitty macke-” “Shut up and listen for a moment,” Dazai croaked out, surprising even himself with the unsteadiness of his voice.

“...you sound like you are in pain. Where are you?” Chuuya answered grimly. Just as the words crackled through the cellphone, the door Dazai had previously entered from was kicked open with overwhelming force, almost making it fall off its hinges. Foreign words echoed through the cement structure, and Dazai knew immediately that he was out of time.

The trails of his blood had lead them to him.

“I'm still at the Yokohama Airway Service. In the parking garage under the building,” he scratched out silently, feeling panic creep upon him and the strangling anticipation of getting caught. “...but it might not be for much longer. Just hurry.”

The voices grew louder, and Dazai could see the shadows of several men approaching.

“Who is that?” Chuuya demanded urgently, but Dazai had already pocketed his phone, leaving the call going, keeping up their communication. Now he could only hope that they would make it in time, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. There wasn't much he could do in his current state, so his best bet was to try and stall them as much as possible.

Once again placing his hand to the bleeding wound, gritting his teeth and winching as the pain increased with the added pressure, he crawled away from his hiding spot and stayed low and close to the wall, leaving a bloodied pathway behind him.

Moving was getting more difficult, and he couldn't lean on his quick pace any longer. There simply was no way. The world around him was turning blurry, and the sounds more muffled. Whoops and jeering was heard from the pursuers, and he knew they had spotted him.

Still, he kept dragging himself forward, stressing his brilliant mind to come up with a plan. But there was none. He was weaponless, weak and injured. His plan B was Chuuya. It was always Chuuya. Finally, his body gave up and he collapsed on the floor, feeling the puddle of blood around him growing and getting his dress shirt wet and sticky. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, and his eyelids couldn't be heavier if they had lead hanging from them. At least the cold ground felt nice towards his flushed cheeks.

He was also noticing how cold he was. Running around had made him able to keep his temperature up, and the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins had made him able to push himself up until this point.

Now, he was empty. He was hurting, cold and unable to move another inch.

The black-clad figures were standing over him, watching him and mumbling to each other. A set of harsh hands turned him on his back, while Dazai was just lying there, looking up at them and wondering when they were going to put him out of his misery.

“J-just... kill me,” he wheezed pleadingly. Sincerely. “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

A hole in the circle of men appeared and the man from before with the tuna-knife walked slowly towards them with the same sickly smile as he had before. The blade was still covered in blood, his blood, dulling the shine but not its animosity.

The man came to a halt in front of Dazai, closing the gap and said a couple of words in that same foreign language. Then, he leaned over him, hands closed around the shaft of the knife, and raised it over his head.

Dazai closed his eyes, waiting for impact.

It never came.

Carefully, he squinted his left eye, checking what the delay was about. The man was still standing in the same position with the same unnerving grin, except, there was now blood seeping out between his clenched teeth.

As the body fell to the floor by Dazai's legs, the rest of the group turned around in alarm, looking for whatever had struck their comrade. A flash of crimson lighting flew across the room, and a vision of blurred black and red moved effortlessly with it, striking down the eight men left before they could reach for any weapons.

The short man stopped a couple of feet away, smirking while brushing off his gloved hands, looking behind him and making sure he'd taken them all out. “Mah, was that the big hassle?” he chirped smugly, turning around to look for Dazai. The glee instantly fell from his face when he saw the state his partner was in.

Dazai was lying on his back on the floor, bruises and cuts coating his face, as well as hand-shaped streaks of blood. His left hand was tinted a purplish blue, and several of his fingers were bent in unnatural angles. The white shirt he always wore under the black coat (that was nowhere in sight), was more red than white at this point. “D-Dazai,” Chuuya uttered. His triumphant expression had quickly turned distressed. The red-headed mafioso swiftly covered the distance between them and kneeled down to help his partner.

“You were quick,” Dazai smiled weakly but grateful. “I was ready for them to finally do me in.”

“Yeah, well... I was already out looking for you,” Chuuya reluctantly admitted. “The boss asked me to go check on you when you didn't show up on time. He wasn't all the way convinced that this mission was completely legit.”

The questioning look on Dazai's face made Chuuya elaborate.

“He was suspicious that this was just a way of taking you hostage and demand a hefty ransom. They've apparently been struggling financially for some time, so the enormous amount of money they offered for our services seemed a bit odd.”

Dazai slowly blinked a couple of times, trying and failing to catch his breath to speak.

“Asshole.”

