#hide your bald caps im coming

[plutoswritingplanet]

Strip Me Down And Paint Me Black (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: ah shit, here we go again... A continuation of "It's A Special Death You Saved", but it can be read as a separate story. Title from "Cinnamon" by Marika Hackman

Warnings: Harkonnen-typical Violence, some Sexual Tension, some Kissing, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers to Enemies to Lo...

Summary: As you struggle with your new role as the Na-Baron's wife, plans are set in place, which will shake the very foundations of your life. Good thing, your husband is there to support you, right?

He watches you. Constantly. 

You can feel his eyes moving over your body, soaking it in like a man parched. Every movement, every twitch of your muscles is noted, stored for later. It's like he's keeping a detailed record of your every reaction, as if he wants to keep it catalogued, create a mold of you in his mind. The furrowing of your brows and the squinting of your eyes, when the Black Sun of Giedi Prime first hits your vision. How your skin turns completely gray, devoid of any color, as you take your first step off the travelling ship. 

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze, refusing to meet it, as your eyes adjust to the sheer force of the swallowing black light. 

Touch is scarce and almost revered, when he lifts his hand to inspect a curl of your hair, the strand sliding between his fingers. He raises it towards the sun, admires it with silent appreciation, and somehow, instead of touching the softer parts of your being, this small gesture makes you want to scream. Because you know.

You understand, that this is what he wants to see. Black and white, and empty. No trace of the color before, only the bleakness and brutality of the Harkonnen. And you refuse, plain and simple. You refuse to be stuffed into this unforgiving planet, expected to bed yourself over to fit it. You value your Atreides lineage more than anything in life, and you'll sooner die, than discard it. 

No matter, how delicate he has been since your first night together, how much the heat of his alabaster skin has brought you comfort, you can feel in the pit of your stomach. That this is all some elaborate rouse to keep you docile. To keep you a perfect image of a wife, the future Na-Baroness. It can't be anything else, surely. 

So even now, as you admire the strangeness of this new planet, the blooming light that envelopes your skin, you force yourself to be on guard. Even as you look up at him, his sharp features and soft eyes, you bite down on any affection that might've reared its ugly head to the surface. This is not your home, and despite the ceremonies and the titles, this was not your husband. He was an impostor, a Devil sent from the Emperor himself to destroy your life. 

His lips flash in a mirthless smile, when his eyes lock with yours. The blackened teeth, the stained gums, you hated that mouth with all your being. You hated that it fit against yours, and that it didn't repulse you quite as much as you would've anticipated. And you hated his hands. The same ones capable of such ruthless brutality, and also more than capable of soothing your sore muscles, of toying with a lock of your hair, as if your entire being was made of the finest, most delicate glass.

A small, barely coherent voice whispers in your mind, reminding you of the rustling of the leaves when wind picked up, back home. You can't live like this, it supplies, you can't survive on hate alone. 

But you've always been stubborn, like a bull. And as his hand slides down to the dip of your waist, as he leads you from the spaceship to the shuttle, and then to the Palace, hate is all you can focus on. The swallowing pit of your stomach, much like the swallowing heat of the sun above you. It expands and pulsates within your veins, as your husband parades you like a prized trophy. Bald, white heads turn, salute the both of you, dissapear in a crowd of similar faces, similar blackened stares. 

It's like you're surrounded by an army of ghosts.

- Welcome home, wife - he whispers into your ear, and you don't know how you manage to stop tears from springing in your eyes. 

Not home. Never home. Your home had trees and oceans, and your Mother, your Father and your perfect Brother. Your home had Duncan, with his warm embrace and little scars littered all across his honey-colored skin. Your home had a sun that is warm and welcoming, that brings vibrancy to your life, and doesn't wash everything out, doesn't swallow all beauty. 

The clothes you wear, the clothes he wants you to wear, are nothing like what you're used to. They make your body feel foreign, like an accessory more than your own flesh. You hate the feeling of the sheer fabric clinging to your skin, like some suffocating membrane. The heavy jewelry, which reminds you more and more of a slave's collar. He put it on you with his own hands. Delicately fitting it around your neck, caressing it with the calloused pads of his fingers, a proud expression decorating his sharp featured like a war medal. 

You wonder what he sees, when he looks at you. Are your sentiments shared? Does he see you, as you see yourself, a doll dressed for his entertainment? A wife, should the politics require it? You're sure he does, there is no other way to describe the pitiful reflection in the mirror. Perhaps, in time, you might be able to fight back some semblance of dignity, to find a way of embracing these strange fabrics. Make this cold metal feel more like a necklace for a Baroness, rather than collar for cattle. Perhaps. 

Right now, however, as his Harpies dress you, you feel less like yourself and more like a toy, for your husband to enjoy. They can't really pin your hair properly, and you don't blame them, you really can't. When's the last time they were forced to care for someone in such a manner, if they ever were? Today, they're extra zealous, rubbing your skin raw with the chemically smelling oils. It makes your head swim, the scent of some unfamiliar paste. Your eyes water, and before you can blink the tears away, one of the Harpies soaks it up right from the corner of your eye with some flimsy tissue. 

She places the wet part against her tongue, and surprisingly, it doesn't bother you, as she tastes your tears, watching your reaction with completely black eyes. You meet her stare with a blank expression. At this moment, as she begins to slide another piece of sheer fabric over your body, you can't think of a way to be afraid of her, or her companion, which is fitting a pair of leather slippers over your feet. What lies ahead is so much more terrifying.

The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen has invited you for dinner. 

The news is delivered by a horrified servant, bald head bowed, seconds after you arrive in your marital room. Your husband doesn't even blink, immediately shedding his travel clothing, and disappearing somewhere out of your sight. The Harpies swarm into the room soon after, carrying various vials and bowls, and you already know the routine. 

The prospect of dining with your family's greatest enemy seems so outlandish, your body doesn't fully register the danger. Instead, you can feel yourself shut down, sink into yourself, between the constant expanding and contracting of your lungs, and the sound of your blood rushing through your skull. 

Only, when one of the Harpies turns you towards a polished piece of black obsidian, only when you can finally see yourself, do you react. A barely-there gasp escapes your mouth, because for the second time today, you're surprised with the brutal beauty of this place, and how easily you blend into it. The Harpy leans over your shoulders, stands on her toes to reach you, and before you can react, her teeth scrape over the shell of your ear. 

It doesn't hurt, and you turn your head towards her, faces inches from each other. Her head turns to the side, like some curious bird, and yet again, you can't fully decide whether you're looking at a human being, or some animalistic experiment. Your hand lifts itself on its own accord, fingers finding the Harpy's chin. Gently, but with enough force, you turn her face away from yourself. She doesn't recoil from your touch, doesn't react in any violent manner. If anything, her expression in the obsydian mirror looks almost bordering on proud. You try not to shiver at the thought. 

Then, your husband appears from the shadows, truly demon-like, and the women, or creatures, scurry out of the room, vials clanking against each other, as they gather them in their muscled arms. For just a second you're struck with the realization, that you miss their company, unsettling as it is.

- Don't be afraid of them - those are the first words coming from Feyd-Rautha you've heard since you've arrived. 

- I'm not - and truly, you mean it. 

He regards you with a long, dragging look, taking in the layers of fabric encapsulating the shape of your body. It's truly a hassle, to stop yourself from flinching, when the length of his body presses against your back. His chin finds purchase in the juncture between your shoulder and the column of your neck, and his head dips down to inhale the scent of your skin. You can't believe he's able to smell anything other than the strong chemicals his Harpies rubbed into you, but you don't argue. Instead, you sway in his hold, closing your eyes, and letting your imagination take you somewhere warmer, somewhere home. 

- I need you to be very careful tonight - he whispers into your skin, and you almost whine at being forced out of your daydream - My Uncle doesn't take kindly to insubordination, and although you are my wife, I won't be able to protect you from everything. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his skin, white and spotless, pressing into yours, marred with freckles and beauty spots. What a contrast you make against him. His mouth moves over your artery, nose dragging upwards, until he reaches the space behind your ear. He plants a kiss there, which immediately turns into a small bite, and your hands grip onto his forearms. 

- Careful, you sound almost concerned about my well-being - there's a limited amount of sarcasm one could convey with such a breathless tone, but you manage, eyes locked onto the silhouette of the both of you in the mirror. 

To that, he lifts his head, eyes locking with yours in the reflection. 

- I don't like when others break my toys - he answers with a shrug, and laughs quietly at your outraged expression. - I prefer to do it myself. 

Your muscles tense beneath his grip, and you turn to face him fully. Still, he doesn't let go, holding you close, smirking at you with that same self-satisfied expression. 

- Oh don't worry - your cheeks start to warm up at the teasing tone of his voice - I haven't even had the time to properly play with you.

- I ha-

- Hate me, I know. - he interrupts, one of his hands coming up to grab at your chin, tilting your head towards him - Tonight, try to hate me in the privacy of our bedroom. For your own sake.

His head dips down, lips slotting against yours easily, and although you fight hard against the pull, soon, your mouth moves against his in a kiss that is entirely too gentle for the nature of your relationship. He whispers something in that godawful Harkonnen language, tilting his chin to kiss the corner of your mouth, your jaw. Then, satisfied, he lets you go, and you encircle yourself with your own arms, refusing to admit, that you're cold without him. 

Making a mental note to ask for tutorship on the language, you allow him to lead you out of the safety of your shared bedroom, down the winding, black corridors, towards your first, and biggest challenge. 

- With courage and grandiose... - you whisper, as the door to the dining hall slides open, and ignore with all your might, the way your husband's hand twitches around your waist. 

The first member of the court you meet, is not the Baron. 

Instead, a man of slender stature comes out to greet the both of you, a polite smile plastered on his tattooed lips. His eyes flicker between you and your husband, and absentmindedly, they remind you of little black beetles. 

- Piter de Vries - he introduces himself, grabbing your hand with graceful movement - Mentat of the court. 

He places a kiss over your knuckles, and something scarily close to disgust rises in your gut. 

- The holotapes don't reflect your beauty, my lady - his voice is unsettlingly quiet, and it worms itself into your ears like an unwelcome guest. 

Still, your husband's thumb moves against your back, rubbing up and down your spine, and you swallow thickly before replying.

- I'm honored to meet you.

He can see through the lie like you're made of glass, but you can't find it in you to care. This is not the man you're supposed to convince, and even if this Mentat is a constant whisper in the Baron's ear, let him know there's character to you still. 

- I assure you, the honor is mine - his eyes glide over your features greedily, and you wonder if this hunger is a characteristic of all inhabitants of this planet - It's not everyday you meet Lady Jessica's Daughter. 

