#he said it himself hes a non-negotiable hes a constant and hes exactly what she needed and AND

[cabinetduo]

I'll never get over this btw if u even car e. the (obvi) and (duh) esp OH MY GGGODFF

[honestgrins]

if you're doing prompts... Mates Trope?! something during s1-2 of TO where part of the reason the wolves (or maybe just the elders who are very righteous about tradition) don't trust klaus is because he wanders around with everyone but his mate (which for this purpose i guess they can sense when a wolf is mated)

Oh || Klaroline

Elijah frowned deeply. “I’m not sure which scenario would be less tolerable to the pack, you being disrespectful to the mate bond or being mated to a vampire.”

Cradling the noticeable swell of her baby bump, Hayley snorted. “I might very well be carrying the next alpha with his disrespectful ass, so they’ll get over it eventually,” she pointed out. “But the vampire thing is always going to be a problem.”

“Not if Miss Forbes stays away from New Orleans.”

That was the crux of it, truly. Whether or not he had a mate, there was precious little Klaus could do about it in the eyes of the pack while she gave his city a wide berth. Honestly, her absence would likely make it all easier for them to swallow - perhaps to forget entirely with a few generations of distance. The thought left a hollow feeling in his chest, one far more noticeable since learning of his…predicament.

Learning he was to be a father after a millennium of running from the only one he’d ever known had been difficult enough. He’d ingratiated himself into the fabric of New Orleans in order to situate it to his needs, even softening the wolf pack to the idea of his leadership outside of the traditional hierarchy - at least, until he returned from Mystic Falls with a freshly established mate bond he apparently left behind.

A mate bond he could only imagine began with a defiant kiss and a slow-rising smile as bright as a sunlit afternoon.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know a thing about it until Hayley broke the news as to why the pack had turned against him. It was small comfort to know her use as a direct line in the camp, but he needed more. He knew so little about life as a wolf, that having been denied him for so long. “How can they know that I’ve found my mate?” Suspicion was a long-earned habit, and nothing was adding up. “How can they sense it here when I had no idea with her right in my arms?”

With a delicate cough, Elijah leaned forward to take some of his focus off Hayley. “I understand this is a difficult revelation, and there’s much to be learned about the mate phenomenon. However, I feel there’s a decided advantage in ensuring Miss Forbes is a non-factor in the politics of the city.”

His hand was around his brother’s throat before he could consciously think to do it, his hybrid strength more than enough to pin Elijah to the wall. “Stop. Talking.”

“Klaus.” Hayley’s voice was shaking, and her hands now covered her belly in a protective gesture. “You feel it now, don’t you? The need to protect her above all else?” She stood slowly, careful not to spook him further. “Even over your own brother?”

With excruciating control, he loosened his grip, finger by finger. “Alright,” he breathed once he could manage it past the sudden onslaught of rage. “I’m listening.”

.

“Caroline, you’re up!”

For at least the third time that afternoon, Caroline reminded herself there were too many witnesses at the Fall Festival to eat her sorority sisters. "I'm all for scamming money out of sleaze bags in the name of philanthropy, but I still think there are better ways to go about it than a kissing booth."

Amber just scoffed. "Suck it up, pledge, we all had to pay our dues," she said, divesting herself of the Gamma blue sash that said Kiss me! and handing it to Caroline. "If it helps, there's a total hottie in line. I almost extended my shift to get a chance at him."

Rolling her eyes, she forced a pageant smile as she slipped the sash over her head. "Thanks for your sacrifice."

"Funny," a familiar voice noted behind her. "You never thanked me for any of the sacrifices I made."

With a deep breath, she tried to make herself count to ten before turning. Call it personal growth that she made it to six when her glare fell on Klaus waiting at the booth. "I'm sorry, are we including the time you literally tried to sacrifice me? Because I'm so not in the mood to deal with you today, in case you can't tell."

"Oh my god, Caroline!" Amber looked mildly scared, but she took a step in front of her anyway, a stance she recognized from other sisters at any number of frat parties when a creep made himself known. "Who is this guy? Do I need to call security?"

She glanced back to Klaus, who remained uncharacteristically quiet as she decided what to do. Reluctantly, she met Amber's eyes with widened pupils. "Everything is fine, but someone needs to cover my shift. You never saw him, and I went home sick." When Amber obediently repeated her words, she also returned the sash. "Thanks!" she called out, quick as she was to flash away from the crowd, knowing he would follow.

Her dorm wasn't exactly a safe bet, given Elena and Damon's constant sexiling, and she didn't want to risk Bonnie catching them on campus. The only place she could think of was the wooded trail behind the chemistry building, where she found a quiet bench for them to sit. Well, for him to sit and for her to pace in front of. "We had a deal, Klaus. You weren't supposed to come back."

"To Mystic Falls," he clarified, his hands pressed together between his knees. At her decided frown, he allowed himself a sigh of discomfort. "Unfortunately, I have good reason to violate the spirit of our agreement."

She crossed her arms and waited.

He sighed again. "Sweetheart-"

"Just rip the band-aid off, Klaus!"

"I need you to accompany me back to New Orleans, and I need you to trust me enough to keep you safe," he said. With eyes intent on hers, his energy seemed barely contained, like he wanted nothing more than to grab her and go. "I would like you to do so freely. And quickly."

Her arms tightened, and she sank onto her jutted hip as she took in his plaintive request. "Points for being polite, I guess, but I doubt you would be if I were in any real danger. What I don't know is if this is you being overly cautious or just being a dick."

Rubbing two fingers at his temple, there was an ancient exhaustion in his face. "Neither of us can truly know what this is," he muttered to himself more than anything. He spoke up with more resolve. "Elijah wanted to hide you away in one of our many properties throughout the world, and Rebekah suggested a less involved plan that offered you an anonymous scholarship across the country - anything to keep you far away from me."

"Why are your siblings trying to get rid of me?" she demanded. "I didn't even do anything."

He shifted on his feet, and he couldn't quite meet her eyes. If he weren't Klaus Mikaelson, she might think he were embarrassed. "Your absence in New Orleans has been noted."

Confused, she pressed her hands to her face. "I seriously doubt that, since I've never been there. The only people I know in New Orleans is your family, and you've already established they don't want me there."

His ears flushed red, and then she knew he was embarrassed. "Hayley has found a home with nearby pack," he explained with a wince, "a pack that could prove necessary to the balance of the city. However, they are disinclined to negotiate with me at the moment."

"Gee, I wonder why. How many of them have you killed so far?"

Klaus gave a ferocious glare. "None, actually. But perhaps you missed the fact that a wolf with a known grudge against you is well placed to inform any number of enemies of your name and location."

The scoff burst out of her without permission, an absolute confidence emboldening her. "Like you'd let that happen."

Then he took a step closer, and that confidence withered into a new understanding - one that scared her. His voice lowered, soft in its menace. "Why do you think I'm here, Caroline?"

She swallowed, the tension unbearably thick between them. "I'm no one," she said, her voice shaky as she fought for the calm she felt only moments before. "Even if they could use me against you-"

"They can," he answered, deadly serious. "And they will. Maybe not now, but someday." He watched her closely; for what, she didn't know. His whole face softened whenever he found whatever he was looking for. "I'm only just beginning to understand myself," he admitted. "But you're far from no one, and I need to establish that you're firmly under my protection."

"Why?" He never really answered her questions, Caroline realized. This one, though... This, she needed to know. "Why me?"

His eyes seemed to burn with gold, and she held her breath as he stared. "Wolves know when another has found their mate, and this pack has judged my character unfit for abandoning mine."

If she weren't a vampire, she would swear her legs might collapse beneath her. As it was, her head felt suddenly light. Her mouth fell open, and she finally remembered to breathe. When she exhaled, it escaped as a sigh. "Oh."

"Yes, oh."

[astradrifting]

This is kind of inspired by this recent ask I sent to @esther-dot about Jon’s characterisation and Jonsa shippers’ apparent disregard for it, because it made me think of another part of Jon’s characterisation that is really integral to who he is. Mainly, that Jon really loves his brothers. Especially Robb. His rival and best friend and constant companion. Jon envies him, competes with him, buried a formative traumatic memory where he was deeply hurt by him... but ultimately loves him. Complex relationships with his brothers, both the Starks and his Night’s Watch brothers, are a running theme in Jon’s chapters.

Speaking of Jon’s brothers...

Aegon VI and Robb have a lot of potential parallels, actually. The “Young” moniker, red-haired counselors who are also their parents, trained to be the heir to a great kingdom from a young age, the barely younger half-brother Jon borne of their father’s dishonour of their mother… one that they might both have a good relationship with despite that?

The show tried to play with Jon ‘accepting’ his Targaryen lineage through the jonerice romance, very unconvincingly because it was simultaneously undermining it at every opportunity, in what was maybe a half-assed attempt at Pol!Jon (”They’ll all come to see you for what you are” isn’t anything but a threat in all contexts).

Jon will ultimately choose the Starks over everything else, that’s not really a question. But if Jon were to genuinely connect with another Targaryen, it’d likely be easier for him to find kinship with a half-brother than with an aunt - he has a basis for positive relationships with trueborn half-brothers, while the only aunt figure he’s ever known about is a) long dead and b) actually his mother. I think it’d both make more sense and be more compelling for GRRM to leverage Jon’s existing complex relationships with brotherhood by having him interact with and build a relationship with Aegon, than a rushed and out-of-character romance with Dany. 

Jon also is already primed to believe that Aegon is the real deal, that he was saved as a baby, because he’s already done the exact same thing himself - he swapped out a baby of royal blood who was in danger for a common-born boy, and then sent him halfway across the world for safety (side note: if Septa Lemore is Ashara, and if the baby was actually Ashara’s son as theorised here by @agentrouka-blog, that would just strengthen the parallel, because it would be his body double’s mother caring for him, as Gilly has to do for Mance’s son).

They’re definitely going to come into conflict first - politically, Jon will likely be in a position of power in the North by the time they meet, maybe as the KitN through Robb’s will or regent for Rickon, and probably will fight for Northern independence, while Aegon is fighting to be king of the Seven Kingdoms, not 6. Personally, it will be hard to get past the fact that Jon is the direct result of Rhaegar dishonouring Elia, plus that the Kingsguard who should have been protecting her were all stationed in Dorne, guarding Jon’s mother (in whatever capacity). But these interactions, a conflict and eventual friendship/brotherhood between them, would all be a lot more layered than jonerice can really offer. If a relationship between Jon and Dany was truly all that GRRM has been building up to, then there would have been no need for R+L=J - it adds nothing to that storyline, it doesn’t even make it a forbidden romance, because aunt-nephew is hardly the worst incest the Targaryens have engaged in.

It’s almost inevitable that Da*nerys is going to kill Aegon VI/Young Griff in the books, likely by burning him with dragonfire, in the Second Dance of the Dragons. The weird Dragonpit meeting in the show was very contrived, but it does make sense for Dany to meet the ruler on the Iron Throne at least once in a semi-peaceful context. In the show, she used her dragons only to intimidate Cersei, but she didn’t have a personal grievance with her. Aegon is in much more danger during such a meeting. After all she will think he is a pretender, and she doesn’t much care for the rules of safe conduct, as she showed to the envoys from Yunkai.

Dany shrugged, and said, "Dracarys."

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan's tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. 

[...]

"You swore I should have safe conduct!" the Yunkish envoy wailed.

"Do all the Yunkai'i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you a new one... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss." She wrinkled her nose. "You've soiled yourself. Take your gold and go, and see that the Wise Masters hear my message."

(ASOS, Dany IV)

"Ah, there is the thorn in the bower, my queen," said Hizdahr zo Loraq. "Sad to say, Yunkai has no faith in your promises. They keep plucking the same string on the harp, about some envoy that your dragons set on fire."

"Only his tokar was burned," said Dany scornfully.

(ADWD, Dany VI)

So Dany will burn the Blackfyre pretender, and everyone will be happy and cheer to see the rightful queen, the last Targaryen, Slayer of Lies, Breaker of Chains, Insert-The-Million-Other-Titles-Here. Right?

Except how would she prove that he’s an imposter? She can’t exactly roll up with an Alt Shift X video pointing out that Illyrio has said some weird things about Aegon. Is Varys going to have an attack of remorse and explain his whole plot, complete with Blackfyre family tree? Or maybe she’ll explain that she went on a vision quest in Qarth and Aegon totally matches up with the vague symbolism that a bunch of drugged up warlocks told her before she set them on fire?

I don’t think it’s going to matter if Aegon is fake or not, and we might never find out either way. The mystery of his identity isn’t his main narrative, and all of his significance to the story and to multiple other characters is removed if he’s proved to not be Aegon VI. Him being proved fake would just make this plotline a weird, unnecessary digression on Dany’s journey to being the righteous and true queen, his death just another #girlboss moment for her. That’s definitely going to be her perception of it, but once she reaches Westeros we won’t have to rely on only her POV of her actions. History is written by the winners, and no one’s going to miss that it’s a lot more convenient for Dany if the boy with a stronger claim than her turns out to have been fake all along. Arianne and the Dornish are definitely not going to take it lying down, and neither is Jon. He’s not going to fall in love with the woman who murdered his brother, especially by burning him alive. ADWD has plenty to say about how much he hates death by fire.

“Men say that freezing to death is almost peaceful. Fire, though … do you see the candle, Gilly?”

She looked at the flame. “Yes.”

“Touch it. Put your hand over the flame.”

Her big brown eyes grew bigger still. She did not move.

“Do it.” Kill the boy. “Now.”

Trembling, the girl reached out her hand, held it well above the flickering candle flame.

“Down. Let it kiss you.”

Gilly lowered her hand. An inch. Another. When the flame licked her flesh, she snatched her hand back and began to sob.

“Fire is a cruel way to die. Dalla died to give this child life, but you have nourished him, cherished him. You saved your own boy from the ice. Now save hers from the fire.”

(ADWD, Jon II)

Funnily enough, the same fire as a kiss imagery from Dany burning the envoy’s tokar appeared there too, also used as a threat. 

If he is not a kinslayer, he is the next best thing. [...] What sort of man can stand by idly and watch his own brother being burned alive?

(ADWD, Jon IX)

So Aegon’s death is not going to be a triumphant victory for Dany, after which everyone proclaims her the true queen. It’s likely to just solidify opposition to her, from every corner of Westeros. If it happens during a summit or negotiation, it’d be even more of a tragic parallel to Robb and the Red Wedding; the young king murdered off of the battlefield, at an event where he was promised safe conduct. Featuring Dany in the role of Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister. Tywin’s already died a very undignified death, and Roose Bolton looks to be on his way too.

I think the tragedy of Aegon’s death would also hit harder if we see it through Jon, as a main POV, or at least the aftermath of it. Jon was integral at the Dragonpit meeting after all, and probably would be at a peace summit or negotiation between the leaders of Westeros and the invading force.

In ASOS, there’s a curious lack of Jon’s reaction to Robb’s death. We see his initial reaction to Bran and Rickon’s supposed deaths when he gets back to Castle Black, but he doesn’t even know about Robb’s death until Stannis arrives to defeat the wildlings, and we’re not shown the moment he’s told about it. He barely even thinks about it, not even a mention until he meets with Stannis on top of the Wall:

“Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had stayed home and done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the riverlands, he might be alive today. Be that as it may. You are not Robb, no more than I am Robert.”

The harsh words had blown away whatever sympathy Jon might have had for Stannis. “I loved my brother,” he said.

(ASOS, Jon XI)

And that’s literally all we get that is specifically about Robb’s death - the rest of Jon’s chapters, his guilt and grief is about the loss of all his siblings, and the idea of stealing Winterfell from them. It doesn’t really make sense for him to not think about it at all, considering how close they were. This reminds me of how he has a non-reaction to Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion as well, as talked about in this post by @agentrouka-blog. Part of this could be Jon’s tendency towards denial and suppression of all his feelings, but it also points to GRRM explicitly obscuring his reaction - perhaps because he’s going to explore it in the wake of another brother dying a very similar death? One that this time he’ll be there to witness?

[thetomorrowshow]

unless you take your army back, ch. 6

First  -  Previous  -  Read on AO3!

college life go brrrrrrrr

cw: description of injuries, ptsd flashbacks, paranoia

~

Three more days, Katherine had told him. Three more days of resting with intermittent periods of stretching, then walking the length of the room. The first few times, the room expanded out endlessly before him. Even with Jack to steady him, it was a challenge that sent him straight to sleep afterwards, vision hazy from the exercise and lack of food. By the second day, though, it became easier and easier, until he could slowly make it from the bed to the door barely out of breath. Jack wasn’t exactly pleased with his progress, but Crutchie refused to stay at home a day longer. So, when the bell rang on the fourth morning, Crutchie roused himself with everyone else and slipped his vest on, excited to finally be back among his brothers.

The plan was fairly simple to follow. Jack and Tommy Boy would walk him to get a cup of coffee from the nuns, then they would loiter there and rest for a good fifteen minutes, until Davey and Les turned up with some papers for them to sell. Tommy Boy would go his own way, and the four of them would make the walk to Crutchie’s normal selling spot (“It’s a bit of a walk, Crutch.” “No. This is non-negotiable, Jack. I’m sellin’. At my spot.”), where Jack and Les would break off down the street and Davey would stick with Crutchie.

It seemed simple, at least. In practice?

It was still simple. Easy, even. There was no screwing this up. Which was why, after an exhausting hike, Crutchie found himself at his normal corner, ten papers in his bag and Davey shouting a headline.

The wind was strong today, strong enough that Crutchie’s hat nearly blew off and some dirt got kicked up into his face almost as soon as he stopped on the corner he usually sold at. Crutchie himself would’ve been blown over if he hadn’t been leaning against a wall, still trying to catch his breath from the walk. It was nicer than the scorching heat of earlier in the week, though. At least with the wind he wasn’t sweating through his bandages.

Crutchie limped forward to join Davey closer to the street, digging through his bag to pull out a pape. There wasn’t much of a way to wave it around, not with one arm holding onto his crutch and the other in a sling, but he could at least hold on to it to make for an easier transaction.

“Paper!” he called. “Paper! Man gets--uh, murder! Just last night, murder of . . . a child! You heard it here!”

Davey threw him a disbelieving look. “That isn’t what it says at all.”

Crutchie shrugged. “I didn’t read it.”

Davey sighed, showed him the headline. Something about the governor giving a speech. Boring. “Is there anythin’ better in there?” Crutchie asked hopefully. Davey nodded, flipping open the paper to an article about a fire at the carnival the night before. That was useful.

“Three children, stranded on the ferris wheel for hours!” Crutchie shouted, not bothering to read the rest of the article. Davey burst out laughing, but made a call of his own.

“Fairgrounds on fire, parents abandoning their own children to escape! Read the story here!”

Soon enough, Davey had a customer, then Crutchie did as well. An older gentleman, one who looked at him as if he was diseased. Crutchie tried to smile, but couldn’t make his mouth muscles work. Right, his face was still quite the sight. Not to mention the way he leaned heavily on his crutch, or his immobilized right arm. Still, the man dropped a penny in his left hand (briefly removed from the handle of his crutch) and yanked the paper away from him before hurrying off. Crutchie tucked the coin into his pocket. Only nine more to sell.

Why did nine papers weigh his bag down so much?

Next was the woman he’d seen Buttons selling to the previous week, and she greeted Crutchie with enthusiasm, going so far as to hug him (Crutchie gripped his crutch as tightly as his bruised fingers would allow to keep from making a noise). When she pulled back, her smile froze, truly taking him in.

“Why, Crutchie! Was this all from that children’s strike?” she asked, clearly shocked.

Crutchie didn’t know quite what to say. The hug had startled him, jostled his healing ribs, and he couldn’t quite get words to form. “Uh, no, Miss,” he stuttered, offering a paper. “Got unjustly arrested an’ the like.”

She gasped, leaning closer instead of taking it from him. “Did the police--?”

“Not exactly, ma’am,” Crutchie said. He stepped back to put a little distance between them. “But I’s all right now, it’s good ta see ya again--”

“It was that Snyder, with his children’s jail, wasn’t it?” she asked, and Crutchie’s heart skipped a beat. Mentioning Snyder was not good, not at all, never. In fact, the hairs on the back of Crutchie’s neck rose as he realized--Snyder could be on this very street, he could be anywhere--Crutchie looked around, searching for that bowler hat, those hands always ready to grab--

“Whatever happened, it is so good to see you again, Crutchie,” the lady was saying. She handed him a coin and gently pried the paper from his grip. Crutchie managed to nod at her, still checking everyone on the street. He was here, somewhere, he could feel it. Snyder was one of these people, hurrying by on their way to work or wherever they were headed, and he would spot him if he moved and drag him back there--

“Crutchie? You doing all right?”

Crutchie ignored David, doing his best to examine everyone while also not moving at all. His legs ached, but his back was screaming to not lean against the wall again. Knowing that Snyder was near seemed to be aggravating it, the memories of being whipped so near to his mind.

“Crutchie, if you pass out, Jack is going to kill me.”

“I’m fine,” Crutchie forced himself to say. It came out as a hoarse whisper, almost silent. He cleared his throat and turned to Davey, who was watching him with a considerable amount of concern. “I’m good,” he said louder, every nerve of his body jangling in alarm. He ignored it. “Jus’ . . . got distracted. Is all.”

Davey nodded slowly, brows furrowed. “If you say so,” he said. “But if somethin’ happens, I’m telling Jack it was your fault.”

Crutchie forced himself to laugh, knowing he wasn’t even smiling. Luckily, Davey seemed satisfied and went back to his business. Crutchie looked down to slip the coin into his pocket--a quarter?

A whole quarter?

He stared at it, mouth falling open slightly. The most he’d ever gotten for one pape, on the best day, was a dime.

“Dave--” but Davey was busy, interacting with a customer. Crutchie swallowed, then dropped the quarter in his pocket. It added a strange weight, clearly separate from the penny already there. Even at his most pitiful, he’d never gotten a quarter for a single pape!

He must look pretty bad, then.

Crutchie sold four more papers, three of them to regulars who sought him out. Each of those three gave him more than the penny price, leaving Crutchie almost wishing that he had bargained with Jack for more than ten papes. He was making bank today.

After the eighth paper was sold for a nickel, though, Crutchie realized he wasn’t going to be standing for much longer. His body pulsed painfully with each pump of his heart, he was emotionally exhausted from his constant scans for Snyder--he knew he was here, somewhere, just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce--and although it hurt his pride something awful, he knew it was time to tell Davey he needed to go. If he could stay, he would, but Jack would tie him down to his bed to keep him from going out tomorrow if he worked himself too hard today. He couldn’t risk it.

Crutchie waited patiently as Davey finished up a sale, then nudged his shoulder. All it took was one glance at Crutchie’s face for Davey to nod.

“You need to get back in bed,” he said, before Crutchie could even say anything. “Let me go tell Jack we’re heading back. Sit down, okay?”

Davey helped Crutchie lower himself to the curb, then looked around for a few seconds before heading off in a random direction. Crutchie tried not to freak out too much--not having Davey here didn’t make him much of an easier target, right?

It did, actually. So did sitting down. Not selling did as well, made him less noticeable to everyone around. He couldn’t--he was going to vanish, just like so many others, just like Albert that one time, but unlike Albert he couldn’t run away. If Snyder dragged him away right now, he wasn’t even sure that he’d be able to scream for help.

“You sellin’ today’s paper, boy?” A rough voice from above asked.

Crutchie looked up (how long had he been staring at his shoes?) to see a construction worker, holding out a penny. Crutchie nodded wordlessly, struggled with his bag for a few long moments, finally extracted a newspaper to hand to the man. The man coughed into the paper, dropped the penny into Crutchie’s open hand, then hauled off.

Crutchie vaguely hoped he didn’t get sick. He always seemed so much more likely to pick up any illness on the street than the other boys--something to do with his bad leg, probably. In his current weakened state, a bad cold might be enough to push him over the edge.

He still had one paper left--right? He could sell it while Davey was gone. No, wait, he had to save one for Mr. Myers, at the bakery. And one for Dr. Ellis, over at his office a few blocks away. He only had one, though--how was he supposed to get one for both of them? He couldn’t choose between them, they were both his loyal customers and now that he was out here he had to sell to them or else they might think he was ignoring them. What should he do? What could he do?

Crutchie glimpsed a bowler hat before it passed into an alley, bobbing out of view. He froze, even stopped breathing. If he didn’t move, maybe Snyder wouldn’t notice him. He wanted that, right? But maybe if he made a sound, maybe if he was noticeable enough, Snyder would open the door to the closet and let him see some light again, maybe even give him some water if he was feeling kind, maybe even let him out.

But was the risk of being stomped into the floor worth it? That was more likely to happen, what happened any time he got too loud. Sure, it broke up the monotony, gave him a point to focus on, but every attack brought him closer to the end. Was that what he wanted?

Was it?

It didn’t matter right now. Instinct kicked in and Crutchie huddled in closer around himself, protecting the most vulnerable parts of his body. He could stay safe if he was quiet and small, that had always worked. Back when he’d been a beggar on the streets, he’d avoided the bulls by making himself as unnoticeable as possible, tucked into the corner of an alley, mixed in the middle of a crowd of tall folk. It was a tactic that had always worked, it had to be of some use here.

Crutchie didn’t know how long he sat on the curb, head tucked into his knees and arms wrapped around himself. All he knew is that the world grew muted, the sound becoming as empty as the darkness of his closed eyes. His heart seemed to pound in his throat, blocking it and effectively silencing him. There was nothing but himself, his heartbeat, and Snyder--lurking nearby, waiting for him to make the first move and condemn himself.

He was crying, Crutchie realized distantly--only because his nose had begun to block up. He couldn’t open his mouth, couldn’t risk the sound--but he couldn’t breathe, not with his nose blocked, but he couldn’t open his mouth--

A hand--no, no, no--landed on his shoulder, fingers burning into him with a vicious pain, and Crutchie rolled away as well as he could--head knocking into something hard, bad arm and leg twinging as they got caught under his weight--knowing he was in trouble. He was in trouble for not breathing, for trying to escape, for existing--

Blood thrummed in his ears, growing louder and louder and louder as Crutchie coughed, choking on dust, and hands grabbed him again--so rough, just to drag him back to face more abuse--and yanked him by the back of his shirt, his legs kicking out desperately.

They let him go almost immediately, though, and Crutchie cringed, waiting--waiting . . . waiting for nothing? He drew in a shallow breath, ribs aching slightly, and forced his eyes open.

For a moment, the dim figure of one of Snyder’s thugs stood above him, rubbing his hands together, but Crutchie flinched and there was Jack, his face starkly pale, eyes rimmed with red.

“What was you thinkin’?” Jack yelled, breaking the muffled silence. Crutchie’s hand came up involuntarily to cover his ears--Jack speaking was like a dam bursting, and the cacophony of noise from his environment caught up all at once. “Rollin’ out into the road like that, ya nearly got yourself killed!”

