#she also made some kinda weight loss comment as in like. telling me I should visit this new place that opened in our town

[eeunwoo]

so crazy how my mom repeatedly fatshames random ppl either on tv or real life like out of nowhere like im not RIGHT there

[babyybitchhh]

This is the anon who commented about yami! I didn't like nozel at first but I can't lie, he kinda grew on me and he's fine asf. I couldn't look at magna in anyway until I saw him with his hair down. Now I'm like 👀👀👀. More than anything, I just want yami to ruin me. Spank me and call me a good girl pleaseee

Yessssssss

Yami was BUILT to be daddy. So strong, so rough around the edges but with a big soft heart, so beefy 💗🥴💗

Words: 3937

Warnings: daddy kink, alcohol, drunk fingering, vaginal fingering 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172960

❤️❤️❤️❤️

You probably should have known better than to start drinking with them. No, not probably. You definitely should have known better.

Hindsight was always twenty-twenty though, and you could see now just how grievous a mistake it had been to accept Vanessa’s invitation without stopping long enough to consider the consequences but, well ... she was one of the only other women in the squad and she seemed to like you well enough. You wanted her to keep liking you, of course. So you’d foolishly jumped at the chance, far too eager to be included in this decidedly unorthodox team bonding exercise of theirs.

The Black Bulls were, by nature, sufficiently rowdy enough on their own but adding alcohol to the mix only seemed to fan the flames. They were the very definition of unruly. Clothes had been shamelessly discarded, more cigarettes smoked than you would have thought possible, arguments over nothing at all turned heated with alarming frequency only to be immediately forgotten and you, you were stuck in the middle of it. Thoroughly lost in your own world and floating serenely through the hazy bog of consciousness without a second thought to what chaos was going on around you.

It was kind of nice, actually. Liberating.

“Remember, ya’ gotta’ have at least three matching pairs to discard,” Magna reminds the assembled party as he quickly deals out a fresh hand. “Or you can do the same suit if ya’ want, but it has to go in order. No incomplete sets.”

The worse for wear table everyone had initially gathered around started off cramped, a tight fit for so many people and with little elbow room to spare. As the night wore on, however, most of the plucky squadron had gradually called it quits and retired until eventually only four remained. You were proud of yourself for outlasting the others but you also knew just how in over your head you were with this particular group. Yami could likely drink anyone under the table and Magna appeared to keep up with him just fine. While Vanessa didn’t exactly hold her liquor well , she could certainly put it away. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you were on your last leg here even if you were, for all intents and purposes, having a good time.

“Alright, lets see what ya’ got.”

Feeling simultaneously as light as a feather and sluggish under the weight of heavy, invisible chains, you slowly flip your cards over. It was hard to tell which way was up anymore, especially when your inner vertigo was so off kilter. You were warm, too. Almost unbearably so. Clammy in the worst possible way and you teeter forward in your chair, struggling to focus your swimming vision on the cards spread out in front of you.

It was a shit hand.

Grumbling under your breath, you distractedly tug at your clothes. A soft, fitful whine claws its way up your throat when it does absolutely nothing to alleviate just how stiflingly hot you are and, in fact, only seems to make it worse. You were absolutely burning up and this card game was its own special brand of torture, you decide with nothing short of woozy contempt.

“What the hell’s your problem?” Yami asks mildly from his spot beside you.

He was infuriatingly collected despite having consumed even more alcohol than you had, guzzling down mouthful after mouthful while you’d taken your time sipping on the fruity concoctions Vanessa made special just for you. You’d lost track of how many cups he’d emptied quite some time ago but you were still only on your third. It didn’t make sense. How were you so damn tipsy already?

“Hot.” You groan, not bothering to look up from what was possibly the worst hand you could have been dealt. Letting Magna shuffle the deck was, unsurprisingly, yet another mistake to add to the ever growing list.

Turning his head, Yami glances over at you and you catch the movement from your peripheral but still refuse to divert your attention from the cards. Maybe if you just stared at them long enough, hard enough, they’d morph into something you could actually use. You weren’t a magic knight in name only, right? Surely your grimoire was good for something .

“You’re drunk.” He suddenly announces, loud enough to make Vanessa whip her head around.

“M’not.” You grumble.

“Bullshit.”

The inebriated witch inserts herself into the fray before you can respond, wrapping slender arms around your shoulders and pulling you in against her bosom. “Awww, honey! Did’ju really like my drinks that much?” She coos at you sweetly. “I wasn’t tryin’ to get you drunk. Promise.”

“M’not drunk.” You insist, louder this time, much to Vanessa’s giggling amusement.

Heaving a clipped sigh, Yami leans across the table and taps your cards with a thick finger, slowly drawing your attention back to them. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” He says around the cigarette in his mouth. “But someone who isn’t piss drunk would probably know better than to lay their hand out on the table like this. Do you even know what game we’re playing right now?”

Mouth tugging into a frown, you wrack your muddled brain for the answer to that question. “Go fish?”