Blood freezes in your veins at the comment, and not even the ever-present touch of your husband can stop your expression from changing. Ice and steel overtake, as you fix the Mentat in front of you with a hard stare. There is something in his gaze, something slimy and dangerous, that makes a pit form in your stomach. Still, tied to court's intricate pleasantries, you twist your face into a forced smile. 

- You know my Mother? - the question slips out from between your teeth.

The man nods, a perverted version of a curtsy that makes you want to turn on your heel, and haul yourself back into your room. Damn your husband and all the uncomfortable ways he makes you squirm, you'll take it all if it meant never talking to this Mentat ever again. 

- In a way - the answer does nothing to calm your nerves - Her talents are known throughout the whole galaxy. 

- Yes, I'm sure they are - the barely noticable note of sarcasm some how registers in your husband's brain, and with a guiding hand, he pushes you forward, towards the dining hall.

Before you can get away from the Mentat, his unnaturally cold hand wraps itself around your wrist, keeping you in place with light pressure. 

- I'm desperately interested in what you may offer the court - he says, voice low and bordering on ominous, and the pit in your stomach trurns into a boulder.

Lips curling in disgust, you wrench your hand away, but as you wind your palm back to deliver a slap across the smirking man's face, something white enters your vision. From behind your back, Feyd Rautha delivers a resounding hit to the Mentat's cheek, with enough force to send him stumbling to the floor. Your mouth hangs agape, as that same hand curls around your waist, and pushes forward, until you're forced to take a step, and then another. 

Whipping your head around to look at him, all you can see, is that same passively bored expression he has worn, since your arrival to the planet. Not even a muscle twitches, not until the door closes behind you in the dining hall. Eyes trained forward, the hand guiding you slides up your spine right to the base of your head, where he grabs a loose fistful of your hair, and pries you away from him, setting your face forward. 

Like a doll, your mind supplies, but all further thoughts get swallowed by a thundering wave of anxiety, as your eyes fall onto the only other man present in the dining hall. 

You can't fully comprehend where the floor ends and the walls begin, the whole room looking more like an endless void of black, polished stone. The table is obscenely long, but narrow, and filled with various foods, none of which you recognize. Your breath catches, as you notice a macabre center piece right in the middle of the table. A beautiful female deer stands surrounded by black flowers, it's limbs kept immobile by some invisible force. It's eyes move though, skittering around the place, revealing that this poor creature used as some messed up decoration, is in fact alive. 

- Welcome, my dear nephew - a low, slightly slurred voice rings out throughout the empty space, and finally, you can feel real dread. 

- Uncle. - Feyd Rautha inclines his head, before all but pushing you forward into the belly of the beast.

And what a terrifying belly it is. 

The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen towers over the end of the table, his frame as difficult to comprehend as the rest of the dining hall. He smiles at your husband, a show of black teeth against greying skin, and then his eyes move towards you. He doesn't hide the cruel, twisted expression, that flashes across his face, contorted in the low, floating lights. Then, as if a mask slipped onto him while you were blinking, he looks decievingly kind, like an image of a caretaker, distorted in a nightmare. 

- Lady Atreides - his voice bellows, and despite every muscle in your body screaming at you to run, you take a step forward, before taking a shallow bow - A spitting image of your Father. I'm delighted to have you here, on my planet. 

Swallowing hard, you risk a glance at your husband. He has abandoned you in favor of taking a seat in the only one of two available chairs. Blue eyes flash towards you, a hidden warning, and dare you say, a hint of concern. The deer on the table is breathing rapidly, you've just noticed. 

- My Baron - your voice doesn't shake, a small blessing - I'm honored to meet you. 

The rehearsed line seems hallow in the booming echo of the dining room, and you pray that it's enough. 

The Baron gives you no answer, as he wordlessly gestures towards the table, and after a second your body jerks in the direction of the chair. With stiff movements, you sit down, your dress digging uncomfortably under your ribs. The deer looks at you, it's eyes wide, nose contracting rapidly as it inhales. You want to grab it into your hands, tear it away from the force keeping it trapped, and set it free, so it can run into the fields of Caladan. Your husband takes a long sip from his chalice, and you mirror his movements. 

The liquid is sickly sweet, with a strong, chemical taste that coats your entire mouth. Fighting with the urge to spit it out, your neck strains as you swallow, feeling it travel down your throat, and into the pit of your stomach. 

Are you supposed to be the deer in this place? 

Feyd Rautha reaches for a vase of something vaguely resembling meat, and doesn't bother with his plate, taking the leg into his hand, and biting into it with reckless abandon. Some dark liquid spills over his mouth, down to his chin, and you have to look away, as he captures your gaze in an entirely too heated stare. This is not the time, you want to scream at him, but take another sip from the chalice instead. 

- A monumental moment in history is happening right in front of my eyes - the Baron starts, and your hand freezes half-way towards your lips. - The union of House Harkonnen and House Atreides. The Emperor truly is a wise man. 

- Of course - you agree, tying sarcasm to the back of your throat like an angry dog - I'm ever so grateful.

- I'm sure you are. 

The Emperror wants you dead, there is no other explanation. You can't move, can't look anywhere but the eyes of the deer, seeing yourself in the reflection of it's glossy iris. Save yourself, it seems to scream at you, and your throat constricts around your airwave. Save yourself, because I couldn't.

- Your cousin will be joining us shortly - the Baron directs his gaze towards Feyd-Rautha, and your husband immediately straightens his back against the chair. 

- Rabban? Shouldn't he be on Arrakis? - you don't remember when you've become so in-tune with your husband, but you sense his interest peaking immediately.

Something's wrong, something's terribly wrong, you can feel it. This slow dread climbs up your back like a snake, before sinking it's teeth into your nape. Eyes searching your husband's your fingers tighten around the chalice, around cold, black metal. You try to remember what your Mother would've done in a situation such as this. How she would comfort herself. Fear is the mind-killer, is the only thing that arrives, and the thought is as comforting, as a cold shower.

- By the Emperor's decree, our House has been ordained to leave Arrakis in favor of it's new stewardship.

You know what words are going to fall next, before they fall, and you close your eyes to brace for impact. 

- The stewardship of your Father. Of House Atreides. 

Someone save you, please. Your eyelids flutter open, gaze falling over your husband, as he watches you with a myriad of emotions running through his expression. You pray it doesn't settle on anger, and your prayers are heard. There is a cruel, twisting smirk in the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head to look at his Uncle, with a silent question. The Baron inclines his head ever so slightly, you can see movement in the corner of your eye, but the deer is still breathing, and for some reason you have to keep an eye on it, you have to know it's still alive. 

You are not stupid. You've been trained to not be stupid, in life and in politics. It doesn't take too keen of a mind to understand the gravity of the situation. The steady flow of immense wealth the Harkonnens were known for, is suddenly cut short. Given to a rival House. This was not some beautiful gift of appreciation, this was a stoker shoved right into the burning flames. 

- I'm honored - you repeat, like a bell in a church tower, and somewhere to your left, the Baron laughs. 

- There will be celebrations, later this week - he continues, as if he hasn't just delivered life shattering news - We will honor your marriage in the traditions of our ancestors. 

- Which is? - you don't really care anymore if the shift in your tone is registered as offensive. 

Feyd Rautha actually, without a doubt kicks you under the table. You shoot him a look bordering on pure shock and outrage, and all you get in response is an arched eyebrow. 

Something rattles below you, a tell-tale sound of machinery whirling to life. It gives you only one second to register, but as soon as it does, your heart jumps up into your throat. Paper thin panes of glass shoot out from under the table. The deer gives a pathetic squeak, as it's body is cut into equal pieces. No blood is shed, the whole operation barely moves the air in the dining room, and you watch the life drain from the deer's eyes, as the panes begin to move. 

They separate each piece, creating a cross-section of it's insides. The chemical wine threatens to rush back out of you, and your dig your nails into your palms. Your husbands shoe settles in constant, grounding pressure against your ankle, and although you would never admit it, it's the only thing keeping you from shattering. Whether it's a threat or a promise, you can't be sure, but there is frost in your veins, and fire in your eyes, as you slowly turn your head towards the Baron. 

He's wrong. All of them are wrong. You're not some deer, some lost shivering thing, made for a display of cruelty. You will not be brough down to some decoration, and so, you raise your chin higher, and hold the Baron's gaze. His eyes, gleaming with violent delight, jump around your face, this strange battle coming to a sudden end, as the corner of his mouth quirks up.

He moves his hand in the air dismisively, and your husband stands up, a laziness to his movements. You stand up too, your chair shuffling against the polished floor, stiff limbs fighting for an illusion of graceful movements. Wishing you could drive your point further, you bow again, this time, your eyes remain glued to the black beads of irises, shining in the amassing of flesh that is the Baron's face. 

And then you're off, heels clicking on the floor, as you bypass your husband and all but storm out of the dining hall. He follows you, you can feel his pressence on your back, but there's too many emotions running through your head to find it unsettling. The silence of it all, the calmness. Perhaps you would've preferred if he had been angry with you, if you could pinpoint his reaction, bottle it up to hate it later. 

Right now, you can't do much, other than run to your shared rooms, pretend like they are a solice, a safe space for you to exist, when in reality, they're anything but. The unsettling realization, that you navigate these corridors like a natural born Harkonnen will hit you later today, but as such, you are blinded by your own anger.

 - Did you know? - the question sounds more like a demand, as soon as the door closes behind you.

Back turned, you stand in the middle of the bedroom, finally granting yourself the luxury of outrage. Shoulders rise and fall in tandem with your labored breaths, and your nails have bitten crescent moons into your palms. 

- Yes. - you've anticipated his answer, and still, it shocks you to the very core of your being.

Hair whips around your face, as you turn to face him., strands all but slipping from the inexperienced updo. He holds  your gaze with steady eyes, crosses his arms on his chest, but has the decency of looking on edge. 

- How long?

- The news came right after the engagement began.

That, admittedly, knocks the wind out of your lungs, and you take a step back, until your behind collides with the obsidian desk. Hiding your face in your hands, you rub your palms against your temples, tug at the roots of your hair in the process. 

- So, what now? - you ask, sounding so drained, so tired, you almost don't recognize your voice.

His shoes invade your vision, as he steps closer. Your husband, your Bull. You don't want to look up at his face, scared of what you'll find there. He doesn't share the same sentiment, apparently, as he lifts your chin with his fingers, until you meet him with a withering expression. 