Crutchie stared up at Jack, confused. He didn’t really . . . know where he was. Somewhere loud, unbearably loud, but unknown. As he came to that fact, Crutchie’s breath caught in his throat. Why didn’t he know where he was? He sniffled, trying to not cry even more. He didn’t know where he was and he was sure Snyder was nearby and Jack was mad at him, all of which was wrong in every sort of way. What was happening?

Crutchie noticed Davey behind Jack, holding Les’s hand and looking more scared than Crutchie had ever seen him. Why was he scared? Was Snyder behind him?

He glanced over his shoulder, heart racing, eyes scanning compulsively for a sign of the man. Nothing. Maybe--no, nothing. Well, not nothing, but no him. There were plenty of people, which explained why it was so loud.

“It’s okay, Crutch,” Jack said, and Crutchie looked back up at him. He seemed sad, now, less angry. “Sorry I yelled. But you gotta stay outta the road, okay? You was almost ran over.”

A tear slipped out of the corner of Crutchie’s eye, despite his best efforts to hold it back. He didn’t know what Jack was talking about. None of this made sense and he just wanted to go home. When could he go home?

“Can I touch ya, ta help you up?” Jack asked, crouching down. Crutchie nodded, wiping his eyes on his sling. Even with the warning, Crutchie shuddered when Jack reached under his arms to help him stand. Les handed him his crutch--why did Les have it?--and then he was stumbling off, Jack at his side.

Crutchie was shaking so much that he could barely stay upright, not helped by the fact that Jack had a hand on his back. All it did was put him on edge, anticipating a push to the ground. He knew Jack would never, but he couldn’t help but believe it would happen.

He wasn’t quite sure where they were going, but he hoped it was home. Everything was so loud and unfamiliar and overwhelming right now, and he just wanted to go to sleep.

“Ain’t all here, are ya?” Jack huffed. Crutchie nodded, then shook his head, confused as to what Jack was asking. Yes, he wasn’t exactly present; or no, he wasn’t exactly present? He didn’t know which answer made more sense.

They were moving slowly--Crutchie’s bad leg was seizing, his right wobbly. His back and ribs burned with every movement, leaving him gasping for breath in a matter of minutes. Something that was digging uncomfortably into his right shoulder slipped and fell, his belated efforts to catch it inhibited by the sling pressing his arm to his chest.

They halted for a moment, Jack picking up the thing--his bag, Crutchie registered--and swinging it over his own shoulder before wrapping his arm around Crutchie’s lower back, supporting him under his arms. Crutchie gasped as adrenaline pumped through his body, but tried to shake it off. This was Jack. Jack wouldn’t hurt him. Knowing that didn’t help clear his head, though, nor did it keep him from trembling.

“It’s okay, you’s okay,” Jack muttered, helping him along the moderately busy sidewalk. “Just keep movin’. We’s goin’ home, okay?”

Crutchie said nothing, just focused on walking. His head really hurt, but he tried to process what had happened. Something about . . . Davey? And selling papes, and . . . he had a decent bit of money, didn’t he? “Jack. . . .”

“Yeah?”

Crutchie bit his lip. “I . . . can afford a bed tonight,” he offered. Jack chuckled tightly.

“Don’t talk about it here, all right?”

What else had happened? Crutchie knew he was missing so much, everything was so cloudy and exhausting and difficult. Something . . . something like. . . .

He caught a whiff of a new scent in the air, one that grew stronger with every step. Bread, freshly baked. It smelled incredible, yet Crutchie felt his stomach turn. It reminded him--

“Jack, Mr. Myers,” he said, looking around until he spotted the bakery, across the street and a few buildings down. “I gotta--I bring him a pape--”

“I’ll get it to ‘im later, all right?” Jack said soothingly. “Don’ worry about it. Right as soon as we got you in bed, I’ll head over.”

Crutchie wanted to do it himself, but he was too tired to argue. Instead, he nodded, and gave more of his weight to Jack.

When they finally reached the lodging house, Crutchie drenched in sweat and panting, Jack not doing much better (in the last leg of the journey, Jack had had to practically carry the boy), Jack let them in and helped Crutchie up the stairs, slowly, laboriously. With care, he laid him in the single bed by the window, where he had spent so many days already.

“I need ya ta sleep now, yeah?” Jack murmured, pulling the curtains closed. Crutchie nodded blearily. It was so warm in here that he couldn’t help but start to nod off already. Maybe everything would make more sense when he woke.

-

Jack fell into the chair that he usually did as soon as Crutchie’s breathing evened out. It hadn’t been too rough of a day selling, at least for the half hour that he managed before Davey had come to find him. He’d gotten about twenty papes sold, which was surprisingly good for any day. It must have been the cool wind, breaking the heat wave that had been dragging on for days. Now that it wasn’t absolutely sweltering, more people were going places, more people wanted to know what was going on, more people were buying what he was selling.

He needed to get back out there, hawk those headlines, take whatever papes Crutchie didn’t sell and sneak the coins from it into the kid’s pocket later, but he couldn’t make himself leave his side. Jack looked down at Crutchie, the yellowing bruises still marring his young face, and swallowed down a lump in his throat. It was okay, he reminded himself. Crutchie was getting better. Soon the ring of bruises around his neck would fade completely and his ribs would knit themselves back together.

Jack didn’t know much of the extent of Crutchie’s injuries. He knew that both of his legs hurt something awful--his bad leg was expected, but both was . . . unnerving. Distressing. Not being able to walk at all sounded like a nightmare. He knew also that Crutchie had some cracked ribs and fingers along with his broken arm, all of which made Jack grind his teeth angrily. There was something up with his back (whippings, Jack assumed, or maybe Snyder had gotten out that cane) and Jack had seen blood staining the bandage on his chest when his shirt fell open enough, so some sort of cut there as well. But what sent Jack over the edge every time was the sheer amount of bruising on his face and throat.

Sure, the broken nose was tradition, but that had been set well and had almost completely healed by now. Usually Snyder had the guards go a bit easy on the face, though, in case of government inspections. A bloody nose, a bad cut, a couple of bruises--all of those were routine. This painful mural splashed across Crutchie’s face? Entirely out of the ordinary.

There were several identifiable reasons, if one thought about it (which Jack had spent a lot of time doing). The strike, for one--it must've rankled Snyder, to nab only one of the boys responsible, and particularly to miss Jack, even though he had not only been present but leading. And it was also clear that Crutchie was close to Jack, if who he had cried out for had been any sort of evidence. Jack bit his lip as he remembered how near he was, how he could have helped, how he could have been taken in his brother's place. A part of him felt the guilt, the shame that threatened to choke him at the idea of leaving Crutchie there alone. Another part of him, though, felt a sick sense of relief. The combined hate Snyder and Pulitzer held for the union leader would have ended in Jack's death, dragged out and painful, with the strike left in ruins behind him. It couldn't have been him to be taken.

Thinking those thoughts put a bad taste in Jack's mouth. He wasn't any better than any of these boys, deserved the Refuge just as much--and even more--than all of them. Davey would've continued the strike, just as he had when Jack had given up, both times. Katherine had come up with the plan to advertise a childrens' strike. She and Davey, as well as Spot Conlon, would have found a press. Crutchie would've been a decent leader as well, would have kept the boys in line and organized the protesting, while Davey worked things out with Medda to get Roosevelt. The four kids would've made it to Pulitzer's office the same way Jack, Davey, and Conlon had; Crutchie would've made proper deals with the man, Davey and Katherine would've shut down the Refuge, Spot and Crutchie would've called off the strike. And what would happen to Jack, stuck in the Refuge?

Maybe he would've died. Maybe he'd exit as weak as Crutchie had, not even conscious, taking weeks to get back on his feet while life continued around him. Maybe he would walk out, not hurt too badly but skittish and haunted, not fit to lead any longer.

Not that Jack, a two-time traitor, considered himself worthy to lead now.

He needed to tell Crutchie, tell him that he'd scabbed twice. It didn't matter that both times it had been for him, an attempt to protect his brother. Crutchie didn't want that. Jack knew Crutchie like the back of his hand, and the kid would go through all the torture and loneliness and despair again if it guaranteed success for the strike. It was that self-sacrificing quality that made Crutchie so much of a better person. When faced with a threat of possible death, Crutchie would go proudly. Jack would turn tail and run.

"Stupid," Jack muttered, dragging a hand across his face. He didn't know if he was talking about himself or the sleeping boy before him.

-

Specs knew where Jack was going to be without even looking for him--which worked out, because he didn't have the time to search the streets of Manhattan. A bad fight had been on the verge of breaking out when he’d left Romeo and Albert, and Jack was needed as soon as possible.

As expected, Jack was slumped in his usual chair beside a sleeping Crutchie (Specs made a mental note to ask Davey how selling had gone later). He looked up when Specs entered.

“Hey,” Jack said sleepily. He rubbed his eyes, then sat up straighter. “Whaddya need?”

Instead of answering, Specs nodded toward Crutchie. “He all right?”

Jack shrugged. “He didn’ really know where he was,” he said, affecting a tone of unconcern. “Thought he oughtta get back ta bed.”

Specs had never spent time in the Refuge, but he’d helped plenty of newsies recover from their time there. If Jack was having a bad day, he usually shut himself up on the rooftop until he felt in control enough that he wouldn’t seem weak around the others. Others, like Race, would push themselves to work until they ended up so tired they had waking-dreams that they were back there. Based on how Jack was acting, something like that had likely happened to Crutchie. Poor kid.

“Specs, was you gonna ask me somethin’?”

Right. Urgent need and all that. “Uh, yeah,” Specs said. He adjusted his spectacles as casually as possible. “Queens ain’t all that happy with somethin’, they wanna see you.”

Jack glanced at Crutchie, then back at Specs, biting his lip. Jack was nervous, Specs realized with a bit of a jolt, something that Jack wasn’t very often. Never before the strike had Jack ever shown that sort of weakness. Not to him, at least. Certainly not to most of the other boys. Not until Crutchie had been taken, Romeo smashed into the ground, Specs himself slammed so hard into a fire escape that his poor head was spinning. They’d never taken that bad of a beating, and it had shaken Jack badly--Specs had noticed it right away, when he found him at the theater.

“Can it wait?” asked Jack, once again looking at Crutchie. The boy was sleeping peacefully, but Specs didn’t let his eyes linger on his face for long. The still-fading bruises made him feel sick in his bones.

“Uh, not really?” Specs said cautiously. “They looked about ready to soak Al and Romeo, so it’s a bit needing-you.”

Jack groaned, running a hand along his cheek. There was stubble there, Specs noticed. Not for the first time, he wondered who would take over when Jack aged out. It might even be sooner than expected, given his scabbing tendencies. “Can I send you in my place?”

“They sent me ta get you, so. . . .”

Jack dropped his face into his hands, letting out a long breath. Specs shifted nervously. He really didn’t want to see Jack cry, not again. Not to mention, they really didn’t have time. The fight was definitely picked by a couple of boys from Queens, but they had a pretty fair claim that Romeo had instigated it, and Albert had made it worse by coming to his defense. The Queens boys had agreed to make a truce with Jack, and Jack alone--and even then, they had terms to declare. Because of course they did. Because of course one of the boys who had taken offense to Romeo stepping onto their turf had been the leader of Queens.

Jack mumbled something. Specs leaned closer, waited, then had just made up his mind to ask what he’d said when Jack sat up, staring out the window and into the sky.

“No, he’s so new ta this still, he ain’t gonna know how ta settle this,” Jack said, his voice sounding almost raw.

“They did sp’fically ask for ya,” Specs added helpfully. “They ain’t gonna sort this out with anyone else.”

Jack didn’t answer for a long time, so long that Specs started to wonder if he hadn’t heard. When he did, though, his voice was quiet, trembling. “I--I can’t leave him.”

As if sensing he was being spoken about, Crutchie inhaled sharply in his sleep, then shifted a little. Jack froze, watching him carefully. Crutchie, however, did not wake, just sighed quietly and lay still once again.

Specs hopped from foot to foot, curling his toes in his new (to him) pair of shoes. Every minute spent was another that could be a fight breaking out, a punch being thrown, a newsie being shoved to the ground. He hated fights these days, hated to hear of  his friends being in danger. They didn't have the time for Jack's comfort.

"I saw Buttons on my way in, maybe I can ask him ta sell right on the door?" he suggested. Jack continued to stare at Crutchie. Whatever he was thinking about, it didn't show on his face.

"And ya know what, I can prolly find Tommy Boy and ask him ta sell with Buttons, that way you gets some muscle by the door. Sounds good? Ready ta go?"

"I don' want 'im ta wake up alone," Jack whispered pitifully. Specs resisted the urge to groan. Jack had always been protective of all of them, but right now he was acting all soft in the head. Refuge or no, Crutchie could take care of himself, and always had. It was common knowledge that Jack and Crutchie were closer than most of the others, the closeness of Mike and Ike without the rivalry. Other than Race a few times (when he was fresh from the Refuge), Crutchie was the only one to sleep on the rooftop with Jack. 

Some of the boys had thought that maybe something was going on between them, Specs included. Race had assured him it was untrue, but there hadn't been much in the way of proof to the contrary. Even now, now that Jack was maybe Katherine's beau, Specs wasn't sure that he and Crutchie hadn't been misbehaving together. Maybe he should ask one of them, something that for whatever reason had never been an option before. Probably not Jack, seeing how he seemed to be falling apart lately. Crutchie might welcome conversation not focusing on his injuries.

"Okay. Show me where they are, get Buttons and Tommy, then get back ta work, yeah?"

Specs snapped out of his thoughts to see Jack standing, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He’d have to find time when Jack wasn’t with Crutchie to talk to him, but right now he needed to help Jack break up a fight.

[neverthrive]

Just gonna leave this old ass fanfic here

Adventuring is a rewarding occupation, providing an abundance of wealth, the respect of peers, and even a fulfilling sense of self worth. Even so, the constant action takes its toll, and every once in a great while an adventurer has to take a step back, breathe in deeply, and just get away from it all. Which is exactly what Jake had been planning for himself and his human brother.

It was a simple idea; take a break from their regular schedule of evil slaying, butt-kickery and all around, nonstop awesomeness. Find some remote location that holds nothing but tranquility in store for the duo to just chillax at for a few days. Just the two of them, a dog and his boy. It was perfect, but like any other well laid plan, there was a monkey wrench destined to find its way into the cogs of said perfection and jam Jake's precise synchronization up something awful. This particular monkey wrench goes by the name of Marceline.

"What are you dweebs up to?" Inquired a melodically cynical voice that belonged to none other than the ancient noirette in question. Marceline stared down ever curiously at the mixed species siblings and their growing mess as she liesurely drifted on the air over their heads. From what she could tell, her mortal friends appeared to be gathering heaps of useless garbage and stowing the junk in their already cramped luggage, for some reason or another.

Finn took a moment to acknowledge the vampire's presence, looking up from his loaded pack to face her. "I'm not actually sure, myself... Jake just told me to start packing my crud, and I guess that's what I'm doing, so does that answer your question?"

"Not in the least." she replied curtly before turning her now suspicious gaze in Jake's direction. The dog paid Marceline no mind as he continued to toss his various and mostly useless possessions into a sack. A rubber duck, a length of rope, a jar of peanuts, a pair of socks... Finally, he stored two empty glass bottles and closed the sack, still oblivious to the vampire's questioning stare. "Jake, what the plum is with all the hullabaloo?"

"Nope." Jake snapped, mildly irritated.

"'Nope'? Nope what?" She pressed him, ignoring the dog's tone.

"No. I'm not gonna tell you because you'll just want to come with us and muck it up. It's s'pose to be just me and mah bro, and you have no part in it. So no, Marceline, you can't come camping with us." Jake retorted in his best attempt at sounding authoritative, but in trying to iterate just how serious he was, the fact that he was suppose to be withholding information had slipped his mind a tad. He soon realized his mistake and growled in frustration. "Forget I said that last part!" But ironically, that last part about ignoring that previous last part was ignored by both teens.

"We're going camping?" Finn and Marceline asked in unison, excitement bubbling up in their throats.

"Yes, Finn, WE are. And no, Marceline, WE are not. Got it?" Jake answered pointedly. "It's camping time with Finn and Jake. I didn't hear Marceline anywhere in there, so step off sister!"

"Well fine! Maybe I didn't want to go on your stupid trip anyway!" Marceline pouted sorely and turned to leave, but Finn, being the model peacekeeper he is, blocked his friend's exit. "Get out of the way, Finn. I'm obviously not wanted here anymore." The vampire queen tried to push the boy aside, but no matter how hard she shoved, the squishy blob of flesh and heroism persisted to keep her from leaving.

"Come on, Jake's just being a butt. You don't have to leave on account o' him bein' a Mr. grumpy pants." Finn gently wrapped a hand around Marceline's forearm and began to lead her back over to his brother so as amends could be made.

"He doesn't even wear pants, dude." she huffed out in retortion as she let herself be pulled back towards the junk heaps that the magical dog was still busying himself with sorting through and packing into napsacks and suitcases and the like.

"Jake..." Finn verbally nudged his brother to outstretch the olive branch to Marceline, but an apology seemed hesitant in forthcoming. "Come on, man. You know you done bad in yourself bro, and I know you know how to make it right again." Finn's prompt appeared to have worked this time, eliciting a defeated sigh from Jake.

Dropping his bags of assorted and worthless loot, Jake turned to face Marceline who now had her arms crossed over her chest and was avoiding eye contact with him. "Look, I'm sorry, alright?" Marceline untensed a bit at that. "It's not you, It's just that I really wanted to have some bro time with Finn, y'know? To recapture those times we used to share when we was wee pups." Jake inhaled deeply, breathing in the musty scent lingering about from the, until recently, long forgotten contents of that once overstuffed closet in the corner. He had a feeling in his gut that he'd regret this decision later, and his gut was almost never wrong, but he couldn't ignore his guilt and empathy for Marceline. She just wanted to hang with her friends. "So... You want to come with us, then?"

The vampire's sour mood dissipated immediately, her pout rapidly shifting to a grin stretched from pointed ear to pointed ear. "Heck yes I wanna go camping with you guys! So when are we leaving?" Marceline asked almost giddily.

"Well I guess since you're coming with us, we probably shouldn't be heading out 'til just before sundown." Jake answered thoughtfully. Having so much time before they were to depart allowed Jake some spare moments to cool it with all the preparations and freed up his thinkin' schedule a bit. Suddenly, a thought pervaded his mind that the dog rather took a shining to. "If we're bringing guests along now, Lady Rainicorn's coming too!" and with that, Jake took off to go inform his girlfriend of how he'd decided she would be spending the next few days. The matter was entirely non negotiable.

Finn and Marceline stood idly by as Jake hastily absconded out through a nearby window. The young hero turned to his immortal friend "You know, he actually does wear pants..."

"Really?"

"Yup."

A quarter hour before dusk would settle in, the four campers had reached the landing Jake scouted out beforehand. It was a small pocket within the forest, not too far from a river, vacant enough to comfortably fit everyone but with a dense enough canopy to shade any vampire from daylight at high noon. Having acquired a suitable base of operations, the only thing left standing in between Jake and his cherished relaxation was setting up camp. The duties were divied up between two groups.

"So Lady and I are gonna pitch our tent, by ours I mean hers and mine. I don't know what either of you are doing so... Sleep under the stars or whatever. But also, we need a campfire, so you guys should maybe gather some sticks and twigs and stuff, and it'll be math. 'Kay." Jake then spoke something in a language neither Finn nor Marceline could comprehend to Lady, who laughed in response, and the two magical creatures diligently began piecing together the frame of their shared tent. The rainicorn giggled lightly every time Jake slipped a tent pole into the corresponding connector she held.

Marceline narrowed her eyes at the spectacle and made a face. "Gross..." She thought it best to linger around the couple and their disgusting adorableness as little as inhumanly possible and began to head towards the surrounding thickets. Finn soon followed suit, tailing behind his friend into the thick of the forest to gather materials for their fire.

"So like, sticks, huh?" The human remarked as he bent over to scoop a discarded twig from the earth.

Marceline turned to see Finn's pitiful offering. Their fire would need a lot more fuel than some measly green branches. "No man, we need bigger stuff than that." she explained. "And preferably a little more dead." she added.

"Bigger?" Finn thought it over for a moment. "Alright, bigger." Turning to face a tree, the stout teenager grappled the trunk and with all his might attempted to pry the poor unsuspecting eudicot from the soil. "I need your wood, tree! Give it up, yo!" Finn continued his struggle while Marceline cackled at his random act of foolishness.

Seeing no sign of Finn relenting any time soon, his undead friend intervened. "Finn, we don't need a whole tree. And you most def don't gotta yank one out'a the ground. C'mere, ya goober." she beckoned while barely supressing her laughter. Finn looked from Marceline then back to the tree in his grasp, releasing the bark from his grip and gaining nothing from his efforts but sore arms.

"Look," she pointed to a fallen branch that looked as if it'd been laying on the forest floor for a few seasons now. "This is the kind of stuff we're gonna need. Big enough to burn, and not impossible to pick up, got it? Now get it." Finn did as instructed, bending to take the dry, rough chunk of high octane campfire fuel in his arms. "Alright, now just find a lot more like it and we're good to light 'em up."

"How many more?" Finn asked wearily.

"I don't know. Lots, I suppose. Have to keep it going for a while." she replied, venturing deeper into the woods to search for any more decent firewood she might per chance stumble upon. Figuratively, that is, it's hard to sumble when your feet don't touch the ground.

"Bleh..." Despite his contempt for such menial labor, Finn once again followed the vampire to gather what they needed. It was an easy enough job, but way too dang boring for a man of action. Finn needed excitement, and lugging sticks around wasn't providing.

When they'd finished gathering the firewood and the time came to actually light the fire, Finn demanded he be the one to do the deed. And so there they sat across from one another, a neatly arranged pile of dead wood between them. Finn furiously stroked the sticks together in a fruitless attempt to catalyze a spark.

"This usually works! These things must be broken, or something..." Finn pouted and heaved the useless wooden shafts into the nearby shrubbery in frustration.

"Here," Marceline moved herself closer to the bundle and spawned a small flame in the palms of her hands. Touching the flame to the tinder, the pile of miniature lumber and bark ignited almost instantly. Finn stared down at the blazing fire, then glanced up to Marcleline, a smug, toothy smirk plastered across her face.

"You cheated!" he yelped, pointing accusingly at the girl who succeeded so easilly where he so miserably failed.

"Finn, don't be jelly of my totally sweet vampire powers." Marceline replied, her expression never faltering.

"I'm not jelly! Maybe jam, but not jelly. Just admit you cheated! Vampire powers is cheating fo' sure." he insisted.

"Nope." The vampire playfully let her forked tongue slide out from between her fangs, mocking the disgruntled human.

"Whatever..."

"Hey, you guys made the fire! Rad!" Jake exclaimed as he padded his way over to the two from his now fully assembled tent.

"Yeah, we totally did it! 100% group effort here." Marceline chimed almost sarcastically. "So who wants to roast marshmallows?"

"... Then the puppy looked under his bed, and saw two glowing green eyes! The pup was so scared, it almost wee wee'd!" Finn stood over his three friends, the crackling fire below lighting his features in distorted illumination. He raised both hands above his head, digits stretched and curled as claws in the most menacing display the boy could muster. "The nebelung under the bed reached out to the scared little puppy and..." Finn paused, turning to Jake who'd heard the story right along with Finn in their youth and knew what came next. "TICKLED THE PUPPY!" Finn pounced on his brother and poked his wriggling fingers into the dog's soft flanks. Jake snorted and snickered at the human's tickle attack as the two women watched on. Lady found the sight to be quite amusing, adorable even. Marceline just sucked the red from a can of kidney beans in stark indifference.

"If you two are done with your brotherly gropefest yet, maybe I could tell a real ghost story?" Marceline cut their fun short and assumed her position over the campfire as current story teller as the brothers returned to their seats. "This isn't the first time I've been in these parts of the woods. I came through here some years back, how long ago exactly is a little fuzzy. But I wasn't alone. No, I had friends with me, just like I do now, and just like now, there was a dog among my group.

"We were just hiking through, you see, we had no intentions of staying. No, that would be foolish! We knew better, we'd heard the stories of what happens around here after dark. Weird stuff... Spooky happenings, y'know? But the dog, he got lost-"

"Oh no! Not the dog! The dog always dies first!" Jake interrupted with his sudden fearful outburst.

"Well anyway..." Marceline shot him a scornful look, and continued. "The dog must have started straggling, because when we stopped to rest, he was nowhere to be found. Of course we looked for him, we stayed together as a group, we weren't about to split up so we'd all be lost in 'The Forsaken Forest'. But no matter where we searched, there was no sign of the poor lost doggy. It wasn't 'til well after dark when we found him. He was huddled in a bush maybe twenty or so yards from where he was last seen, shaking uncontrollably with his face in his hands.

"He wouldn't show us his face. He just kept on mumbling some nonsense about 'whispering trees' and 'eyeball rockets'. When we finally pried the dog's hands from his face, he had no eyes! Just two gaping sockets where his looking globes used to be! Once we got him to calm down, he told us the whispering trees of the forsaken forest used some hoodoo to turn his eyeballs into jet packs and they flew right off of his face. Wait..." Marceline stiffened and tilted her head to one side as if intently listening to some faint noise off in the distance. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Jake squeaked, cowering into his girfriend's embrace. Cuddling with Lady Rainicorn made him feel secure, but it wasn't enough to make him totally forget he was in the alleged 'Foresaken Forest'.

"It sounds like..." she leaned in toward Jake, and with a completely straight face, with a hint of what might pass for something distraught in her tone, answered "Whispering."

That's all Jake needed to hear. He gave his friends a surprise performance of his scream song and tore off to his tent as fast as his four legs would carry him, separating himself from the 'evil' trees outside with a thin layer of nylon. No way in the flippin' Night-o-Sphere was he letting some piney mischief makers steal his precious eyes. Lady chuckled and followed after him, knowing Jake wouldn't be able to sleep alone tonight after that fright.

Finn and Marceline shared a laugh at Jake's expense. When their howling merriment subsided, they realized they were alone once more. Finn fed a few more branches from their dwindling supply into the blaze, stoking the flames.

"So, have you really been out in these woods before?" The boy asked, now feeling uneasy not knowing if the vampire's story was true or not. Finn'd witnessed stranger things, so believing tall tales came easily to him.

"Yeah, I have. But not how you're thinking I did, that story was bogus." Finn was relieved. "Naw, my old man took me camping somewhere around here when I was younger, before that whole 'fry incident' happened. It's one of the more pleasant memories I have from my upbringing." Marceline sighed and watched the flames consume their fresh meal through hazy, half lidded eyes. The age-old young woman contently recalled the time she and her father shared out in this forest so many years ago.

"Is that why you like camping?" Finn pulled her out of her train of thought. "Becuase your dad brought you?"

"Yeah, probably." she admitted. "It's just nice to chill out in the wild, with some friends or family or whatever. It's kind of peaceful. So how 'bout you, Finn? Have you ever been camping?"

