#lumps has reinvigorated me once again

[unnamed-blob]

[Valentine Special!] Be Mine, Valentine

⇢ Pairing: The Other/Natalie

⇢ Length: Oneshot

⇢ Synopsis: Valentine's sucks. Pair that with trauma from a certain horror fest and you've got yourself a great concoction. It'll be fine though, a certain someone is here to make sure Natalie isn't alone this Valentine's!

“I’ve got a Valentine’s gift for you ;)”

Natalie blinked down at her phone, a wry grin stretching at the edge of her mouth at the text from Brooke. She snorted before she sent back a thumbs up, pocketing her phone and returning her focus on the dull lecture. 

The brunette wasn’t ever quite a fan of the holiday, first reminded of the crushing fact she was constantly single, too busy juggling her scholarship, classes, and a job, then later grimacing in distaste at the obvious marketing ploy and overpriced goods with a heart stamped onto them. 

But, Brooke had always been the more romantic of the two of them and Natalie wasn’t about to rain on her parade. Especially when it was supposed to be a holiday she’d celebrate with Quinn, before- 

She swallowed thickly, gripping her pen tighter and ducking her head, forcing her attention to the scrawled words on her papers. 

It’d be best to leave the thought, nothing that could be done anyway. 

⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡

By the time Natalie was shuffling up the stairs of their apartment, fumbling for her keys in her bag, the darkness had crept in, only a glimpse of the sun’s rays remaining over the tops of the buildings. She hopped up the remaining steps, muttering a few words under her breath as the keys clattered away from her, jingling tauntingly at the bottom of her bag but stubbornly out of reach each time she felt around for them. 

Glancing upwards, Natalie blinked at the realization she hadn’t even needed to bother, the front door slightly ajar. She frowned, hesitantly pressing her palm against it to swing it open, creeping a half step closer to scan the dark interior. 

Brooke had been just as jumpy and paranoid as Natalie after the night, maybe moreso considering she’d been nearly gutted, helplessly splayed out on the floor in front of the killer, unable to do anything but plead for her life. The female crept in, tense, acting more akin to an intruder than the fact she was entering her own home. 

There was no reason for Brooke to leave the door unlocked. 

Natalie stopped, straining her ears for any sound, hardly daring to breathe in the whispering silence. 

Or maybe she was overthinking it. Brooke might’ve left it open intentionally for her, knowing she’d be home soon from her classes. 

Natalie quietly shut the door behind her, shrugging off her backpack in the foyer, still waiting for any sound. 

“Brooke?” She hesitantly called out, wincing at the raw fear bleeding into her voice. She shuffled over to the light switch, blinking abruptly at the sudden brightness before her eyes were drawn to the scattered rose petals on the floor, leading a decorative trail that disappeared into her bedroom doorway. 

Natalie’s shoulders slumped in relief as she snorted in amusement, carefully sidestepping the flowers to pad to her room. Of course Brooke would go the extra mile, Natalie really should’ve expected as much after being her best friend for years. (And, maybe, it was a way to mask the grief for the holiday, for Brooke to expel her attention onto Natalie instead of the boyfriend who she should've been with today). 

Natalie paused at her doorway, squinting into the dark room, tensely waiting for Brooke to jump out at her. When nothing happened for several seconds, she leaned in to flip the switch on, glancing around cautiously. The rose petals were there of course, scattered all across her room (Natalie was definitely going to make Brooke help her clean up the mess she’d made), and a heart shaped box of chocolates nestled on the edge of her bed beckoned her over. 

Natalie shuffled closer, glancing it over. Definitely bigger than she’d been expecting for such a goofy joke. She leaned in, hands extended to pick it up before the smell hit her, nauseatingly sweet and overbearing, assaulting her senses. Natalie swore, straightening abruptly as she clasped her hands over her nose and tried not to gag. She finally noticed the red peeking out from under the box, staining her comforter as she grimaced then rolled her eyes. 

If Brooke covered her bedsheets in strawberry syrup, she was going to be the one scrubbing at it until it came out. Natalie steeled her nerves, mentally sighing as she left one hand clasped on her nose and the other to nudge the top of the box off, the flimsy cardboard falling alongside it to reveal its insides. 

She froze, skin prickling in discomfort, needles stabbing into the back of her neck at the sight of a- a mass of red, the covered scent of iron slamming into her nose. 

She stumbled back a step, breath hitching as she couldn’t tear her eyes off of the innocent, red box, knees trembling hard enough she wasn’t sure how she wasn’t on the ground yet. 

A heart. 

A red, blood bathed, human heart. 

She was a Nursing major, she damn knew what it looked like-

“Br-“ Natalie gasped for air as the iron invaded her mouth, coughing against the tinge coating her tongue. “Brooke!” She called, scrambling out of the room, stumbling into the doorframe as she lunged for the hallway. “BROOKE!”

She slammed into her door, gracelessly coming to a halt in the middle of Brooke’s room, her labored breaths echoing in the stifling silence. She’d missed the light switch in her haste, leaving the room bathed in darkness as her eyes desperately adjusted, scanning the space. 

Nothing- nothing, she wasn’t there. 

Natalie wasn’t sure to feel relieved or horrified, slowly backing out as her brain flipped through every scenario, through every possibility, through each location she knew. 

Where was Brooke? She wouldn’t-

Natalie’s thoughts came to a stuttering halt as a broad chest pressed into her back, wide arms curling around her frame and hugging her close before she could even gasp. She froze, tense, trembling, as the figure nosed at her neck, flinching at the warm breaths blowing across the back of her neck. 

She didn’t want to turn around- didn’t want to acknowledge the only person it could be, the killer she’d left splayed out, wounded and bleeding out on the floor. Actually- she doubted she could, not with how numb her body had gone, trembling uncomfortably against her will, nor with the way the male pressed herself against him, without a gap of space left. 

A flicker in the corner of her vision and Natalie snapped to it in a panic, heart threatening to burst from her chest at the sight of what the killer held. A knife? One from the kitchen, they didn’t leave them locked, there’s been no reason to. An axe like the one he’d slashed at Brooke with, a syringe like the one he’d killed Asher with-

She blinked. 

A card. A small, dainty card held in a large hand, unfitting for his size, slowly coming to rest before her. 

Natalie stared at it with wide eyes. It was a store bought one, covered in eye-gouging pink and red even in the dark, with too many hearts and overbearing cute images, cupids holding bows and blowing kisses. He’d obviously added his own touch, a red liquid splattered in random sections with a message in a messy scrawl, topped with a heart. 