Feyd Rautha leans down, capturing your lips with his. Not really in the mood for kissing, as your head races with a myriad of terrible thought, you push against him. Should've known better, he loves a fight. Tongue slipping through the barrier of your teeth, you can taste the strangely chemical wine on his breath. His hands grab what they can of your body, until they settle on the sides of your face, where he tugs you up onto your tippy toes, taking a drink of you, like he did from the chalice. 

Breathless and confusingly aroused, your fingers twist into the material of his dress shirt, but before you can truly let go, he pulls away. Hands still on your face, you are suddenly pulled forwards, as he drags you in front of the mirror. Thrown off guard by this change of pace, you try to writhe yourself away, only to be gripped even tighter, so hard, you can feel something shift under the skin of your jaw. 

There are dark stains all around your lips, stains that taste just like the wine. Feyd Rautha stands behind you, much like he did before the dinner, but all comfort from that moment is trampled under his foot, as he slides his arms around you. 

- Now, I must make you into a Harkonnen - he rasps into the base of your neck.

Then, reaching towards your lips, he wedges his fingers inside, pulls until you can see your teeth in the reflection. Black, thick liquid covers them completely, staining your mouth in the process. The wine, you realize, but before you can rationalise any more, tears spring in the corners of your mouth. Disgust bubbles in your stomach like an awoken volcano. Disgust and anger, so much anger. 

Your husband humms softly behind you, cranes your head back. 

Your body feels foreign again, as he kisses your tears off of your skin.

[goldmanguyperson]

(post features potentially triggering and general uncomfortable content under the manifesto section)

small byf i probably shouldve put earlier: I might sometimes post musings about sexual ideas and i will be horny on main sometimes, but i will always tag it properly. i also have exclusive tag “#gold goes crazy on main” that you can blacklist if you dont wanna blacklist the more general tags for your own reasons

if i sound mad in here its because i hate how this kind of stuff is dealt with on the wider internet. sorry

If your dni has an identity that i identify with on there then know i am not not interacting with you out of respect, i am not interacting with you because you are a fucking asswipe. Be a better person. People who believe they know more about me than me, or use trauma as an excuse to be bigoted and stay bigoted, do not have my respect.

If i block you, it’s because of the above. or i just found you annoying

intro post for NERDS!

im gold just call me gold. Or, my other names include tank and any model/(appropriate) nickname of tank, plane, or nuclear bomb (aside from fat man or little boy or enola gay for hopefully obvious reasons). i will respond best if it is very clearly directed at me or is one of my favorite vehicles/bombs: tsar bomba, kv-1, molodets, locust, chaffee, whatever whatever

my pronouns are he/him (normal caps), He/Him, and HE/HIM. i stole pronouns from god and HIM from the powerpuff girls

trans and gay full of autism adhd yum

im a shapeshifter otherkin. I am alterhuman for all these things (swings between kin, hearted, and link): birds, machines, and ‘pedes (millipedes and centipedes). But really, i can be anything. i have experienced a whole range of nonhuman stuff, cuz shapeshifter. if i post in a more specific tag know i am not attempting to like… invade, or anything. i mean for one i think thats stupid and for another i do actually be feeling that way

Russia place/countrykin. not a putin supporter or even a nationalist; Слава Україна. more connected to the land and its “memories” than anything else. if this confuses you please read my post: Nationalists do not love their country

i am plural. im fuckitgenic. you dont get to know how traumatized or not i am, cuz i dont even fucking know either. I don’t even think it’s that relevant. I am because i am, we are because we are, trying to look back into this life to see why it turned out this way is, in our opinion, just not fucking worth our time.

You probably wont see my headmates here as they struggle to form words for outside use, but you still might.

headmates you might see include:

The Eagle (he is a bald eagle)

The Nothing Beast (a big jet black dromeosaurid-like monster with back spines. actually quite nice. speaks in all caps)

Sputnik-1 (introject of the satellite). Profile is @satellite-one!

Bear (a spirit bear. might come off a bit mean. Bear is often just trying to protect us, but Bear also struggles with friendly or respectful communication)

Bat (We don’t know much about him. he hides away a lot)

Alan @amcomputer

if you start complaining about “uehhh but i have to know if youre traumatized to know how valid you are!!!” im going to skewer you like a shrike. we do not take kindly to prescriptive labeling.

i am posic (Perception of Object Sentience, Individuality, and Consciousness). I don’t believe objects speak to me and i dont believe they are externally alive, but i feel like they should be. it happens especially with military vehicles and nuclear missiles. when i look at them i feel a similar sense of life i feel when i look at an animal. is it weird? Oh yeah. It is. i have thought about this a lot and i can expand on it in another post if wanted.

im also objectum and conceptum tbe american flag is my boyfriend im sorry… I hate the government and i hate borders and i understand it would be better for countries to not have influence over material reality and all that shit (i am an anarchist. winning) but countries as a concept beyond reality are really important to me please understand. nationalists hate him (me) actually

carrd (mentions nsfw topics)

neocities (wip)

tags

#shut up! the eagle’s talking! - essays and personal experiences

#this is chrome ball radio - My headmate Sputnik’s thoughts and feelings.

#gold goes crazy on main - mentioned above. though not actually just plain horny stuff, more for musings that may be sexual and have to do with me personally and I GUESS I LIED!!! ITS HORNY

#and that eagle? well. hah. It was me - just stuff about eagles. Any kind. i love eagles

#falconer hood experiences - Dreams that i have. theyre crazy. you will want to read

#galaxies of valleirkro - My spore stuff.

#galaxies of valleirkro references - Characters and species in the spore stuff

manifesto (sort of like a dni + its opposite but i actually explain things to ease my anxiety and autism) if you dont wanna read this thats fine but dont be surprised when i say something you dont like lol

Almost anyone is welcome here. But if you believe that you know more than other people do about their own identity then go away. Disgusting shit. Begone

that being said you cannot change your race. racial emotional limbo should only belong to people who are mixed race. You can find ways to participate in another culture without being the race often associated with it. many people would be much happier to show you their culture if you weren’t trying to identify as the race associated with it. Begone

I cant believe this is something that needs to be said anywhere but if you are an apologist for imperialism, capitalism, or authoritarianism, or are otherwise a supporter of any of this shit, fuck you. Begone

go away if you indulge in zoophilic or pedophilic content. hope it’s obvious why. indulging in lusting after real ass living beings who cannot consent is fucking weird as shit. Begone

transage is fine. its not about pedophilia, that is a 4chan smear campaign cuz they thought it was fucking weird. it is about age regression and trauma and that kinda shit. Also the things we associate with certain ages are socially constructed and so like idk, fuckin whatever dude. Begone

if you think age regression is bad then you do not know what it is. it is also not pedophilic in nature, it is often about comfort and often is a trauma or anxiety response. Please research and talk to real people before assuming something is bad just cuz it sounds weird. Begone

mspec lesbians are cool. “contradictory” labels are cool. my (real physical person) boyfriend is every letter of the queer alphabet and every person who hates a contradictory label will face our combined wrath. Begone

medicalism die begone. scientists do not know everything and often even science itself goes against “medicalist” beliefs. Minds are actually super crazy and weird and science understands this. If you are happier, or more at peace, and more able to understand and work with yourself because of a label and the support that comes with it then it is a good one.

^ includes “not supporting” endogenic systems by the way. Begone

creating headmates is fine (i think most of my headmates were accidentally created) but tulpa terminology is based upon a pretty heavy series of cultural appropriations of Buddhism (have you ever heard of “chakras are connected to your organs”? yeah. thats not true. thats a western idea that comes from the kinda colonial concept that we can force an eastern religion into the originally western conception of science as almighty truth that everything must tie to to be considered real by anybody, and the western idea of tulpas are mainly from this version of buddhism). Asian religions and cultural practices are already a really big target for western cultural appropriation, maybe we shouldn’t add to that, okay? i mean i wont tell you to go away like i have for the others here. and i actually wont tell you that its absolutely not okay because this is a pretty complex little cranny of reality. but i do ask you to perhaps be a little more conscious of how this stuff all connects

it is okay to be wrong

bangalangadooda

[shelbgrey]

November Rain(Mark Sloan)

Summary: (y/n) is hiding a big secret from her boyfriend mark

Paring: Mark X Callie's little sister

Warnings: talks of death and cancer

Greys MasterList

The year I found out I had cancer I didn't tell a soul. There was to much going on with the shooting and helping Christina and derek getting over their trauma. The only people who knew was my sister Callie and Jackson.

Jackson was my person and he found out when a intern got mine and his patient's medical results mixed up. He told Callie and the both of them confronted me about it. For two years it has stayed a secret between the three of us.

I didn't tell the others nor my boyfriend mark because I just never got the chance because something was always happening. When I would go to check ups. Callie would do it while Jackson would gard the door making sure no one saw. I didn't want to tell Mark or the others because I didn't want to be a burden nor do I want there sympathy and over protectiveness. I wanted to do what I loved and that was being a doctor.

After my doctor's appointment me and Callie silently walked down the hallway trying not draw to much attention to our selfs as we got my meds. "I wonder what I'll look like bald." I chuckled. Callie obviously didn't find it funny. I nudged her with my shoulder playfully. "come on lighten up"

"it's not funny" she mumbled. "what your going through isn't funny" she said glancing at me as we rounded the corner trying to avoid her wife and my boyfriend.

"I know but I feel fine honestly"

"mentality or physically?" she asked.

"both" I quickly responded.

The silence fell again and I sighed grabbing one of my charts "(y/n)" Callie  spoke again.

"hmm?"

"you need to tell Mark soon" she started as I shifted in my spot next to the nurse's station and kept my eyes on the chart "he deserves to know and as much as it kills me to say, your getting worse and we can't keep hiding it"

"I'll tell him when the time is right" I said shutting the chart and left to get ready for a surgery with Owen and April.

--------( ....... )--------

"why can't we just see a movie or something?" I asked scrubbing my hands with April next to me. The two of us were trying to plan our monthly double date with Jackson and Mark.

"we could do that. But definitely not a bar, we don't need a replay of what happened last month" I laughed at April's comment as I remembered Jackson and Mark getting drunk and setting a portapoddie on fire at a construction sight that was near the hospital.

As April continued to talk I felt my stomach start to turn and the smell of the water running made me sick. I sighed and gripped the edges of the scrubbing sink.

"(n/n)? You okay?" she placed her hand on my shoulder a rubbed it. Yep, definitely gonna hurl I thought as sprinted out of the scrubbing room and into the closet bathroom. I ran through the bathroom door and ripped the biggest stall open making it fly backwards and banging up against the one next door.

The noise stung my ears but I was glad it was masking the nauseating sounds of me emptying my sorry excuse of a stomach.