"Well, once pop took me, Jake and Jermaine out for a weekend of fishing. Y'know, a father and his boys." Finn still missed his parents, they were such kind old folk. No one else would look twice at the human freak, but they raised him as their own. "But it was actually just the back yard, there was a pond there too, and we were told we couldn't go inside the house 'til the weekend was over. Dad made us some sort of little shelter out of some dead trees and ferns and all we ate was the fish we caught, but Dad made sure to stock the pond with lots of fish beforehand, so we had plenty. It was a pretty good time, even if it wasn't the wilderness like this."

"It's not where you're at, Finn, all that matters is who you're with." Marceline asserted, and felt a certain truth to her words resonate. In her experience, this was an immutable fact, in good company, fond memories could be made anywhere. Finn always seemed like good company, and he'd given the vampire an abundance of fresh memories she hoped would not fade any time soon.

"Yeah," Finn nodded gingerly. "that's deep." The human stretched his arms wide and yawned in deeply. It was getting late, and an adolecsent boy needs his sleep. "I'm gonna hit the sack."

Finn took a few paces away from the campfire and found one of the various packs he'd brought with him on this excursion at the base of a large tree. Opening the zipper, he reached inside and withdrew a very large, very new looking gortex sleeping bag and unrolled the bundle of fluff and warmth, laying it across the ground. The tuckered hero wasted no time before hopping into the over sized, silky feeling cocoon, but before he could drift of to the land of Sweet dreams, he was disturbed by a familiar voice.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" demanded the very abandoned feeling vampire queen.

"You're nocturnal." Finn retorted bluntly before rolling over to face away from the dying fire.

"But I've been up all day!" she protested. "My sleep schedule is wack, and it's pretty much entirely your fault."

"Hey, it's your own choice to pester us during the day. You made your bed, now you gotta sleep in it. Hehe." Finn laughed at the irony of that figure of speech used in this particular instance and noted that he's not exactly one to be clever with irony, and it was mostly just coincidence, but an awesome coincidence at that. "Can't you just like, sleep hangin' from a tree or somethin'? Bats do that all the time."

"No! For one, that's actually an insulting generalization, and two, I don't think I can maintain myself in bat form while I'm sleeping." Marceline explained. It sounded logical enough of a reason to rule out sleeping in trees, and there was no way she was about to sleep atop the cold dirt. "Scootch over, I'm getting in with you." she ordered.

"No way! Why didn't you bring your own sleeping junk?" Finn countered.

"Because I didn't think of it and vampires were never bestowed with the gift of foresight, now make room!"

"You can't!" Finn barked.

"Why can't I?" she challenged.

"Because... You're a girl..." Finn's face brightened with reddish hugh.

"Are you saying you'd rather sleep with a boy?" Marceline asked slyly, raising an eyebrow in playful inquiry.

"Well no... But..." Finn sputtered, "This isn't fair!"

"Life ain't fair, get used to it," the dead girl shot back while making her way to Finn and his comfy looking sleeping bag that he was being oh so greedy trying to keep all to himself. Finn hesitated, but after seeing Marceline was dead set on gettin' all up in his bag, he reluctantly relented his opposition and allowed her entry, slipping in beside him.

Marceline noticed how spacious it was inside, still comfortable enough even with the both of them fully encased up to their necks in the puffy fabric, and she almost couldn't help but to be suspicious that Finn's end game was to share this sleeping bag with someone all along. Silly human, he'd only have to ask, no need for reverse psychology and mind games. But then she realized this was Finn she was thinking about and how his intentions never run any deeper than face value. Marceline couldn't see Finn, the genuine goober he is, devise some elaborate plan entailing sleeping bags and psychological warfare all to result in getting her to sleep with him, speaking only in the most literal sense of the term.

Then Marceline realized something else. She was dreadfully uncomfortably laying in this position. "Finn. I need a pillow." she informed.

Disturbed once more from the verge of slumber, Finn exhaled audibly and cracked his sore and crusty eyes. Scanning about the surrounding darkness for something that might sate the relentless vampire's pestering, Finn peered a fairly large, stout stone not far from where they lay. Removing his arms from the confines of the sleeping bag he was now being forced to share, he grabbed hold of the rock and placed it by Marceline's head with a dull thud. "Use that." he instructed coarsely before returning to his previous position and trying once more to sleep.

Marceline stared at the rock in awe for a long moment before deciding it was a horrible candidate for a pillow. No, she'd need something softer, with some give. Something... Squishy. And per chance, it just so happened that there was something exceedingly squishy laying right beside her. So with no further thought or reasoning, Marceline curled herself around Finn and layed her head on the softest point she could find between his shoulder and chest.

"What the flip are you doing?" The hero questioned when feeling his friend's arms snake around his body.

"Shut up." she hissed, momentarily lifting her head from his chest to make eye contact. "You're lumpin' comfortable, so deal with it. Now lay there and be quiet like a good pillow." And with that, she nuzzled back into the fleshy swells of Finn's torso.

As awkward as this situation was, Finn couldn't deny that it was maybe even a little pleasant. But also mostly uncomfortable, for him at least. So to right this, Finn hauled his arm out from beneath the cuddly vampire and repositioned it around Marceline, so now they were in some ungraceful, and clearly completely platonic embrace. Nope, nothing going on here, just a couple o' bros in a sleeping bag is all. Snuggling? Naw, none of that going on here, bro.

Feeling Finn's arm wrap around her back and rest somewhere near her waist, reciprocating her cuddle, Marceline grinned into the adolescent adventurer's chest. "I know you're enjoying this, probably more than you're letting yourself believe, but don't expect it to happen often." She took a moment to glance back up to meet Finn's embarrassed gaze. "You just so happened to have been the most comfortable place for me to spend the night." Reaching up to play with the ears of Finn's hat, she added "Y'know, you're no Hambo, but you're quite the snuggly little bear."

Finn's face flushed skarlet, or maybe it never stopped being that color, he couldn't tell. But either way, he definitely felt significantly warmer around the collar after that remark. He wasn't too sure he liked being Marceline's 'snuggly bear', he imagined it might be something reminiscent of what Lady Rainicorn would call Jake, if she spoke english. And Finn for sure didn't think he was ready to have with Marceline what Jake had with Lady. But here they were, closer to any other girl than he'd ever been, unburnt by her touch and unscalded by any callous words that carelessly fell from her mouth.

Finn gave some thought to this and realized it wouldn't be so bad to be more than simply friends with Marceline. She was probably the greatest gal he knew, and almost certainly the least complicated, even if that's not saying all too much. But he could easily envision their relationship taking a turn for the romantic. By the time he'd worked up the courage to profess that thought to her, a rather obnoxious snore seized his attention. Finn snapped his eyes down in his bed buddy's direction to find she'd already fallen fast asleep. So, the adventurer, pushing all silly thoughts of relationships aside, closed his eyes for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening and was finally allowed rest.

It wasn't the muted sunlight shining through the leaves overhead, ticking at his eyelids, that woke Finn that morning, nor was it the stirring of the girl still in his arms. It was the earpiercing shriek of utter shock and surprise let loose from his older brother's agape maw. Finn's eyes shot open, sitting up quickly and turning his attention from Jake to Marceline, taking in the situation and how it might look to anyone outside of the sleeping bag.

"This probably isn't what it looks like!" Finn piped up defensively almost without thinking. His brain kicked in and told him that whenever someone says those particular words, it's almost always exactly what it looks like.

"Oh my grawd, dude! You guys didn't... Did you?" Jake gasped, flabbergasted. "Just tell me you kept it PG13, please."

"Dude, what the hey! We're both fully clothed, okay!" Finn stepped out of his sleeping bag to prove he was, in fact, not in the nude. "She just forgot to bring any camping gear, so I shared. Alright?"

"Yeah, alright... I guess I might have been overreacting a bit..." Jake mumbled ashamedly, averting his gaze from his two friends he just so blatently accused of indecency.

"A bit?" Finn chuckled. "It's a'ight man, let's just forget about it." Finn's stomach let out a low growl. "So what's for breakfast, homie?"

Jake felt a mite cheerier now that they'd moved on past that terrible misunderstanding. What an awful, horrible revelation to wake up to first thing in the morning. "Canned food, yo. It's all we got since we pollished off the marshmallows last night."

"Sounds good, man." Finn responded with a nod. He looked back to his vampire friend who was still wrapped in his sleeping bag. She was in a sitting position, watching the two brothers, holding the poofy top of the bag up to under her chin with strangely bare arms. "C'mon Marcie, stop being a lazy butt. It's time to get up." The human coaxed.

"Remember that thing you said about how we're both fully clothed?" she asked with a bashful smile. "If we've learned anything this morning, it's that you guys are great at jumping to conclusions." She motioned with her eyes, directing Finn and Jake's attention toward a pile of her discarded flannel shirt and ripped jeans.

"What the flip, Marceline!" Finn cried out, bordering on the hysterical.

"What, I got hot! Besides, it's not like I'm completely naked. Glob Finn, don't be such a perv!" Marceline huffed indignantly, floated up from the ground sleeping bag and all, snatched the shirt and pair of jeans from where they lay and was gone into the dense forest, presumably to get dressed.

"What in the flip just happened, Jake?" Finn asked flatly as he continued to stare dumbfoundedly out into the woods where he last saw the lunatic who wore his sleeping bag like a toga.

"Sounds like you're having girl troubles, bro." Jake answered, gingerly giving the confused human an empathetic pat on the back.

[ahgaseda]

two can keep a secret || chapter 10

⇥ synopsis : when your father reveals his intention to remarry, you find an unlikely confidant in Mark, your soon-to-be stepbrother, but what began as a revenge fling ironically becomes far more complicated...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

Mark sat in the hospital hallway for God knows how long. At the start, he had stood just beyond the door to your room, but after the first blood-curdling scream left you, his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor.

And there he sat. Nurses and doctors passed by without a word. The clock ticked on the opposite wall at a glacial pace. Mark stared at his fists held limply in his lap. He had never felt so helpless in his life, but he was vaguely comforted that Jackson was in there with you, holding your hand.

Time kept crawling by. Mark rubbed at his tears roughly. Was it his fault this was happening to you? Didn’t really matter if it was or not, because he would blame himself forever.

Mark had never imagined the white picket fence life for himself, but you changed his mind. For someone who was convinced he was wholly unlovable, Mark was ready to bend and break his life around you just for loving him.

So Mark prayed to whatever gods would listen. Prayed you would be okay. Prayed the baby would pull through. He swore with everything he had that he would make it work. He would be whatever you needed and he would be all that his father wasn’t.

The door finally opened and Mark heard footsteps shuffling out. You had quieted sometime during his prayers and that made Mark nervous.

At long last, Jackson stepped out. “You can go in now,” he said softly.

Mark leaned forward, like someone had socked him in the gut. He buried his face in his hands and could no longer hold the tears at bay.

Jackson crouched down, clapping his best friend on the shoulder and shaking him a little. “Get up, bro,” he said after a moment.

Mark sobbed, “What do I say?”

“You say whatever you have to so she can get through this,” Jackson told him rather firmly. “You and me… we will never know what that pain is like.”

Mark bobbed his head and composed himself, rising shakily to his feet with a strong arm from Jackson.

Jackson held him steady and once convinced his friend was stable, gave him a nod and cocked his head toward the room.

Dragging his feet, Mark entered and shut the door quietly behind him.

You lay in the hospital bed, hands overlapped on your stomach, eyes somewhere on the window opposite him. When you heard the footsteps, you used what little energy you had to turn and look at him, whispering, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said back, pulling up the nearest chair beside your bed and plopping down heavily.

“It was…,” you choked, voice faltering in an instant. You bit your lip, eyes filling with a new wave of tears. “They said this happens. It happens for any number of reasons.”

Mark reached forward, taking your hand and holding it between his own. “Okay,” he sighed, wanting you to know he understood, but he lacked the words to convey any of what he felt.

You stared at him, seeing he had been crying out of your sight. Gripping his hand tightly, you sucked in a breath and rasped, “I lost the baby, Mark.”

Mark had known that deep down, but hearing you say it knocked the wind out of him regardless. “It’s okay,” he tried to console you, stroking your fingers.

Your face tensed with agony. The lingering pain in the core of your body was nothing compared to the pain in your chest, where your heart was twisting violently. “I put so much stress on it and me and…,” you trailed, looking away.

Mark’s first instinct was to reprimand you for blaming yourself for something completely out of your control, but he couldn’t bear to scold you. “Stop,” he interjected gently, looking at you with intent. “It’s not your fault.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp and hid your face behind your palms, sobbing, “I’m sorry.”

Mark reached for your wrists, prying them back. He wouldn’t allow you to hide in shame. “Don’t ever apologize,” he said shakily, another surge of sadness hitting him.

You cried when he rose from his chair and cradled you in his arms. You buried your face in his chest and cried until you had no more tears left. Mark did, too. You could feel him shuddering against you, trying to conceal his own emotion for the sake of yours.

When you finally stilled, Mark pulled away, surveying your face and rubbing his thumbs over your damp cheeks. Seeing you like this - broken and hurting - was threatening to tear him apart.

“I should have told you,” was all you could bring yourself to say.

Mark brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss. “I forgive you.”

You sighed, “I didn’t want to make you stay with me.”

Mark met your eyes. The two of you had never been so raw, so laid bare to each other and vulnerable than in that moment. “I’m here to stay,” he said, a quiet and solemn promise.

You smiled faintly. “Please hold me.”

Mark stood again and moved to the opposite side of the bed, crawling in alongside you and molding himself to your body. You leaned into him, rubbing your hand over his arm where it lay across your waist. Mark held you tightly and the warmth of him soothed your aching heart.

For a moment, only silence filled the room and it was what you both needed. You drew strength from each other. You focused on the feeling of his arms around you. Each time your mind drifted back to the baby, the one you would never get to meet, you looked into Mark’s eyes for some kind of anchor.

You could see he was an overflowing well of love for you. And love was all that could push past the pain.

When you had stilled, no longer constantly on the verge of tears, Mark spoke tenderly to you, “Hey, listen to me. In a couple years, after we work through all our shit, we’ll have, like, the most beautiful baby ever.”

You stared at him. The unexpected words made you smile. “You think?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “We can have as many as you want.”

You chuckled briefly and confessed something you had never told anyone, “I always pictured myself with two.”

Mark kissed your temple and whispered, “Well, start including me in that picture.”

Tears gathered in your eyes, but unlike the others, they weren’t from a place of sadness. “I missed you,” you breathed, almost inaudibly.

Mark grit his teeth. He didn’t have the energy to cry anymore, but that almost killed him. He squeezed you snugly in his arms, buried his face in the crook of your neck, and joined you in sleep.

You were woken by the nurse coming in to check your vitals. She discussed your follow-up care and recommended the availability of counseling. You nodded, knowing you were too emotional to be rational at the moment.

Mark was a steady constant at your side, his level breathing put you at ease as it always did. You wanted to lay there and sleep in his arms until the end of days.

When Jackson came in after the nurse left, your brow furrowed.

“Your father is here,” said Jackson carefully. “He wants to see you whenever you’re ready.”

“You told him?”

Jackson nodded. “Exactly like you asked me to.”

The hospital had told you notifying next of kin was non-negotiable. That was your father. You let Jackson call him and explain the situation. Now, you were ready to face the consequences.

“Mark,” you called, jostling him.

Mark startled awake, glancing you over worriedly and asking, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I need a moment. My Dad is here.”

Mark’s nostrils flared and he entered fight response quicker than you thought possible.

You slipped your hand to his chest and coaxed, “It’s okay. We’re just gonna talk.”

Mark reluctantly clambered out of your bed, moving with Jackson to the door. “I’ll be right outside,” he said sternly.

You nodded.

When your father walked in, you felt like a child again. You remembered how close the two of you had once been, how you used to think he could do anything in the world. And the moment you saw him, you wished he could make it all better.

Your father took one look at you and collapsed into the chair at your side. He hung his head in shame and stammered, “This is all my fault.”

You shook your head. “No, I carry the blame.”

He propped his elbows on your bed and took your hand in his own, cheeks stained with tears. “I’ve done nothing but drive around and think since I left that house.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I never realized how much pain I put you in. It never crossed my mind. And for that I’m ashamed. I failed as a father.”

You reminded gently, “You’re only human.”

“I was so caught up trying to fill this hole inside of me that your mother left.”

Hearing the mere mention of your mother made your tears return and you whispered, “I think I was doing the same thing.”

He continued with a heavy heart and a trembling voice, “Your mother was the love of my life. I tried to replace her. But you are all I have left of her. I’m sorry. Please come home.”

You gave him a tender smile. “I forgive you.”

Mark paced back and forth. He was cycling through emotions faster than he thought possible. Anger and sadness, anger and sadness. For the time being, Mark thought that was all he was capable of anymore.

When your father emerged, the two stared each other down.

“You okay, kid?”

Mark blinked in surprise at the kindness, but his reply was rough, “I’m fine.”

Your father approached, mulling over his words. “I will never approve of you being with my daughter, but… I don’t think I’ll ever approve of anyone dating my baby girl.”

Mark stood his ground and said, “I love her.”

“I’m sorry this happened to both of you.”

Mark wanted to be vindictive, wanted to blame your father in some way for the loss, but he was exhausted and he knew that wasn’t what you wanted. With a sigh, Mark finally asked, “Truce?”

Your father nodded in agreement.

You jolted a little when Jackson barreled into your room without warning. “Hey, so before I head outta here,” he began, pulling out four packs of pudding from his pockets. “I may or may not have stolen these from the food cart.”

You chortled weakly and immediately popped open one of the cups. “Jackson, you’re a good friend.”

Jackson gleamed and quipped, “That’s what I like to hear. You take it easy, alright?”

Your eyes shone with unspoken gratitude. You would never forget how Jackson had been there for you on this - your worst of days. “I will do my best.”

Jackson leaned in and pressed a kiss to your brow, then bid you farewell.

Mark returned, shutting the door in Jackson’s wake, and sat on the edge of your bed, glancing you over.

You simpered. The weight in the room was heavy. You wanted to set it afire. You naively thought if you did, maybe it would be like this day never happened.

Mark stared at you in wonder, still bemused by how effortlessly you had stolen his heart. Looking back, he never would have imagined falling in love with you. Now, it was all he could think about. At that thought, he asked, “Will you move in with me?”

Your answer was a firm, resounding, “No.”

Mark flinched, utterly shocked and confused. “No?” he questioned.

“I’m gonna go home,” you told him, placing your hand over his on your bed. “Work on straightening things out for a while.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna do the same. I just thought we would do it together,” Mark replied, failing to hide his hurt.

“I need time, Mark. This loss…,” you trailed, finding your voice. “It’s reopening old wounds.”

Mark saw the glistening in your eyes and relented. “You need to heal.”

You nodded. “In more ways than one.”

“I can live with that,” Mark said, lacing his fingers through yours.

You peered up at him, nervous to ask, “Will you wait for me?”

Mark considered it a worthless question. He was all in. “As long as you need me to.”

You smiled with relief and told him, “I love you.”

There were a vast number of things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you he would get his act together. He would clean himself up. He would become someone you could be proud of. And most importantly, someone you could trust.

But in the end, he settled with, “I love you too.”

And that was more than enough for you.

The first month was the hardest. There were days you struggled to crawl out of bed. But it was during this time your relationship with your father began to mend. He was there for you, every waking moment.

While you grieved for your baby, he finally grieved for your mother.

The second month was a little better. You started letting Mark back into your life. He was your best friend and you needed him. Endless texts throughout the day. Falling asleep on the phone with him at night.

And he could barely hide his excitement when he told you his parents were potentially reconciling.

By the third month you could look in the mirror without letting your gaze falter. Though there were still times you sat in the window and stared off into the sky, wondering why.

Everything happens for a reason, Mark would text you. It had become his new mantra in life.

Your pregnancy broke the cycle; the cycle of vengeance and self-destruction. Though you didn’t get to keep it, that baby saved your life. And that was how you chose to accept and remember it.

“Everything happens for a reason,” you began telling your own reflection.

At some point, you adopted the words, too. You had to let go of the past and find a way to move on, but you knew without a doubt that Mark was a part of your future.

Checking yourself over in the mirror, you swayed a little. It had been longer than you cared to admit since you got this dolled up, wearing a pastel yellow dress and matching high heels. Once upon a time, Mark mentioned he liked yellow on you.

The last time you saw Mark was in that hospital room. Your heart was aflutter. You had changed so much since then. Like a lifetime had passed in just a few short months. Now, you were finally ready to see him and he was coming over for the first time. Hence, the pretty outfit you were sporting.

The sudden ringing of a doorbell tore you from your thoughts and you raced down the stairs to answer.

The moment you opened the door, Mark said, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you greeted sweetly.

He made no moves to step inside, standing shell-shocked on the porch as he glanced you over. “You look beautiful.”

You bit your lip and replied, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Mark handed you a bouquet of assorted, vibrant flowers, which you hadn’t noticed at first. You were wholly distracted by him and how much you had missed his dumb, handsome face.

“Thank you,” you gasped in surprise, giving the flowers a sniff and finding their scent to be heavenly. “I love them.”

Mark smiled, trying to hide his awkwardness. “You’re welcome.”

“Come in,” you offered, waving him inside. Leading him into the kitchen, you found a vase to put the beautiful flowers in.

“How are you?” Mark asked. He texted you that every day. It was warm to finally hear the words in person.

You turned to him after positioning the flowers in the vase and said, “I’m good. How are you?”

Mark was over the moon to see your voice and expression match your words. You were glowing. Light was glistening in your eyes, but not from tears. Though staying away killed him, Mark respected your need to find yourself again and he was overcome with emotion to see the time had done you well.

“Never better,” he replied coolly.

Your thoughts were similar to his. He looked good. Not just in that Mark Tuan hot as hell kind of good, but he looked healthy and flushed with vitality. And it made your heart soar. “Glad to hear it.”

Mark really didn’t know what to do with himself so he cut right to the chase. “Can we… start over?”

You cocked a brow. “Clean slate?”

“The cleanest of slates,” he retorted.

You chuckled and never passed up an opportunity to tease him, “Shoot your shot, fuck boy.”

Mark flashed his teeth in a grin and began, “A little birdy told me you like Disney and guys that have really horrible social anxiety, but are sober and ready to grow the fuck up.”

At the word ‘sober,’ you wanted nothing more than to fling yourself into his arms and hug him with all of your might. You knew Mark had his demons to fight and you were relieved he was winning the battle. “In a nutshell,” you sang, gleaming.

“With that in mind, I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me?”

You had never been on a date with Mark before and the idea made your pulse race with excitement. You couldn’t hope to hide the glee in your voice. “A date?”

Mark saw your face light up and he smiled broadly. “Yes.”

“What would we do?” you asked curiously.

Mark had obviously given that plenty of thought and answered, “I was thinking we could go see the Frozen sequel and eat lots of greasy, cheesy pizza.”

“Ah, dinner and a movie; the ideal first date,” you told him humorously, cheeks aching with your grin. “Sadly, the Frozen sequel came out on DVD last week.”

Mark gawked. “Damn it.”

You stepped toward him, heels clicking on the tile floor. “Improvise. I like guys that improvise.”

“I have a PlayStation. It plays Blu-Ray. Where is the nearest Wal-Mart? They would obviously have Frozen.”

You chuckled. “Obviously.”

“And every pizza joint delivers.”

You echoed the proposition back to him, “A night in? Pizza, Disney, and pajamas?”

Mark joked with a laugh, “Yes, but absolutely no sex. Zero.”

“Bummer,” you whispered facetiously.

Mark’s eyes widened. They practically twinkled. Then, his tone changed, “But I’ve had my full of nights in. I’m sure you have too. And as beautiful as you look, you should be flaunted.”

Of all your imaginings of what a date with Mark would look like, there was one you dreamt about the most. “It will be sunset soon. And I’ve missed the beach.”

“Okay, we can walk the beach and get to know each other,” agreed Mark playfully, pulling out his keys.

“Perfect,” you cheered, heading for the door with him in your wake.

“Hey,” said Mark, grabbing your hand and tugging gently.

You turned back to face him, expectant. “Yeah?”

Mark came close, speaking softly, “Don’t tell anyone, since it’s our first date and all, but I’m totally in love with you.”

You leaned in, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips, and whispered, “Your secret is safe with me.”

[ The End. ]

chapter 09 ⇤ chapter 10

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 68: Gʀᴜᴅɢᴇ

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Episodes: Ye Who Enter Here

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Raven and Gina were already in the middle of arranging tools for their task when we arrived in the docking bay and Octavia and I busied ourselves with loading the van with supplies, both feeling content to get this trip over with as soon as possible.  

We remained focused on the task at hand, until Bellamy arrived and called me over in his best attempt at a subtle manner and Octavia flashed me an interested look as I followed him from the room.

Before I could question him, he led me into a separate hallway where Kane was waiting for us.

“I’m sorry to pull you away from your work, but as council members, I thought you should know what’s happening.” He began, the serious expression that he wore causing a knot to form in my stomach and I waited with baited breath for an explanation.

“The Commander has made contact and offered us the chance to attend a summit today. Whilst you complete your delivery to Mount Weather, Abby and I will present our terms for an alliance.” He revealed, my back straightening up as my posture became alert and I glanced over at Bellamy to find that he was equally shocked at this sudden proposal. 

“But - you said you needed my help for that?” I stuttered, realising that he intended to keep me occupied whilst this meeting happened and feeling a surge of anger that my supposedly important position might have been a farce. “You said that I would come with you once a meeting was arranged. I can translate, at the very least.” I argued, hurt that I was being closed out now that we had finally reached our goal and Kane smiled at me in a manner that hinted at his conflict.

“With all due respect, Sir, I’m not happy about this either. If things go wrong, you should have the best of the guard with you.” Bellamy interjected, seeming equally put out by being excluded and I noted with concern that his first thought was to expect that they might need to fight their way out.

“Bellamy. You’re still recovering from your last impulsive encounter with a grounder. Until I can be confident that you aren't going to repeat that behaviour, I can’t in good conscience take you into their capital city.” Kane explained, as Bellamy grimaced and shook his head in disagreement, but remarkably held his tongue.

“And unfortunately, Indigo, it is not my choice on whether to bring you. Your teacher is assisting us in this meeting and she has forbidden me from bringing you into Polis.” He added, causing my mouth to drop open in shock.

“What? Why?!” I gasped, an overwhelming feeling of confusion and betrayal washing over me and Kane fidgeted awkwardly on the spot, clearly uncomfortable that he had been put in this position.

“I didn’t ask. But I got the impression that it was important. She certainly didn’t say it simply to be cruel.” Kane described, sounding as if he knew more than he was letting on and I hissed under my breath in frustration. 

“We can manage this. The Commander has proven herself to be reasonable and open to negotiation in the past. With Arlo’s support, I believe we could secure peace today. In the meantime, I’m trusting the two of you to assist in progressing the successful reintegration of Farm Station.” He added, fixing us both with meaningful looks and I rolled my eyes bitterly.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you. You want us to butter up the bully, whilst you work on world peace.” I groaned, noticing a slight smile on Kane’s lips that he tried to hide. 

“Come on, Bel. Let's get this over with.” I suggested, placing a hand on his arm to encourage him to follow me and we made our way to the Rover together, both silently sulking about our rejections.