“Yeah, I wasn't too happy about it either...” Chuuya sneered, trying to seem unfazed but doing a terrible job at doing so. “You know, I'll never be able to make it to the top if I'm unable to use corruption again because my nullifier has gone and kicked the bucket.”

A choked laugh escaped Dazai's throat but was interrupted by a painful coughing fit.

“Just hang in there a little bit longer. Mori is on his way. He'll patch you up in no time.”

All Dazai could answer that with was an ugly grimace. The only thing worse than being under the care of a hospital was being under the care of their boss.

“I kinda wish I had died,” he was able to spit out, receiving a playful wack across the head from Chuuya. “I'm not gonna let anybody kill you,” Chuuya assured him sternly. “I have more reasons to end you than anyone else, so that pleasure will be all mine when the time comes.” Dazai smiled crookedly, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment.

“Oy, shitty Mackerell. Stay awake, okay? You can sleep when you're dead, not until you're dead, shithead.” Chuuya gently wormed his arms under Dazai's neck and helped him rest his head on his lap, shrugging off his jacket and laying it protectively over Dazai's shaky form. Shortly after, a car entered the garage, stopping close-by with Mori jumping out. The head of the Port Mafia walked hurriedly towards them. Winching, he took in the shape of his youngest executive.

“Dammit, I knew I should have planted someone around the property to look out for you,” he growled, almost stumbling over the dead bodies that lay around the two mafiosos like a daffodil. Dazai let out a small groan, and Chuuya forced himself to keep quiet.

Of course, he fucking should have. “Are all of them dead?” Mori continued, prodding one of the bodies with the tip of his shoe.

“Pretty darn dead,” Chuuya scoffed. “So, if you don't mind, I think shitty-Dazai over here needs your attention a little more than them.”

Mori sent a venomous glare at Chuuya, but let it slide. “Our medics are getting the gurney ready as we speak,” he informed instead, and calmly settled himself down with one knee on the ground, and gave Dazai a swift once-over.

“They really did a number on you kid, didn't they?” he chuckled, but without humor in his voice.

“I t-think they stole... m-my gun d-during the... m-meeting,” Dazai was able to breath out, his voice nearly gone from the weakness of his battered body.

Mori seemed unimpressed but didn't press the matter any further. The medics were approaching with the stretcher, so instead, he moved out of the way, picking up a couple of latex gloves from the pockets of his white doctor's coat he had put on for the occasion and started walking towards the Port Mafia ambulance to get ready for treating Dazai on their way back to the infirmary.

“You'll be all right, Dazai,” Chuuya assured Dazai serenely as the carrying bed was lowered to the ground, and the medical personnel was making preparations for moving Dazai.

As Chuuya was about to stand up and give the medics some space, Dazai's injured hand brushed against his thigh.

“Oy, careful with that,” Chuuya scolded mildly, meeting Dazai's half-lidded eyes.

The dark-haired man mouthed something, and Chuuya had to lean in closer to hear what he was saying.

“C-can I go to sleep now?” Dazai whispered sleepily before an oxygen mask was placed over his nose and mouth. Warm brown eyes still peered up at the shorter man, questionably.

Chuuya chuckled lightly, nodding and giving his partner of the past three years a sincere smile.

“Sure Mackerell, go to sleep. As long as you promise me that you'll wake up again so I can murder you later.”

[welcometotheshitshowyo]

Today on My Life as a Clumsy Fuck AKA the Time I Almost Died on a Camping Trip

Hey guys, I'm baaaack! Today I'm going to amaze and entertain you with a harrowing tale of the time my clumsy ass almost died (multiple times) on a camping trip. So first things first, I'm clumsy. Like, bad. If it's on the floor, I trip over it. Even air. And believe me this will not be the last time you hear of my amazing clumsiness.

About a year ago, me and a couple friends decided we were going to take a five day camping trip to Cumberland Falls in Kentucky. If you've never been I highly recommend it, it's absolutely beautiful! So I get all packed and hit the road, planning to meet my other friends there. Now, a little info about those 2. They're very adventurous and they love to take the path less traveled. Like Bear Grylls without all the piss drinking. And don't get me wrong, I'm adventurous too. I love being outside in nature and exploring. So naturally I assumed I would have no problem keeping up with them. Well you know what the say about assuming. And I definitely made an ass out of me. Anyway, we all meet up in the parking lot and decide to just jump right into the adventuring. We immediately jump right into the dare devil shit. They walk over to this little rock cliff and find an opening that we could climb through. So they made their way up through the crevice and finally it was my turn. Now 2 things about me: 1) I'm 5'1" and 2) I have the joints of an 80 year old (thanks to the notorious Fibromyalgia or whatever the hell I have). So I'm looking up at this crevice, and I start getting bold. Like yeah I can do this, I ain't no bitch. And I reach up as far as I can, grab ahold of the rock, and proceed to swing my leg up. Well as I did this, my hip was pretty much like you done fucked up. And boy was it right. After I finally more or less dragged my body through the rocks, I stood up and almost fell over. My hip was throbbing and I was already ready to go sit by the fire and eat marshmallows. And this was only 5 minutes into the hike.