The killer pressed her impossibly closer, inhaling her scent as Natalie traced the words until they blurred in her eyes, trembled in his grasp, and couldn’t feel her own legs. 

Be Mine, Valentine?

[goldenpineapples]

Six-Fic Six-Sentence Sunday

Hi all! Fics below the cut. I know I don’t use this blog ‘properly,’ but I wanted to try one of these preview posts at least once as a form of self-motivation! I haven’t been able to read or write as much as I’d like this year, but I think that’s finally turning around!

Stay safe out there, everyone! Be seeing you!

Cyberpunk: Xadia

T+ // Sci-fi AU, aged-up characters. Roughly based roughly on TTRPG Cyberpunk setting, and now some video game as well! A sequel to the 2020 Birthday Bash chapter

Rayla lets Callum a little further into her life, and its details start connecting dots in Callum’s memory. The two work to uncover her past, in spite of both gang law and corporate policy.

===

The crowd surged as Rayla stepped into a small spotlight alongside the vocalist, her guitar swinging wide as its now-distorted notes ripped through the charged room. The frontman reared back, microphone raised, and howled with redoubled energy.

“Hunt down- hunt down- hunt down- your self-esteem!”

Then the lyrics were all but lost in the anguished roar of Rayla’s solo, and Callum winced, electing to cover his ears and stay in the crush of bodies to keep from losing sight of her. She wasn’t watching the crowd, wasn’t watching her hands, only mournfully sweeping her eyes along the edge of the stage, her mouth twisted in a grimace as she played.

Vollarian’s Day

T+ // Very Late Valentine’s prompts.

A mix of canonverse / other AUs, to follow the Rayllum Valentine’s prompts from earlier this year (2021)

Excerpt from Chapter 1

===

“So what’s the book for?”

“Oh,” Callum perked up, reaching for the sizable tome, “just a little… story, I guess, that made me think of you. Of us.”

She eyed the book in his hands. “That looks pretty substantial for a ‘little story.’”

“It’s a collection! They’re not bad, but… here we go- ‘Vollaria’s Everlasting Ardor.’ This is the one.

Rayla’s ears twitched at the name. ‘Vollaria’ didn’t exactly sound… human.

“This isn’t one of the stories with the shirtless men on horses, is it?”

Untitled ‘Edge of Tomorrow’ AU

M+ // Xadia AU (?), major character death, potential graphic violence. Based on the concept of the Japanse light novel “All you need is kill,” which was adapted to the hollywood film “Edge of Tomorrow,” this is a not-so-nice time loop story.

Since a certain someone brought it up a long, long time ago...

When the seemingly-random minor devastations began, the pentarchy could do little besides disregard them as magical events of the world. Now, several months into a shaky alliance with Xadia, the military might of both factions is near-spent attempting to contain what the Elves have guaranteed is a calamitous threat. A lottery is drawn to determine which unlucky souls will be sent to the next expected target...

===

The last thing Callum could focus on, as his vision darkened, was the moon over the elf’s shoulder. Visible in the daytime despite the glare of magic light from nearby. Its surface rippled as if liquid, like a drip into a bucket- some trick of death, he was sure…

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

And then he was breathing again- huge gasps of air, forcing his lungs to work again -but they were fine. He was fine. Sitting up in his bed in the castle, the chill of early hours again settling around him like morning dew.

Drought

T+ // Canonverse Non-Rayllum side story related to the fighting soon after the breach was opened. What happened to those that inhabited the lands close to the world was torn open? A one-shot relating the tale of a human that fled the fighting on the Xadian side of the border, who happens across an earthblood elf’s forest, dying as it is too close to the breach.

===

“Even a small amount is enough.”

She watched the human ignore her cupped hands, opening his canteen and carefully pouring a tiny measure of water into its cap- less than she’d hoped, but more than she’d dared believe the man would ever give her.

When she took the offering back to her Tree, pouring the water over its single exposed root, the human roused himself to anger once more.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? We both need that more than your dead tree!”

Already beginning to feel the slight reinvigoration of the water, Milyn offered the vessel back. “Not dead.”

The cap was snatched away, but only secured after the man took a greedy swallow of what precious water was left to them.

Untitled Minority Report AU

T+ // Modern Sci-Fi AU (Yeah, again) Another AU based more closely on the Minority Report movie than its 1950s short story source. 

Prediction of the near-future is now within reach of the modern world, and law enforcement has successfully used it to prevent violent crime, including murder. For Rayla, an officer of this division, it’s a slow day of monitor-watching… until it isn’t.

And yes, pink hair as requested.

===

“He’s still out on that farm?”

Rayla was already pulling on her street jacket and lense-ordering a dropcraft to the address Callum had given her all that time ago. “Far as I know.”

“Rayla?”

She turned. “Yeah?”

“Promise me you won’t run.”

Soren’s face slackened into a deadpan as she hesitated, not saying what they both knew, and Rayla shrugged before leaving him alone in the control room, spinning the prediction’s truecopy between his hands.

Already Dead

Undecided rating // Xadia ‘low fantasy’ AU. This is the... ninth iteration of the very first fanfic I ever wrote, starting in April 2020. Its timeline, story, and characterizations have been rewritten so many times, but I feel like this might be the right story I want to tell? It’ll be my love letter to the fantasy genre that helped me so much in my life, as well as the fanfic world I’ve grown to love.

Callum embarks on an elf-supervised pilgrimage to research primal alternatives to dark magic, while Rayla comes to terms with what being an assassin entails.

===

“What did he do?”

Runaan’s eyes narrowed. “His crimes have been committed, and his guilt recorded. All that’s left is his justice.”

Rayla looked away from the glare, down at her hands, reciting what she knew would please him. “Assassins don’t decide right and wrong, only life and death.”

“Just so.”

She swallowed the rough lump in her throat.

“I’ll do it.”

[lon3lynation]

Chapter 5: Ways To Go

Previous Chapter

"Even when I can't see my rearview Even if I call just to hear you Even when I sleep all day (Even when I sleep all day) Even if I work it like I'm times two Living in the back of the bunk just like we do Even when I dream all day

Don't wanna sleep tonight You've got me feeling right I didn't know my name, I didn't know my name

I got a little bit longer, I got a ways to go I got a little bit longer, I got a ways to go I got a little bit longer, I got a ways to go Whoa oh oh (I got a ways to go)"

Ways To Go by Grouplove

5 days and 400 miles of Blue Ridge Parkway later, Lexa found herself in North Carolina. After staying her nights in rustic lodges and taking in the views along the parkway, she was feeling spoiled and reinvigorated in such a way she hadn't experienced in a long time. Over the years, it was all cheap hotels and motels. As long it had a clean bed and a running shower, it was all she needed to get by. It was affordable and temporary which was suitable for her type of lifestyle.