During the drive to the Mountain, Bellamy filled in the others about the Summit and whilst they all chatted about the possible outcomes, Octavia and I held a silent conversation of our own with only expressions. 

It was clear that she had noticed the tension between Bellamy and I, but I also knew that she understood why I was stressed by his recent behaviour. Having her with us was already more helpful than I had expected and I was able to relax somewhat at the thought that she would have my back if needed.

By the time that we arrived at our destination, Octavia was almost turning green from nausea and I had to stifle a laugh as she stumbled outside first. After immersing herself in grounder culture, it seemed that she’d lost her space legs and gained their dislike for any forms of transport other than horseback.

“I knew I should’ve taken my horse.” She groaned as she wobbled in an effort to reorient herself on the ground and I chuckled at her, whilst Gina hurried past us to check on Raven as she struggled out of the driver's seat. 

Though the girls moved easily into unloading the Rover, Bellamy seemed distracted, staring out into the distance as if he hadn’t even noticed the movement around him.

I already knew exactly where his mind was, as mine was trapped in the same terrifying space and I wandered over to stand silently by his side. 

We stood together without speaking for a few moments, both gazing in the direction of Polis and focusing on our own anxieties about the Summit. Though it seemed petty, I couldn’t help the niggling feeling that Bellamy had only wanted to join them in order to recover Clarke and I had to push the childish concern to one side.

“We should both be there.” He muttered finally, keeping his eyes trained in place and I sighed thoughtfully.

“Well, if you hadn’t chased after Clarke like a complete idiot, then you would be.” I responded accusingly, unable to contain the bitterness that was coursing through me and he turned to view me with a hurt expression. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just tense. I don’t understand why Arlo doesn’t want me there. I know that I could help.” I admitted, crossing my arms defensively and he nodded his head in understanding.

“I get it. You think that you’re being punished for something too?” He enquired, viewing me with concern and I chewed on my lip as I considered this.

“I don’t know. Leaving her? Maybe she thinks that if I’m not going to live like a grounder, then I don’t get to play the part? It's hard to figure out Arlo’s motives.” I explained, still muddling through possibilities in my mind and the question continued to bother me.

I recalled the conversations that we had about Azgeda, the many times that she told me I was not ready for the dangers that we would find there. However, the last time I had seen her, she’d offered for me to be a part of her investigations and I had to wonder exactly what kind of threat was in Polis that she would consider worse than the Ice Nation betrayal. 

“Kane’s right, though. You still need time to heal.” I added as I forced myself back into the present, flashing Bellamy a knowing look and he straightened up slightly, trying to correct his posture to hide the impact that his injury was still having on him.

“I’m fine. I’m ready to get back out there now.” He insisted, grabbing a bag from the back of the Rover to prove how capable he was, but I noticed a slight limp in his gait as he bought it over to me.

“Oh, really?” I asked innocently, raising my brows in disbelief as I offered him the chance to be honest with me and he gave me a stern nod in response.

My movements were too quick for him to anticipate as I reached out to jab him in the side and then much gentler at the stitches in his thigh. He yelped in pain, before dropping the bag to the ground with a thud and I crossed my arms again, as I fixed him with a scrutinising look. 

“You can’t con a con-artist, baby.” I crooned, turning to load myself up with my own share of cargo. “When you’re ready to get back out there, you know that I’ll have your back against Kane and anyone else that tries to stop you. But you had better believe that if you try to do it any sooner, I will beat your ass. With love.” I clarified, smiling warmly at him despite his annoyed expression.

“You drive me insane. You know that, right?” He grumbled as he straightened back up and I simply chuckled at him.

“Of course. How else am I supposed to entertain myself?” I remarked, glancing around to check that we were all ready to go, before I returned my attention to him. “Think you missed one.” I teased, pointing to the bag that I’d made him drop and he finally cracked a smile as he loaded himself up.

“You guys. Did I ever tell you about how I saved Sinclair’s ass on the Ark.” Raven quipped, joining us with a large bag hanging on her shoulder in determination and it was clear that getting out of Arkadia with Gina had lifted her spirits.

“Please, don’t.” Octavia groaned in disinterest, strolling away before Raven could engage her in a conversation and I flashed her a look that told her to stop the negativity.

“You mean the time you went rogue on a spacewalk?” Gina chimed in, immediately indulging Raven with a keen attitude that was heart-warming to witness and Octavia quickly clocked on to my intentions as I observed them with a smug pout.

Bellamy strode ahead to lead the group, leaving Octavia and I to fall into step side by side immediately behind him and we purposely allowed the girls some space to enjoy each other's company. The Rover doors closed behind us and I could still overhear their conversation as they followed us inside.

“That depends on your definition of going rogue.” Raven answered, her voice lighter than it had been in a while and hearing it gave me a deep sense of satisfaction.

“Oh, really?” Gina responded flirtatiously, prompting Octavia to raise a brow at me sneakily and I risked a quiet giggle. 

It was exciting to consider the way their relationship could develop and I hoped that I could count on seeing Raven smile like she was now more often. 

“I just hopped on a robotic arm and aimed it at the solar array.” Raven clarified, clearly enjoying herself as she recounted the details of the story with enthusiasm and I smiled at Octavia fondly. 

“I wish they’d bang already.” Octavia groaned in Trig, rolling her eyes dramatically and I scoffed at how unchanged her attitude was towards anyone hesitating to get together.

“Hey. Not everyone moves as quickly as you. Plus, she went through a trauma. It’s gonna take time for her to be ready to try again. I’m just glad to see her happy.” I pointed out defensively, referring back to all of the times that she had pressured me when I first confessed to my feelings for Bellamy and Octavia softened her expression.

“I know. She deserves it.” She admitted carefully, the remorse in her expression revealing that she was likely thinking about Finn too and I nodded in agreement.

“Shof op.” [Quiet.] Bellamy remarked as he glanced back at us, only to be met with glares from us both for his rudeness. “You’re like a couple of gossiping old women.” He added, cracking a smile and I pouted, annoyed that he could tell we were up to no good despite his limited understanding of Trigedasleng.

Whilst Raven and Gina continued chatting happily behind us obliviously, I became aware of the sound of distant music and laughter, and felt my stomach drop with dread. It grew louder as we closed in on the dining room that Farm Station had been assigned to and as we turned the corner to the open doors, we were met with a scene of celebration.

A host of Farm Station inhabitants were filling the tables, indulging in a luxurious meal with music blaring around them in a joyous environment. 

I felt sick as I took in the situation and the feeling only worsened as I noticed Pike sitting at the top table. He had conveniently placed himself in the seat where the President once would usually preside over his residents and as he noticed our arrival, he regarded us with the same dishonest gaze that Dante has always given us.

Pike rose to his feet with an unnaturally warm smile and held out his arms in a strange gesture.

“Welcome!” He announced as he began to approach us and I found myself clenching my jaw to contain my emotions. 

“Come, join us.” He offered enthusiastically to which only Bellamy moved any further into the space, but I couldn’t bring myself to react at all, hesitating on the spot with the other three girls.

“Someone’s made themselves at home.” Raven muttered under her breath and I was glad to find that it wasn’t only Octavia and I that felt uncomfortable with this. It seemed strangely morbid to revel in the mountain's comfort when it had been a mass grave mere months ago. 

“Natronas.” [Traitors.] Octavia spat under her breath, the fury that rose in her also bubbling in my stomach and I nudged her side subtly in support.

“Don’t let him make you lose your cool.” I warned, meeting her eyes with a meaningful expression and I waited for her to release a long breath, before encouraging her to step forward with me.

By now, I expected that Pike was already aware of both Octavia and I’s involvement with the grounders and after my previous outburst, I was cautious not to allow him any more ammunition to paint us as savages. The delicate balance here was obvious and it was important to ensure that the power remained where it should, with our current leaders who understood the need for peace.

“There must be thirty of them in here.” Octavia remarked as we reached Bellamy, attempting to gauge his reaction and although he seemed somewhat concerned, I could tell that he was not comprehending the impact of this as we were.

“Thirty-six, but the more, the merrier.” Pike responded cheerfully, oblivious to our disdain and Bellamy parted from us to greet him with a handshake.

The way that the two men smiled at each other made my stomach lurch and it took all of my self control to prevent the disgust from reaching my face. Though I tried to remind myself that Bellamy had a different impression of him to me, every time that Pike looked at my lover made my skin crawl.

“Thirty-six? Wow.” Octavia stated, the disapproval clear in her voice and I knew in that moment that it would be my responsibility to be the responsible one of us today. “The grounders are gonna think we moved in.” She added, forcing a tight smile after and Bellamy glanced back at us over his shoulder.

His gaze was a clear warning as he met Octavia’s eyes. He then turned to me as if wordlessly reminding me that it had been my idea to bring her along and I simply shrugged, unable to pretend that I didn’t agree with her sentiment.

“Well, there was no room at the Inn.” Pike excused, leaning past Bellamy to meet Octavia’s eyes with a charming smile, but she remained stern faced, demonstrating that she would not be fooled by him.

“And this is your option?” She interrogated, unwilling to drop this fight just yet and I noticed Bellamy’s shoulders tense at her attitude. She was damaging his pristine reputation and I could tell that he wanted to maintain his air of control around Pike.

“O.” Bellamy drawled, glancing over his shoulder at her again impatiently and she sighed, before sneaking an apologetic peek at me.

“I’m outta here.” She announced, dropping her bags into my hands with annoyance and turning to storm out without another word.

“Tavi!” I called after her, keen to encourage her to stay, but she ignored my cries as she stomped down the hall toward the exit, leaving me caught between the two siblings again.

Before I could make a decision on who to support, Pike gave Bellamy a wide smile that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and I resolved to stick with my earlier plan to never leave him alone with Bellamy.

“Spirited.” Pike commented idly as he watched Octavia leave, causing Bellamy to nod dismissively in response and I couldn’t prevent myself from butting into their conversation.

“She’s not spirited. She’s right. We've survived this long because of our truce with the grounders. Like it or not, your group being here endangers that.” I pointed out, causing the smile to fade from his face and as I caught sight of Bellamy’s expression, I softened my voice. 

“People died here. Lots of people. Many of our own were held captive and tortured inside of this facility, including me. This may be a great place for you, but try to respect that it’s a painful memory for some of us, not just the grounders.” I reminded him and though I was sure that Bellamy would prefer me to simply be friendly, I caught a hint of pride in the way that he smiled at me.

“I understand. My apologies.” Pike answered, his voice completely void of any authenticity as he returned to his political act and I forced a polite smile in response.

“I’m gonna go check on O.” Bellamy announced, relieving me from the strain of remaining at Pike’s side and I nodded gratefully.

“I think that’s a good idea. I’ll see if Raven and Gina need any help.” I reported, keen to make my escape and Bellamy caught me off guard by bending down to kiss my cheek before he left.

Though I knew that it was likely meant as a subtle way of telling me that he was proud of me for keeping my cool, I felt uncomfortable that Pike had witnessed it. 

When I turned to seek out the girls, I noticed that Pike was now studying me with interest and I rushed out of the dining hall before he could say anything to cause me to lash out. 

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The gentle teaching methods that Knox had used to train me to help out in mechanical had done little to prepare me for working with Raven. Though I’d asked for simple tasks that could lighten her workload, her perfectionist nature made even that next to impossible and if it wasn’t for Gina playing the mediator, I was pretty sure that I’d have punched her by now.

It was a relief when Sinclair arrived to tell us that we were being called to a priority mission and we wasted no time in dropping our tools to follow him.

My mind was already racing with scenarios as we raced through the halls and lights flickered on and off all around us due to our unfinished work. 

“Why the hell are they calling us off?” Raven questioned, moving ahead to walk alongside Sinclair, and Gina and I followed, listening carefully for any insight that we could gain. “I’ve got tripped circuits all over the grid.”

“Oh, whatever it is, it supersedes fixing the power problem.” Sinclair responded with frustration and his words caused my stomach to drop.

When we’d left this morning, Kane had made it clear that keeping Farm station happy was a top priority and I couldn’t imagine anything positive being important enough to change that. 

“Hey. Try not to panic.” Gina remarked quietly and I turned my attention to her with confusion. “I know that face. Whatever it is, we’ll manage it. We always do.” She asserted with a reassuring smile and I sighed, disappointed that I was so easy to read nowadays.

“That’s easier said than done. Anything happening on the day of the Summit can only spell bad news.” I mumbled, feeling dread already gathering in my chest and she nodded in understanding.

As we rushed toward the dining hall, a spark exploded out of a nearby socket and both Sinclair and Raven paused to check that it could be made safe. Unable to wait any longer for answers, I rushed ahead and jogged my way into the hall to find Bellamy, Octavia and Pike surrounding an unfamiliar grounder.

“White war paint.” I stated, identifying her clan the moment that I got a clear look at her and she glanced up at me, thinning her eyes in interest. “Who is this? And why are we holding her?” I interrogated, turning to face the two men suspiciously and Bellamy shifted on the spot.

“This is Echo. The one I told you about, she helped me when I was trying to get you all out of the mountain.” He explained, seeming especially awkward about repeating this in front of Octavia and Pike, and I turned to examine her much more closely now, both of us seeming to be getting the measure of each other.

“You didn’t mention that she was Ice Nation.” I remarked, keeping my eyes trained on her and she seemed somewhat alarmed by my perceptiveness.

“Honestly, I didn’t know how to tell the difference when we met.” Bellamy confessed, shrugging apologetically as he spoke. “She came to tell us that the Summit is a trap. Our people are in danger.” He explained in a rushed manner and though I whipped around to face him in shock, Pike interrupted before I could get another word out.

“You’re one of them. So, why are you telling us this?” Pike grilled, glaring down at Echo aggressively and though I was also on edge with the situation, I didn’t appreciate his intimidating behaviour to our possible ally. 

“We abandoned Skaikru in the battle for the mountain.” Echo answered, returning Pike’s eye contact with no fear, then she turned to face Bellamy with guilt in her eyes. “It was wrong.” She added, earning a subtle nod of appreciation from him and at least a hint of my respect for admitting this.

“And won’t they miss you?” Pike suggested, leaning closer into her in an attempt to frighten her and her posture grew tense, making it clear that she was losing patience with his distrustful attitude.

“Maybe.” She answered sharply, glancing up at him with disdain and I watched her closely for any signs of deceit. “But that’s why we need to hurry.” She confirmed, scanning each of us impatiently and I was unable to tell whether she seemed genuine.

“Pike. She saved my life. We can trust her.” Bellamy asserted, his voice remarkably certain and though I was pleased to see him standing up to Pike, I couldn’t help an uneasy feeling at how quickly he had trusted this Ice Nation soldier.

Though I wanted to raise my concerns, I decided to wait until Pike couldn’t hear us so that I didn’t undermine Bellamy. It had been hard to convince him to trust the grounders in the first place and I definitely didn’t want to give Pike a chance to jump on my doubt, or to use it to manipulate Bellamy. 

“Listen up.” Bellamy announced as Sinclair, Gina and Raven finally arrived in the dining hall. “If we want to get to Polis before the attack, we have to move.” He ordered, as I noticed all of the guns that were being unpacked around us and began to feel the stress of this threat pushing down on me.

“Attack?” Sinclair questioned, staring at Bellamy in wide eyed disbelief and I was glad that he had arrived to add another voice of reason to the room. “Do we have confirmation of that?” He enquired, glancing between us worriedly and I looked over at Bellamy for an answer.

“We radioed, but no answer.” He revealed and I pushed my hair out of my face to rub at my temples. This was certainly not the result that I’d hoped for and knowing that Pike and the others weren’t responding only added to the urgency of the situation. 

“They may already be dead for all we know.” Pike suggested, attempting to rile the group into a frenzy and I jumped in to cut him off.

“No way. Arlo would have got them out.” I argued, noticing that Echo perked up at this name and resolved to follow this up later. “Indra wouldn’t allow anyone to harm them either. They have allies in there. Kane was extremely cautious since we moved this lot in. He might not have wanted to take any technology inside.” I theorised, attempting to find a less disastrous reason for their lack of contact and Pike scoffed loudly at my comments.

“We can’t possibly know that! The grounders they were meeting might even be involved. They could already have killed our people and if they have, we need to be ready to respond.” Pike exclaimed, pushing at my fragile self control and I moved closer to face him down.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. Any reason to start a fight with them.” I accused, squaring my shoulders as I spoke and as he opened his mouth to defend himself, I spoke over him. “What is it you called yourselves when you came across our first group? Grounder killers, wasn’t it?” I recalled, making him squirm in response and he turned to appeal to Sinclair instead.

“We can’t allow this to go unanswered.” He stated firmly, as if he were already certain that a crime had been committed and I was relieved when Sinclair refused to shrink under his aggressive behaviour.

“Don’t make this about the missiles.” Sinclair answered evenly, holding Pike’s gaze with confidence and I felt my heart skip a beat as I processed his words.

“This is about survival!” Pike defended passionately and fire began to rise from the pit of my stomach at this new development. “We don’t have the numbers, but the missiles in this mountain even the playing field and you know I’m right.”

“Why are we even talking about missiles? You want to blow up the place where our people are, just in case they’re dead? Are you completely insane?!” I yelled, my voice rising out of my control and everyone around me jumped at my sudden outburst, causing me to lower my voice before I spoke again. “This mountain has already annihilated too many grounder villages and you're seriously considering bombing their capital? How is that going to help anything? We’d just become the same as the monsters that we fought out of this place.”

“Indigo’s right. We shouldn’t be discussing measures like this. We need to focus on saving our people.” Gina piped up, helping to break the tension in the air and when I met her eyes, she gave me a supportive smile.

“Even if I did agree with you, we still don’t have the launch codes. So let’s focus on what we can do.” Sinclair argued and for a moment, I felt relieved that Pike’s tirade had come to an end, before Raven stepped in to reopen the argument.

“No, but we have me.” She announced, as I rolled my eyes at her in disappointment, but my expression was nothing next to Sinclair, who just stared at her with blatant annoyance for several moments.

“And you accuse engineers of arrogance?” He questioned under his breath as he approached her, his firm gaze expressing the many criticisms that he refrained from saying aloud and I gained a new respect for him, as he refused to be bullied into rash action.

“I’m growing as a person.” She shrugged carelessly, before wandering off with Gina at her side and Sinclair following closely behind, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Let’s go.” Pike growled in a low, threatening voice as he pulled Echo from her seat and I was on him before I’d even decided what I would say.

“Get your hands off her!” I spat, barging him backwards and placing myself between them. “You’ve made your feelings on grounders abundantly clear today. If you think that I’m leaving you alone with one, you’re even more unstable than I thought.” I stated, holding my position to shield her from his reach as I turned my face to Octavia.

“I can’t come with you. Watch this man like your life depends on it, because it very well might. Keep an eye on your idiot brother for me too. I can’t handle him sulking his way through another injury. And don’t forget that she is from Azgeda.” I blurted, noticing that Pike’s eyes widened as he realised that I could also speak Trig and Octavia nodded keenly back at me.  

“Don’t worry. I know a snake when I see one.” She answered, glancing at Pike with a smirk and I was relieved that she didn’t hesitate to support me. “And I’m always careful. If she’s up to something, I’ll find out. Besides, she knows that she can’t hide anything in Trig now.” She added, glancing back at Echo who was assessing us both with surprise, before Octavia stepped behind me to move her out of Pike’s reach far more gently than he had.

“Octavia will manage her. You can go.” I stated coldly, as he glanced over at Bellamy for support and when he didn’t receive it, he reluctantly left us.

“You’re not happy with this plan?” Bellamy suggested, approaching me with a concerned look and I sighed thoughtfully, glad that we could finally discuss this situation alone.

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. I just can’t figure out what.” I admitted, glancing up at him nervously and he furrowed his brows. “Just be careful not to be blindsided. I completely understand why you trust Echo, but try to remember that she is Azgeda. We don’t know how long she’d been locked up for when you met her, but now she’s been home for a while. Her loyalties will have changed. We’ve never been good at getting ahead of their plans and we don’t know if she’s part of their agenda somehow. She may not even know if she is.” I suggested as I desperately tried to consider every possible outcome, rubbing at my temples in stress and he pushed my hands away to cup my face.

“We’ll be careful, Inds. Eyes wide open. Nothing gets past you.” He promised, placing a kiss on my forehead and I sighed guiltily at his words. He thinned his eyes at me, realising that something was off and I glanced up sadly up at him, feeling immensely torn between commitments. “You’re not coming, are you?”

“Someone has to stay behind and make sure that they don’t blow up Polis. Besides, I’m not allowed in, remember? If they’re okay in there, Arlo will just be angry that I came.” I divulged, feeling immensely pressured by this responsibility and he smiled at me with understanding. “Please be safe. I know the stakes are high and that usually brings out your hero streak, but I’m gonna need you to be sensible. Pike’s already a loose cannon with a grudge against grounders. You don’t need any more risks.” I clarified, feeling as if it was impossible to know the right decision between staying here and joining them to keep an eye on Pike.

“I’ll keep things under control. Octavia will watch Echo and I can watch Pike. Have faith, Love. We’ll bring our people back.” He assured, caressing my face comfortingly and I tried my hardest to believe in him. “You just make sure no one here blows us up.” He added teasingly and I couldn't stop myself from smiling as he pulled me into a kiss. 

[mordoriscalling]

The Colour-Magic Theory (1/?)

Intro

Here comes part 1 of me playing with magic and giving myself Geraskier feels. Hope you enjoy! (Also, no beta, pls have mercy.)

***

From a look, a song and unwanted friendship, new lives are born. The stack of firewood is swallowed up by flames the moment Geralt casts Igni.

“Oh, I love that trick,” Jaskier says and puts his hands close to the fire, warming them after his fingers got stiff from playing the lute in the chill of the autumn evening. “Why don’t you use it every time, I wonder?” the bard asks, observing his companion sitting across the bonfire. “It’s so much easier.”

The witcher only grunts in reply, as is his way, and continues munching on a strip of beef jerky. Jaskier, however, isn’t deterred by the silence, and continues staring at Geralt expectantly. His questioning gaze is like a physical touch. It sends a tingling sensation down the witcher’s spine, the way it always does.

With a resigned sigh, Geralt answers, “I usually want to save my magic for when I really need it, but you were whining so much about the cold that I just wanted to shut you up quicker.”

Jaskier gasps and lays a hand on his breast, about to dramatically take offence, but doesn’t voice his hurt in the end. Something else intrigued him. “Save your magic?” he asks, “what do you mean?”

The witcher measures the bard with the blank “no more questions” look for long enough that any sane person would give up. Jaskier isn’t exactly sane, in Geralt’s (and some others’) opinion, and stares at the witcher right back, unmoved. When it comes to stubbornness, their relation is a diamond cut diamond type of situation.

Finally, Geralt gives in, huffing in irritation. “Magic always has a price. When you take power from Chaos, you have to give something back. The give and take tends to affect your physiological well-being, especially when the stakes are high.”

“So...” Jaskier begins, confused about his understanding of the matter, “casting signs weakens you and that’s why you don’t use magic often?”

“No,” the witcher answers, confusing his companion even further, “My extra mutations... they must’ve changed it. Using magic doesn’t have any effect on my body at all.”

“Fascinating,” Jaskier replies, then immediately gets up to rummage through his travel pack. He comes back to sit across Geralt with a notebook and a pencil in his hand. “What is the price you pay, then?” he asks the witcher and starts writing something in the notebook without waiting for a reply.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “I haven’t told anyone about this.” The bard’s head snaps up and he stares at Geralt in shock. Then, understanding dawns on his face. “Oh.” He clears his throat. “Alright.” The next moment, the page is torn out of the notebook. It lands in the bonfire and turns into ash. Geralt stares into the flames silently while Jaskier waits for him to speak up.

“My powers deplete themselves,” the witcher says, “It takes time for the magic to return.”

“Peculiar,” the bard remarks, “And a pretty shitty deal, too. I’d rather have it affect my physiology than have to wait after every silly spell.”

Geralt shakes his head. “There’s something else. It’s... hard to explain. In a way, I can negotiate with Chaos. Make my magic not exhaust itself as quickly as it should. It’s useful when I’m in a fight.” His mouth sets into a grim line. “I still haven’t figured out the price I pay for that, though.”

Jaskier smiles a wry little smile, not commenting for once, and Geralt lets himself look at the bard, who meets his eye squarely. The bright gold connects with the cornflower blue and time stands still. Just between the two of them, the colour of the bard’s irises is suddenly so vibrant that it alerts Geralt’s witcher instincts. Jaskier tends to have that effect on him. The bard is always full of energy  – all flutter and movement, brightness and sounds – and it’s too much not to be suspicious. Too much for Geralt’s heightened senses as well; Jaskier’s constant chatter almost gives him a headache every day. His singing is even more bothersome, considering that Geralt’s medallion reacts to it.

“Maybe the price is putting up with you,” the witcher jokes, deadpan. “You!” Jaskier cries, directing an accusing pointing finger at Geralt, “You bastard! I’m a delight and a gift to this world!”

Geralt huffs out a laugh but does nothing to deny it. Jaskier may be annoying and strange but he’s a blessing all the same. Since he joined Geralt two years ago, he’s been working relentlessly on improving Geralt’s image and changing the public perception of all witchers. The bard wants him reborn as a hero, which is a fool’s errand, but he’s grateful for it anyway. The thank-you gets stuck in Geralt’s throat whenever he wants to say it, even though he’s already less spat at in villages. Thankfully, Jaskier seems to understand. Many things pass between them with little words.

Later, when they lay down to sleep, Jaskier’s quiet question reaches the witcher’s ears.  

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm.”

*

The bard walks a few steps ahead of Geralt, who follows him on his horse’s back. Jaskier is composing. He’s always in front of Roach when he’s preoccupied with the creative process. The song about the healing of the Striga that he’s working on is in the middle stages – the first version of lyrics is ready but every single line needs perfecting. This is exactly what Jaskier is doing now: trying out the sound of every word and looking for ones that fit the melody better.

The bard is so engrossed with the task that he doesn’t notice the obvious – how the nature around him moves to get closer to his voice. Geralt’s keen eyes notice the way each straw of grass and every leaf lean in, just a touch, to “listen”. The air has gone completely still and the meadow is eerily silent; even Roach seems to be holding her breath. Geralt’s medallion vibrates.

The witcher decides that this moment is as good as any to confront the issue.

“You’re not human.” Jaskier freezes in his tracks, his body going rigid with tension. The acidic stench of fear fills the air and Geralt shifts in the saddle, disturbed by the smell for the first time in decades. “I am not,” Jaskier replies, his back to the witcher. “Do you want to tell me?” Geralt prompts, his voice gentle like it almost never is.   The bard turns to face him, face pale and hands trembling. “You really don’t know what I am?” “You should be the one to say it,” the witcher answers softly. Jaskier releases a shaky breath and nods. Stepping off the path, he walks into the tall grasses and strums his lute. When he opens his mouth, he sings in a language which the witcher has never heard in his long life. The tongue consists mostly of croons, trills, whistles and swishing sounds, and it’s enchanting even to Geralt’s ears. The air becomes thick with power immediately. It’s not Chaos, however. It’s a whole different type of magic.