A few hours later, hip still hurting, the trip was going pretty well. There were some pretty great views and it was really nice out. We decided to take a dip in the river for awhile. All in all, things went well there too, except my friends got some parasites all over them 🦠 when we finally decided to keep moving, we soon came to another out cropping of rock that needed climbing. And of course, I get about 5 feet off the ground on this cliff and my foot slips. I fell right on my back. Luckily I was wearing a backpack (which also happened to have my expensive camera in it), so that kept me from smashing the back of my head on a rock. But it still hurt like a motherfucker. I laid on the ground for about 5 minutes just laughing my ass off because I'm so dumb. And that isn't even the worst of it.

So, keep in mind we've been hiking all day, about 5 or 6 hours over rough terrain and climbing up rocks. I'm tired, its hotter than satan's balls, and my body has already taken quite a beating. Well we finally made it back to a trail. I saw a sign that said we only had 1/2 a mile left. That put a tiny minuscule of pep back into my step. I was still lagging behind, which was fine with me. I was just so ready to make it back. This is where the fun really begins. Eventually we come across a decent size log laying across the path. It wouldn't have been a hard obstacle had I been able to control my body. Well I attempted to step over the log. And when I say attempted, I mean my brain said to stretch my leg up and over the log, but, like a bad game of telephone, my legs misread the message. I actually stepped directly onto the log. Which was covered in moss and very slippery. I lifted my other foot, and put all my wait on the other foot that was standing on the log, and it was at that moment I realize, I fucked up. My foot immediately slips off the log, and jams itself between the log and a large jagged rock. I fell. Hard. As I came crashing down, only one hand came up to catch myself. And guess where all my weight went? Yep! All on my right wrist. With a very audible POP. I immediately unjam my leg and plop my ass right down on the ground. I grab my wrist and immediately start yelling FUCK FUCK I THINK MY WRIST IS BROKEN. It had already started to swell and It HURT. Then I noticed that the leg that had been jammed between the rock and the log hurt a hell of a lot worse. I looked down and noticed a huge white spot where a chunk of my skin had been ripped off, and there was blood and scrapes all over. I don't get queasy when I'm around blood or see wounds. Ever. But I almost passed out. Because my friend looked at my leg and said "oh my god is that your bone??" He offered to carry me but, again, I ain't no bitch. So I slowly, and very painfully, got up. I proceeded to limp another half mile back to the entrance of the trail. I emerged from the woods like I had just escaped Michael Meyers. As we are walking up the stairs to get to the parking lot, we pass the Park Ranger. This motherfucker looks me dead in the eyes, looks at the state I'm in, and just turns around and walks away without a word. Like thanks, fuck you too buddy. Well luckily I had a first aid get in my car. I attempted to clean my leg as best I could, could antibacterial cream on it and wrapped it up. And then we drove down the road, hiked a few minutes up a hill, to find an okay spot to make camp. In the dark. I was literally so done with life, I crawled into the tent and tried to sleep. Which I couldn't because everytime I made the slightest move, it made my wrist and leg hurt. To make a long story longer, we ended up cutting the trip short, since this literally all happened in one day, took my ass to urgent care and went home. I had to have 2 xrays because they thought my shin was cracked and they thought my wrist was fractures. Turns out my wrist was just sprained and my shin and bone were only bruised. So....yeah. I mean you shouldn't be surpised. I'm a whole hot mess.

Well, the moral of this story is someone PLEASE WRAP ME IN BUBBLE WRAP AND KEEP ME INSIDE AT ALL TIMES BECAUSE I'M GOING TO DIE IN A STUPID WAY. And remember folks, it's not an adventure until you almost die!

Also, I'm going to attach some pictures below of Cumberland falls, our hike, and my injuries (WARNING: GRUESOME AND AWESOME). I'm pretty proud of my battle scar!

Until next time 😜