It was breathtaking to look out the windowsill and have mountains greet her sight instead of a parking lot or a wall of another building. It had given her a sense of serenity. Lexa had figured that she was a bit of an urban girl after her constant traveling from city to city. It was the source of her freedom. However, she was quickly learning that being around nature and the sheer expanse of the open land was altogether something much more magnificent. It was pure and natural freedom.

The road trip was already opening her eyes to new perspectives and feelings. It served as a reminder of how much more there was in the world outside of her life. It made her feel small and insignificant in comparison. No matter what obstacles she had faced or how lost she felt, her problems will never hinder the world from continuing on with or without her. Strangely enough, she received a small comfort at the realization. It was up to her on how to deal with her own existence and how to let events impact it.

It felt like an awakening.

Lexa wanted to further open her mind and heart to the wisdom that her journey would surely offer her. She wanted to encounter every one of Earth's secrets. It wasn't humanly possible but she wanted to try and learn what she could in her lifetime. A life filled with adventure and world travel could potentially be her new purpose in life. She would love to visit other countries and expose herself to different cultures. Once she had herself figured out and her past wounds dealt with on this particular trip, she would have to seriously consider her options on what was next for her.

Lexa was getting a little too ahead of herself, though. She's only been on the road for about a week now. There was still a way to go mentally and distance-wise. There was no rush but she knew she couldn't put it off for much longer. She needed to make some sort of progress with herself and take that much needed first step. Hopefully, the first step would be the hardest part and the rest will be bearable enough to proceed through.

The time for reflection of her past would have to wait because presently there was shopping to be done. If she wanted to make the most out of the summer, swimwear and more clothes were a necessity. She had already picked out some outfits perfect for the warm weather and a new suitcase for them. Currently, she was taking a moment to ponder the phone in her free hand.

Turning away from the racks of bikinis, she opened up Instagram in the browser and logged into her long-abandoned private account. She rarely ever posted any pictures on it anymore. Maybe she would start using it again and upload photos of the incredible sights she saw for prosperity. It would be nice to have them along with her memories. Maybe she could even make Anya a bit envious for missing out on a joint road trip together.

Actually, they would have positively driven each other insane if they had gone together. It might have been fun and games at first, but eventually, the lack of space and disagreements on activities would have done nothing but frustrate them both. Anya would have wanted to do something wilder than sunbathing on a beautiful beach or enjoying the views. Lexa would have never been able to do her much needed thinking and reevaluating with Anya around.

Still, she missed her friend and hoped to get in contact again. It was the longest they had gone without seeing each other. With that in mind, she opened up her private messages and sent Anya a text.

'Anya, I think we should meet up again soon. It's overdue. I'm traveling southwest of the US via car. Where are you currently staying? Get back to me asap.'

Lexa was looking forward to hearing from Anya again. She wondered if her mentor would feel a sense of pride in her for doing a successful job of stealing a car for a cross-country road trip. However, she was not looking forward to explaining her phone relationship with Clarke to her. Anya wouldn't understand when Lexa, herself, could barely understand it. Clarke called her every day since she had taken the car and Lexa has gone along with it. It frightened her how effortlessly Clarke was getting past the cracks in her walls. She doubted that Clarke even realized just how well she was doing until about 5 days ago. After she had ventured to imagine Clarke standing next to her to share the view of the mountains, Lexa made certain to be more aloof in her calls with Clarke.

Too bad there wasn't some manual book on how to interact with a stubborn and persistent stranger that was the victim of your thievery. How was she supposed to act and feel in such an unprecedented situation?

Lexa didn't know. She absolutely hated how unprepared and uncertain she felt. Her vulnerability was showing and she didn't do vulnerability. Normally she could predict and prepare for every outcome, but this once she was caught off guard. It unnerved her which was downright irritating.

Clarke was so very irritating.

Stupid Clarke and her unrealistic optimism.

Stupid Clarke and her constant questions.

Stupid Clarke and her cracked blue phone case that was now ringing in her hand.

Lexa glared at the vibrating and ringing phone in her hand. Her fingers gave a momentary squeeze around the case before answering and lifting it to her ear with a sigh.

"Hello, Clarke."

"Hey, criminal."

"Very original."

"What? Is that not cutesy enough for you? How about I start calling you Rebel?"

Lexa scoffed.

"God, no and I don't do cutesy."

"Why? Oh, does it put a damper on your badass rep in the criminal world?"

"What do you think we do? Sit around and share stories about our illegal doings? That we know who's who?" Lexa chuckled at the thought. "The only person that knows what I do is -"

"The infamous friend and mentor, of course. Is she aware of how much you mention her to strangers?"

"No, her smugness doesn't need any more encouragement."

"It's nice to have you taking part in our banter again. I was wondering how long you could resist it."

A pause.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, it didn't escape my notice that you've been acting like a dick for the past 4 days."

"When are you going to stop referring me to a phallus?"

"When you stop acting like one which is probably not going to be anytime soon. So, are you done with the whole tightlipped routine?"

"You tell me. Am I?" Lexa snipped.

"I think you want it to be because you sorta miss this but you're resisting because it - or I - make you nervous."

Damn her.

"Clarke," she warned.

"Sounds like I hit the mark," Clarke responded smugly.

"You can't just -" Blowing out a harsh breath, Lexa shook her head. "This needs to stop."

"And now you're panicking."

"I'm not panicking."

She was maybe panicking a little bit.

"It seems like you are. Take another breath."

To her annoyance, Lexa found herself taking another breath and felt recentered.

"You need to stop doing that."

"Doing what exactly? Telling the truth the way I see it?"

"Pushing and assuming you know anything about the way I feel. You don't."

"Your reaction seems to disagree with your words. Why does it -"

"No," Lexa sternly interrupted.

"No?" Clarke questioned.

"No more questions. How would you like it if I questioned you constantly?"

"Well, if it gets you to partake in our conversations a little more. Ask me."

"What?"

"If you have questions, then ask me. At least you'll get a detailed answer from me, unlike a certain someone.".

It was annoying how quickly Clarke could turn things back around on her. Anytime she thought she got the reins back, Clarke would only steal them right back and leave her scrambling like a fool.

"Did I put you on the spot? I'm sorry. Let me help you. My name's Clarke Griffin. I'm 21 years old and I am currently still in college. I was a little lost on what I wanted to pursue career-wise. I could follow in my mother's footsteps or do the opposite of what she wants and pursue art. I may decide on something else one day but right now I'm really digging the art direction I've taken. Is this where you remind me again that I'm speaking to a criminal?"