"(y/n) are you okay?" April asked from behind as she held my hair back. I let out a breath and rested my damp forehead on my arm. I let out a cough as April backed up so a could set down away from the toilet. I pressed my back up against the cold metal stall as April massaged my shoulder.

"I'm okay, I'm okay" I whispered as I pulled my scrub cap off my head. April's kind blue eyes stared at me with concern. "maybe you should Find a on-call room to rest in. Me and Owen got the surgery covered." I nodded not wanting to fight her.

She help me up and she wrapped her arm around my shoulder as we walked out of the bathroom. "im okay Apes, I'm just gonna lie down"

"do you want me to get your sister or Dr. Sloan?" I shook my head. "n-no they both have surgeries" she nodded sadly. I knew she suspected something. I hated lying to her she was like another sister.

I let out a tired sigh and moved into the Attending's lounge and started to look for Mark's leather jacket. It was my favorite to wrap myself in because it had a soft fabric in the inside and it had a black hood attached to it. I finally found it crumbled up on the couch with Derek's gray coat. I grabbed it and left to look for an empty on-call room.

--------( ....... )--------

"hey, April told me to come and check on you" Jackson said as he closed the door. I shifted in the bed a bit and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

"are you feeling bad?" Jackson asked lying down next to me then pushed I few strands of hair off my forehead to check my temperature.

"I'm okay Jackson" I said pushing his hand away. He rolled his green eyes calling bullshit.

"it's getting worse, maybe we should consider chemo" Jackson said softly. I scoffed and set up right so I leaning against the wall.

"it's only stage two" I mumbled. "I don't want to start looking worse than I already am.. I know mark has notested the weight loss"

Jackson looked down. "you still haven't told him, have you?" I knew the secret was getting to him. Him and Mark were close and Mark treated him like a son or little brother. He was stuck in the middle and I felt awful for that because just last week Jackson almost let it out because of mark's pestering.

I let out a shaky breath and rested my head on his shoulder trying to hold in a cry. "I'm gonna find Mark.. His shift should be over" I mumbled as I crawled out of the bunk bed. I sighed when I stood in front of the mirror that was left in there. I was getting skinnier and his coat looked even bigger on me than it did two years ago. I pushed that thought away and left to look for Mark.

--------( ....... )--------

I finally found him in one of the labs. His blue eyes glued to one of the microscopes. He was probably working on his and Jackson's skin grafts trying to perfect it even though he was egusted. I sighed and walked up behind him and rubbed his shoulders.

"you ready to go home? Our shifts ended an hour ago" he leaned the back of his head to my chest and he looked up as ran my fingers through his hair.

"I'm almost done baby, I can't stop now" he said moving back to the microscope.

I guess I could say this is another reason I've never told him. I knew he couldn't handle one more thing. He delt with too much and his plate was always full. Being a plastic surgeon was pressure as it is.... He didn't need to deal with a sick and possibly dying girlfriend. I also liked dealing with things myself. I didn't like making my problems other people's problems. And I always tried to put Mark and the rest of the doctors I considered family before me.

I smiled softly giving him a kiss on the cheek. "mark it's not going anywhere. You need rest"

"I'm not tired" he shifted and moved up to his desk. I sighed and spun his chair around and placed my fingers under his chin lifting his head up. "please come home with me... I need you with me" I whispered.

I don't know how much longer I have with you. I thought and made sure I didn't leave my mouth. Mark sighed In defeat as soon as our eyes met. He told me countless times my eyes were his weakness. He'd say all he had to do was look into my eyes and he was hooked.

He stood up and turned everything thing off and left the room with me.

--------( ....... )--------

The next morning I woke up feel extremely nauseous I set up softly and moved out of the bed without waking Mark. I had my mouth covered as I raced to the toilet. I fell to my knees and felt everything get empty out. I prayed to god I didn't wake Mark but that was quickly proven wrong when I felt my hair being moved out of my face.

I sighed and flushed the toilet. I slumped down on the cold tile floor and leaned against the bath tub. "are you okay baby?" he asked softly. He was setting on his knees in front of me and his hand gently rubbing my cheek.

"I'm okay Doc, it was probably food poisoning or something" I said trying not to sound like a big fat lier. Mark's blue eyes look at me with worry. "you and I are both doctor. Something isn't right"

"Mark I'm fine... I promise" I need to tell him I thought. I looked down holding in the tears. Mark noticed but he also learned fast in our relationship I'll talk when I'm ready. He sighed and took my arms in his hands then wrapped them around his neck. His hands then proceeded to fall to my waist then pick me up as if I was a small child. I immediately wrapped my legs around his waist and he carried me back to bed.

"what are you doing?" I asked. "your not going to work and I'm not either" he said grabbing his phone to probably call Owen and say we were both sick. I sighed and slumped down on the pillow. This just keeps getting harder and harder I thought as Mark climb into bed with me and pulled me to his chest. We both spent the morning watching Twin peaks and soon enough I feel asleep towards the afternoon to Mark talking about his and Jackson's clinical trail.

The next morning I woke up without Mark. I turned my head to face his spot on the bed and I saw a note on his pillow.

(y/n),

Got paged early this morning. Come to work IF and only if you feel better. Love you.

-Mark

I read the note then set it on the night stand. As soon as I set up from the bed my stomach turned. I sighed and raced to the toilet. I didn't realize how loud I was being in till I heard Arizona's voice. I heard her hand knock on the door of my bathroom.

"(y/n) are you okay?" she asked as I flushed the toilet and walked past her and crawled into bed. "I'm fine"

"you don't look fine, how long has this been happening?" I shrugged not wanting to meet my Sister-in-law's eyes. "(y/n) talked to me" she whispered setting next to me and warped her arms around me pulling me to her chest.

"your not pregnant are you? I don't think I can handle a little Mark, but I think Sophie needs a little sibling" she said in a joking manner obvious trying to get me to smile. I didn't and I only looked down at my hands. A tear fell and hit the black diamond ring Mark got me. All I thout was I can't hide this forever.

"(y/n) what's wrong? You know you can tell me"

I hesitated. "Airy I'm sick" her eye brows knitted together and her head tilted in confusion. "yeah obviously but I'm sure it will pass-"

"Arizona it's cancer" she suddenly stopped and her words were sucked right out. Arizona's eyes almost looked lifeless and she wasn't her usual bright and happy self. she looked down as she tried to process everything. She let out a sigh and looked down. "how long?"

"what? How long I have left or how long I've been fighting?"

"fighting"

"since the shooting" her eyes bugged out and his head drooped down. "that's almost two years....you've been hiding this for two years?!"

"I know" I simply replied but her emotions showed that's wasn't good enough. "have you been doing treatment?" she asked and then more followed.

"who else knows?" she asked. "you, Callie and Jackson" I said softly. I knew she would be hurt that me and Callie didn't tell her and Mark. We were a family after all.

"you haven't even told Mark!?" she asked shocked. She obviously knew how much it would hurt him. I did too but he didn't need one more thing on his plate. "he needs to know" he mumbled.

"Arizona, he doesn't need one more thing on his plate and what I turn into his dying girlfriend.. And charity case... I don't want that"

"mark would do anything to take care of you and he would want to help you fight this."

I let a tear fall. "I want to tell him I just haven't found the right time."

Arizona's wrapped her arms around me and I rested my head on her shoulder. "your not doing any surgeries in till you tell him" she said softly. I jolted up. "that's not fair."

"it's very fair"

--------( ....... )--------

The next day I walked into the OR mark and Derek were in. "Mark?" I said coming into the lab. Him and derek were finishing up their surgery and guns n Roses' November Rain was playing softly through the OR speakers. It wasn't unusual to hear them listen to this band but the choice of song was unusual. Him listening to a song about a man losing the love of his life almost made me cry. Music dose that to me.

"Nothin' lasts forever

And we both know hearts can change

And it's hard to hold a candle

In the cold November rain"

"babe we are geniuses" he smiled through his mask once he saw I was there. I smiled happy at him. I loved it when he had a successful surgery because it always put him a fluffy mood.

"on some things" I joked, "are you about done? I need to talk to you" he looked up from his patient and his blue eyes locked with mine. "what's up?" he asked as his eyes switched from me to the patient.

"it's not important, I'll tell you later" I said about to leave. "are you sure?" he asked before I left. I didn't want to tell him now a distract him. I smiled and nodded before leaving.

"If we could take the time to lay it on the line

I could rest my head just knowin' that you were mine

All mine

So if you want to love me then darlin' don't refrain

Or I'll just end up walkin' in the cold November rain"

--------( ....... )--------

"hay little Torres, you feeling better?" Meredith asked coming up to me. I smiled and nodded. "waiting for Mark?"

I nodded. "waiting for Derek?" she responded the same way.

After about ten minutes Meredith left with Derek and Zola. I got tired of waiting and went to go look for him. After asking around I found him in one of the labs working on his project.

"mark let's go home" I said as the adomatic doors of the lab opened. I stuffed my hands into my coat and looked around. I slightly smiled when I saw him working.

"come on Doc, time to go home" I smiled. "lets get some dinner and it's your night with Sophie" I walked up behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. "I'm busy baby I'm not that hungry anyway"

"Dr. Sloan" I said stirnly. He looked up knowing I was serious. He knows he's in trouble when I say Dr. Sloan the rest of the time it's Doc or Mark. "I wish you'd take care of yourself better"

'your already gonna out live me so I better make sure your good health before I kick the bucket' I thought.

He looked up at me and smirked. His arms wrapped around my waist and held me tightly. My body was pushed between his legs and my arms warped around his shoulders as my fingers combed through his light brown hair.

"weren't you gonna tell me something earlier?" he asked looking up at me. The coward in me shut everything down. I quickly shook my head no. "I honestly cant remember" I titled his head to the sighed with an eye brow raised. His 'that's bullshit look'

"I'm fine" I smiled and kissed the top of his head. "come on let's go home" I said grabbing his hand and pulling him from his chair.

Later that night we all gathered into the living room to watch a movie. Callie and Arizona stayed over with Sophie so we just eat take out and watched the scream movies.

I didn't make to far into the movie. I fell asleep with my head in Mark's lap and my legs were on Arizona's lap. Lately I feared sleep due to the fact I might not wake up. I used to love sleep it was an escape from the real world but now I just fight it but to night I fell right to sleep.

The next morning I walked into the ER where Jackson and Owen were. "morning boys"

"hay Torres" Owen smiled.