The fae are creatures of nature – they are born from its energy. Guarding its Order and sustaining its sacred rhythms is their ancient task that they’ve always been fulfilling, hidden away in their own dimension of the world. They belong to the magic of nature and they don’t move out of it. Usually.

Jaskier didn’t belong anywhere, not until recently. His rhythm has always been too fast. He flutters from place to place, both quickly bored and immensely fascinated with everything and anything. The skies have always drawn him in the most – he still dreams of being a bird and flying anywhere he wants. In the end, Jaskier’s Queen found his temperament unbearable enough that she didn’t clip his wings any longer and allowed him to mingle with mortals.

Jaskier’s done his fair share of that, along with quite some mischief, but his life of adventure truly began only when he saw the brooding loner in Posada. The man’s restrained disposition and the guarded gold of his eyes were arresting, intriguing. Jaskier instantly wanted to know what secrets the witcher held. A few years later, he’s sure he won’t ever grow tired of uncovering them – every little bit of information, of understanding Geralt better, sends a thrill of rightness and belonging through his being.

Freeing his magic puts him at ease, lets him truly breathe. And so, the bard carries on singing, not afraid anymore. He smiles, radiating happiness. His glamour has dropped a bit and his sharp fangs are showing but the witcher only smiles back with the tiny upturn of his lips. Jaskier laughs in between the lines because from this moment on, he’s well and truly safe.

When the song ends, the meadow is completely silent for a moment, then the buzz of insects picks up anew and the gentle gust of wind returns.

“You’ve said enough,” Geralt remarks, and that’s all he has to say on the matter.

After that, the bard opens up to his companion even more, if that’s even possible. Geralt has a suspicion that Jaskier’s chatter was to serve as a distraction from his magic. Now that it’s out in the open, Jaskier’s silences, previously almost non-existent, has got longer. The bard doesn’t shy away from using his power around the witcher, too, and uses it in various ways to make their lives easier. He enchants a client into compliance when they don’t want to give Geralt the promised pay, or asks plants and animals to tell them where the nearest shelter is. When Geralt has a restless night, Jaskier’s humming puts him to sleep. The witcher’s medallion always vibrates then but Geralt isn’t alarmed by it any longer. It’s become a welcome thrum.

Their dynamic changes but they don’t look for any ways to describe it; they simply live the new way and enjoy it. The lazy, warm afternoons are the most pleasant, when Geralt stretches out in a shade of some tree and dozes off to the sounds of Jaskier's lute. Other times Geralt uses Aard to toss some object and Jaskier tries to catch it, laughing, his giggles lovelier than the tinkle of silver bells. Chaos and Order swirl around them, the sky is blue and the sun shines bright on the lush green grass. It could mean nothing or it could mean the world but what matters is that they both find peace. This is why Geralt doesn’t call Jaskier his friend – the word doesn’t fit.

Then Cintra happens and they part ways for three whole years.

TBC

Part 2

[gdwessel]

Rumors About Ospreay + Unrest In The NJPW Locker Room; Government Adds Okinawa to State Of Emergency, Another Extension Possible; Quick Review of DSOTR Collision In Korea; Shota Umino News!; Ren Narita on Dark Elevation; Satoshi Kojima In Impact Next Week

Strap in because this is going to be a long one.

There are rumors and reports coming out now (mostly from one source, the Voices of Wrestling website, from behind a Patreon paywall) that Will Ospreay's injury may not be what it seems, and there is growing discontent to the point of "mutiny" among the non-Japanese wrestlers regarding the state of emergency, the last-minute decision to resume touring when some were already travelling out of Japan, and the constant need for quarantining when coming back into Japan. Unfortunately this is as much as I can say, because this is behind a paywall, so until it gets made for public consumption I’m kinda limited in what I can say.

I can totally buy that all is not well within NJPW, especially after the COVID-19 bubble has burst. I've already discussed the creative malaise happening in the company right now. That there seems to be backstage dissent shows possible signs of trouble ahead for the promotion, and this golden period that we've been accustomed to is well and truly over. (I mean, it already was once lockdown happened, but they did the best they could, in my honest opinion, including a Pretty Good if not great WK15. Right now, creatively, we are below 2nd-half 2018 levels of poor.) But NJPW has weathered these storms before, although not with a global pandemic looming over everything. I am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt that Ospreay is indeed injured, because a) they haven't exactly been shy about wrestlers being injured and needing to vacate titles before b) if Ospreay is legit injured, he is far more likely to receive treatment as a citizen of the UK from the (somehow still alive if not totally hobbled by Brexit) NHS, as opposed to Japan's healthcare system which is far more like the US model. Some wrestlers are swearing up and down he is injured, from the rumors. Ospreay certainly hasn’t said anything in his own words, beyond RTing NJPW’s announcement of his injury and vacating the title, and posting a pic of himself kissing the belt. RevPro kinda sorta said something but were also pretty vague. But for an injury suffered on 5/4/2021, this pic posted on 5/18 does not look like someone who just had such a severe neck injury they need to fly back to the UK (mind you, it COULD have been taken much earlier than that). Indeed, Ospreay’s still-active Twitter is more focused on Hana Kimura at the moment*. All this said, professional wrestling by it’s very nature has a baked-in amount of bullshit as part of it, so that this injury might be phony is always a distinct possibility.

It is utterly believable there is conflict between wrestlers and management, and communication is piss-poor at best. It is also believable that NJPW and Bushiroad are only taking their cues from a government Hell-bent on holding an Olympics an overwhelming majority of those polled are against, and who are treating the extended state of emergency as a vague suggestion rather than as a, you know, state of emergency. Pretending everything is hunky dory hasn't worked so far, so not sure why NJPW, nor the Japanese government, think eventually it will. (And NOAH is on my shit list right now too.) On that note, the government has now officially added Okinawa to the state of emergency. There is also talk that it will be extended further, as a government subcommittee member is quoted in the article as saying “it is difficult to think” that it will be lifted on 5/31/2021. Among that talk is word that Tokyo particularly will be under a stricter lockdown if this goes on. On a piece of actual GOOD news, it has been announced that the government has approved both the Moderna and AstraZeneca versions of the vaccine, so perhaps the vaccination rates will start to go up at last.

* - The anniversary of Hana Kimura’s tragic death is tomorrow (5/23/2021). I still sometimes struggle with the idea she is gone. Tonight at 10:30pm EDT (which is 5/23/2021 12:30pm in JST), FITE TV will be showing a live Hana Kimura tribute show put on by her mother, Kiyoko Kimura. Have a look in if you can

I was able to watch the Vice Dark Side Of The Ring episode on Collision in Korea, the two-night joint NJPW & WCW show from May Day Stadium in Pyongyang, North Korea, on 4/28 & 4/29/1995, as it aired Thursday. It will hit YouTube here pretty soon. I am working on a podcast project about this documentary, and the (WCW version of the**) show itself, with the good lads at the Days Of Thunder podcast, so I won't talk too much here, but I will say a few things about it:

I did appreciate the detail here, as well as being able to get an interview with Antonio Inoki for this, especially as he was the principal driver of this show happening. I did also like that they took time to detail Inoki's mentor, and the "father of puroresu," Rikidozan, who himself was a North Korean national by birth. I did not appreciate the mythical pathos they added to the death of Rikidozan, which by all accounts was a random street fight with yakuza over a perceived insult (stepping on Rikidozan's shoe). I also felt they could have done a better job explaining the situation between Japan and North Korea at the time. When the event was first proposed to the NJPW roster, Scott Norton recounts Masahiro Chono telling Norton that "they want us dead," but it took until introducing former CNN foreign correspondent Mike Chinoy nearly halfway through the documentary to (briefly) explain the brutal colonialism that Japan wreaked on North Korea in the first part of the 20th century.

Also, as salacious as DSOTR can get, I am very surprised one of the most famous rumors/stories about this show did not get discussed, the internet wrestling legend that Kensuke Sasaki and Akira Hokuto were, erm, Quite Vocal when they were together, which of course did eventually lead to their marriage four months later which continues to this very day. But that was also part of another critique I had, which is, they mainly focused on the WCW part of the events, when this was an NJPW promoted show. The way it was told on DSOTR, the only Japanese wrestlers there were Antonio Inoki, Shinya Hashimoto, Akira Hokuto and Bull Nakano. I'd love to hear more from the NJPW side of things, besides how proud Inoki was of this political stunt that did not get him re-elected to the Diet anyway.

Overall, I do recommend watching this when and how you can, because it is absolutely bonkers. I will definitely keep you posted on when the podcast project for this drops. ** - I've tried looking for the NJPW version and have failed so far. NJPWWorld only has two matches from this, Antonio Inoki v. Ric Flair, and Akira Hokuto v. Bull Nakano. The WCW version is not officially released, even on WWE Network, so yeah search the internet to see it.

We finally have an update on Shooter! That is, Shota Umino. Earlier in the week, RevPro's official Twitter had a tweet saying This Summer, showing Umino in not only his white/pink Tanahashi-esque tights, but holding his Death Riders jacket from Jon Moxley, that Shota retweeted, making this his first tweet since September 2019. Two days later, a hype video appeared with footage of Shooter, including performing Death Rider. Now a Sports Illustrated article is claiming that Shooter was supposed to have reunited with Mox on the NJPW Strong episode that had Mox & Chris Dickinson face Yuji Nagata & Ren Narita, but Umino had an unspecified injury preventing that. (They further say that Mox v. Nagata’s IWGP US title match was originally set for Strong but Tony Khan convinced NJPW to hold it on AEW Dynamite.) Umino's last match listed on Cagematch was on 3/14/2020 in ATTACK! Wrestling in Cardiff, Wales, on the winning side of a 6-man tag match with Kyle Fletcher & Kid Lykos II defeating Shigehiro Irie, Chief Deupty Dunne & Los Federales Santos, Jr. It's great to have him back wrestling again, and I hope we get that reunion with Moxley soon enough too.

As an update to an item from an earlier post, it appears that the Ren Narita v. Royce Isaacs match that was teased but then not aired on AEW Dark this past Tuesday will actually be on AEW Dark: Elevation this coming Monday instead. Also part of that will be approximately 35 other matches (I only slightly kid), one of those being Rocky Romero v. JD Drake. This usually drops on YouTube at 7pm EDT / 6pm CDT Mondays.

This past Thursday on Impact, a video package showed that Satoshi Kojima would be appearing on next week's episode. This will be Kojima's first time ever wrestling in Impact under any name, as the last time NJPW and TNA were working together, Kojima was still away in All Japan Pro Wrestling. No word as to what he will be doing or whom he will be wrestling.

Also on Impact, Juice Robinson & David Finlay Jr. successfully defended the Impact World Tag Team titles against Ace Austin & Madman Fulton... before getting blindsided by two members of the Violent By Design unit (in this case, ECW veteran Rhino and former AJPW Triple Crown champion + cancer beater Joe Doering) with whatever Impact's version of a Anytime Anywhere Challenge is, and took the belts from FinJuice. They claimed FinJuice were going back to Japan, but, erm, who knows if that's the case or if it was for a time period when Wrestle Grand Slam was still a thing that was happening.

Also also, it seems Don Callis is no longer in any executive capacity at Impact. This is a little significant as it seems it was Callis who opened the negotiations back up for Impact to work with NJPW. Of course, lately he's spent more time as an on-screen heel manager for Kenny Omega, the Good Brothers and now the Young Bucks on both AEW and Impact programming. We'll see how much longer Kenny Omega's belt collector shtick goes on for with Callis no longer part of creative or management.

And that is actually it for now! Yipes!

[debbielouocean]

ask for nothing and that’s all you’ll get (this rule does not apply to jen harding) (2/2)

PART 1

jen harding/judy hale (also on ao3)

When Jen first started thinking about Judy like that, she could only keep reminding herself- 

“You’re not even gay,” Jen muttered, sinking down further into the bath and deliberately blocking out where she’d just had her hand and who she’d been thinking about. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s your best friend.” 

And that was pretty much the only thing stopping her. She could hide behind the facade of being straight all she wanted, but she really wasn’t that committed to it. What she was committed to was not hurting Judy, who was her best fucking friend. 

The worst part was, she’d promised Judy she would tell her. Judy had looked at her with those puppy dog eyes that barely worked when Henry tried it and she’d folded instantly. She probably would have signed over her car if Judy had asked for it. 

Actually, the worst part was that Jen was positive that Judy wouldn’t bring it up again. She’d wait. Patiently. Until Jen was ready to talk about it. Which meant it would hang over them for weeks, awkward and tense, until it bubbled over and threatened to ruin everything. As if it hadn’t already done so. 

A knock on the bathroom door interrupted her self-deprecation. 

“Jen? We’re gonna be late!” 

“I have never been late to one of the kids’ activities and I’m not gonna start tonight, Judy.” It was true. Hard to be late to things you had no intention of going to. But she was pulling herself up out of the tub anyway and grabbing a towel. 

Against all odds, it was a Charlie activity tonight. Pastor Wayne had somehow managed to convince him that an extracurricular activity would benefit him and he’d joined some sort of robotics club. The dismissive, off-hand tone he’d used when he’d told Jen about the robot fight club meant that she was absolutely gonna be going to every single robot battle and she’d fucking figure out what all of it meant. She’d even read a book about it if she had to. Because she hadn’t seen Charlie this invested in something that wasn’t a video game in years. 

They were going, non negotiable. And it was going to be a nice, normal evening focused on Charlie for fucking once and not on her. She was not going to make tonight about her.

So she waited by the bathroom door, towel wrapped tightly around her, until she could be sure she’d heard Judy leave her bedroom. 

-------

An hour and forty-two minutes later, she found herself squished beside Judy in an Applebee’s booth. Charlie’s team had done well, placing second overall and qualifying them for the next competition. So they’d come to his favorite chain restaurant to celebrate. Jen was proud of him; she couldn’t have imagined Charlie from a year ago being this invested in something for school. 

“Just think about how cool this is gonna look on your college applications,” Judy said, leaning across the table excitedly. She’d been way into the whole thing, screaming and cheering for Charlie the whole time. Charlie had claimed embarrassment but Jen could tell he loved the attention. “Extracurriculars are super important.”

Jen groaned, picking at the cheese fries in the middle of the table that everyone else had deemed too hot to eat. “Can we stop with all the college talk? I’m not emotionally ready for any of that.” 

“Agreed,” Charlie said, overwhelmed by the idea of college. “What’s really important is that I’m pretty sure I can make the toaster shoot fire.” 

“If you so much as look at the toaster funny, you’re gonna be grounded until you do go to college,” Jen said, shutting down that idea before her whole kitchen ended up in flames. 

Their waiter came back a few minutes later with their food, having hardly given them time to finish the appetizer. Henry chatted excitedly about his new favorite show and Charlie didn’t even give him any shit about it being for babies. Even though it totally, fully was. Overall, Jen was pretty sure it had been a very successful family evening. 

And then it was over. And she was tucking Henry in and kissing him goodnight and saying goodnight to Charlie. Reminding him one more time that she was proud of him and that he was making good choices for himself. She could have sworn he even smiled at her before closing his bedroom door. 

Judy was waiting for her in the kitchen, a smile of her own seeming to be permanently plastered on her face. She was sitting at the counter, staring out the window and barely seemed to notice Jen walk into the room. 

“I’m gonna have to start locking up all the appliances in the house that Charlie deems nonvital,” Jen said, eyeing the espresso machine she’d wasted too much money on. 

Judy jumped a bit, clearly having been thinking about something else. But the smile didn’t leave. “Oh, I’m sure he wasn’t being serious. He knows better.” 

“The boy got caught selling drugs. I’m not certain he knows anything,” Jen said with a little huff of laughter. It was weird how easy it felt to make jokes about her son, the former drug dealer. He’d really made a lot of progress in a very short amount of time. 

“Hey, be nice to him,” Judy said, fighting back a laugh of her own. “He’s doing so good.” 

“No, no, you’re right. He’s amazing,” Jen said, pulling herself up onto the bar stool beside her. Judy leaned over, dropping her head onto Jen’s shoulder. 

“Thank you for letting me come,” she said softly, her hand landing on Jen’s thigh. Jen let her eyes close, briefly letting herself pretend that everything was wonderful and fine and that Judy’s hand on her thigh didn’t cloud any of her thoughts. 

“The boys would have killed you if you hadn’t,” Jen said, eyes still closed. She tilted her own head to the side, letting herself bury her face in Judy’s hair. Which smelled like a whole fucking orange. “And then they would have killed me for not making you come.” 

“You will literally never have to make me come to anything,” Judy said. Her hand rubbed little circles on Jen’s leg, somehow both really nice and absolute torture. “You guys are like my family, you know. I love being a part of this.” 

Jen sucked in a deep breath, inhaling even more citrus. Judy was going to be the fucking death of her, she was certain of it. “You are family, Jude. There’s nothing ‘like’ about it.” 

Opening her eyes, she watched Judy discreetly trying to wipe her eyes. 

“Are you crying?” Jen asked in disbelief. They’d almost definitely been over this before. Like ten times at this point. But Jen still wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, squeezing her tight. “God, you’re such a sap.” 

Judy laughed, still a little teary. “You love it, don’t even try to deny it.” 

She was right. Jen couldn’t help but smile at the completely over the top emotions Judy had no problem expressing on a near constant basis. 

“I must be going soft,” Jen said, “I’m just gonna have to take a golf club to another car to balance things out again.” 

“I won’t take the blame for it this time.” 

“Which is unfair because this time it would actually be your fault.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments, comfortable and content. Jen’s arm around Judy’s shoulders and Judy’s hand on her thigh. Jen couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. And she was only a little bit disgusted with herself. 

Only a little bit disgusted with myself, Jen thought, immediately regretting even thinking that when she was hit with immense disgust at herself for the way she was brushing her fingers up Judy’s bare arm. Because there was no fucking way that would be allowed if Judy knew what she’d done with those same fingers in the bathtub that morning while thinking about her. 

Jen was sure Judy felt her freeze up. Because the hand that had been drawing circles on her leg froze, too. 

“I’m feeling pretty tired-” 

“What the hell has been going on with you?” Judy interrupted, pulling out of Jen’s arms and looking her in the eyes. Jen flinched back, drawing her hands up to her own chest. And then immediately dropping them because Jen Harding did not do vulnerable. “One minute you’re fine and we’re good and then it’s like the very next second…” 

Judy trailed off, waving her hands a bit like that clarified things. Not that Jen needed anything clarified. She knew exactly what Judy was talking about. And she didn’t even look mad about it. Just… sad. 

“Did I… do something?” Judy asked when Jen didn’t respond, her voice smaller than Jen had heard it in a while. 

Jen’s eyes went wide, quick to reach out and lay both of her hands back on Judy’s shoulders. 

“No, no, honey. I promise, it’s not…” Jen sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to get through this god forsaken conversation. She opened them again to make sure Judy was paying attention and knew she was serious. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Judy frowned, but nodded anyway. Jen could practically see the wheels turning in her head, doing the same fucking thing that Jen always did, too. Blaming herself and forcing things to fit together to tell that story regardless of how hard you had to push to make it happen. 

And she knew she had to tell her. Because this wasn’t a Judy problem. It was a Jen problem. And it wasn’t fair of her to make Judy think otherwise. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” poured out of her mouth way faster than her brain could keep up. Definitely wasn’t how she’d intended to phrase that one. “I.. I am in love with you. Pretty positive about it.” 

“Jen-” 

“No, just listen for a minute, Jude,” Jen said, trying to be gentle about it and trying her damn hardest not to cry. Because she wasn’t soft. “I know it’s a pretty shit excuse for acting like a cunt but I promise you, I am handling it. Just give me like, two weeks to readjust and we can forget about the whole thing-”

“You’re in love with me?” Judy said, her voice going all soft again. Jen could see the tears starting to well up in her eyes and was not feeling another round of ‘Judy cries and Jen awkwardly holds her while thinking about how nice her hair smells and then feeling guilty about it’. 

“I’m handing it. You don’t even really need to worry about it.” Jen wished she felt as confident about that as she hoped she sounded, because ‘handling it’ had not been going well so far. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Judy said, the softness that had been present before quickly replaced with confusion. She didn’t pull away from Jen, though, who still had her hands on her shoulders. “I’m supposed to just forget that you’re in love with me?” 

If Jen hadn’t been sure that she’d fucked everything up before, she certainly was now. Because Judy was right. Your best friend being in love with you wasn’t really something you just forgot about. 

“Well how else do you propose we handle this situation, then, Judy?” Jen knew she was almost yelling. She knew she was getting angry, but her self control was slipping. And she was more than a little defensive. “What’s the other option?” 

“You let me fucking love you, Jen!” Judy yelled right back, letting the tears fall as she said it. 

Jen froze again, speechless for the hundredth time since she’d met Judy. Who kept managing to surprise her, somehow. All she could think to do was to stand up, tug Judy closer and press her as tightly as she could against her chest. So she did. 

“You really want that?” Jen asked, disbelief coloring her voice. “You know what I’m like, Judy. I’m not an easy person to be with.” 

“And you think I am?” Judy asked, still a bit biting. Like she wasn’t going to let her off that easily. Judy was always the first person to defend Jen, even from herself. “Jen, I know you. You’re all intense and beautiful and magnificent. I don’t give a shit about easy.” 

“I am maybe a little bit intense,” Jen agreed, threading her fingers through Judy’s hair. She heard her sigh; a tiny sound of relief. Like Judy had been waiting for this conversation to happen, too. Like she’d wanted this, somehow. 

“And beautiful and magnificent,” she said. Jen could feel Judy’s fingers digging into her waist, holding her close. “You’re like the sun, Jen. You’re just… everything.” 

Jen laughed despite herself, pulling away from Judy for a moment, only to reach up and cup her cheeks. She brushed her thumb over the tear tracks that were barely visible in the dim light of the kitchen. “I feel like I’m always asking you for more, Judy.” 

“I like it when you ask me for things,” Judy said. She leaned into Jen’s hand, a soft smile on her face. Jen felt her lips brush against her palm, just barely ghosting over her skin. She was hit with desire; something she’d been pushing down for weeks now and felt like she was finally allowed to feel. 

“You never ask me for anything.” 

“I usually don’t have to ask. That’s one of your biggest secrets, Jen Harding. You’re generous. You gave me so fucking much and I’ve never once had to ask for any it.” Judy gestured around them with her hand. “You gave me your whole family, Jen. How could I ever possibly ask for anything else?” 

Jen knew she was crying. She knew it. But it didn’t really hit home until she felt Judy mirror her own movements, reaching up to wipe her tears away. 

“You could ask me for anything and I’d figure out a way to give it to you,” Jen said, knowing it was true. Judy could ask her for the fucking moon and Jen would invest in Space X. She sniffled a bit, trying to pull herself back together before things got really embarrassing. She was already soft, she didn’t need to be weepy, too. 

Judy was still looking at her like she was her whole world. And Jen was so certain that Judy had always looked at her like that. God, Jen thought, how the hell was I so self-absorbed that I didn’t see that before? 

“So,” Jen said, breaking the silence they’d fallen into, “what, uh, what now?” 

She watched Judy ponder the question for a moment, wishing she could hear her thoughts. Judy bit her lower lip, looking every bit like Jen’s wildest dreams. Finally, after what seemed like ages, something seemed to click in Judy’s mind and she smirked at Jen. 

“I get to ask you for something,” Judy declared, putting her hands on Jen’s hips. Jen’s brow furrowed in confusion, unsure where she was going with this. Judy leaned in closer, pushing up from the barstool to stand eye level with Jen. “Can I kiss you?” 

Jen let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of relief before she let herself fall forward and close the distance between them. And just like all the rest of her, Judy’s lips were so fucking soft. She felt bold, all of a sudden, confidence kicking back in now that she’d gotten confirmation that she wasn’t alone in her feelings. When Judy hummed into the kiss, Jen decided that soft might be nice, but she could do better. She parted her lips, pulling Judy in closer and letting her tongue trace across her lower lip. Judy quickly gave in, letting Jen take over and just falling into her. 

Because Judy was right. Jen really, really was a giver. And Judy wouldn’t even have to ask. 

[morrisficz]

An ancient KINK MEME REQUEST:

(Tags/warnings: Rated EXPLICIT: Omorashi, cullen/human inquiz, light femdom, dragon age)

UNEDITED AND SIX YEARS OLD, BABY

-------

“Hey, there! Keep those arms up, recruit! You can’t forget about your guard like that in the field!”

Culled sighed internally as the young woman in question hastily readjusted her shield and continued sparring. Although, considering the lack of ability her eager but somewhat soft noble-born partner had with any blade besides a fencing foil, she hadn’t been particularly likely to have been hit anyhow.  

Cullen turned his eyes to the setting sun. It had been a long and frankly awful day. He’d been up most of the night with a migraine, which still hadn’t faded by the morning, and he was so tired that he had been running much slower than usual all day. An early meeting with some visiting dignitaries had not only gone poorly, but also had ran late. He’d barely had time to grab some bread and cheese for lunch. He was reminded that he hadn’t been to relieve himself since earlier that morning during the course of the training exercises he was supervising that evening by the increasing pressure in his bladder, and the need had now become rather pressing. But in a few minutes they would wrap up for the day, and Cullen looked forward anxiously to finally being able to take a piss and then at least try to get some rest without being plagued with nightmares or headaches.

“Commander, a word?” suddenly came a familiar voice beside him.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan, you’re back.” He turned to her, pleased. He hadn’t heard of her return yet that day, probably because he’d been so busy. “How was the trip to Val Royeux?”

“I’ll be frank commander. The situation with Josephine is more serious than I thought. In fact, I just had to dispatch an assassin who was set on her life. Are you able to abandon your trainees for a bit? I wish to discuss this matter of the Montilyet family situation at the war table as soon as possible.”

“Of course. I was almost done anyhow”. Cullen found himself replying immediately, despite his previous desperate wish to turn in for the day. The inquisitor was a stern but kind woman, several years older than him and with an ability to inspire absolute confidence in others, and whenever she was around he caught himself acting differently and doing odd things to impress her. He told himself that it was because she was such a powerful and accomplished warrior, and that he looked up to her for it. Nothing more.

Which now put him in a bit of a predicament. He still clearly remembered the day a few weeks back when he had broken down in doubt about quitting lyrium, and the way she had all but commanded him to continue on the path he’d started. She had been so certain that he could do it that it had made him desperately want to show her that that belief was well-placed. And yet, only last week, Both Ladies Trevelyan and Cassandra had had to give him a duel stern talking-to about taking care of himself, after he’d half-fainted onto the war table during a meeting after forgetting to eat all day.

So it would be infinitely better if he didn’t let her know that he had neglected to attend yet another of his basic needs. He felt embarrassment flutter in his chest at the mere thought of asking her to delay her (vital, important) work so he could take a bathroom break, as if he were a young boy to be waited on. He was better than that. He was a man. She expected him to be either dealing with withdrawal himself or asking her for support, and he had to show her that he was handling himself just fine alone.