"No. I think you're well aware of what you're doing." She was beginning to believe she'll never truly understand Clarke and what motivated her to do the things she does. However, she appreciated the shift in their conversation. "An artist," Lexa curiously hummed. "What are your mediums?"

"I draw and paint mainly. Pencil, pastels, watercolor, acrylics. I tried pottery before but the misshapen mug that resulted from it didn't exactly encourage me to continue with it. I still use the mug every morning for coffee though."

Lexa smiled wistfully as a memory came to her.

"Pottery was something I wanted to take on as a hobby after my high school's art class introduced us to it. There was something about the cold clay staining my hands and watching them mold a lump of it into something useful."

"Did you take it on as a hobby?"

"I didn't get a chance to." Lexa sighed deeply as the memory turned into a sad one. "I was so consumed with... Costia, my girlfriend at the time and then not too long later, I ended up leaving what I thought was my home."

Suddenly, it occurred to her that Clarke had succeeded in getting her to share something in return. And of all things to share, she allowed Costia's name to flow out from her lips. The same name she has consciously avoided saying out loud for years.

"That sounds exactly like how a high school romance would be. I'm sorry you didn't get the chance, though. There's nothing really stopping you from doing pottery now, right? It's never too late."

"I move around too much. Maybe when I am settled down somewhere, I'll look into it."

"You should." Clarke gently urged. "I, um, I hope you realize that I am really biting my tongue here. You give me little crumbs of information that makes me curious and want to know more, but…"

"But you're trying to hold back now because I was sort of an asshole about it earlier," Lexa admitted, feeling appreciative that Clarke was trying. "Honestly, if our roles were reversed, I'd be just as curious. I guess I can't fault you for that."

"Sort of?" Clarke joked. "And I guess I can see why you would want to stay secretive."

Lexa lingered silently in consideration before responding.

"It's just that this whole situation with you is pretty unheard of and I need to stay on guard."

"I think I understand, but I promise you that the car is staying unreported. I would like to solve this between us."

"The crazy thing is I think I am starting to believe that." Lexa chuckled in disbelief. "I wanted this road trip to be memorable and I am getting that. I simply didn't expect you, though." Lexa softly muttered. "I don't know how to process you, Clarke. You're an enigma I've yet to solve."

Lexa bit her lip in thought. It hadn't escaped her notice that the tone of their conversation had completely shifted. Clarke seemed to be taken aback as she listened closely to the other end of the call. She scanned the racks and distractedly examined her swimwear options.

"Careful, that sounds a lot like a compliment, I think," Clarke chuckled nervously. "Do you really think between the two of us that I am the enigma here? I'm just some girl compared to you."

"It's important for you to have some confidence in yourself, Clarke."

Clarke laughed, "Oh, I have plenty of confidence, but I am not a badass thief that gets to do whatever she wants and road trip across the country."

"You think I'm badass?"

"Of course that's what you took away from that sentence. Have you always been this sure of yourself?"

"No," Lexa grinned with a small laugh. "It took a lot of practice. I was the quiet little loner in school before I met Costia. She helped bring me out of my shell. She told me to pretend until I didn't have to anymore. It took."

"It took and gave you a humongous ego."

"Hey, now you're exaggerating."

"Nope."

"I'm really not as cocky as you make me out to be, you know," Lexa bemoaned.

"Oh, who is referring themselves to phalluses now?" Clarke cackled over the line, much to Lexa's annoyance and hidden amusement.

"Shut up, Clarke. You have the humor of a 12 years old boy."

"It's still a better sense of humor than your total lack of one, rogue."

Lexa pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a quiet laugh. Clarke's random names never failed to amused her.

I think I prefer rogue over rebel so far."

"It may be my favorite name for you yet. Of course, the one thing that could top it is your actual name…"

"Uh-huh, still not giving it to you."

"Dammit," Clarke sighed.

It made Lexa smile to herself.

Clarke was stupidly cute.

It was truly unfair.

"I've been standing here talking to you while staring at a rack of bikinis for who knows how long now. I should finish what I'm doing." Lexa found herself reluctant to end the call but knew she needed to get moving.

"Oh, okay. Sorry, I didn't realize I interrupted your shopping."

"It's fine. I voluntarily let you interrupt me."

"Hmm, I think you're starting to like talking to me, rogue."

"And you claim I'm the one with an ego?"

"Nice deflection."

"It wasn't a deflection."

"Whatever you say. Hey, maybe you could send me a bikini pic," Clarke suggested excitedly.

Lexa snorted, "You wish, Clarke."

"Well, yeah. I asked, didn't I?" Clarke mumbled softly enough that Lexa nearly missed it.

Clearing her throat, Lexa ignored the fluttery feeling inside her that was suddenly begging for attention.

"Thank you for the call. I think you've given me some things to think about."

"Of course. I'm glad we could have this talk and come to a better understanding."

"We did," Lexa whispered in agreement.

After they exchanged goodbyes, Lexa slipped the phone back into her pocket and heaved a huge sigh of relief. It had started out rocky but Clarke had managed to smooth things out between them. An understanding of sorts had been reached, resulting in Lexa feeling less anxious and guarded.

She had meant it when she had told Clarke that she's given her things to think about. It amazed her that she had actually talked about Costia with someone and shared bits of her past. Granted, she didn't open up about her unfavorable memories yet, but it was still progress. Dealing with her past was one of the main reasons why she was doing her road trip. Crazily enough, she was beginning to realize that perhaps Clarke could even help her in some ways. It didn't have to be all internal self-evaluating and assessing how to repair the damage on her own. She could confide in Clarke about certain things and finally vent out everything she had repressed for years.

But should she?

She was driving a stolen car, putting way too many miles on it, and having phone calls with a stranger. Well, not a complete stranger anymore, but still. She couldn't help but feel torn between wanting to just believe Clarke and wanting to protect herself.

Lexa knew it'd be hard and she was prepared for the challenge. Her gut was telling her to let herself trust Clarke. To let whatever it was they were doing happen without all her walls up surrounding her heart. They needed to be brought down, permanently. She needed to free herself from her own defense mechanisms and baggage.

Shaking her head, Lexa finally moved to try on the new swimwear in one of the dressing rooms. Clarke's suggestion to send a bikini photo was actually tempting. Maybe she could give Clarke a shock when she least expected it and send her one.

Lexa smirked at the thought.