"what are you doing?" I asked walking in between the two men. Jackson was unwrapping a package shaped like a big picture frame. "it's the new sign for the ER" he smiled pulling out the navy blue plack

"hold this please" he asked handing me his coffee then shoved some notebooks and files off the nurses station and then took the sign from me. "Avery is that necessary?" Owen half laughed. Me and Jackson shrugged as he hung it up then looked at me and Owen

"floors lava" he said casually. I rolled me eyes and jumped in office chair that was at the nurses station. The movement made it slightly roll away in the process.

"what are you two doing?" Owen sighed but still found it funny. I bursted into laughter. I lived for these little moments. Jackson and Owen rarely played around but when he did he could be a total child and I loved him for that.

"Owen the floor is lava! Your gonna die!" I shouted. he rolled her eyes. "you both are children" he said chuckling.

"so?" Jackson asked hopping of the counter as Mark came up to us. "sloan don't forget about the Attendings meeting tonight" Owen said.

"can't" Mark said we both looked at Owen as he raised an eyebrow "me and (y/n) are going out"

"we are?" I asked confused. He nodded with a smile. "it's been a while since we went out on a date and there's a movie I wanna take you to"

"that's fine" Owen said. If I wasn't involved he would say no.

"thanks Hunt!" we both shouted as he left.

--------( ....... )--------

"that's was awful" I said and Mark laughed as we walked out of the movie theater that just got done showing the new batman. His arm was around my shoulder keeping his hip to mine. "it wasn't that bad" Mark said.

"the Ben Affleck's batman is so much better" I said as we walked down the street. "well next time I promise I'll pick a better movie" 'Next time' hit me the wrong way. What if there wasn't a next time?

Callie and Arizona's words kept replaying in my mind over and over. I sighed and looked down at the side walk as I interlocked my fingers with his. That didn't go unnoticed to him. "is everything okay?" I shrugged my shoulders. And nodded yes.

"what? You nervous about the Treacher Collins surgery next week?" he asked. Before I could say anything his mouth continued to move. "don't worry we're gonna nail it like always." I knew he was trying to make me feel better but there was more to our lives than just surgery.

He stopped talking when I stopped walking with him. He turned around and looked at me with concern. "what's wrong?"

My eyes began to sting with tears. I looked away as soon as the first tear dropped. His thumb and pointer finger gently grabbed my chin and moved my face so are eyes met. "what's going on?"

"Mark I'm sick" I said bluntly. He looked at me confused. "we can go home if you want... Or we can stop by the hospital to see what's wron-"

"Mark I have cancer... Leukemia" I said quietly. Mark froze with no emotion in his eyes. "what?" he whispered.

"no, no, no, you can't your perfect...w-why? H-how long?" he rambled as tears begin to fill his blue eyes.

I gulped down a sob. "two years. I found out a little bit after the shooting"

"two years!" he shouted making me look down. "you've been hiding this from me for two years? Why?"

"you would have told me to stop surgeries and be protective of me and stopped me from doing stuff!" I said back.

"stuff?... Stuff! God damn it I made you do too much stuff. I-I" he started to pace around me running his fingers through his hair nervously "

"no Mark.. you've kept me healthy. If I didn't have you I would have probably..."

"don't finish that sentence" he said knowing exactly what I ment. He looked at me again. "God damnit! Why you?" he shouted slamming the door of his car with his fist making me flinch.

"of all the people in this world.. Why you?" he asked full on crying now. His tears hurt worse than any kinda pian this sickness gave me. I hated the way he was reacting. His pain made my heart clinch.

"everything happens for a reason"

"well this world is fucked up.. You've done nothing to deserve this" he mumbled opening the driver side of the car. He motions me to get in behind the wheel.

"go ahead and drive home" he said. I quickly shook my head no not wanting to be alone. "I need to be alone right now I-I need to think"

"drive home safely and text me when you get home" when I sat down in the driver seat his head dipped down inside and have me a soft kiss. "I Love You"

I started the car and that God damn guns n Roses song started on the radio. I watched Mark  walked down the street in the review mirror and tears fell again. I slammed my fist into the steering wheel as the song continued.

"So never mind the darkness, we still can find a way

'Cause nothin' lasts forever, even cold November rain"

--------(Mark's pov)--------

I felt my heart sink as I walked down the dark road. I couldn't figure out why she had to hide something so serious from me. I knew who I need to go to but the question was, was he gonna help. I he closer I got to my destination the colder and wetter it got. A down pour started making me thank full I gave (y/n) the car.

The sound of the rain hitting me and the pavement sounded like a drum banging next to my ear. I didn't talk about my feeling much but my emotions was through the roof as I ran down the hallway of the hospital soaking wet.

"Derek I need your help" I said as barged into one of the ORs. I'd never done that while he was preforming surgery and thanked God he was finished.

"Sloan what the hell" Webber said. His irritation seemed to slightly go away when he saw me. I rolled my eyes and ripped of the mask I had as holding on my face. I shivered as mine and Derek's Eyes locked. I hated to tell him the two were close (y/n) was like a sister to him. The shivers got worse as I calmed myself down not daring to cry I front of them.

"why are you all wet? What's going on?" Derek asked. I paced back and forth. "calm down" I hear him say but I didn't listen.

"it's (y/n)" Webber and Derek immediately stopped in their tracks. That hit them differently. Callie looked up slowly from the leg she was operating on. "you know" she said softly. I looked down pissed she kept it from me too.

"what's wrong with (y/n)?" Derek asked. Taking his gear off as the nurse got him ready for recovery.

"s-she has c-cancer" I stumbled over my worlds. "she's sick and might be dying so I-I need your help...I-i don't know what to do"

"Torres is she excepting treatment?" I asked looking at my best friend. She sighed and her eyes glossed over. "n-no she's not"

"Mark we don't know her history or what's going on" Webber said softly.

"I knew this would be a waist of fucking time" I growled as I walked to the front door. "Mark" Derek grabbed my wrist stopping me in my tracks.

"I'll see what I can do but I can't help unless she let's let's me, you know how she is"

"I cant let her die" I mumbled. "we won't" Derek said.

--------(1st pov)--------

"just don't cut it all" I mumbled as me and Arizona sat in front of the mirror. She looked at me through the mirror as she turned the razor on. The buzzing maid me shiver as she started to cut off inches. Before she could get to far there was a knock on the door.

"I'll be back" she said softly hugging me before she left for the door. In the distance I could hear Derek's voice along with Meredith's. I let out sigh glad it was the couple I've grown close to over the years.

Meredith came into the bathroom where I was and gave me a sympathetic smile. "hay Mer"

"hay" she looked at my now short hair and smiled. "the look suits you" she placed her hand on my shoulder studding the now pixie cut that was my hair.

As I looked in the mirror my reflection started to get blurry and nausea bubbled in my stomach and chest. I heaved and rubbed my forehead. Meredith rubbed my back. "are you okay"

Before I could answer I puked in the sink as Meredith shouted for Derek and Arizona. Derek barged in first.

"are you okay?" he asked frantically? "(n/n)?"

"im gonna pass out" I said as everything around me started spinning. "yup, definitely passing out" I said falling into Derek's arms as everything went black.

--------(Mark's pov)--------

"where is she?" I asked pushing pasted Owen to get into her room. "Torres were is she?" I asked stopping in front of her. Callie look scared and that gave enough confirmation. Nothing was okay. The thought of losing her was like a stab to the heart.

"can I see her?" Callie nodded and got up from I front of her hospital door. I took a deep breath before slowly inching the door open terffied on what's on the other side. I slowly peaked on the behind the door. I smiled softly seeing her slowly wake up and give me a big grein. "hay Doc"

I raced to her side trying to keep it together. "I'm sorry I ran off" she quickly shook her head "it's okay I understand"

"no it's not okay" I shook my head. She rolled her eyes playfully.

"are you in any pain?" I asked afraid of the answer. She shook her head no. "maybe a few headaches every now and then"

"please don't keep anything like this from me again" she nodded and took my hand. I held her hand tight like I was afraid she was going to disappear.

--------(Callie's pov)--------

Later that night I went into to see my sister. I sighed seeing her fast asleep but Mark fighting to stay awake.

"Mark go to bed alright" he fixed his posture in the chair next to her bed and shook his head. "I'm fine"

"I'll be with her.. Its fine" he finally nodded and gave (y/n) a kiss on the forehead be for he left for the door. Before I could sit down Mark turned around getting my attention.

"Callie I got something important to ask you" I nodded telling him to continue. "can I have your blessing on marring (y/n?" before I could answer he started rambling. Something he's being doing a lot lately.

"I wanted to ask you because I know your dad hates me and you two are a lot closer" he sighed and looked down while pulling his fingers from his hair and slapping the side of his leg.

I stood still for I bit. He's my best friend and all but he was dating my little sister the person I protected forever. When they started dating I hated him for it because I thought he'd use her but that wasn't the case at all. He's good to her and I'm glad they have each other.

"now would be a good time to answer Torres" his voice said snapping me back to reality. I smiled and shook my head yes. "yes you can"

"thank you" he said letting out a sigh of relief.

"just get some sleep will ya" he nodded and left the room. I sighed and fell into the chair Mark was in originally. I brushed the dark hairs out of her face. The only resemblance we had to the exception of our eyes. She looked like dad and I look like our mother.

I sighed taking her hand gently not wanting to wake her. The realization that she's getting worse hit me. I couldn't lose her and the fear only made it worse. The other guy didn't even want to come out. That's when I dozed off myself.

(next day)

The next day Alex, Christina and Jackson all stood outside (y/n) room. Mark and Callie were both in there with her as she slept.

"so it's true? She has cancer?" Alex asked sounding broken and pissed as he looked in the window of (y/n)'s room. Jackson let out a hurt sigh as he nodded.

"I'd never thought it would be her too." Alex mumbled thinking he's gonna loose (y/n) to cancer like he did Izzie.

"she bet it, she's tough" Christina said looking between Owen and Jackson. Owen looked up from his cart and sighed. "I really hope your right.

--------(Mark's pov, 6 months later)--------

About three months after (y/n) got out of the hospital we had a small wedding and went of to an easy honeymoon. That's what she wanted. Everything seemed to be fine in till this month. Everyone saw it coming but that doesn't mean I didn't hurt like hell. At least she's isn't in anymore pain.

The funeral was small and just like she would have wanted. She wouldn't have wanted us to make a big deal of her death but it still hurt. A bout a week later Owen and Jackson made a memorial plack to put in the peds room where she works. I walk by it everyday and as crazy as it sounds sometimes I'll talk to like it's really her.

It was hard on everyone. It was the first time I ever saw Alex cry and Owen for the first time was speechless. (y/n) was the soul of the hospital and the glue that kept us together. She showed love and kindness to each one of them.