As he moved to follow her, however, his armor shifted a bit against his belly, and an unexpected pang of need shot through him. He had to pause for a second, muscles tense, before he could follow. For a second the idea of asking her to wait a moment on him seemed much more plausible, but he steeled himself. He couldn’t show Lady Trevelyan this weakness now. As long as the meeting didn’t take too long, he would be fine, he thought to himself. The tasks at hand, arranging to have Josephine guarded while in the meantime taking the first step towards reinstating her family’s title should be simple enough. 20 minutes, perhaps, at the most. He would be just fine.

 Nearly an hour and a half later, Leliana smacked a fist on the table.

“It isn’t worth the risk on your life, Josephine! I have agents that can remove the document far faster than the process of reinstatement could ever be!” “But is it worth the life of another? I will not have anyone be sent on such a dangerous task for my sake when I can handle it peacefully. I’m certain I can manage this, I just need time!”

“But we do not have the time!”

What had begun as a discussion on how to protect Josephine had devolved into a fierce argument over who should be put in the most danger to fix the problem, almost immediately after Leliana had brought up her more ‘direct’ method to end the assassination attempts. The two women had fast become locked in an impasse, neither wanting to accept the other’s proposed risky plans.

Cullen, meanwhile, felt like he was about to die. He had long lost the battle to stand still, had lost the fight to stay active in the discussion even earlier, and he only hoped his silence and now near-constant shifting went unnoticed in the fighting. His bladder was a tight, desperate knot in his belly, and had been for far too long. He could just feel it pressing plaintively against his waistband, absolutely refusing to be ignored any longer, but the other two appeared nowhere close to an agreement. Even worse, no position he could stand in now seemed to offer any relief. His earlier determination had all but evaporated. Cullen mentally cursed his bad judgment, growing more and more frightened that he wouldn’t be able to hold it for the rest of this meeting by the second.

But even as the minutes had dragged torturously long and his need had grown worse, Cullen had felt less and less inclined to say anything. And the fact that now he was seriously doubting his ability to so much as leave the room with dry clothing only made the prospect more terrifying. The very idea of the inquisitor knowing that her commander was trembling in his boots and useless in their negotiations from how badly he needed a piss, because he couldn’t even manage to take care of that by himself, was too humiliating to consider.

But maker, he needed a piss. As discretely as he could, Cullen crossed one foot over the other and leaned on the edge of the table, pressing his thighs together. He realized it was probably a ridiculously poor attempt at looking natural, but at this point carrying himself in any sort of normal way was a non-option. Just a while longer, he told himself shakily as he listened to Leliana and Josephine argue, a few more minutes, but he knew it wasn’t true. Maker, at the rate they were going on they might take another hour, and he had no idea of exactly how long. He hadn’t been since that morning. He hadn’t been all day. And he was now nearing on what? Ten hours without relief? Eleven? He couldn’t even think clearly enough to remember in his current state.

Cullen suppressed a sound of distress at a sudden stab of desperation, and shifted to press his legs together better. He desperately wished to hold himself, or bounce up and down frantically. Anything to control himself another moment. But he had to focus on maintaining his dignity, or the very least on not making a complete fool of himself.

“Expecting the protection of Skyhold to be enough is folly! Don’t you agree, Cullen?!” Leliana slammed her hand on the table again, startling Cullen out of his feverish thoughts. He jumped, and his heart stopped for a second as he briefly lost control and felt a hot trickle of piss wet his smalls.

“Yes, ah, rather dangerous. Wouldn’t trust that.” Cullen heard himself stammer as if from far away, stomach muscles fairly trembling and face scarlet as he fought to control himself. He had no idea what he’d just agreed with. His mind was buzzing with faint panic. He couldn’t do it. That first leak was the beginning of his control breaking, he was sure. He just couldn’t wait any longer than a minute or two now, he couldn’t delude himself otherwise. But there was no escape from this blasted meeting!

He could feel the gaze of the inquisitor boring into him now. Of course she’d noticed him acting so absurdly. Cullen’s face was on fire with mingled shame and exertion. He was sure he was beet-red. He had to get out of this room immediately, but he couldn’t just leave, not now. He was out of options, and, hopelessly, sent a tiny prayer to the maker for salvation.

That salvation would apparently arrive in the form of the inquisitor herself. After giving him one last suspicious look, she spoke, and Cullen’s heart sang at her words.

“Alright, all of you, that’s enough. It was a mistake to try and decide this matter immediately after the event. We’re all tired. No satisfactory conclusion will be reached tonight. I’ll call for you again tomorrow, but in the meantime, go get some rest. And consider that part an order.”

Cullen brief joy was shattered by her next request, however.

“And Cullen, may I have a word with you in private after?”

“Of course.” he stammered, helpless to refuse her, and could only watch in agony as the other two advisors gathered their things and left.

When they’d gone, Trevelyan turned to him, face grave. “You’ve been acting strangely all during this meeting, Commander. And you don’t look well. Is something troubling you?”

“No, no, nothing at all. I’d let you know if the anything was bothering me. It’s fine.” He said quickly, his voice incredibly unconvincing even to his own ears. What could he say to get her to leave him? “I’m just…. tired. I didn’t sleep much last night.” That was true, at least, if not his current problem. He could only pray it was enough.

The inquisitor sighed a bit, but relented. “Of course. I’m sorry, commander. You’ve clearly had a long day, and now I’ve kept you even longer. I’ll let you retire to your quarters. However, perhaps I could join you, and we could play a round or two of chess, if you aren’t totally buried under paperwork?”

She thought his withdrawal was bothering him. She was concerned. But the truth was that he was just a fool who couldn’t even take care of himself, after all. Maker damn him and his stupidity. There was a gentleness in Trevelyan’s voice that he did not often hear, and she was trying so hard to help him. Calling off the meeting, offering her time to go back to a place where he could relax and play a game he enjoyed, where she clearly intended him to feel he was able to discuss whatever she thought was bothering him. And blast it all, he really, really wanted to. There was nothing he wanted more than to spend a quiet night with this miraculous woman. But it was absolutely vital at this point that she instead leave immediately before he humiliated himself and lost all respect she held for him by pissing himself like a boy in front of her, something that was growing more certain by the second.

Say something, damn you!, Cullen thought viciously as the seconds ticked by, but he couldn’t make his mind cooperate. He twisted his feet together more tightly, leaning hard on the war table with both hands curled into fists on its surface as he tried to form a coherent response. He looked ridiculous, he was certain, but he was afraid that if he moved he would lose control completely.

“I can’t.” He ground out finally, his voice small and ashamed even to his own ears.

“You… can’t play chess? Well, that can wait for another night, certainly, but I do expect you to tell me what is so obviously ailing-”

“I can’t move.” Cullen said abruptly. He really couldn’t. If he tried to stand straight he was sure he’d lose control, and soon he felt it wouldn’t matter much either way. Panic bloomed in his stomach at the impossibility of the situation. There was no way to hide it anymore. He was long past his limit.

“Commander?”

Her voice was so concerned, and Cullen was suddenly overwhelmed with shame. He was exhausted and in pain, and he could feel his control slipping. Another dribble leaked out of his desperate cock, despite his best efforts, and he finally gave in and doubled over to press his hands between his legs, eyes welling up with panicked tears.

“Cullen?” She repeated, clearly alarmed. The use of his proper name shocked him out of it a bit.

“I- I need to piss!” he gasped finally, face burning with shame. “I need to so badly, I have all day, and I... I can’t move, or- or I’ll”…he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Oh.” Trevelyan said, and paused, taken aback. “Why didn’t you just say so?” she asked, at once relieved and chastising.

“I didn’t want to seem as though I couldn’t handle myself.” He said. He gripped himself tighter, squirming half against his will to try and contain the flood within him a few moments longer, painfully aware of the absurd juxtaposition of his words and actions.

“Oh, Cullen.” she said. “That’s not what I expect of you at all. I don’t want you be some sort of automaton with no needs. You shouldn’t be trying to push harder, but instead taking more care with yourself.” She admonished him gently.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want you to know that I hadn’t been.” Cullen gasped. The words sounded ridiculous when he said them out loud, and the tears in his eyes started to spill over against his will. He was a fool. Absolutely pathetic.

“Hey now, don’t cry.” she said, alarmed, and strode over to him. “It’s alright. This just means that you’ll have to accept my help right now then.” She came up behind him and gently turned him away from the table, and before he knew what was happening, cool capable hands were guiding his own out from between his legs.

“Don’t, please! I can’t!” he gasped, but she ignored both his protests and the desperate little spurts leaking out of his cock frequently now that he didn’t have a grip on it, and set about undoing his clothing.  She untied his armor and unlaced his trousers calmly, a task that would have been impossible for his shaking hands. Finally, to his utter shock and embarrassment, she pulled his twitching, leaking member out of his drawers like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Alright. Let go. It’s much easier to clean a floor than all that armor.” she said calmly, as if she weren’t asking him to piss on the ground like a helpless imbicile, while she held him no less. Cullen shook his head and tried to whimper a refusal, although he was dripping steadily at this point, and this was clearly about to happen whether he wished it or not. He just couldn’t let go. The shame was too great for him to loosen the knot in his belly voluntarily.

“Come on then, I don’t mind. You’re going to hurt yourself.” she said, and slipped her other hand under his shirt to find the obscene bulge of his bladder. He did whimper then, even at the light touch. “My god, man. You’re set to burst. Just relax.” She chastised him, but Cullen could only shake his head, hands curled into trembling fists at his sides as he fought with himself, everything shrunk to the two points of contact where her hands were and the swollen, painful bladder that he couldn’t bring himself to release.

After a few moments, Trevelyan sighed again, almost fondly. Then, suddenly, the hand on his stomach was pressing down, cool fingers massaging the desperate lump in his belly, and Cullen could barely gasp in shock before he was pissing helplessly all over the floor.

For a second the release was so sharp it actually hurt, but after a second or two the pleasure of relief overcame him, and he collapsed against the inquisitor’s strong frame, panting. Her arms were steady and secure, and he let his head fall against her shoulder even as his eyes closed in shame. The hiss of his emptying bladder seemed deafeningly loud, and seemed to go on forever, but the release was absolutely ecstatic, and he couldn’t hold back a small groan of pleasure of finally letting go. Finally, the stream tapered off into a trickle. The inquisitor rubbed his belly gently until it had completely ended. Then he distantly felt her tucking him back into his trousers and retying his armor, his head drifting around someplace above him.

When she was done, she slapped him gently on the hip. “There. Better?”

“Yes ma’am”, he mumbled, blushing. Now that he wasn’t out of his head with desperation, he felt even more embarrassed, but his terror had faded once it became clear that the inquisitor wasn’t upset or disgusted.  That, or his limbs and head still felt too much like warm jelly from his long-awaited release to let him become properly panicked yet.

“Well then, I’ll find a mop while you find your breath, and then perhaps you’ll feel up to that game of chess?” Trevelyan said briskly, stepping away.

Cullen leant heavily on the table, unable to bring himself to look at her as she cleaned up. The shame only increased as he came back to himself. He felt he should do something, but he couldn’t seem to get either his legs or mouth to cooperate with him.

“I.  I’m sorry.” He began finally, unsure of what to even say. Her nonchalance was baffling. “That… shouldn’t have happened.”

“I agree. Although it shouldn’t have happened because you felt comfortable enough to ask for help, not because you have a magical ability to push your body past its limits.”

“You... honestly aren’t disgusted?” He asked, unable to believe her acceptance. “You… you don’t think… less of me?”

“Like I said. No one here expects you to be more than human, Cullen.” She smiled wryly as she finished up. “I expect many things from my commander, but an infinite capacity for liquids is certainly not one of them.”

Cullen blushed again. “I’m sorry”, he repeated. “I’ll not ignore my needs like that any longer, I swear.”

“And you won’t hesitate to tell me of anything like this, no matter how trivial it may seem?”

“Yes, ma’am. And, er, yes, also. To the chess, I mean.”  Cullen blushed furiously. He beginning to worry that his face would become permanently red at this rate.

“That’s a good man.” she smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be victorious this round.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” he said, managing a faint smile. “I’ve beaten you the last three.”

“We’ll just have to see.” She replied.

“Thank you.” He added awkwardly, feeling it needed to be said. “For helping me. And not being upset.”

“I don’t know how often I need tell you it doesn’t bother me. I’ve seen men go through much worse things in my day. And if you really need know, I think you’re handling this very well.”

She continued as she walked to the door, back to him.

“Besides, you made some awfully cute noises when you reached release, just then.”

Cullen flushed scarlet and stuttered helplessly for a few seconds at that, frozen in place and unable to reply. He finally hurried through the door she was holding open for him, unable to meet her eyes, and mumbled, “Well, I can assure you that those aren’t exactly the same….”

Trevelyan only laughed, and ushered him out of the room.

She stayed close beside him as they walked back to his quarters, a steadfast presence at his side letting him know that she was there. For the first time that day, Cullen felt light as air.

[koreanboyswriting]

In Translation Pt. 1

Words: 4k

Genre: Fluff and Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Feat. All Members)

✨ Notes: IN TRANSLATION IS BACK BITCHESSS! I finally rewrote part 1 just a tiny bit differently, but I have so many ideas for part 7 (I think that’s what's next?? lol) and I’m planning on updating soon!! Keep an eye out lovelies!

Light wasn’t even streaming in the window yet, it was before dawn and the sun was still nestled in its bed, the moon still at its peak. Your bed was all to inviting and cozy, the covers were pulled up to your chin and the comforter was just the perfect amount of weight to want to keep you in bed. You were exhausted, you had stayed up all night excited and nervous for the new spot that your agency was going to put you in. Apparently, a k-pop boy group was going to be doing a lot of American press for a few months and you were the best English/ Korean translator they had. The position was of the upmost performance and secrecy as they were a very famous and popular group. You had been working at the translator agency for a little over a year now so your managers and colleagues trusted you, but they were required by the music label to keep the identity of group a secret till the day of because the music label was afraid you would tell someone and cause a media storm before they were ready to announce the news.

You were excited but wary because several of your coworkers had worked with k-pop groups before and had described them as snobby and stuck up, and those were just the girl groups they said the guys were worse. They thought they had a right to everything because they were attractive, rich, and famous. Some of my coworkers even said that the members would proposition them or make passes at them. And though all of this turned me off, the opportunity was too good to pass up, the money was great, and if they needed to travel they would pay you extra to go with them, and you got free time to yourself if you were to go on trips with the group. Getting paid to travel sounded like a dream and you weren’t turned off by all the bad things you heard because you were sure you could handle yourself, Korean men were worlds different than American men. And you definitely had experience dealing with them, Koreans by comparison were angels because you rarely met a Korean man who would force himself on you with the confidence that American men had, they each had their flaws though, which you got to experience firsthand; being that your mom was Korean and your father was from New York.

They fell in love when your mom had come to the States for school, which made your childhood very different from other kids. Your mom moved to America to be with your dad and they had you and your younger brother, Cameron, this meant constant trips to Korea with your mom for weeks at a time in the summer, it also meant that Korean was your first language and elementary school was a struggle to learn English while all the other kids were lightyears ahead of you. It also meant you took funny things in your lunch to school and got teased, while the other kids had peanut butter and jelly you were eating kimchi. You were definitely thankful for it when you were older though because you got to skip through all the required language credits in high school and college. And though being a translator wasn’t your dream job you loved doing it because switching from English to Korean was as easy as breathing now and you could speak both without an accent. Plus, in Korea everyone needed and wanted to learn English so you made easy money and did really well for yourself. Korea was also really beautiful and you needed an escape from the States, and all you that left behind there.

You rolled out of bed and looked in the mirror and even though your exhaustion was written in the lines of your face, you decided that today of all days was the day to look your absolute best. You showered and went through your morning routine meticulously putting extra care into your makeup and each brush of your hair. After you finished you went to your closet and pulled on a black long-sleeved dress and your over-the-knee boots. Black was required part of your work uniform; the agency didn’t mind what you wore as long as it was all black, which meant your already all black wardrobe was put to good use. You threw on your favorite pink coat for color and paused in front of the mirror. You were already taller than most Korean girls thanks to your father’s American blood and you were unsure if heeled boots would be your best option, being that you didn’t want to be taller than the boys. But fuck it you looked great and if you felt great and the boys were intimidated then maybe they would be less likely to push you around.

You pulled up to your agency building at 9 o’clock exactly and walked in the door only to be steered out by your boss and the owner of the company, Kim Byung-hee. Your boss tightened his grip on your arm as he yanked you to the side of the building, you tripped after him the heeled boots not helping with your already clumsy nature. Once he was satisfied that you were mostly hidden from street view he started rambling off in hurried and anxious Korean.

“Y/n this job is if the upmost importance and I need you to listen to every single word I say.” He breathed heavily looking at his boss, then began to whisper faster, “The group you will be translating for is BTS,” your eyes widened but you quickly composed yourself. “You need to do every single thing they ask, and I mean EVERY SINGLE THING,” you opened your mouth to protest, but Byung-hee looked at you with a murderous look in his eyes and you shut your mouth right away. “I don’t care if the ask you to fetch water for them or demand you to clean their clothes, if they like our agency they will come to us for all future translation jobs, this is very important do you understand me?”

You started to think about what this job really meant to you and if this was something you were readily willing to accept. You had always thought that your boss respected you, hell, even liked you and enjoyed your company, but you now truly saw what you meant to him and what all his employees meant to him, but you needed the money and you had already committed yourself to the job and if you turned him down now then he would never give you a job again. So, you looked up into his eyes with grim determination and nodded your head. Your boss sighed with relief and his shoulders sagged and he looked at Byung-hee as if to say, “see I told you she would agree.” Byung-hee looked at you with approval in his eyes.

“If you do your job well, I’ll see to it that you get promoted to recruiter and a raise may be able to be negotiated onto the table if you play your cards right.” He stuck out his hand to you, and you shook it excited about the possibility but weary of how far you were willing to go to get it.

           After the somber conversation, your boss and Byung-hee escorted you inside proud of themselves for manipulating one of their employees into doing what they want. You began to sink in on yourself and question why you were really chosen for the job, at first you had thought it was merely based on skill, but now you were thinking it was because you were a woman. Many of the translators at the agency were women as well but they all specialized in other Asian languages like Japanese, Mandarin Chinese, and Thai. You were the only woman who did English translations the rest of the Korean-English translators were men. Of course, the men wouldn’t want another man working with them they would want something to manipulate. You were becoming more and more disgusted with BTS by the second and you hadn’t even met them yet. Whereas, you initially gasped with excitement, that excitement was quickly festering into anger and frustration. You pulled yourself back to the present and tried to focus on the words Byung-hee and your boss were telling you.

“Now we’re not sure if they will need you to travel, it’s highly unlikely since they have a very close team of people that have been working with them for years, and probably will not want to take on someone so new, also accounting in that Kim Nam-joon already speaks English. But he might want the help.” Byung-hee and your boss continued on and once again you faded out of the conversation until your boss called your name.

“Y/n! Y/n! Are you listening?”

“Yes sir! Rapt attention.” You straightened up in your chair and pulled your face into one of seriousness and business-like calm.

“Big Hit is sending a car to pick you up and take you to their offices where you will meet each of the members of BTS, Mr. Kim will be there with you when you meet them, but not the entire time as he will be discussing a contract for you with their managers, while you are meant to get comfortable with the members and how they want you translate things.” He paused and looked at you, “Do you understand?” he probed.

“Will I get any say in the contract?” You asked, finding that at least here you would put your foot down.

“You will only be consulted if they request you for travel, otherwise the contract will be the same as many others that you have done, they may require a non-disclosure agreement, but it’s nothing too different than before.” You nodded your head in relief, finally assuaged in some sense, feeling like you had control over at least one small thing.

“Big Hit is outside,” Your boss looked down at his phone and then continued to speak and Byung-hee got up and exited the room leaving you alone with your boss. “Remember everything that you have done before applies here, treat them as you would any other respected official you’ve worked for before.” You nodded getting up from your chair, and making to leave the room, you could see Byung-hee out the window already greeting the driver and whoever was with him.

You had your hand on the door handle when your boss grabbed your arm gently, “Look y/n I didn’t want to put you any situation that would make you uncomfortable, but Mr. Kim gets like this whenever we do any high profile jobs with k-pop groups, please understand, and let me know if you have any problems, you know my phone is always available, and I will do anything that’s within my power to help you, should you need it.” You softened at his connection, finally sure that your boss really did care for you, but some matters were still out of his control because at the end of the day he was an employee just as you were. You nodded your head and gave him a hug, “Thank you Mr. Lee,” You bowed your head, and he smiled at you like a father would as you left the room, giving him an unsure smile through the glass door as you walked down the stairs and out the front doors.

Byung-hee opened the door for you and you got into the black SUV, buckling your seatbelt. You looked up and Byung-hee was introducing you to the driver and one of BTS’ bodyguards. You smiled and reached forward and shook the driver’s hand, who introduced himself as Yi Daejong, insisting you called him Dae, as every one of the boys did. You smiled and then extended your hand to the bodyguard, who seemed permanently stone-faced as he introduced himself as Gi Deok-su, you shook his hand and he offered you a gruff nod as a hello.

Dae took off winding through the streets at a fast although not uncomfortable speed, you arrived at Big Hit Entertainment in minutes as you fiddled with your fingers in nervousness, it seemed you were good at hiding it though as Byung-hee chatted to Dae, happiness conveyed easily in his tone. Dae leaped out first and opened the door for you, as Deok-su opened the other for Byung-hee. Dae extended out his hand as well to help you down and he gave you a warm smile, you knew then that Dae was someone you were going to enjoy their company for however long you were with BTS. You walked around the car till you were facing the front of the building, from the ground it easily looked about ten stories, it was all stone and glass, built to last but also to inspire elegance and sleekness. Dae and Deok-su guided you and Byung-hee up the stairs and into the building. The interior was clean and modern, there were two white couches facing each other with a metal and glass coffee table in-between, this waiting area was opposite a massive white and glass desk that stood in front of a large trophy case displaying several gleaming trophies. You looked around in curiosity trying to memorize everything to tell your only friend, Eun-a later. Dae called your name to get your attention and you bowed your head in apology and hurried after them your cheeks blazing. You walked down the long hallway passing several offices and dance studios, people working hard within all of them, when your entourage suddenly stopped, and it took all your balance to keep from bumping into the back of Byung-hee. You walked into the meeting room and sat down in a leather rolling chair next to Byung-hee as Dae left the room to fetch whoever we’d be meeting next.

Your looked down at your twiddling thumbs as BTS’ main manager, Manager Sejin, walked into the room. He looked in a rush and you didn’t know whether to speak or stay quiet till he said something, Luckily, your inner monologue ended with him speaking first.

“Hello, I am Mr. Sejin. I am BTS’ main manager the boys will be in here shortly to meet you and then we’ll leave you…” He trailed off looking at you to fill in your name, “Hi sorry,” you gasped, “I’m y/n.”

“Great, y/n, I will leave you alone with the boys to get better acquainted. First, I need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement, which basically says that we won’t sue you as long as you don’t reveal any private information or business information to anyone, got it?”

You nodded quickly and picked up the pen he set down in front of you and hurriedly scratched you signature into the thick paper. He pulled it up just as you finished and extended his hand to Byung-hee.

“Sorry to be curt but we are in a bit of a rush today as BTS will be having an over the phone radio interview today so you will need to be well acquainted with the members in thirty minutes while Mr. Kim and I roughly outline a contract in another room, they will be in shortly.”

Byung-hee gave you a stiff nod as he swept from the room already speaking fast in hush tones with Mr. Sejin, who had his ear inclined to Mr. Kim, nodding intently. You sat there wondering how long shortly would be, when BTS came shuffling into the room.

You stood up quickly, and sucked in a breath, holding it, not sure what to with yourself. They all looked as if they just came from one the dance studios you had passed on the way here, they were all wearing Puma in varying amounts. V and J-Hope were each wearing a full Puma tracksuit, whereas Jin and Suga were only wearing hoodies, and Jimin, RM, and Jungkook were each wearing different colored and fit track pants. Sweat glazed each of them in a light sheen, but it was as if they were glowing, not dirty. You had seen their faces plastered on billboards, and flashing across TV screens for years, but none of those did them justice to how beautiful they were in person. RM was the first one to introduce himself, he walked around the table to you as each of them made themselves comfortable, V, Jimin, and Jungkook plopping into chairs, while J-Hope and Suga leaned against the wall, and Jin stood neatly next to the table. You turned your attention to RM, who was holding out his hand a welcoming smile on his face.

“Hi, I’m RM, but you can call me Namjoon,” he introduced himself in English, you smiled and meekly cleared your throat, “Hello, sorry I’ve been speaking in Korean all day, I’m y/n.” You blushed and tried to keep your calm.

“No need to apologize, I completely understand, switching back and forth can be hard sometimes,” You smiled back nodding in agreement as Namjoon began to introduce you to the group, switching to Korean, “This is Jin.” Jin reached across the table, shaking your hand politely and giving you a small wink. “This is J-Hope.” J-Hope moved from the wall and walked toward the table to reach and shake your hand, “You can call me Hoseok,” he gave you a beaming smile, making you smile back just as warmly. “This is Suga.” Suga moved from the wall as Hoseok did, and stretched out his hand to shake yours, “Call me Yoongi,” He gave you a small smile, his eyes conveying his disinterest. “This is Jimin.” Namjoon went on as Jimin ran his fingers through his hair and extended out his hand to you, you smiled and shook his hand as he gave you a little smirk. “This is V—.”V cut him off and stood from his chair to lean across the table and shake your hand, “Call me Tae,” he smiled at you as if you were something to eat, and shook your hand firmly clasping the other side of your hand with his. Namjoon rolled his eyes, though there was laughter in them as he spoke again, “And lastly, this is Jungkook.” Jungkook didn’t move from his chair, just leaned forward and extended his hand, his eyes smoldering and holding your eye contact a beat longer than necessary, after your hands came apart.

Hoseok and Yoongi moved from the wall and settled themselves in chairs next to the other members, as Namjoon sat down next to you.

“So, do you think I need the extra help?” Namjoon spoke up in English and the other members turned to each other and began talking, uninterested in your conversation. “Well me personally, I think your English is fantastic, I guess Manager Sejin, just thought you’d get tired of continually translating,” You shrugged your shoulders at the end of this feeling at ease around Namjoon, as he had an intellectual, but warm air around him. “Well, thank you,” He puffed up his chest in mock pride, but quickly chuckled all the air leaving his chest.

“Means a lot from a native speaker, I’m guessing…?”

“Oh, you noticed?” You smiled at his astute keenness to others around him, “I was born in the States, so my first language was Korean and my mother and school taught me English at the same time.”

Namjoon nodded, and turned towards his members, who quieted down as they noticed his attention only Yoongi kept talking to Hoseok till he realized they were all quiet.