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

Hours later near Nags Head, NC, Lexa found herself sitting inside a McDonald's enjoying a food break. She has plans on visiting Nags Head, the name alone being enough to intrigue her, which was a barrier island in the Outer Banks.

Taking a bite of her hamburger, she paused slightly when the phone rang and vibrated on the table. It caused Lexa to grin after swallowing her bite as she raised it to her ear without looking at the caller ID. There was no need, she already knew who had to be calling her.

"Did you forget to add something to our call earlier?" Lexa said teasingly.

"Um, hello? I'm positive I've dialed the right number." A confused but kind female voice could be heard on the other end of the call, causing Lexa's smile to instantly drop.

"Who is this speaking? Is my daughter Clarke around? I'd like to speak to her, please."

Lexa startled upright in her seat, banging her knee against the table as she crushed the wrapper near her hand into a crinkly ball, and gaped like the careless fool that she was.

She did not just completely screw herself by simply answering the phone without looking at the caller ID, did she?

Taking a quick glance at the phone, it only further confirmed what an awkward idiotic mess she had just put herself in.

Mom.

She really did just do that.

Shit!

"Um," Lexa hesitated, her mouth still flapping open and shut for a moment in disbelief over the situation she had accidentally found herself in.

An utterly insane moment that shouldn't even be happening, ever. Talking to the mother of the woman whose car she had stolen. That just doesn't happen.

Lexa needed to rein back her control. She needed to get out of this conversation as quickly, but unsuspiciously, as possible.

Inhaling a calming breath, she released the crumbled wrapper from her hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry. I hadn't realized I answered the wrong phone, ma'am," she murmured, allowing a soft albeit nervous laugh to be heard. "I guess that's what I get for not looking at the caller ID."

"Oh," the mother drawled out. "Well, that clears up some of the confusion. Are you a friend of Clarke's? Wait, that's probably a silly question. You're no stranger to my daughter."

Hearing the voice on the other end laugh at the idea of a stranger answering her daughter's phone made Lexa anxiously bite her lip.

Right.

Such an inane thing to imagine to ever happen to someone. Not to Clarke Griffin.

Quietly groaning to herself, she forced herself to join in the laughter before clearing her throat to move the conversation to an end.

"Yeah, that's, uh - exactly, Mrs. Griffin. So, as you -"

"Enough with the politeness You can call me Abby."

"Abby," Lexa nodded, tracing invisible swirls on the tabletop for a sudden much-needed distraction. "Okay. Clarke's not around at the moment. I guess she forgot to take her phone with her."

"I see. I was hoping to catch her before she went off to classes or into one of her secluded artist moods. Did she -" Abby trailed off.

Lexa stored the tidbit of information on Clarke in mind before momentarily panicking at whatever caused Abby to pause mid-question.

Was she catching on?

Did she notice that something was off with her?

She may have only been speaking to the woman for a few minutes now but she couldn't help the feeling that she wasn't one to usually hesitate with words. Not after getting an ear and textful from Clarke. It didn't seem too far off to assume it ran in the family.

"Did you two have a girl's night? I mean, with her phone being with you at this time..."

Okay, she hadn't expected that line of questioning. Furrowing her brow in confusion at the tabletop, she scrambled to come up with something convincing.

"Yeah, yeah. We uh, just hung out and stuff last night. She crashed at my place. It was a tiring day for her."

"I can only imagine with classes, her art projects, and her wild group of friends. I'm just glad to know that she has someone to take the load off with after a long day."

Lexa hummed in response, beginning to feel uncomfortable with the fact that she'd let this conversation go as long as it had.

Also that guilty feeling had returned to nag at her again.

"How long have you two girls known each other now?"

Lexa wasn't sure, but she could've sworn that she had heard a smile in Abby's tone. Fidgeting in her seat, she knew she really had to end this conversation in the next minute because it was becoming too much for her to handle.

"I guess you can say we're fairly new friends."

"I see. Hm, that could explain why I haven't heard about you from Clarke yet. Since it's all so new." Abby chuckled, clearly amused by the topic of their fake friendship.

It was unsettling and even more confusing to hear the almost knowing tone to her laughter. She could almost imagine a scene where she was having this conversation in person with Clarke's mom, that she'd be bumping shoulders with her and grinning knowingly.

Lexa was fully aware that she could've avoided this whole confusing conversation if she had looked at the caller ID first.

"Who knows with her." She huffed out a chuckle. "Sorry, but I need to get going but I could take a message for her if you want?"

"Oh, okay, thank you. I'm sorry for taking up your time. I'm sure you have a busy day ahead of you. If you could tell Clarke that her mom would like to skype with her soon, that'd be great."

"Don't worry about it, ma'am. I'll be sure to bring that up to her."

"Thank you, and remember, it's Abby. It was nice talking to you."

"Abby, of course. You tool. Have a good day."

After exchanging goodbyes, Lexa ended the call and tossed the phone on the table to collapse back into her chair in relief. A small grunt sounded from her, making her realize she had been sitting tensely throughout the whole conversation.

A whole conversation that should've been minutes shorter than it turned out to be.

To say she was disappointed in herself and the way she handled the call was a major understatement. If she expected to keep under the radar, continue driving across the country in a stolen car, then she needed to be more cautious. She needed to not make the same mistakes as she had done just a moment ago.

If Abby had figured out that she was actually not a friend of Clarke's, and was in fact, a stranger that stolen her phone. There was no doubt she would actually report to the police unlike her daughter, who apparently thought she could handle it on her own.

At least she learned that Clarke clearly hadn't told Abby anything that had happened, which helped with the lies she had told. Abby believed she was a new friend of Clarke's. Hopefully, she would continue believing that for long enough and perhaps she'll be able to stomp down the lingering guilt over it.

Deciding it was time to take a bathroom break and head back on the road, Lexa gathered her trash after draining the last of her coffee and dumped it into the nearby garbage can. She pocketed Clarke's phone in her jeans and turned around only to bump into the solid chest of a man donning a uniform.

"Oh, sorry. Are you okay there?" the man questioned, oblivious to just how much he caught her completely off-guard.

Firm hands gripped her arms, steadying her, as her eyes took in the police badge pinned on the top left of the man's dark buttoned-up shirt.

A uniform with a badge.

She just bumped into a police officer inside a McDonald's.

"I-I'm sorry about that, officer." She muttered, attempting to hide her disbelief and fear behind a forced closed-lipped smile. "Didn't see you there. I'm fine, though, thanks."

"If you did, we wouldn't be apologizing to each other right now." The officer responded gruffly but his clear amusement softened his tone enough for her to not take it personally. A quiet sigh of relief escaped her when the officer finally released her arms.