I was more worried for Callie she didn't cry or speak during the funeral. Maybe the realization hasn't hit. Arizona did but she's was trying her hardest to stay strong for Callie and me. Derek couldn't take it he tried his hardest to keep her alive the last few months and she didn't make it. It killed me to think he blames himself. It didn't blame him, no one did.

When the service ended everyone wanted to be left alone. To get through their own grieving process. Unfortunately it had be done on work hours. I walked down the silent hallway. Damn it's never this quiet. My thoughts were broke by the sounds of a female sobbing. And knew that sound all too well.

"Callie" I said softly. SHe let out a sob and slid down the wall holding (y/n)'s doctors coat. "why did it have to be her?" i felt my chest tightened and my bottom lip quiver. 'I wasn't gonna cry' I kept repeating trying to stay in the right state of mind to calm Callie down.

I sighed and slid down the wall setting next to her. I softly smiled at her coat. The name on it got changed to Dr. Torres-Sloan a bit before she died. I never even thought about being a widow. She hasn't even been gone a month and I don't know how to continue.

"i remember how pissed you and derek were when you found out we started dating" you wanted to kill me but Derek had me already to the ground beating the crap out of me" I said. "it never mattered to me I love her more than anything"

Callie  looked at me with her red puffy eyes. "you two were perfect for each other, I'm glad she had you"

"yeah I know.." I said softly. I put my arm on her shoulder and hugger her tight. "she loved you so much" Callie whispered.

I sighed. "she was so excited for this conjoined twins project" I was trying to change the subject. Trying to think happy. Callie let out a laugh mixed with a sob. "but she didn't want to fly. she kept telling us plans are dangerous and made us watch final Destination"

"I'm gonna miss her so much" I mumbled. "me too.."

[bubblybubbubs]

Bland (1)

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Royalty AU

Summary: Draco Malfoy is the Prince of Ebery and hates being a royal so when he meets you he calls himself a different name to hide his royal status.

Warning: Cursing

AN: hope you guys like this i definitely have an idea to make this a series <3 also this was very roughly inspired by the barbie princess and the pauper movie . had to repost because it wasn’t showing up in tags the first time?

btw a governess according to google is like a royal nanny.

Draco Malfoy lead a bland life. He knew he was lucky to have the riches he had, to be born a prince of Ebery, but he truly had hated his life. He had hated waking up everyday to please everyone other than himself with the same court niceties.

It was selfish of him but he wanted to just be Draco, not ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Prince Draco’. The formalities were just a reminder of how his life had been decided for him the minute he was born.

He only had two real friends Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass, the only two tolerable members of the court.

Anyone else was ancient or insufferable, such as Vincent Crabbe his cousin who he could not stand. Crabbe was almost an exact opposite of Draco, which was interesting considering they had been raised by the same governess.

Crabbe was all too eager to jump at any chance of power, there were countless times he had told his grandfather how unfit Draco was to be King. There was little Crabbe wouldn’t do for the crown, Draco was lucky it wasn’t passed down or Crabbe might have killed to get his hands on it.

In Ebery the monarch would chose any one from his lineage to rule after his/her passing, this was always announced the day after the Monarch’s death which left a lot of animosity between the possible heirs.

Draco didn’t want the crown and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t get it even if he did, Abraxos Malfoy wasn’t exactly his biggest fan. He didn’t remember a single conversation they had, they usually ended abruptly when the King decided he had enough family bonding time.

He hadn’t cared about the royal life or the crown. he had planned on leaving his dreadful life to a place where no one would know about Ebery and he would’ve done it, had it not been for y/n.

He met Y/N Y/L/N when he was disguised as a commoner with Blaise, and they both decided to go out on the town.

“Here put this hat on it’ll hide your hair.” Blaise said pushing a hat towards him. It was a big fedora that was an ugly shade of yellow, it looked about as old as him.

“It’s hideous, where did you even find this.” Draco groaned.

“It was all I could find with the short notice, we can go back to the castle if you’d like.” Before Blaise could continue Draco put on the huge hat making sure to hide his hair before they entered the pub.

“That girl is totally checking you out.” Blaise whispered when they sat down. Draco peered behind him to see a girl staring at him who had smiled when they made eye contact.

“Do you think she recognizes me.”

“I don’t know, go ask her.” Blaise said encouraging Draco to go talk to her. Draco straightened the smock he wore before going up to her.

“I was hoping you’d come talk to me.” She said grinning up from her drink.

“Really how come.” He said talking a seat next to her.

“A guy with a hat like that is bound to be intresting.” She chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I haven’t seen you around here, what’s your name.”

“Um my name is Julian and that’s my friend uh Norman.”

“I’m Y/N”

-

Draco had made a point to visit her as much as he could, he grew fond of her.

“In my bakery again Julian, one would think you like me.” The girl said as she stepped towards the counter to greet him.

“Maybe I do Y/N.” Draco said leaning against the counter . He definitely did, Blaise claimed it was obvious but if Y/N noticed she didn’t show it.

“I’m taking a break.” The girl yelled out towards the kitchen before grabbing Draco and heading to the streets quickly ditching her apron and hat.

“What’s with you and hats, every time I see you you’re wearing one. Are you bald?.” She said as they walked through the shops motioning to the flat cap he wore today.

Draco tensed. his hair would be a dead give away of who he was, almost every king in the Malfoy line had the same almost white hair . He knew it was inevitable she find out who he was but he liked the friendship they had and wanted to keep it that away as long as possible. Maybe he should go bald.

“I have a weirdly shaped head.” He stammered. He wanted to kick himself, was that really the best he could come up with. She still laughed.

“You’re strange Julian.” She said sorting through a box of junk a vendor was selling.

”Tell me something about yourself. I feel like you know everything about me but I know nothing about you.” She said walking towards a tree and plopping down.

“There’s not much to know.” He said sitting next to her.

“I doubt that.”

“Well im an only child-

“None of that boring stuff. What do you want to do with your life, what are your goals.” She said cutting him off.

Draco was quiet for a second, no one ever asked him what his goals were. Everyone just assumed he wanted to be King.

“I’m not sure, I’ve never really thought about it.” He said.

“What about you.”

“I want to travel the world and see everything and when I come back I’m going to be rich and take care of everyone who helped me when I was young.” He wasn’t surprised, from the little time they had known each other he could tell she had a fiery spirit with a big heart.

“Wait so you don’t want to be a baker?” He said feigning shock.

“A girl can only have so much bread in her life.”

“Can I come?” He asked facing you.

“huh?”

“When you travel the world, can i go with you?” His heart sped up, that was a stupid question they only had known each other for a month and there he was asking if they could travel together.

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” She said laying on his chest. He would do it, right there under that tree he promised himself he would go to the ends of the earth with her.

He imagined it, life with just the two of them traveling the world. No crown, no titles just the two of them.

“Do you have to go back to work.”

“My Dad will live if I skip one day of work.” She said grinning at him.

“Follow me then.” He said grabbing her by the hand.

“where are we going.” She asked.

“You’ll see.” Draco led Y/N through the streets swifting past the crowd of people in the streets and into the trees. The whole time she couldnt take his eyes off him, had she been less awestruck by him she would have noticed the Malfoy blonde hair his falling hood flashed.

“We’re almost there, close your eyes.” She did and let Draco lead her further she felt the floor under her get rockier.

“Careful.” He said holding her tighter by the hand.

She felt a cold breeze on her face. “We’re here, you can open your eyes.” She opened her eyes and she was standing on a small cliff that stood over a beautiful lake that shimmered almost magically.

He watched for her reaction carefully. This had been his favorite spot in all of Ebery growing up, whenever his mother hadn’t been busy she would take him here and they would swim together, then they would watch the sunset .

“Where are we.” She said furrowing her brow.

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s not that well known, I was thinking it could be our little place.” She smiled widely, Draco never wanted to forget what she looked like that day so happy and carefree.

“I’d like that.” She then noticed the castle that stood tall above the trees across the lake. “Is that the castle.” He nodded.

“I’ve always wanted to go to the castle it’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.” He said turning her to face him. He had known it the day he first saw her, the smile she had sent his way had knocked the wind out of him.

She blushed “I really like you Julian.” Draco was stricken by guilt and he really did want to tell her truth but how could he when things were so good. So he kissed her and just like that Draco’s life seemed a lot less bland.

——————————————-

lil extra

“Norman, why does my name have to be fucking norman.”

“I was nervous, and your dumb hat didnt make it any easier.”

[thegoddamnfangirl]

Truth Or Dare

This is an Avengers crash/crack fic. It is absurd and Loki is here.

"This is an emergency. Everybody report to the living room at once- auth. Tony Stark," announced JARVIS.

 This caused a bit of chaos around the tower. JARVIS repeated the announcement with double the urgency.

 Thor burst into the designated room, vanilla icing smeared on his face, brandishing Mjolnir.

 Steve followed, sprinting into the room showing clear signs of having hurried into his uniform- his shirt was inside out.

  With a poof, Loki teleported beside Tony wearing nothing but a pair of bright green briefs with gold L's on them, socks and his helmet.

 Bruce had just finished Hulking out in his special cell. He hurried in, holding up his recently enlargened pants.

  Nat followed Bruce, looking collected and alert.

Last of all, Clint, soaking wet with with shampoo bubbles in his hair and a patterned Iron Man towel around his waist ran in, holding a cluster of arrows he had haphazardly grabbed.

  "What's happening?" he asked, waving about the arrows. "Loki lost his conk again?"

 "No," said Tony. "But I'm flattered, Legolas."

"What- oh," said Clint, looking at his towel and going red.

  "Loki- you have personalized boxers?" asked Nat with a snigger.

 "May I ask what your ardent interest in and about my boxers is?" shot Loki, smirking.

 Nat was about to reply when Steve burst out.

 "Stark! Do you mind telling us what the great emergency is?"

 "Oh, yeah!" said Tony. "I'm bored," he announced.

There was silence. Then all at once, people began to yell at Tony.

  "I RUSHED OUT OF THE SHOWER!" screamed Clint.

  "I WAS DRESSING MYSELF!" yelled Loki.

   "I WAS EATING CAKE!" bellowed Thor.

    "I WAS HULKING OUT," Bruce sort of bellowed, loudly but not very loudly- he left all the blustery noisiness to his alter ego.

    "I was asleep," said Steve mournfully.

  "Oh, be quiet," snapped Tony. "This is to remind you all that you guys owe me for last week's Hulk fiasco (sorry about that, Brucie) and I demand compliance!"

 Nat sighed, making herself comfortable in an armchair.