Namjoon effortlessly switched to Korean, “Alright guys were doing the radio interview in fifteen and y/n will be here to translate everything they say, you can answer back in English if you want, if not I’ll translate for you, cool?” They all nodded in response, and you smiled at them doing your best to be open, you looked at them and noticed Jungkook still giving you the same intense eye contact. You turned away and began talking to the other members about which English phrases they were comfortable with and taught them some simple ones to say back. You were resolutely looking anywhere besides Jungkook and you noticed him smirking from the corner of your eye, and you decided to busy yourself with taking off your coat as Manager Sejin walked into the room with Byung-hee. Byung-hee looked extremely satisfied with himself and you didn’t want to know the bad news before you had to, so you focused on your clasped hands in front of you and smiled pleasantly at Manager Sejin. He looked at the boys and began explaining the parameters of the interview, to which they all nodded, mouths closed in respect to the elder speaking. Mr. Sejin then pressed the accept call button in the intercom phone at the center of the table and we were greeted by the booming voice of Michael Thompson from TheDailyScoop.

“Hey there to all, my ARMY’s out there we have BTS on the phone today, can you guys say hello?” Namjoon looked up and counted down from three, to which they all announced together, “Hi, we are BTS!”

After the interview was over the atmosphere relaxed, Namjoon thanked you several times for identifying words that he didn’t understand. And the members all looked at you with more respect in their eyes as you had proved yourself to be of some benefit to them. You felt proud of yourself, as Manager Sejin seemed to be very impressed with you and Mr. Kim looked pleased at your performance. Manager Sejin began to talk with the members about their upcoming press tour as Mr. Kim pulled you aside and began to whisper into your ear.

“Y/n, if you do well these next couple days Mr. Sejin is considering bring you onto their American press tour, so perform well and you’ll have the position we talked about available to you the second you come back.” You nodded trying not to show the excitement on your face at the opportunity. You straightened your posture and listened attentively as the members to Mr. Sejin as Mr. Kim excused himself from the room pressing his phone against his ear.

After Mr. Sejin finished addressing the members, he turned to you, “I’ll need you back here at 8 a.m. tomorrow as we have important matters to discuss regarding the next interview, this will be live, so the environment will be very different.” You nodded to show your understanding and all the members rose together, you following suit and grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. Mr. Sejin exited first, followed by Jin and Namjoon who called out his thanks once again. Hoseok, Yoongi, and Jimin left next laughing loudly at something Hoseok said, this left you with Tae and Jungkook. Tae winked at you and left immersed in his phone, and you finally moved from your standing position the side of the room towards the door only to be stopped by Jungkook as he blocked your exit. He was entirely way too close for a business relationship, so you stepped back, so you could look into his face instead of his lips. He was wearing all black and it suited him very well, and even though he still glistened with sweat, he still smelled of his amber cologne, mixed with salt of his sweat, it was pleasing aroma, and it drew you in like an embrace, but you weren’t about to get star-struck in front of this man, who clearly knew how attractive he was. So, you fixed your face with a mask of cold indifference and finally met his intense gaze.

“Can I help you with something?” You said in your business voice.

“No, no, I’m okay,” He responded, you stepped to the right in an attempt to go around him but he blocked your exit again. Now you were getting frustrated, you were about to open your mouth with a retort, when he placed his finger over your lips and leaned down to your ear, “Shhh… I hope I’ll be seeing you around.” He brushed his hand across your lower back and exited with the door clicking softly behind him.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Chapter One- Ichiriba Chode-

Here she is- give her a shot! I’m a little in love with japan harry, and want him to fall- in love or on his face! Thanks to the tripod, Writers cannot live without ass taps, laughs and love!

The ride down through the clouds was tougher than any flight he'd been on, and he was double glad that Jeff insisted on him using the private jet. It was the right decision this time. He avoided flying private whenever he could. It always made Harry feel weird, like he wasn't a normal person or something.

Jeff often reminded him he was the most normal non normal person he had ever met. A normal person perhaps with a crazy abnormal life.

Commercial flights meant fans and at least one Instagram or twitter tag with his at. A geolocation attached. Then people would know where he was.   Where he was, he felt like he was about to enter another world, another phase of his life. A much anticipated and talked about phase, but one not explained or complained about yet.  He could see the Sumida River below him and the light dawning over Tokyo. He grabbed his tattered, leather notebook and pressed it to his nose, like he always did, before opening it. 'A sunrise over its homeland, welcome to Japan.' There had been a little rash of songs about this place as of late, though the interest in it wasn't exactly new. Harry loved this place, its sights and sounds, and the language that he could replicate in very short carefully memorized sentences.   He loved the sentiments expressed in those untranslatable sentences. That’s why he picked it. When he'd been near finished with the last album and realized he had a three month hole in his schedule, Jeff asked him what he wanted to do. And Harry wanted to do another movie. There was a script he'd been secretly hoarding, one he really wanted to make. He’d procured the rights to it, and a few others to cover his tracks.  It had a lot to do with his absolute love affair with this city. And his love of rom coms. And because he liked to either defy or supersede expectations. Everybody expected him to do a rom com, so he would, and he'd do the original with a current twist. Tokyo Holiday. The script was fun and pithy and used the landscape and culture and language he'd found so entrancing. He'd even made a solo trip once he'd read the screenplay, to visit some of the places and see a friend. He fell in love here. With the city. It would be easy, what he had to portray. He could easily imagine it. That was, he could imagine falling in love there. He wanted to fall in love, in Tokyo. On screen at least. It was the one he wanted to make, and since Jeff liked to exceed his expectations, they were doing a condensed shooting schedule. Jeff had gotten him just about everything he wanted. Including Ada Scott. He'd been enamored of her work for years, and he'd met her father, Garner Scott, many many times. He was a close friend of Irving's, and had been an influential producer and maestro in the music industry for so long, it was more accidental than anything else that Harry had never directly worked with him. Ada was the mystery though, he'd never met her anywhere in LA or New York or London. He thought he'd heard she went to school for some time in England. He was fairly certain she went to the Sorbonne for University. Ok, he was totally certain, he had spent a lot of time researching her. Ever since her little movie cum critical darling, Wildflower, had taken up permanent residence in his mind and inspiration bank.  It wasn't a love story, not really, so it was weird he wanted her to direct his rom com. And he wanted her at the helm so bad he had insisted and said he wasn't doing it, even after they had gone through all the set up motions and contracts pending, unless she was the director. It was the way she framed the sexual moments in 'Wildflower', a coming of rage story about the daughter of absent parents who struggles with addiction, to substances and love. The sex scenes were just part of the landscape, an aspect of the lead character's life, not the focus of the story. Some of the set ups were unromantic at best. Ainsley, the lead character, was flippant, and occasionally predatory in her search for affection. But the love scenes, sex scenes, were so beautifully framed and imperfect, sexy in their raw realness. They lacked the air brush of Hollywood and the filter of instagram. There was nothing perfect about them, but the emotion was real and moving. Even the negative emotions. And they were from the female gaze. Which was getting more common. However, Wildflower's female gaze was imperfect, skewed, and flawed.  That was not so common. He wanted to bring that to the Tokyo Holiday script, some aspects of the story needed grit. The plot of the movie was a young royal sent on his first solo trip. Eyes of the world on him and a laundry list of rules about his behavior. He'd be in a city, Henry Stuart,  the royal was named, that he harbored a fascination with, and no opportunity or chance to see a thing. All of his sight seeing would be carefully guarded and heavily photographed. And official. Henry hated official. Basically it was familiar territory for Harry. The flip side of the movie, was the translator assigned to Henry. Akio was a gatekeeper. The translator gig gave him the ability to exercise that. It was also a means to an end for him, the translation was so that he could pay for his travel in and around Japan, his love of good food, and constant need for fashion and fun. He was older than Henry and burly, manly, and everything Henry secretly fantasized about. And when he noticed the young prince's absolute frustration with the gilded prison he lived in, he fished. He'd share pictures of his adventures, and tell Henry about meals and moments he'd loved. It didn't take long before Henry was sneaking out to try the tiny sushi bars and all night dance clubs. The best part was Akio's warm hand in his own and wide shoulders bracketing him when they came across another threshold, when Akio let him step first into new worlds. Harry was excited to see how Ada would handle the dichotomy of the polished world versus the gritty excitement Henry and Akio found in underground Tokyo. He hoped she made the night life dreamy and the day times surreal. Harry was sure she would. The notes that Jeff had brought out from meetings he had missed were exactly what he wanted. He was excited to see how Ada would handle their love scenes. They were so bittersweet on the page, awkward and almost uncomfortable, but such a eye opening moments for Henry, Harry could see Ada mastering them. True to life and life altering. He was excited to see how Ada would frame Tokyo. She'd traveled here, he'd found deep in her Instagram. She was younger, and there were lots of emojis and exclamation points. Those were largely absent from her current social media presence. He wasn't sure if that was due to her falling in love with Japan, like he had, or because she had grown out of effusion. He hoped the latter was not the case. He appreciated enthusiasm, liked it loads better than sophistication. He was excited to meet Ada. Not because she was beautiful, but because he was a fan. And he was damn lucky the scheduling had worked out, and that she was willing to risk her critical capital on him. Risk the buzz around her on a rom com. It could be a really good movie. He knows, and bankable. He could be bankable, was. It could also be a huge flop, effectively ending his film career for a time and her directorial rise. Harry wasn't sure why she was doing this. It wasn't about money. She'd been raised music royalty and could probably just be rich as a job for her whole life. But she'd gone to really great schools and worked really hard. She'd made a great but uncomfortable film. It was nothing like the film she was going to make with him. Harry was a bit confused about why she had said yes. Sometimes, when he was trying to close a deal, wanted somebody, like Jeff Bhasker, he met them personally. It always did the trick for him. He was charming. Jeff always said people fell a little in love with him. Harry would deny it, if it wasn't mutual. He always fell a little in love with the people he worked with. It was almost never consummated. But he hadn't met Ada. So it hadn't been his famous charm that got her to sign on. Harry hadn't even called. Jeffrey said the negotiations were surprisingly brief. "Is it because our dad knows her dad?" Harry was searching. Why would she take the risk? Irving was compelling, he knew that. "'Maybe, but I think Ada is, like, begrudgingly in the industry, like was looking to make her own name and avoid Garner's large footprints." That’s probably why she stayed away from music, or maybe she had a bad voice. That would do, she needed a flaw. With the Ivy League, and the face, and the taste. What was she doing with him? With his movie? Maybe she was a secret directioner. He laughed out loud and startled the quiet air of his solitary cabin. Unlikely, though that wouldn't be the weirdest or the first. God, what if she had a little thing for him? That would be so awkward. Kinda thrilling too, he bit his lip at the thought. He'd shaken that older woman stigma, but it was still a flavor he enjoyed under the radar. He shook his head at himself. Ada was a woman, women didn't risk their whole lives for his dimples. They didn't have the time. You could come over after their kids were asleep, so long as you left before they got up for school. Or you could spend the night when they were at dads for the weekend or school Holidays. You had to work into their schedule. Like the movie had. Maybe it just fit and she liked the script. It was good and a fresh take on a classic, like Alessandro reincorporating the green and red web. In any case, Harry was a bag of nerves to meet her, his director. Maybe not the way he was for Chris. But he'd met him way later in the process. And that wasn't his ship. He was a member of a big and bright ensemble. He hoped they got along, he hoped she got his dumb jokes, and they had creative chemistry. He hoped she liked him. They finally got to where he could deplane and go straight through customs. He hoped the hour, just gone dawn where it first touched earth, meant he'd be able to get in undetected. He'd gotten lucky a lot lately. The short hair helped. He missed the long locks as much as everybody else, but princes were not allowed rockstar hair so, he'd cut it. His mum favored this length. "Welcome to Tokyo, Mr. Styles,"  a bright eyed customs girl smiled. It was conspiratorial, like she'd helped him pull off a trick. Masa was waiting at the baggage area for him, and had collected his things already. That would be a neat trick, if the private stuff didn’t always come out of the oversized belt to the side.  Plus, it was all worn high end pieces.Masa knew them. They'd lived in his living room going on three times now. "Osu Ha-ri, genki?" His burly friend said. He loved when men were taller than him, then he drew fewer eyes. "Hisashiburi, Masa!" They embraced. He also loved when he was smaller, his wingspan was usually the widest. Not with Masa. He barely remembered how'd they met, Harry thought it had to do with Bell. Something to do with the dog. No, it was the boxing gym; Masa’s business, but the dog was there. But he'd immediately felt comfy and happy. Cozy. That was a feeling Harry had learned to listen to, made sure to include people in his life who made him feel like he was at home immediately. When you essentially run away with the circus at 16, you get homesick. The road family was good, but after time, Harry realized there were people who looked out for you, people who looked out for themselves, and people who used you. The ones that looked out for others, like Cal, and Ben, and the Azoffs, gave him an immediate feeling of home. Like when he would wake up and smell his mom baking, or see her come in with dirt under her nails, or the steam of his favorite mug placed in front of him, but flesh.   Since he'd started his own circus, he'd felt at home with Mitch, especially, which was why he was closest to him and Sarah. And Helene, though that one got complicated a few times, and he'd felt like that with Masa. Or maybe Bell, in any case, he liked seeing them when he was in Japan. As he was setting up arrangements and Jeff had asked him who he wanted for his own Akio, his own Japanese handler, he'd immediately said Masa. Masa has been thrilled, had even wanted Harry to stay with them. "You sure you want to go to the hotel, Ha-ri. We set up the guest room?" Masa took his carry on from him, but was wise enough to not try for the suitcase. Harry could only take so many insults to his man hood. He liked being smaller, but not feeling small. "Nah, man, I couldn't put you guys out, and I have to be on set so early sometimes. I may even sleep in my trailer, if my last time on set is anything to go by." He hefted his brown leather satchel up and rolled his massive-'whole life in a suitcase' bag behind him. "I'd hate to think you guys may be waiting for me." "We wouldn’t mind." Masa, so polite. The Japanese could give the English a run for their money in manners. Masa meant it. He didn't break out any of the pleases Harry had tried to learn last time. There were a lot of ways to say please in Japanese. Harry was relieved Masa didn’t push more. He could stay there, it would be ok. But there would be expectations. "The studio already paid for the hotel." That could be fixed, but Harry knew he would run himself ragged trying to please everybody. He'd see Masa every day and his girl and Bell on weekends, or when they traveled.  And he'd work out at the gym. They'd shoot a little in Kyoto too. And somewhere on an island with gorgeous hot springs. All around Tokyo, mostly. He expected his four legged family to show occasionally. He hoped that the already paid money and set up would be enough. Masa smiled a little bemusedly and hoisted Harry's bag with his journals and toiletries and workout shoes up his shoulder and then tromped to his car. When Harry sat in the front seat, Masa looked at him, "what are you doing?" "You want me to ride in the back?" Harry could tell he looked like a really attractive bug at the moment. "Well, you won't stay at my home, so, figured I was just an employee." Harry stood with the door open trying to figure out how to respond, he felt like his was standing hanging his ass out a window for how exposed he was. Standing outside near an airport of all places. He was stuck, he had no idea he had offended Masa so much. Could they get over this? Would he be pissed for long? Should Harry just stay with him? Dammit. He totally didn't subscribe to the you shouldn't work with friends idea, most of the people he worked with started or became friends. It usually meant trust, not squished toes. Fuck. The grin took over Masa's handsome face a moment later, it was huge, big as the freak out Harry was just engaging in. Then he snorted a laugh that sent Harry's eyebrows way up his forehead. "I'm just fucking with you. Get in before you get photographed, or worse, mobbed!" Masa was coughing by the time Harry had the door closed and was pulling the seat belt on. "That wasn't very funny." Harry shook his head but a laugh was rumbling in his chest too. "That's because you couldn't see your face!" Masa wiped a tear, he was very satisfied with his joke and Harry narrowed his eyes at him. Gemma would pull some shit like this, play on his natural insecurity about upsetting somebody, especially somebody he cared about, and then crack up in his face. This felt familial. Which was why he had learned to listen to the warm feeling in his gut when he met certain people. They were the best ones. And they made the traveling circus home. Masa was home. Japan in a person. He had lived in the U.S. as a teenager, and was fluent in English, which helped him teach Harry Japanese. He even got English humor, though Harry's puns were inevitably lost on him. Lost on everyone. "Alright, Jesus. You're not that funny. Keep your eyes open, so we make it to the hotel in one piece. Just for that I should make you be a chauffeur and ride in the back of the car." "You won't. You'll feel too off. Besides, I can drive and laugh at you, I suspect I'll get really good at it the next couple months." He grinned like an ass Harry's way. "So what's the next couple days like, the itinerary I got is kinda bare at first." "I think that's to do with people arriving, Ada, the director, is coming right off some work in New York, and flights and delays and crews and entourages." He made a ‘you know’ gesture. Masa just looked at him, and Harry had to laugh. His life was weird. Most abnormal normal person ever. "But, anyway, I'm supposed to, um, wow the river!" And he pointed to the bright sun spot on the water and got totally distracted. He loved this city. "Do you want me to stop?" Masa asked, put on his indicator. He knew Harry was going to be impossible to distract from the sight until he really saw it, maybe wrote on it. It was quiet. Harry thought he could chance it. So he nodded, barely waited for the car to stop before he stepped out, on what would soon be a very crowded bridge and stood, bathed in the opening day. This could be a good thing, a great start of something. This morning felt like it. This movie was the beginning of something, big. He was terrified. But he tried to do things that scared him. And this movie was going to bring up the perpetual questions about his sexuality. Harry was ready to just say the obvious. But point out that actors didn’t need to be lgbtq to play a character who was. He was scared of this too, because he didn’t like the pressure to define himself, to be definite. He liked fluidity, ambiguity. But he’d do it, for the film. Maybe to stop the question once and for all. That made him laugh, unlikely.

He’d tested it out in the mirror a lot when the movie got the greenlight. ‘I’m bisexual.’

‘I fall for people, not women or men necessarily.’ ‘I like both.’ It didn’t really matter, but the question was the bad penny that kept turning up, so he’d lay it to rest, say he was bi, and hope nobody pressed, like that awful woman in that Bowie interview. He hoped some progress had been made. He hoped lots of things.

Harry was so glad Jeff was coming and that he had Masa. He could do it as long as he stayed near people who made him safe, like Jeff and Masa.

He hoped Ada felt like family, like ichariba chode. Like Masa taught him. Friends that feel like home. Harry loved that the Japanese had a word for his abstracted feelings. That would make it easier for him to slip into character. This prince in an ivory tower with high expectations,myriad rules, and attraction to something uncommon. It was much closer to him than Alex, his previous role. He felt good, like this moment was an omen. He took it in like he did the crowds at his shows, looked over the water like it was a whole sea of people who thought he was amazing. He could be amazing. He hoped Ada thought so. He couldn't wait to meet Ada. He was terrified. It was three days later when she made it to set. She was late, so the production had started without her. Just coverage and blocking. They couldn't get too far behind. So the producers urged the A.D. to get going. It was going well, Harry felt like he'd made a good opening salvo by renting the karaoke hall last night. He'd sung with each group, in each room, even took requests. They were out until really late. He knew he looked slightly worse for wear, he hoped Ayae’s eye patches took down the bags. She made some very unhappy noises over the concealer this morning. His balance, which sucked most days, was always worse when he was hungover. It was why he rarely drank when he had to perform. He really shouldn't have last night. But you have to drink when you’re being toasted. He got toasted a lot. After every song. Before every song. During musical breaks. He was feeling really queasy, having trouble staying on his mark when he heard a new voice. The whole room was angled it's way. "Sorry," her voice was huskier than he expected. It was...nice. "I think they grounded every damn plane on the eastern seaboard. I was afraid I might have to reenact the movie Terminal. Get a set of toiletries at the overpriced shop, buy myself a blanket to go with the travel pillow I wore like a necklace for three days." The pillow necklace was still on, and it dawned on Harry that she had come straight from the airport. The pattern on the pillow was wild, kinda seemed to be moving. He needed some water. Wow, he felt a little like he was on a tilt o wheel.  She was really pretty. Better than her photos and she was dragging her suitcase. He should help her. Harry rushed up to take her bag, and lost his balance. Pulled his Harry special and tripped over his own pigeon toed feet. Ada reached out to grab him and he fell face first into her cleavage. He knew his cheeks were red, well, if they weren't green. The motion angered his tender stomach. The croissant he'd hoped would calm his belly came up, he missed her cleavage, but it splattered, green and chunky all over her Gucci trainers.

He should have bought those, was his thought before they got covered in sick. "Fuck!"  Ada screamed and jumped back from him. Just keeping ahold to keep him aloft but trying to get out of the way of his spew. He felt more than embarrassed, like when he'd got caught saying pussy on TV. But mom wasn't here to ground him this time. What a shit first impression! Only way out was through. He didn't even try a charming smile, the spit trail would ruin it. "Hi, sorry, I'm Harry."

[angelical-sinner]

All Too Easy

A little writing I did to go along with the art of mine above. Full image on my blog.

Also, I haven’t ever uploaded any writing or fanfiction whatsoever so bear with me here. – I tried, hope you like the clutter of a story regardless!

---

“So, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” John asked with that infuriating smirk of his plastered on his face. He was oh so very pleased with himself. He couldn’t believe he finally had Hope County’s angel in his grasp once more.

Sera let out a groan and rolled her eyes as hard as she possibly could as soon as the words left his lips. Why her? What did she do to deserve this?

“No, I scrapped my face and knees crawling out of hell, NOW LET ME GO YOU DUMBASS!” she exclaimed irritably, the last part through gritted teeth while giving his shoulder a punch for good measure to further prove her point.

When he didn’t budge and merely looked amused by her attempt of an insult she then resorted to squirming and kicking in his grasp while also trying to pry his hands of her. She heard him snicker and, while she was occupied with attempting to wrestle him of, she was then crushed further into his chest and his hold tightened considerably around her. She immediately caught the familiar scent of his cologne and found herself unable to decide if she liked it or not.

“Actually, I’m quite content just holding onto you little angel!” he beamed and brought his face much too close to hers for comfort. She could feel his breath on her face, heavy and filled with excitement. And geez, the way he purred out that god-forsaken nickname along with that almost maniacally possessive look in his eyes as he took her in, it made Sera want to punch him straight in the jaw. She barely refrained from doing so knowing it’ll either make him angry or turned on… or worse, both.

“Yeah, no, I’d rather you put me down-”

“Well, I’d rather you stop running away.” He immediately retorted back at her, the smile never leaving his face. He was relishing this, the bastard.

She exhaled noisily once again. By god, if he wasn’t persistent and stubborn. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and scowled at him for his comment. Sera was tired, cold, and above else, just wanted to get back to Nick and Kim. She was supposed to have been back by now. They’d grow worried and fear the worst. They knew the project was after her… but she was much too out of strength to begin a fight. The peggies by the trucks watching the two of them would get to her even if she was somehow able to escape the unwanted embrace of John. And it certainly didn’t help her position when John’s chest felt nice and toasty compared to herself. She struggled not to nestle into him for warmth. Don’t think about it.

However, that was exactly the thing about John; while she didn’t care for physical contact John certainly did, almost like a touch starved puppy in need of constant attention. And if he did, reluctantly so, previously relent on the touching part, he’d turn to guarding her with a hawk-like stare, like a predator watching his prey’s every move. Sharky joked that John “has a hard on” for her… well, he was joking, right?

In turn, John’s piercing eyes wandered her up and down, her lips being a focal point of the attention, and, occasionally, they flickered onto the appendages on her back every now and then. He took his sweet time admiring how being bathed in the moonlight somehow made her appear even more heavenly and beautiful than she already was. At last the blue jewels settled on her eyes once more.

Sera, on the other hand, couldn’t help but shrink in his hold while he was gawking at her as if lost in thought. He was gazing at her, probably, as if she were a “divine gift from god”, as he made a point of telling her the first time they’d caught her.

There was a look in his eyes, a cluttered chaos consisting of so many emotions, they gave everything away; Sadness, awe, need and… Sera swallowed harshly. Want. The smile ever-present too. She took a deep breath to steady herself while wishing she could simply disappear from the face of the earth.

“Seriously, what’s it gonna take for you to put me down?” Sera made a point of not looking at him. She knew though, he wasn’t going to let her be. She wasn’t sure why she kept trying to convince him. Maybe hope.

“Oh, trying to negotiate now, are we?” John humored her but, of course, he had no intention of bargaining with her. He only had one goal in mind; To have her tucked away with him back at his Ranch.

The wind picked up slightly and she started to shiver. She wondered if the cold night air and her soaked jeans were the only cause of her shivering… or if John had a part in that too. Probably. Nonetheless, despite her dignity being almost non-existent at this point, she continued to plead with him.

“Come on now… just let me g-go please. There is nothing I have than you could w-want, I’m just a freak, just let me g- “

“Nonsense,” John cut her off. “You’re a shivering mess and you’ll get sick or freeze to death wearing only that top of yours. Silk does look stunning on you my dear, just as I knew it would, of course, but it’s not the weather to be wearing so little in.”

Just as he had spoken the words a stark cold breeze blew past them and Sera immediately reacted, and with dignity out of the window, she virtually threw herself at John’s chest and buried herself there in sheer desperation. God, this was embarrassing but lord if she wasn’t freezing. She cursed John.

Her wings followed suit and tried to fold over her as well as they could to, contain what little warmth she had left, which, at this point, was next to nothing.

John barked out a laugh at this, too delighted with the situation for her liking.

“You see what I mean?” he lectured her triumphally. He let out a short chuckle and silently thanked the weather for proving his point to her. He turned around began marching towards the shore, completely unaffected by the cold weather or his drenched pants, where trucks were parked and the handful of peggies were waiting for their herald. She was so lost in thought before all this, just appreciating the lake and night sky, she didn’t even hear the trucks or John come up behind her before it was too late. It was embarrassing to think about how easy it had been for him to simply scoop her up. She would have decked him if she had the strength. But being reminded of the peggies by the trucks and the thought of being “put to sleep” made her hesitate. She had tried to run from them several times and was successful in her last attempt. Well, until now.

“No matter, I’ll be taking you home again. Where it’s warm, cozy and, most importantly, where you’ll be safe. Your so-called “friends”, sinners the lot of them, won’t be able to help you like we can.” Like I can, he meant. “It is the will of the Father that you’ll be protected at all costs.” He expressed with the utmost confidence.

He stopped in his tracks and looked down her with an intensity that made her breath get stuck in her throat.

“Because a gift like you, Seraphina, needs to be protected!” he stated while that look in his eyes from before returned. He made a point of, once again, tightening his already firm grip on her, to the point where it almost hurt.

Sera tore her eyes away from his too intense gaze, and opted to look down her hands as she was pressed firmly against him. She loathed the way he looked at her. The peggies, on the other hand, beheld her with what seemed admiration and amazement, but John? Oh boy, it went much deeper with him. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t frighten her.

When she didn’t say anything, John took her silence as compliance and continued his way towards the trucks, happy knowing he wouldn’t have to put her under for the trip home; where she belonged.

Sera was too cold and worn-out to be able think of a response for his bullcrap, but her pride left her unable to allow John having the final say.

“It’s not my home…” She finally responded hollowly and quietly. Oh, how she wished she could just fly off.