Clearing her throat, she briefly glanced up, catching the man's eyes before switching her view out the window to where Clarke's car sat parked. She could feel her inner panic coming close to overwhelming her.

She needed to leave

"Well, I'll be sure to watch my step next time. I was just leaving. Have a good day, sir." Receiving a polite nod, Lexa edged passed the officer and exited the building out to the parking lot.

It took some restraint from Lexa to basically not sprint to the car to put as much distance as she could between her and the cop. With measured steps, she reached the car and pulled the driver's side door opened before closing it once she was seated inside. She grimaced slightly when her hand reached up to turn the ignition on, momentarily forgetting she had no key to turn.

She really needed to figure out a way to make it less obvious that the car was stolen if anyone were to ever peek inside and see the exposed wires dangling underneath the dash. Grabbing the wires, she gazed anxiously out the windshield as she entwined the correct wires together until the engine roared.

It only took a few moments before she found herself on the road again, and merging back onto the highway. Her own green eyes stared back at her as she glanced at the rearview mirror to reassure herself that the police officer hadn't followed her.

Seeing that she was in the clear, she exhaled sharply before grinding her teeth in annoyance while she pulled the car onto the bridge that would take her to the island.

How had she not noticed that a cop had been standing nearby in the same place as her? Observation and instincts to be alert to any possibility that she needed to tread around carefully had been known strengths of hers.

Lexa shook her head at herself, knowing that she had to somehow snap herself out of the tension she's been feeling. It was something that needed to end sooner than later if she actually wanted to enjoy this impromptu trip of hers. Constantly looking over her shoulders and acting unlike herself could cause actual suspicion. It wasn't what she envisioned, and she was not about to let herself ruin something that could be so good for her.

She had envisioned herself with the windows rolled down, wind whipping through her hair, a content smile on her face while blasting music that perfectly suited the adventurous mood. It was on her to take the step in turning it into a reality. With the image back in mind, she rolled the windows down in the car and tousled her hair with her hand as she inhaled the fresh air.

Turning her attention to the radio, her fingers fumbled briefly trying to find the correct button to switch it on. Finding the button, she pressed it and sat back comfortably into her seat before scanning through the channels until something grabbed at her.

At that moment, with the windows down, her hair flying behind her, a song that sang about having a ways to go, Lexa felt something inside her just crack open and her laughter soon took its place in her surroundings.

She could feel the tension leave her as she continued to laugh in such a carefree way. Tears pricked her eyes over the jumble of emotions that swelled inside her that was starting to put her mind back on track. This was what she wanted. No one, especially not herself, was going to let this moment slip through her fingers.

[peterparkers7evilexes]

Never again I’ll go sailing

Spideytorch à la Michael B Jordan - contains Endgame spoilers, lite fix-it.

Rated T, ~800 words

Returning to a world that’s gone on without you is… off-putting. Peter doesn’t know who’s lived, who’s died or vanished in the five years since Titan. Tony offers him the database, but he logs in once, finds May’s name in the list of survivors, and he can’t swallow past the lump in his throat.

His aunt is waiting for him on the front steps of the brownstone, her eyes red-rimmed with tears. “Peter,” she gasps, and she squeezes him so tight he could swear she has super-strength too.

He gets calls from Ned and MJ, but he doesn’t try reaching out to anyone else. The way Tony and May look at him, like he’s something fragile and impermanent, it scares him too much. So he makes sure to answer their calls a little more quickly, pastes on a grin, and goes on like the past five years never happened. He doesn’t quite know how to function otherwise.

It doesn’t matter. People find him anyways.

As he’s swinging over New York, pausing here and there to join the reinvigorated workers and civilians in cleaning up the heaps of rubble and lend a helping hand, people shout joyously and ask to take pictures with him or hug him. “Spider-Man’s back!” one guy shouts, live-streaming as Peter hoists a chunk of concrete off the streets.

So, word spreads. He’s happy he was missed, it makes him feel like he’s really made a difference in New Yorkers’ lives. But when he sails alone above the streets at night, it still feels hollow, like he’s a stranger in his own city.

Then, Johnny finds him.

Peter’s on his nightly patrol, swinging home after helping with clean-up in the Bronx when his spider sense blares. “Oh shit,” he shouts, and he’s snatched out of the air and thrown onto a rooftop, flames licking at his costume.

He stops-drops-and-rolls, scrambling to his feet and spinning around to glare at his attacker. “Jesus, Matchstick!”

“Five years and four months.” The flames die down and sink into Johnny’s skin, and he stalks towards Peter, sticking his finger into his chest. “You been back four months and you never called, never dropped a line to say you’re alive.”

Guilt sinks like a stone in Peter’s gut. “I didn’t– Life was busy,” he lies, jutting his chin out.

“You know how I had to find out?” Johnny’s eyes glint fierce and angry, the hurt clear on his handsome face. “A fucking Tik Tok of you, Pete, swingin’ over Brooklyn like nothing happened.”

“What’s a Tik Tok?” Peter asks dumbly, and Johnny lets out a slightly unhinged laugh.

“See, it was bad enough you were one of the vanished,” Johnny says, and Peter doesn’t miss the waver in his voice. “And then– then the battle upstate happens, and I don’t hear anything, I don’t know if you survived that, and you just– you never called? You never thought to check in, say ‘hey Johnny, guess what, I’m alive again’?”

Peter swallows hard around the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, tugging his mask off. “Johnny, c’mon man, I–”

“I really missed you.” Johnny looks away abruptly, his eyes shining wet in the dimmed city lights. “Dammit, Pete.”

He looks down at his feet, ashamed. “I was gonna,” he says quietly. “After. I meant to, um, say hi to everyone. But May cries whenever I leave the house anymore, and– and Mr. Stark looks at me sometimes like I’m about to die in front of him again– I couldn’t, Johnny. It was too hard.”

Johnny is quiet as he absorbs his words, staring out at the endless expanse of lights below. “It was hard here too,” he says, but his voice no longer sounds accusatory or angry, just tired.

A painful ache swells in Peter’s chest, and before he can overthink it, he closes the space between them and throws his arms around Johnny, dragging him into a tight hug. He hears Johnny’s breath stutter but he doesn’t say anything, just raises his hands enough that he can wrap his fingers around Peter’s arms, holding onto him.

He smells just how Peter remembers - a mix of ozone and some high-end cologne he can’t pronounce the name of, warm and solid against Peter’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs again, his lips pressed against the bare skin of Johnny’s throat.

Warm fingers tighten around his forearm in acknowledgment. “Me too.”