  "I'm gonna go finish up with my shower," growled Clint.

All the doors slammed shut and locked.

  "Thank you, JARVIS," said Tony.

"Now you all remember thanking me and in Loki's case offering to pay me back for saving your hides. I'm bored, so...." Tony leaned on the counter in front of the bar.

  "Who's up for a few party games?" he asked, grinning like crazy.

  Nobody answered.

Bruce sniffed the air.

  "Are you...drunk?" he asked, reproach in his voice.

 "Eh, maybe a little," shrugged Tony.

Loki rolled his eyes.

  "I'm leaving," he huffed.

"Before you poof away, Reindeer Games," said Tony, "people are going to get humiliated. You're gonna miss a great show."

 Loki frowned. He did like to see people get humiliated. He curled up on the couch.

 Steve sighed, sitting down cross legged on the carpet. He was used to Tony's mulish stubbornness by now.

  "Truth or Dare!" Toby announced gleefully, pulling out a bottle of vodka and chugging some.

"Does anybody have a belt?" asked Bruce.

 Tony gave him his own.

"So, if everybody's resigned to their fate-" Tony began.

Clint cleared his throat.

  "Oh, yeah, the Lord of the Rings reject," muttered Tony.

  "At least let me get my pants," pleaded Clint.

Tony swung the vodka again.

  "I don't think so," he slurred gently.

Clint's eye twitched.

   "I HAVE SHAMPOO IN MY HAIR" he yelled.

"My brother can take care of that," said Thor, prodding Loki.  Loki sighed and waved his hand. There was a faint green glow, and Clint's hair was suddenly dry, fluffy and strangely, pink.

 Everybody stifled giggles. Clint ran a hand through his hair. It felt dry. Ah well.

   "Pants?" he asked.

Loki waved his hand again, and the towel fashioned itself into a pair of Iron Man patterned boxers.

 Sulkily, Clint sat down in an egg chair.

"Everyone set now?" asked Tony. "It's Truth or Dare time."

   "What is this play of 'Truth or Dare' that you wish us to partake in?" asked Thor.

  "The Midgardian equivalent of our old game Questions and Commands," explained Loki. "Don't you read?"

   Thor brightened at the familiar name. "Proceed, Stark!" he said.

  "Okay, den," smiled Tony, tottering a little.

"Blondie, you first," he said,  pointing at Thor. "Truth or Dare?"

  "Truth," shrugged Thor.

"Hm," said Tony. "What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever been caught wearing?"

Thor blushed.

"Loki'd underwear," volunteered Loki."In fact," continued the trickster God, "he's probably wearing them now."

   A wave of his hand resulted in Thor's pants melting away, and sure enough, he was wearing bright green tighties with the words "Loki'd" printed across his behind in clear, bold gold.

  Tony wolf whistled. Nat snickered.

"Loki's turn," said Nat. "Truth or Dare?"

   "Dare," said Loki immediately.

Nat thought for a while. "I dare you to make out with Tony for thirty seconds," she said finally.

 "NO!" cried Tony in terror. Loki rolled his eyes. He glowed green and suddenly, there was a beautiful girl in his place.

  She had familiar high cheekbones, a regal expression, jade eyes and lush black hair that fell to her shoulders in thick, rapid curls.

  "I'll simply use my female form," Female Loki said.

Tony frowned. "Are you telling me you could've been a hot chick all this time we had to put up with you?"

  Female Loki just hissed before pulling him up and kissing him. Nat counted to thirty.

 Returning back to her place on the couch, Female Loki turned back into Male Loki.

  "Boring," he yawned.

Tony stared into a distance, looking fazed.

    "Nat," said Clint.

"Dare," she said.

  Tony seemed to snap out of it. "Revenge time!" he exclaimed.

  "I dare you to strip to your underwear and sit on Loki's lap for the whole game," said Tony.

 "Tony!"

This came from Steve. He was red in the face and looking scandalized.

  Nat was scowling, but she complied. Loki smirked like anything as she set herself down on his lap.

Clint was snarling slightly. Steve looked nonplussed, as if he wanted to protest on Nat’s behalf.

  "Stevie's turn!" said Tony, his voice slurring more than ever.

  "Truth," said Steve instantly. It was obvious that he didn't want to get caught up in any shady dares.

  "Truth!" grinned Nat. "Alright then, Cap. Given a choice between Tony and Clint, who would you marry?"

 "Why dyu always pick on me?" whined Tony.

Steve looked perplexed. He glanced at the pink haired Clint. Then at Tony. Then back at Clint.

  "Clint, I s'pose," he muttered.

  "HA!" yelled Clint. "Taste defeat, Iron britches!"

Tony gasped in a hurt way.

   "The good doctor has fallen asleep," observed Thor.

  Sure enough, Bruce was curled up, sleeping peacefully

  "Aw, let 'im sleep," said Tony."Clint’s turn, then."

   "Dare," said Clint. He was a brave lil birdy, after all.

 "I dare you to video message Fury and proclaim- I am Legolas of the Elven folk, and I take no orders from one eyed Big People!" said Loki. He had read The Lord of The Rings, being the bookworm he was.

 "Legolas wouldn't say that," frowned Clint.

"No, but YOU will," said Tony. "In the state you are in, too, half naked and such."

  Clint sighed.

"JARVIS, video message to Nick Fury," he said.

  A small screen slid in front of him from the ceiling.

 "Calling SHEILD," said JARVIS.

After a couple of minutes, Nick Fury's scarred bald head appeared in front of them.

  "I AM LEGOLAS OF THE ELVEN FOLK, AND I SHALL NOT TAKE ORDERS FROM ONE EYED BIG PEOPLE!" Clint screeched.

  Fury stared.

"Barton," he said, after a long spell of bated breath silence. "Why the HELL are you wearing Iron Man underwear?"

  After Fury was done yelling, Tony cut off all communication.

  "My turn!" said the alcohol dazed rich kid happily. "Truth!"

 "On a scale of zero to ten, how attractive dyu find Fury?" asked Clint.

  "Five," said Tony. "Five for that  freaking awesome eye patch."

  "Pass this around," he added, taking a swig from the bottle of vodka and then handing it to Thor.

  "Trying to get us drunk, Stark?" asked Loki after he took a sip.

  "Tha's the general idea, yas," murmured Tony. "Thorie, Truth or Dare?"

  "Truth," said Thor, and Loki could sense unease in his voice.

  "What's the worst thing you've ever done to Loki?" asked Nat. "As in, the most unjust thing he didn't have coming to him."

  Thor frowned. "I suppose Loki had better answer that," said the god.

   "Definitely the beating you gave me after I cut off Sif's hair," said Loki.

  "Just a beating?" yawned Tony.

"He broke three of my ribs and left me lying out in the rain in the dent my body had made," stated Loki.

"Harsh," said Nat. She meant it.

"Do you remember how soundly Mother and Fa- I mean, Odin- had spanked you?" Loki cheekily asked a very ashamed looking Thor.

 "Roasted my rear, you mean," said Thor, grimly. "It would be weeks before I could sit down properly. But it was well deserved."

  Clint let out an explosive snort of laughter.

"Imagine Thor getting spanked," he said.

 Thor suddenly pulled Loki into a hug. Nat fell off his lap.

  "I'm sorry for everything awful I've ever done to you, Lo," he said.

  "Yeah, okay Thor," said Loki in a constricted voice, his green eyes bulging. "Leggo, you're crushing me."

  Thor let go.

Tony burst into tears. The alcohol had finally gotten to him.

  "THAT WAS SO SWEET," he bawled. " AND THE NICKNAME! LO!"

  Nat clambered back onto Loki's lap.

Tony wiped his tears and grabbed some tissues to blow his nose.

  "That WAS sweet," agreed Steve, smiling at Thor.Steve knew Thor really loved his misfit of a little brother. He wondered if Loki felt the same way.

  "Loki!" Clint called out.

"Truth," shrugged Loki.

Nat snickered. "The God of Lies picks truth. What shall we ask you?"

 Steve cleared his throat. "May I?" he asked politely.

Clint nodded. "But make it good."

Steve's face was set. Loki wondered what the oh-so very valiant Captain could have to ask him.

  "Loki, I'm going to give you a situation," began Steve. "You get to rule both Asgard and Midgard."

 "I'm liking this," grinned the trickster.

"But," said Steve. "You have to kill Thor first. Would you do it?"

Loki's face went blank. Thor didn't dare look at him, for fear of glimpsing his thoughts.

  "Haven't I already tried to kill him several times?" asked Loki stiffly.

  "What would you pick NOW?" insisted Steve. " after everything he's done for you. After he fought Odin to give you another chance, after he faced Fury's...well, fury. After he openly defied his superiors by allowing you to use your magic because he knows it makes you happy. What would you pick now, right now, this very moment?"

  Loki struggled for a few moments.

 "I would not harm him," he exhaled, almost as if the words hurt him. He eased up. "Two realms are a measly reward for killing this wild brute." He sounded snarky. He didn't mean that, and Thor knew it.

 Tony began to cry again. Thor smiled. Then he pulled Loki into another hug, as a very disgruntled Natasha slipped to the floor again.

  "Thorki bromance!" sobbed Tony.

Steve have him a weird look. "You read too much fanfiction,” he said.

 Thor released Loki.

"You don't know your own brute strength," wheezed Loki. "I think you broke a rib. Again."

 Thor laughed gaily.

"Nat?" asked Clint.

  "Truth," she said.

"Right," said a slightly recovered, red eyed Tony. "According to you, who's the hottest guy in this room?"     Nat frowned.

"Well," she said, leaning against Loki's legs, "I suppose one of these two gods. At any rate it seems like sculpted abs are a part of the standard God package. But if I had to pick, I would say Loki."

Clint made a funny noise. He looked like a kicked puppy.

 Nat rolled her eyes. Then, to everybody's surprise, she blew him a kiss.  "Ah, Clintasha," sighed Tony.

"Freak," muttered Clint.

  "Clint, Truth or Dare?" asked Nat.

 "Dare," replied Clint. He just never learned.

Thor grinned.

  "Well, then, O Hawk Eyed one, I dare you to dye your bow and arrows pink, dress up as Cupid and go outside, to the street, proclaiming yourself as the deity of love!" said Thor.

  "Ooh," grinned Nat. "This'll be good."

Clint groaned.

  "Go on, Hawkie," said Tony. "Follow your orders like a good little baby bird."

 "I'm game," sighed Clint.

"JARVIS, OPEN SESAME!" bellowed Tony. All the doors opened.

 "Thor," said Loki, "fetch Barton's weapons. I shall take care of the dressing up."