John didn’t falter in his steps, simply smiled down at her, ever the confident he was, and pressed a kiss at the top of her head. He didn’t even react when Sera tried to recoil from the unwanted affection. He simply replied:

“It will be. In time.” 

---

Should I continue this? 👀💕 

[betsynagler]

The Four (Thousand, New) Questions

When I was growing up, I didn't really have to think too much about what it meant to be a Jewish American. A large part of that was living in New Jersey, where being a member of the tribe isn’t exactly an anomaly. In Newark, pretty much all of my friends were Jewish or Black, until I spent 2nd grade in Catholic School. You’d think that might make it weird, but even then, it wasn’t. All my new friends just had Irish and Italian names, and I got to sit in the back during mass and read, which is the dream of every second grader. And when we moved to the suburbs, things became, if anything, more Jewy. We joined Temple Israel and actually tried going to services every once in a while, and I went to Hebrew school on Saturdays. At my suburban public grade school, I learned the term “Jappy” something my friends and I called other girls that we considered spoiled, regardless of whether or not they were Jewish, and in junior high, the school bus that came from the most wealthy, Jewish neighborhood in town was sometimes referred to as “The Jew Canoe.” Who did we learn these terms from? Other Jews. We were the ones trading in the laughable stereotypes, because that’s American Jewish culture all over: we joke because we can. It’s never been in doubt in my lifetime that we belong here, to the degree that we are comfortable poking fun at ourselves, enough that while we are very aware that we aren’t and will never be the majority — and if you forget that, you always have the 30 to 60 days of Christmas to remind you — we are perfectly okay with that; and enough to feel safe in the knowledge that the past is the past, because in the Tri-State Area in the 1970s and 80s, anti-Semitism was about as real to me as Star Wars: something that existed long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away. The same thing with Nazis. Nazis were the movie villains nobody got upset about. Nobody ever said, “Why do the Nazis always have to be the bad guys?” Why? Because they were the bad guys. 

That doesn’t mean that my Jewish identity was 100% uncomplicated, mostly because I was raised to figure stuff out for myself. Mine were the kind of parents who took us to fancy restaurants and said, “Want to order the escargot? Have at it!”, perhaps not realizing that they’d end up with a seven-year-old who liked to try every appetizer on the menu but had a stomach the size of a golfball – which led to my parents gaining weight in the 70s, which led to their joining the exercise craze in the 80s...See how history happens? Being able to make my own decisions meant I could quit Hebrew school after one year (I was already a well-practiced quitter of stuff I didn't like, such as wearing dresses and learning the violin). I felt a little guilty about it, so I was definitely Jewish in that way, but one of the reasons I couldn’t get behind religious school was the fact that Judaism was supposedly my religion, but – go figure – our family was not religious. My parents don’t agree on which type of not-religious they are, since my mother describes herself as an atheist and my father calls himself an agnostic, but that’s only if you push them, since neither of them cares enough about it either way. They still identify as Jewish, and therein lay the confusion for me: Judaism is kind of an ethnic identity as well as a religion, but in a weird way, because you can convert to it, which you can’t do with, say, Slavic, and because it’s not one where we all come from one specific place, since Jews were basically driven out of everywhere. Sure, my family were all driven out of one country, Poland, but that didn’t exactly make them feel Polish. No, we were definitely Jews, just the secular kind, which is actually a thing — although I didn’t know anyone else like that in high school, the result being that in my group of friends, a mix of Jews and non-Jews, I was in my own category of Jewish, But Doesn’t Know When Any of the Holidays Are.

When I went to college on the West Coast, where I was meeting new people all the time, it was common for people tell me I didn’t “look Jewish,” which seemed to just fit right in with every other confusing part of my Jewish identity. You might think that, as a stealth Jew, I’d finally be privy to negativity about us, but that never happened. That was around the time of the rise of the religious right, and there were a lot of born-again Christians at Stanford, my freshman dorm was full of them. But while they may have believed I was going to hell, most of them still seemed happy to hang with me while we were alive – one of them even took me out for fro yo once (that’s short for “frozen yogurt,” and eating it together at Stanford in 1987 was called “dating”). If anything, being Jewish around them was an advantage, because they never tried to rebirth me the way they did other Christians, like my poor freshman roommate – I would come back to our room to find her surrounded by a group of them, looking uncomfortable, like she was getting hit on by Jesus. Mind you, I know now that my school was a liberal bubble inside the liberal bubble that was Northern California, and that protected me from a lot of things. But while we were definitely dealing with racism and sexism on campus at the time, anti-Semitism? That just wasn’t a thing.

Neither was being a Jewish person who didn’t support Israel. I didn’t know all that much about Israel growing up. I knew that it was the Jewish state, where I had once had some relatives, and that my cousins and eventually my brother — who finished Hebrew school — went to visit because they felt like it was an important way to learn about who they were. I didn’t. But when, in college, I had my first conversation with someone who’d lived in Israel about the way that Israelis felt this constant existential threat to their existence that justified their defensive posture when it came to negotiating peace with the Palestinians, even though they clearly had vast military superiority, I didn’t necessarily agree, but I got it. I understood why Israelis felt that, in a visceral, six-million-dead-just-because-they-were-like-you way that I think most non-Jews can’t. 

That was probably as much of a surprise to me as it was to anyone: that, on some level, in spite of not looking Jewish, or being able to speak Hebrew, or knowing what Sukkot was (if it wasn’t about eating or presents, it didn’t make it into the Nagler Canon of Holidays), I actually still somehow just was Jewish. And that part of my identity might never have really sunk in if I hadn’t become a New Yorker. Moving here didn’t just mean that I discovered Zabars, or that I was a bagel snob, or that I would be able to have lox at catering pretty much every day (and occasionally take some home if it was really good), although those things did indeed happen. New York was able to absorb and assimilate Jewish culture in a way that allowed it to flourish as one distinct flavor of the whole that is this city of many flavors. New York is a Jewish city – in same way that it’s also Italian, Irish, African-American, Puerto Rican, Chinese, Russian, Indian, Dominican, Pakistani, Caribbean, Mexican, and the list goes on depending on who’s arrived recently and who’s coming next. And so, from the way I relate to food, to my sense of humor, to my analytical and intellectual side, to how forthright/tactless I can be, to my overall worldview: living here enabled me to recognize that I just wouldn’t be this way if I weren’t Jewish.

Everything feels different in 2019 in so many, surreal ways, but what exactly it means to be Jewish in America is definitely a big one. I’ve felt some vulnerability and uncertainty as a woman for most of my life, as you do, but I’ve never felt that way about being a Jew until now. To the point that I can’t call myself “a Jew” any more, because suddenly, that’s an epithet. How the hell did that happen? When did we allow them to take that word away? Then there’s the realization of, Wait, we can’t make those jokes any more because there are people who actually still think that shit about us? And they’re telling other people? Fucking internet. Add to that the fault lines within the American Jewish community over Israel and the ground really starts to feel like it’s swaying under your feet. How much we should continue to support this country that seems increasingly unrecognizable to me, that is so racked by fear and sectarianism that it appears to have given up on peace and democracy, that votes for a leader who has demonstrated time and again that he is both racist and corrupt? Well, now that I’ve put it like that, okay, maybe this is something that Israel and the United States have in common right now, but that doesn’t make it any better for those of use who are trying to stay on the sane side of it all. I’m lucky that most of my family is in agreement with me on these issues, but my mother has some cousins with whom she is close that she had to ask to stop sending her political emails, because their conservative views about Israel seemed to have somehow spread to abortion and immigration, despite that fact that they live in San Francisco. Jewish Trump supporters? From the Bay Area? What the hell is the going on?! Come on, this can’t be us. When an audience at the Republican Jewish Coalition cheers when Trump says “Our country’s full. You can’t come in,” don’t they hear the eerie echos of what the American government said to the boats full of Jews they sent back to be slaughtered in the holocaust? Don’t they know that we are supposed to be sharp, and educated, and fucking liberals? Oh, wait, is “liberal” now a bad word not just among conservatives but for some on the left too, as in the “liberal elite who control everything” that they’re always talking about? But, double wait, wasn’t that just another way anti-Semites used to say “the Jews” without saying “the Jews”? But triple wait, aren’t Bernie Sanders and Glenn Greenwald Jewish? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Of course, this about when all of your older Jewish relatives shake their heads at all of this and say, “See? This is exactly the shit always happens to us. Somehow, when things go bad in the world, and people start believing crazy conspiracy shit, that always turns back on the Jews.” I never believed that before, so to see it sort of happening right before my eyes is really something. But at the same time, I’m sure as hell not going to let that make me just silo up. Yeah, there are the swastikas, and the Tree of Life synagogue shooting, and “Jews will not replace us,” but can we honestly say we have it worse than everyone else who’s under attack in this country right now? What’s the point of joining a grievance competition that just gives the people who are trying to divide the left exactly what they want? It’s how, when the new questions that confuse and divide us just keep coming — What do we say or not say about Ilhan Omar? What about the schism in the Women’s March? What about the Senate bill that would allow state and local governments to withhold contracts from those who boycott Israel that Chuck Schumer supported? — they just get us to go after each other.

Let’s not do that. Sure, maybe this is just another case of me getting older and less able to accept how the world is changing — sort of a, “Damn Nazis, get off my lawn!” type of thing – and maybe I should just go along with this new normal. But that's one thing I know is definitely not me. MoTs like to talk shit out, sometimes too much, but eh. Let’s bring that tradition of analysis and argument — and I mean the kind where you’re forthright and emotional, but you still know how to listen — to bear on the questions we’re having both on the left and in the Jewish community about how we move forward, instead of fleeing back into our fears from the past.

[collecting-stories]

Resting Grinch Face

A/N: I have two more chapters after this one lol

Christmas Mingle Masterlist

_* ◦ ❅ . ❄︎ * ∙ ◦ . _

Audrey stood at the cash register, enjoying the slowness of the morning before the inevitable rush of people going on lunch breaks or getting off work that would be coming in looking desperately for that one last thing before Christmas. Tucked into space between the till and the counter was her phone, her texts open as she chatted with Jeff while standing there. She'd spent the last five minutes complaining about the smell of popcorn coming from the food counter, enticing but weirdly repulsive too, it was far too early in the morning for popcorn and the fact that she was even craving it was bothering her. 

On the other end of the phone Jeff was battling to get Charlie ready for the bus. The closer it got to Christmas the more reluctant he became to the idea that he needed to go to school. It was the anticipation of the holiday, and the vacation that followed, that had him anxious and excited and too on edge to even attempt focusing on school. 

"You're almost at the finish line bud," Jeff promised as Charlie sat at the kitchen table, pajamas still on because he was refusing to change out of the dinosaur leggings and top that his grandmother had bought him earlier in the year. He wanted to go back to bed or, better yet, go do something Christmasy.

"What about ice skating?" Charlie asked, ignoring his father's attempt at being encouraging without being demanding. 

"We're not going ice skating today. You're going to school." Jeff replied. His phone dinged and he glanced down at the text from Audrey that sat at the top of his screen. 

The constant Christmas playlist loop that Target played seemed into Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree as it's torture device of the day. Audrey had heard it twice, which was twice more than anyone should ever have to hear it. She could hear Cady coming in, loud even at 8:30 in the morning. 

-4 1/2 hours left.-

-Pretty sure you and Charlie are the same person.-

-He also wants to get back in bed and spend the day watching dumb tv shows while drinking wine?-

-Exactly.-

-Kid after my own heart-

Jeff finally succeeded in sending Charlie upstairs to change, ten minutes passed the bus but still in enough time that he wouldn't be totally late for school. Or he shouldn't be, though Jeff was sure that if anyone could find a way to stretch a ten minute task into an hour long one it was his son. 

"I still think that we should go ice skating instead of school!" Charlie called from the top of the stairs, wrapped in his shirt as he tried to yank it over his head. 

"Nice try but it's time for school...you're running late as it is."

"What if I didn't get there late and we did ice skating this weekend?" Compromise seemed to be a natural born talent of Charlie's. Jeff wasn't exactly sure that the ability to compromise was an inherited skill but Hannah had been an expert negotiator. 

"If you can get down here in the next five minutes, ready to go, then we can go ice skating this weekend." Jeff agreed, hardly interested in denying his son any experience of the holiday season. He was truly horrible at ice skating but Charlie had a knack for the activity. At least enough to skate in a circle at the rink and enjoy himself doing so. 

"Can we invite Audrey?" His feet pounded on the stairs as he raced down, fully dressed and brushing his curls down. 

"I will ask her if she wants to come ice skating." Jeff replied. 

He was always so careful with Charlie. Who Charlie talked to, who he spent time with, who he was introduced to, but he had invited Audrey to spend time with them yesterday and here he was agreeing to invite her to go ice skating with them. 

"Tell her I asked!" 

"I will," Jeff promised as he texted Audrey about ice skating with them over the weekend. He didn't want her to think the only times they were going to go out were parties and when Charlie was around but honestly he liked getting to know her around his son. "Now lets go bud, we're late already."

"They should just give us all the month of December off!" Charlie exclaimed, huffing as pulled his backpack on. 

-Charlie wants to know if you'll come ice skating with us this weekend?-

-Ice skating?-

-I promised if he went to school we could-

-Seems like a reasonable trade off honestly- 

-So?-

-I'll be there with bells on.-

"Who're you texting?" Cady asked, coming over to Audrey's line and sitting on the end of the register where the bags were usually handed off. She was still drinking the coffee she'd stopped to get before her shift and she passed off the one that she'd bought Audrey. 

"Jeff." Audrey replied, finishing out the sentence she was writing. "He invited me to go ice skating with him and Charlie this weekend."

"When did you meet his kid?" Interest piqued, Cady leaned forward a little more as she questioned Audrey. 

"Oh my god, I didn't tell you," she laughed, "I was out buying Christmas gifts and ran into Jeff and his son. We ended up spending the day together. It was really nice actually." 

"That's seriously so cute." Cady replied, "So when are you guys going on a non-Charlie date again?"

"The Christmas party for his work is coming up soon and we'll go to that together," Audrey shrugged, checking her phone again to see another text from Jeff. 

"Yeah but that's a party, you need to like, go out. Just the two of you, a dark bar with a corner booth, you and him-"

"Okay, you need to go find somewhere else to be." Audrey laughed. 

She knew Cady only meant well. And she had spent time with him the other night after Charlie fell asleep. Spending time with Jeff felt effortless in a way, like she was just picking up already in a relationship and not going through all the trouble of getting to know him. It was an incredible feeling but one she was trying to be somewhat cautious about. She didn't want to dive in like last time though this didn't feel like last time. 

-

5 Days to Christmas

The temperature in the ice rink was lower than Audrey had expected and the jean jacket she was wearing, despite the thick lining and sherpa collar, did little to actually keep her warm. Her rented skates were hanging from her right hand as she stood by the bench outside the rink, eyes scanning the people milling around as she waited for Jeff and Charlie to show up. They had told her 2:30p but Jeff had texted her after that and told her that they would definitely be closer to 3p. 

"Audrey!" Charlie shouted, his voice carrying across the skating rink as he ran through the crowd to her. 

Jeff's slightly quieter shout for his son followed as he tried to keep up, carrying both his and Charlie's skates in his arms. Audrey waved as they approached, crouching down to hug Charlie, careful of her skates.

"Are you so excited?" Audrey asked him. They took their seats on the bench together, Jeff joining them.

"Yeah, I've been begging to go skating for like, ever."

"If one day counts as forever," Jeff chided, "barely the whole morning."

"Yeah but then you made me wait until the weekend!" 

"Well we're here now, don't wanna lose any time." Audrey replied, watching Jeff help Charlie lace the skates up. She had her own on, ready to get on the ice and only waiting on them as they finished getting themselves together. 

"Come on," Charlie took her hand as he stood, careful of the way the skates made him walk. Audrey walked with him to small door that let them out onto the ice, letting him step through and then stepping through herself. 

"You coming?" She asked, looking back over her shoulder at Jeff. 

He was still sitting on the bench, skates on but unmoving, "you go ahead, I'll catch up." He promised.

"Do you not know how to ice skate?" She asked, leaning on the wall. Charlie stood beside her, just tall enough to gaze over the wall at his dad sitting on the bench. 

"I'm just, relaxing." He insisted.

"We usually go with friends and he always disappears to get coffee." Charlie tattled and Audrey almost burst out in laughter. Before Audrey could say anything Charlie spotted a kid he knew from school, asking if he could say hello and skating off to the other kid. It left Audrey alone with Jeff and she stepped out of the rink, walking over to the bench and sitting down beside him. 

"So? Not a skater?" She asked, leaning against him.

"Not exactly." He laughed, "Charlie's telling the truth, we usually come with his friends so I never have to show off my terrible skills." 

"Well, I'm practically Kristy Yamaguchi out there so how about I help?"

"Oh yeah? On your way to the olympics?" Jeff joked, allowing her to help him up. 

"I turned it down to come here and teach you how to ice skate," she replied. 

He wasn't sure if there were more people on the ice or more people milling about off the ice but either way he felt ridiculous as Audrey held his hands, skating slowly backward as she helped him make a first loop around the ice rink. Charlie passed them twice with his friends, waving to his dad as he whizzed by, not deterred in the least. 

"He obviously didn't learn how to skate from me." Jeff said as Charlie looped them again. 

"He learned how not to skate from you." 

They took two more laps around the rink together before Jeff decided that he was best on actual solid ground and came off the ice, heading back to the bench he'd been at before. Audrey took her skates off, standing and holding her hand out for Jeff's, "I'll return them."

When she came back she handed him a cup of coffee, one of her own in her other hand. She sat down beside him, looking out to the rink, her eyes scanning the people zipping passed as she looked for Charlie. She caught a glimpse of his dark curls peeking out from a red knit cap, watching as he got closer and she waved at him. 

"I was thinking about signing him up for ice hockey in January." Jeff mentioned as he waved to his son.

"Does he like hockey?" Audrey asked, "I was never one for sports as a kid. Wish I had been sometimes but I was pretty uncoordinated."

"He played soccer for a little last year but he got bored, might be the same with this but it's always worth a try." Jeff shrugged. "He actually took an art class for kids in the summer that he really enjoyed. So that might be more up his alley."

"Doesn't hurt to try." Audrey replied. She had started and quit enough things in her life that she knew the statement to be only half true but it didn't matter, Charlie was seven and the sentiment meant very little for a seven year old. 

"What are you doing tonight?" Jeff asked, "it's nothing special but we're having spaghetti for dinner, if you're interested."

"I am always interested in carbs, trust me." Audrey laughed. "But yeah, I'd love to come over for dinner." 

"Alright."

Audrey found herself in a situation similar to the one she'd been in at her apartment a few nights back, Charlie asleep (though this time in his own bed), while she and Jeff shared a bottle of wine in the living room. She sat with her knee under her, the other leg off the couch, as she faced Jeff, listening to him talk about work. 

"What made you decide to work as a teacher?" She asked. 

"I had some really great teachers of my own and I've always been interested in teaching older students." He replied, taking a sip of his wine. 

"I don't think I could handle a bunch of kids...even ones in their twenties." She admitted, thinking of herself at that age. 

"Sometimes it's tough." He said, "I thought you were looking at that position at the elementary school anyway."

"Okay, kids Charlie's age I can handle...it's like, all those other ages I'm like 'no thanks', you know?" 

The movie that was playing in the background was some Christmas special on Netflix, almost entirely forgotten as Audrey and Jeff sat talking together. She felt comfortable talking to him, like there was little that she couldn't say and be understood. When they'd gone out the first night she had thought that the feeling of comfort was only there because he seemed so easily charming but the more time she allowed herself to spend getting to know him the more she realized that things seemed to be working themselves out in a way that left her skepticism and reservations with little to complain about. 

"Charlie was showing me the ornaments on the tree," Audrey commented, her eyes straying to the towering balsam in front of the window. She had been sure that Charlie had chosen the largest tree in the world for her living room but seeing the one that occupied Jeff's living space she was convinced her's was maybe the tenth largest. "I told him I could probably show him how to make the paper origami stars."

"He would love that." Jeff replied, glancing over at the tree himself and finding one of the stars sitting right near the bottom, "Hannah made them our first christmas together. It took her weeks to figure out the folds."

"They've stayed in really good condition." 

"Oh yeah, they have their own special box, Charlie is very careful with them." There were other ornaments he worried less about. Funny Hallmark ones that had been chosen by Charlie over the years or sets that his mom had bought from different stores when she was convinced his tree needed "a little something extra" but those ornaments, that Hannah had spend so much of her time on, he kept safe. 

"You know I was convinced my tree was enormous." She finally said, turning to look back at Jeff and propped her elbow on the back of the couch. 

-

4 Days to Christmas

When she worked for the art store, the owner had always hosted a small party for the holidays. It usually fell somewhere between Chanukah and Christmas, just a little dinner at their home to thank the few workers they employed for their service, always ending in a White Elephant. It was nice, quiet, and, even when she was married, she had always gone alone. The art store had felt like it was her thing, separate from him, and she'd always felt odd inviting him. The Christmas party that Target hosted wasn't a party at all. Just a line of employees on lunch break or in on their day off, waiting to get a bag lunch, a few coupons for the Chick-Fil-A down the road, and a gift card to the store. Audrey had to stand there in uniform while the manager checked her name off the roster. 

She and Cady ended up spending the $25 that same day, shopping after they clocked out. Cady bought yoga clothes, giving an unconvincing speech about actually working out this year, and Audrey spent hers on a lego set that Charlie had told her he wanted. 

"You're buying his kid Christmas presents?" 

"Yes, Cady," Audrey rolled her eyes. She could already hear her best friend's response formulating as she continued, "we're 'seeing where this goes', we're going to keep dating after Christmas."

"I told you the app worked." Cady insisted, proud of herself for coming out the victor in their squabble about meeting someone online. 

"Okay." Audrey's agreement sounded more condescending than she intended as she juggled a sweater dress and the lego set in his arms, walking to the self-checkout. 

When Jeff asked her to go to his faculty party with him she hadn't hesitated to say yes. Part of the agreement was, basically, attending parties together. After all, she had dragged him to Cady's 'Yeehaw Christmas' and he had been a good sport, even when she made him do a shot of peppermint vodka. But she hadn't anticipated feeling so out of place here. At least at Cady's, even when she did feel like she was somewhere she didn't belong, there was some level of comfort behind the butterflies in her stomach. Cady was her best friend, committing to a holiday house party was part of that friendship. 

This was different though. Made up of the English department primarily, the party had attracted a few History and Education professors as well. A nice party at someone's house was not the same as a house party. The woman who was hosting had an actual bar cart with pricey hard liquor and even pricier wines. Her home was impeccable and Audrey felt terribly awkward standing by the Christmas tree with Jeff, listening to him talk to a co-worker. 

It wasn't anything but her own insecurities that made her wish she could sink down into the carpeted floor and hide beneath the tree. She looked down at the plush rug beneath her stocking feet, the smallest of smiles crossing her lips as she noticed the fluffy white cat that was making itself at home on the tree skirt. Unbothered by the guests or the Christmas music that was being piped in from the record player. She  heard the man Jeff was talking to excuse himself to get a drink and she touched her date's arm to get his attention. 

"That is the cutest cat I've ever seen," she whispered, leaning in close to him but not taking her eyes off the cat. 

"His name is Gizmo, her son loves Gremlins and they got him a few years ago at Christmas." Jeff replied, looking down at the cat as he shifted positions on the tree skirt, rolling onto his back and then changing his mind and resuming the position he was in. 

"I always wanted to get a cat but I didn't wanna  be the girl with the cat living alone, ya know?" Audrey said. Her and Chris had talked about  getting a pet before she left but she never wanted to commit to an animal. She'd thought, at the time, that maybe she just wasn't an animal person but now she thought she  just didn't want the emotional baggage of having to leave behind a pet. Alone, she had felt like getting a cat made her seem sort of cliche though she'd always  wanted one. 

"I'll buy you a cat for Christmas." Jeff teased, kissing the side of her head, his glassed bumping against the bun she had her hair tied back in. 

Audrey looked up at him and smiled, "that's right, I have you now, I'm not technically alone with a cat." 

"Just to make sure we're clear, this future cat is yours only."

"You say that. Wait till Charlie hears about my cat." Audrey replied. 

-

The  staff party went relatively the same as Cady's had. Jeff and Audrey cut out of the party early, him apologizing and making up some excuse about needing to get home to Charlie. His mom was watching her grandson again and Jeff knew that by this hour Charlie had most likely worn himself out enough that he was fast asleep. At least, to the point that he invited Audrey back to his house for coffee, confident that his son wouldn't interrupt any more time with her.

"The babysitter might be inclined to stay since you're here but I'll try to get rid of her," Jeff said as he walked them up the sidewalk to the row home that he owned. There were old fashioned bulb lights that outlined the porch and the walkway, a wreath hanging from the door and a few light up characters in the tiny front lawn. 

"Is that an abominable snowman and a narwhale?" Audrey asked, squeezing his hand so he would stop walking long enough for her to get a good look at the lawn.

Jeff hummed, "Charlie wanted to choose the decorations two years ago and those are what she chose."

"They're adorable." She laughed. 

Aside from the sound of the TV in the living room, Candace Cameron Bure attempting to sell her intended boyfriend  on the idea of Christmas, the house was quiet. Jeff flicked on the light in the entryway, calling out to his mom to let her know that he was back from the party he'd gone to. Just like that the TV shut off and the sound of footsteps padded through the small house as the older woman appeared in the doorway of the living room. It took her a moment to register the woman standing next to her son but when she did she smiled coyly. 

"You must be Audrey," it had taken more prying than she thought necessary to get Audrey's name out of Jeff. He referred to her over and over as his date until finally telling his mom her name. Even Charlie had been sworn to secrecy. 

"Yeah," she nodded, "nice to meet you." Audrey went to shake her hand but Jeff's mom cut her off, hugging her. Glancing at Jeff briefly, Audrey hugged the shorter woman back quickly before pulling away. 

"Goodnight mom." Jeff said pointedly, attempting to communicate silently that he wanted her to leave. 

Not that she took the hint at all. "Oh I don't have anywhere to be." She replied, waving her hand at Jeff as she walked into the kitchen, "are you having coffee."

"I see where Charlie gets his persistence." Audrey teased, looking back at Jeff over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen. 

He sighed, kicking his shoes off and heading into the kitchen after the two women, already hearing his mother beginning in on questioning Audrey. He came into the room, walking up behind Audrey where she had taken a seat on the stool at the island. She turned to look at him when she felt his hands on the back of the barstool, knuckles brushing her back over the knit sweater dress she was wearing. 

"Your mom asked if I was coming to the Christmas dinner she's having? I told her I'd be there, leave you at home though." Audrey teased, smiling at him. 

"I appreciate that, really." He laughed. "Don't you think you should head home mom?"

"And what are you gonna do when Audrey needs to leave? Make her walk cause no one will be here to watch Charlie."

"Oh, I can just grab an uber." She promised, turning back to look at Jeff's mom.

"An uber? At this hour?" His mom scoffed, "Jeffrey."

"It's fine really," Audrey repeated though his mom was determined not to hear any argument about the matter.