Peter shivers, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Johnny’s cheek. “Well pretty boy,” he says with a crooked grin, “sounds like I’ve missed a few things. Why don’t you catch me up at our spot?”

Johnny chuckles wetly, but he wipes his face and squeezes Peter tight again before letting him go. “Last one to Lady Liberty’s crown has to buy me gyros for a week,” he says, and then with a burst of crackling flame, he shoots off.

“You’re on, Hothead,” Peter shouts, and he slings a web into the air after him, their laughter echoing bright in the vast empty sky.

[hellopendulum]

In early 2012, I was a lump of sadness. It was so bad that I could not even cry. Cliché as it may sound, Robyn changed all of that. I heard “Indestructible” playing that same year and it was the catalyst to one of the biggest changes in my life. I made a conscious decision to LIVE, to put myself first, to prioritize my mental health, and to relish every opportunity that life threw at me! It was really a wake up call in a form of a song! It paved the way to creating this person who has a constant longing for new experiences and adventures. Robyn has truly reinvigorated my sense of self and for that her music will always have a special place in my heart. I will see her again next week and I cannot wait to laugh, cry, sing and dance my heart out once again! Yes, you only live once and thank goodness, @robynkonichiwa helped me realize that! #ultimatefangirl . . . #robyn #robyninamsterdam #afaslive #amsterdam #amsterdamexperiences #robynhoneytour #honeytour (at AFAS Live) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzVXebRjJ6z4Huh1L4UU2sKC_BGH7EspU9IyHA0/?igshid=c2l4zmdft36p

[cksmart-world]

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

Tuesday, Jan. 22, 2019

THE LIARS ARE LYIN', HERBERT'S HARANGUE & MEN WILL BE BOYS

Never Believe Nothin'

The liars are lying about the liars. OMG. Recent events in Trumpworld require more than simple analysis. Visual aids, like charts and power points can't explain what's going on. Nonetheless, here at Smart Bomb the staff has utilized special kaleidoscopic asymmetry to put things in some kind of understandable perspective: Michael “The Fixer” Cohen, who would be the Robert Duvall character from The Godfather, ratted out Don Donald on payments of hush money for sex. To avoid the cement feet treatment, Cohen then blabbed to Robert Mueller, played by Elliot Ness, that The Godfather and Beady Eyes Putin were planning a Trump Tower in Moscow. The Fixer then admitted that he lied to Congress about the Russian tower to protect The Don. Shadowy persons unknown fed BuzzFeed the skinny that Don Don whispered to The Fixer that he should dupe the dupes on Capitol Hill. But hold it, the feds revealed that BuzzFeed got buzzed, leaving them — and the entire Washington press corps — swinging in the breeze. Trump's lawyer, Rudy “Tessio” Guliani, pounced, proclaiming that Cohen is a proven liar and President Truthfulness never said nothin'. And even if he did — so what. And there you have it, plain and simple.

Herbert's Harangue

Relief at last. Utah Gov. Gary Herbert has the solution to federal government shutdowns: Return all power to the states. His strategy includes “a robust federalism that leaves policy making to the states,” he wrote for Politico. Brilliant. Under such a scheme, Utah law makers could do away with all those blasted protections on federal land that is screwing up energy development, let alone grazing and logging. And we wouldn't have to listen to the federal government regarding our air. Seems like not a winter goes by that they aren't all up in our face claiming our air is far too dirty and unhealthy. Not least, every time guys like Newt Gingrich or Donald Trump shut down the government it screws up our economy because the national parks close. We'd just make them Utah parks — problem solved. And states like Alabama and Mississippi would love Herbert's proposal — they could return to good ol' Jim Crow. After all, it was the feds who forced integration in schools, restaurants and even restrooms down there. Things just work out better when government is closest to the people. Except for Salt Lake City. Utah legislators are always having to undo a lot of progressive stuff the city does, because they know best. Ain't that right.

The Trouble With Men

Donald Trump has done a great service for women. No, we're not talking about his grabbing of women's privates. Well, hold on, maybe we are. Trump's election seems to have reinvigorated something once called Women's Liberation. That dormant social movement also has been energized by #MeToo, a spontaneous uprising by women who are tired of getting their privates grabbed, among other things. Along with that phenomenon comes the inevitability of what has been labeled “Male Toxicity.” Yikes. Some men don't like the label — they fear they could be collateral damage when lumped in with toxic bastards, such as Harvey Weinstein, Bill O'Reilly, and Louis C.K. (note: Most killers are men, too.) The “masculinity pathology” even has been described by the American Psychological Association. Now you know we're in trouble. If that weren't enough, Gillette, the razor company for men, is weighing in with a TV ad that says sexual harassment sucks (no pun intended) and good guys need to hold bad guys accountable. Some men don't like the ad and are refusing to shave. According to Gillette, guys in college fraternities, on football teams and in entertainment must hold each other accountable. Right. No, it's women who've gotta to do it, because the trouble with men is...  well, they're men. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

Some Good News

We haven't even made it through January and already Wilson and the band are sick and tired of bad news. The Wall, the Shutdown — STOP! They're planning a one-way trip to Tangiers. They don't want to hear that the ice caps are melting while Trump rolls back environmental regulations. Reports about our bad air are particularly depressing, especially while Greg Hughes and his mafia plan the Inland Port aimed at bringing a lot more diesel trucks and locomotives. And if that weren't bad enough, the New England Patriots won again. There must some good news somewhere and the intrepid staff here at Smart Bomb set out to find it: On Monday, folks across the nation — even in Utah — paused to remember Martin Luther King, Jr. and the ideals he championed. That's good news. The Supreme Court denied Trump the ability to end DACA that protects childhood immigrants from deportation. More good news. In Salt Lake City, some 200 people played bingo to support the Inn Between, a hospice for dying homeless people, which has been criticized by some wankers in the neighborhood. Yes. And Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez told Stephen Colbert that she gives “zero” fucks when people tell her to “wait your turn” and “don’t make waves.” Even Wilson and the band can dig that.

Post Script

Social scientists and late night TV hosts have been unable to explain what exactly is Mike Pence. Some have theorized that he is a defective android horribly mis-programmed to act like a defective android. But not even that can explain Pence's recent TV appearance where he quoted Martin Luther King, Jr. and compared the iconic civil rights leader to Donald Trump and his insistence on a Wall along our southern border. Well, as Yogi Berra might have said, he doesn't know his ass from third base.

OK, Wilson, why don't you and the guys set aside your pale ales and gummy bears and take us out with something hopeful to get us through the week: And into this life we're born / Baby, sometimes, sometimes we don't know why / And time seems to go by so fast / In the twinkling of an eye...