 Thor got up and went out of the room. He returned carrying Clint's bow and a quiver full of arrows.

 Loki began muttering some Nordic incantations.

The quiver became transparent. Inside it, the arrow heads turned pink and heart shaped, while the shafts turned white. The bow reshaped into half a heart, also pink in color.

 "As for Barton himself," said Loki. "His hair is already pink. His Ironman boxers deserve display, so I'll leave them be. But he needs these."

   He waved his hand. Tiny angel wings sprouted from Clint's shoulder blades.

 "Do not worry, they are mere illusions," said Loki idly.

 Several love themed tattoos came up over Clint's torso.

  "You are to say- Behold, the hit man of love!" instructed Loki.

   With false bravado, Clint headed out of the Tower, the Avengers peering outside from the balcony.

Poor Clint was on the pedestrian path  "Omg, look, Hawkeye-" began some teenage girls, stopping short as they digested his appearance.

  A small crowd of people began to gather around him.

"HAWKEYE?! I'M NOT HAWKEYE! I'M CUPID! BEHOLD, THE HIT MAN OF LOVE!" he yelled, jumping up and waving about his bow.

   Cameras flashed. Clint posed. There were whispers of 'drunk', 'on crack' and 'Ironman boxers!?'.

  "Hawkeye! CUPID!" said one of the journalists that always hung about the tower.

   With as much dignity he could muster, Clint turned on his heel and headed back inside the tower. He was followed by wolf whistles.

   "Welcome back, Cupid," said Loki as he entered the living room.

     Clint bared his teeth.

He tossed his pink and white weapon aside.

   "It's Tony's turn, isn't it?" he asked.

"Mmrph," said Tony. He was gagged and tied to a support pillar.

   "Don't ask," said Steve.

"I guess Tony's out then," said Clint. "Which makes it Thor's turn," he added. Only Nat heard the dangerous undertone.

   Thor gulped. He had already picked truth twice in a row. His reputation as a brave Aesir was on the line. If he picked truth again, his companions would think him a coward. And Hawkeye was just looking to pay Thor back for the cupid dare.

   "Well, Thor?" asked Clint.

"Dare," said Thor with a sudden burst of courage. He was a prince and a god! He feared not children's games.

  Long story short, he ended up in the dungeons of Asgard for a week. Loki was delighted and proclaimed Clint his best friend, a title Clint immediately forfeited.

[brophyblam]

Write What You Know 1st Place Winner: “Woven Essay” by Jack Cahill ’17

House Fight - Strand A

Christmas time is always a bit dysfunctional at the (name redacted for anonymity) house. Christmas 2005 was such a year. Mom is in the kitchen, struggling to whip up a gluten free meal, frantically running back and forth to find new ingredients. Dad is in the family room, watching a Fox News special about the War on Christmas. I sit next to him and ask him what beer tastes like.

“Beer can kill you,” he says. “Ok,” I say nodding my head.

A light snow falls outside, dotting our rural Pennsylvanian backyard, coating the dead trees in a beautiful light blanket.

“When is Gus coming,” I ask. “Uhh...maybe half an hour,” my mom says somewhat nervously. “He has a new girlfriend, so be on your best behavior.”

Around six, Gus walks through the front door.

“Grandpa,” I yell! “Hey,” he grunts. His arm is wrapped around his girlfriend, Anna, who is about thirty years younger. With her long brown hair and curvy hips, I was really proud of my grandpa for landing that.

“Hey dad,” my mom says. She hugs him and he cracks one of his rare smiles. Grunting again, he walks away. Presumably into the liquor cabinet, not that I understood that then.

…..

That Christmas Eve I’m sitting in the basement, playing with my toy cars. I have a Volvo S60 figurine, and I push it across the tattered carpet, hoping that I can get more toy cars for Christmas.

As I make car sounds, I hear other sounds upstairs.

“You’re a freaking bitch!” “Screw you you balding old prick!”

Tears swelled up in my eyes. Such abrasive, horrible, deplorable words - they were so foreign to me.

My mom was upstairs, shielding Anna from my grandfather. He was stumbling and slurring his speech, I thought something was horribly wrong. Did he have rabies?

“Gus, get the hell out of our house,” my dad says firmly.

Before Gus packed and left, however, he walked upstairs to my room and left an assortment of toy cars on my bed.

“With Love, Gus,” the present reads.

He even carved a miniature parking lot for me to place the toy cars. In that moment, I knew he loved me. But I also knew he had demons. That night, my mom walked into my room and turned on the Toy Story nightlight. She smiled, but in a sad way, her face was visibly red from crying.

“Your grandpa is an alcoholic, Jack.”

Red Jaguar - Strand B

“Whaddya think, Jack,” he asks, taking a swing at his cigar. “It’s pretty.” “Of course it’s damn pretty, if this car were a woman, I’d marry it.”

The Jaguar XK8. Sleek and red as a model’s lipstick, droplets of rain shined on top of the roof, reflecting the beautiful car in the coming sunshine.

“Let’s drive this son of a bitch.” “Okay.”

I hop in the passenger seat and he whips the Jaguar out of my driveway, the smell of creosote after a rain permeating my senses. We pull out of the neighborhood, and he clutches the car into sixth gear, and we fly down Pima Road, the humid, post monsoon wind throwing my wispy blonde hair into disarray.

Grandpa Gus reaches for his water bottle, takes a big sip, and puffs on his cigar. Being thirsty, I reach for the water bottle and take a sip, but immediately spit it out. It’s so harsh and acidic and bitter.

“Don’t drink that, Jack.”

“Is that…”

“Yeah, if you tell your mother, I’ll tell her about that magazine you have.” Blackmailed by my own grandpa, gotta love it.

We make a U-Turn at Frank Lloyd Wright Rd, and he keeps the car at as high a gear as possible as he goes 105 up the steep incline of Pima.

“God bless this machine,” he says laughing.

I didn’t see that Jaguar for another eight months. When I saw it again, I was in Missouri.

I walked through snowdrifts and the blustery wind up the winding road in St Joseph Missouri. In front of me was his house, or what used to be his house. Bill Faulkner is in the front yard, placing a “For Sale” sign in the snow, but I focus on the red Jaguar, covered in snow. It looks sad, like a dog without an owner. It looked widowed, orphaned.

“Don’t talk about it so loud, Bill,” I hear my mom say from a ways away. “The kids are right over there.”

Strand C - Dr. Engelsa

“You have to tell me something.” “I don’t want to,” I say crossing my arms and pouting.

Ms. Engels sighs and takes out her red pen, jotting down some notes.

“Is it because of your grandpa,” she asked. “No - it’s been since before he died.” “Then what is it?” “I told you, I don’t know!”

I was becoming increasingly frustrated, my legs were bouncing restlessly, and I glanced at the clock.

“You’re here until I say we’re through, do you understand,” she said, noticing my wandering eyes. “Yeah.” “Yeah or Yes.” “Yeah,” I say, trying to be a smart ass.

I sit there in silence for about twenty seconds before she takes out her pen and starts interrogating me again.

“When did it start?” “Maybe last year? I don’t know.” “So 4th grade?” “Yeah.” “You mean yes, Jack, you mean yes.” “Yeah.”

At this point, I find myself being crushed by frustrations and anxiety, so I ask her;

“I have a lot of homework, can I go now?” “Fine, I’ll see you next week.”

I walk out of the dreary, sterile room and into the poorly lit hallway. Pictures that are supposed to convey happiness, pictures of families rolling around in the grass, pictures of beaches and sandcastles are plastered all across the wall. I want to knock those photos down.

I see my mom in the waiting room and we walk out to the car.

“How was it,” she asks in a hopeful tone. “Well...she’s mean, I don’t like her.” “Ok - but we need her to get your medicine.” “I don’t want my medicine.” “I know you don’t, but you need it.”

Strand D - Austria

   A light drizzle falls and is illuminated in the eerie moonlight. Streetlights flicker, showing me the way to go. The grand clock in the village center strikes 4am, and the entire town square echoes with a loud chime. I glance at the street sign, shrouded by early morning’s mist;  “Verlassen St Wolfgang im Salzkammersgut/Leaving St Wolfgang.”  I nod silently and continue walking. To my left, the Austrian alps, to my right, the stunning blue waters of Bad(Lake) Wolfgang. A lone Audi driver rolls down his window and slows down to ask me; “Sind sie gut?” “Ja, ich bin perfekt, danke.” I keep on walking, occasionally stopping to glance at the scenery. I soon exit the village and am drawn into the countryside, enamored and stricken with the natural beauty of it all. The lush green, snow capped mountains, the lake glistening in the sunrise. I smile a genuine, natural smile. I missed that feeling, that feeling of calm. Despite this, I keep walking. I walk until my legs nearly go numb. I walk until the two lane, winding countryside road comes to a sudden halt. By this point, the clouds have covered up the sun, and a summer storm is coming in. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and take a right at a dirt trail with a sign that simply reads;  “St Wolfgang, 13 KM.” 13 kilometers away from the hotel, just fantastic. The light drizzle soon turns to a steady downpour, but I don’t care. In the distance, I see a quaint, cozy little village, like something you may see in a Berenstein Bears book, or maybe a German fairytale. A few dogs hide under a tree to shield themselves from the rain, and as I go to pet one, a man stops me. He looks no older than twenty and has a droopy facial structure. With his overalls and childlike, yet red face, I assume he is a farmer’s son. “Wie Gehts?” His German is lacking - he is clearly a native speaker, but his slow mannerisms and style of speech leads me to believe that he is cognitively deficient. I spoke German with the man, but for the sake of simplicity, I will use English in the dialogue. “I’m fine, thanks,” I say hoping to avoid a conversation. “Why are you here?” “I don’t know, I went for a run.” “You are wet.” “I know, I don’t control the weather.”

 He failed to understand the joke, but he was smart enough to understand that I was lying to him. “Why are you really here? What are you running from,” he asks. “I’m exercising.”

“You are big child.” “Thanks, I think.”

….

“Are you sad?” “No,” I say insistently. “I mean...I’m not happy, but I’m not sad. I don’t know what I am.”

He seems to understand my broken German and pats me on the back.

“We all lose things,” he says. “We all go through the trouble, we all go through the (crap) - but everything is pretty.”

We didn’t say anything more - he just looked at me and then pointed to the serene mountain ranges in front of us and nodded. Slow as he may have been, he was wise. I arrive back at the hotel by around 11am, still surprised by the strange event that had just transpired. Regardless of how absurd and surreal it is, I smile, I take a shower and smile widely, knowing that I feel a bit more calm. I feel more calm because of the little things.