Let's enjoy it while we can / Won't you help me share my load / From the dark end of the street / To the bright side of the road...

[inmyownmhis]

Pain Part Three of Three

-The drive to Haven's family home was not a solo, I was flanked by the company of anxiety and woozy, the latter was sure to see me through the commitment, despite the former's plea to do the opposite.

As I pulled up and put the car in park, I took in the picture of the quote unquote American Dream. Manicured lawns and sculpted bushes, a shale shingled roof, even the requisite white picket fence.

Humans would never suspect anything was amiss or different, save for the fact they wouldn't ever observe the family during daylight hours, though the nearest neighbor was an acre away and there was nothing to draw attention to the fact unless someone had reason to spy.

I dropped my head to the steering wheel, trying to quell the feeling of illness that threatened. I was mental when it came to blood needs, it tortured my soul, this pain struck in my depths and though I allowed the seepage, it was one variety I wish I could bypass.

But that would be cheating.

Stepping out of the car, my footfalls felt weighted as I approached the door, my hand obese as I raised it to knock, my chest tight as I awaited entry, my pulse raced with such voraciousness, it burned through my veins while they worked to contain the rapids.  My mind cranked, calculating whether or not I could have waited another day or two, my head answered the thought with another tip towards a swim.

Big fat NOPE.

My little sojourn to the land of mind fuck was interrupted by the door swinging wide, Haven awaited me in all her grace and beauty on the opposite side. I bowed my head in a show of my immediate respect.-

Thank you for seeing me tonight, Haven. Especially on such short notice.

-Concern immediately washed out her soft features when I stepped inside, into the light of the entryway.

"You're hurt, Jagger."

The lift of her arm had me wincing, her touch to my brow left me wanting to recoil but I resisted as not to offend, even when her fingertips brushed over the swell above my eye.

"You've waited too long once again, I expected your call weeks ago. You are too stubborn for your own good. Come on, let’s not put it off any more."

I accepted her admonishing, especially as the turn on her heel told me she wouldn’t be hearing any return.

I followed her to the den where she took a seat on a small couch, patting the spot beside her, dainty wrists on display. Instead of perching next to her, I lowered to my knees in front of the empty spot, which she knew I would do; I couldn't ever put myself on her level. Still, she always invited me with the same gesture to do so, even after a decade of my refusal.

"Please sit with me, Jagger?"-

It wouldn't feel...right, Haven. I beg your forgiveness.

-The disappointment that crossed her features was new and confused me, but she so quickly recomposed herself, it felt invasive to pry with any questions. To her credit, she had never pressed me.  

My hunger was sharply evident when she extended her wrist and the mere sight caused such a swift punch down of my fangs it was marked with pain, go me. Despite the savage beast that the view awakened, I managed to thank her before sinking the razor sharp points into her soft flesh. My pulls were less controlled at first taste, nature had betrayed me, taking the reins for the first several minutes before the brain came back online, reminding me that I was unworthy to take from the female. My self loathing was penance, the lifelong sentence my father hadn’t served a day of.  

Haven's hand in my hair came as another surprise but I was too distracted by the renewal of my strength by her blood to stop it. Alternatively I allowed an ache to take up residence in my chest and manifest in the form of tears rolling down my cheeks. I mourned for her loss.  I mourned the loss of lives and innocence my father had poached. I mourned for my own soul's existence and the name I'd inherited. I mourned for my mother, an angel on earth, the only redeeming strands found in my DNA had come from her.

A mournful sound hit my ears. Was that me? Haven's renewed soothing answered me silently. While I was physically knit back together, my soul continued to sink, aches and pains replaced by a stark reminder of who I was and who I would never be. There was no rising from the ashes of my father, no Phoenix moment in my future. I was destined to carry the chains of his wrong deeds so long as I drew air.

I couldn’t register time while I was joined to Haven, but didn’t help myself to a drop more than needed, smoothing my tongue over the punctures at the earliest opportunity, slowly lapping the wounds closed. I felt the remnants of salt, the stains of my tears, on my cheeks as I pulled back, gently releasing my hold on Haven's wrist. As I opened my eyes, refreshed in body, heavy in spirit, her warm smile startled me in the manner of a ghost, raising a memory of my mother's own.

"I need to talk to you about something before you go, Jagger."  Howdy, sinking gut. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but her steadying breath told me my Spidey sense was not off.

"I am... seeing someone. It has recently taken a turn to something more serious and we are on the verge of mating traditionally. I won't be able to continue to see to your needs, Jagger."  

I choked back the lump that surfaced in my throat and disallowed the immediate rise of panic, disgusted at myself for the instinctual reaction. I nodded and grinned in spite of myself.-

I am happy for you, and grateful for the sacrifices you have made on my behalf and for so long a time, Haven daughter of Lhance. I am forever indebted to you. I hope he is ten times the male you deserve. -Unlike me.  I rose to my feet without further delay, on the verge of implosion for the reality that had started to cement. When Haven reached out once more, this time squeezing my arm right where the blade had breached, I gritted my teeth and welcomed the reminder of the injury, her unintentional deflection had worked for me, staving off exposure of what I was internalizing.   "My father is reaching out. He is well connected and determined to find someone you can call on. It will be alright. No refusing, Jagger, we all care greatly for your well being.  Perhaps you might even meet at the mating ceremony. I do hope you’ll consider our invitation."

No. NO. I refused to ruin or mar her special day, but I wouldn’t say no outright. My world was in a tailspin on the inside, the thought of forming this relationship with any other reinvigorated the sickness that came with the thought of feeding in general. I would never destroy Haven's happiness for my shortcomings and hoped my plastered smile wouldn’t register as the counterfeit it was.-

I don’t want your family to suffer the effort of securing me this, Haven. I am honored by your invitation. Please do thank your father for me. I will be...in touch.

-The lie tasted like poison as it fell off my tongue, but worse was the idea of Lhance's referral gone wrong for the insanity that could ensue as the result of taking a strange female's vein.  I would not risk my legacy and inherited darkness impacting a family of worth. Before I could take my leave, Haven's arms came around my middle and she whispered a plea. I hugged her back in the manner of an older brother with a sister of whom he was fiercely protective before stepping back.-

I’ll be okay, female. Don’t fear for me.

-Without any further fanfare I left the room without glancing back and then the house, careful not to be caught by anyone else for distress over more kind offers. With a quick jog to the car, I got in and couldn't turn the ignition quick enough, leaving the land of vampire suburbia in my rear view mirror while panic paved the road ahead.-