Magna inelegantly snorts at that. You can feel yourself starting to flush in embarrassment as Vanessa begins fussing over you, softly petting your head with murmured, nonsensical endearments. She definitely wasn’t helping matters and you sincerely hoped none of them could see your fluster.

Yami doesn’t seem to miss it though and he purses his lips, pinning you with an unimpressed glower. “That’s what I thought. Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re officially cut off. No more booze tonight, okay?”

Both you and Vanessa groan in unison. Your head immediately starts to spin in earnest now and you slump against the other woman even as she grabs your drink and holds it up to you as if she were bottle feeding a baby. The notion that she might accidentally dump it all over your head when she was just as intoxicated as you doesn’t even cross your mind and you obediently open your mouth to accept her offering.

“Come on, captain! At least let her finish her dr-drink first! I worked really hard to -”

Yami cuts across her babbling with a huff, standing and grabbing hold of the cup so he can pull it away despite Vanessa’s best attempt to keep it in her fumbling grasp. You watch it go, feeling an odd mix of disappointment and relief. The giddy, jovial mood you’d been imbued with was nice, yes, but realistically your body probably couldn’t handle much more. It was likely for the best.

“Just knock it off.” Pointedly setting the drink down towards the center of the table, Yami turns back with a furrowed brow. “Are you trying to kill her or something? What all did you even put in that?”

Vanessa hums a noncommittal sound of guilt, winding a strand of your hair around her finger.

He scoffs and moves closer with an accompanying shake of his head. Your heart gives a little jolt when you realize he’s coming towards you, not Vanessa, and you can’t help the anxious tinge that sparks in your chest. He was probably mad at you for getting so drunk. He looked mad. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of his lectures though and you lean further into the softly swaying witch next to you in search of protection.

Much to your faltering surprise, however, Yami’s tone sounds closer to exacerbated than angry when he says, “Alright, brat. C’mere. You get to sit with me for the rest of the night so I can keep an eye on you and make sure someone doesn’t try to sneak you anything else.”

You blink, thoroughly confused, and it feels like even something as simple as a muscle twitch takes a small eternity to accomplish. Yami either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care though.

Shooing Vanessa away, he bends at the waist and curls big hands under your armpits, hauling you straight up out of your seat. You outright squawk, flailing weakly in Yami’s grasp when you suddenly find yourself much further from the ground than you were used to. But your panic lasts only a terrifyingly brief moment and you relax when he draws you close, allowing you to curl your limbs around his thick frame. With a slight jostle, he adjusts his hold and secures you to the front of him. You instinctively nuzzle further into his arms, drunkenly whimpering as you tightly lock your elbows behind his neck.

“You’re no fun …” Vanessa whines on your behalf.

He clicks his tongue. “I’m thinking ahead. You’re not.” He says, those rumbled words reverberating inside your skull and further grounding you by some margin. “But if she gets sick, you’re the one who’s gonna’ clean it up.”

With that admonition, he moves back to his own chair and sits down again. It takes you a moment to get situated on his lap, still unbearably hot and fussy now after forcibly being removed from the fun. The last thing you want is to look like a lightweight in front of your teammates but he finally stills you with a large, mindful hand against your lower back. The silent warning in that innocuous gesture is enough to make you quit while you’re still ahead and, mewling something unintelligible, you press your warm face into his neck so you can settle in to pout.

Magna says something then, successfully distracting Vanessa from the subject, and the game carries on without you. The three of them don’t seem to mind the loss one bit as they seamlessly pick right back up where they’d left off.

It's hard to shake the feeling that your presence at the table was nothing more than an afterthought to them, or maybe a simple nicety, and it stung a little. There was no denying that. But you were much too hazy and disoriented to linger on it for more than a moment, molding yourself to the firm weight against you and going pleasantly slack in Yami’s arms. He was surprisingly comfortable, given his hard physique. A little too warm for your liking when you already felt swelteringly hot, but ultimately comfortable.

The even rise and fall of his broad chest is almost enough to lull you into dozing off right then and there with your head resting on his shoulder. Yami’s rough fingers tracing nonsensical, soothing patterns across your spine is the only thing that keeps you tethered to reality and you sit there, eyes closed, just listening to the slurred conversation going on at your back. It sounded far away now. Muted, as if your ears were stuffed with cotton, but you didn’t mind that too much. Magna was loud enough when sober and even worse when he was drunk.

A long moment later, Yami removes the cigarette from his lips and turns towards you when the other two start bickering about the validity of a certain card sequence. “How you feeling, squirt?” He asks, pressing his mouth against your hair.

“Good.” You murmur dreamily.

He laughs, very quietly, and gives you the briefest squeeze. “Yeah? You’re deadweight, baby girl. Sure you’re not gonna’ pass out on me over there?”

“Mmhmm.”

With a soft click of his tongue, Yami focuses back in on the game. The hand resting on your back slips lower, inconspicuously giving your behind a playful tweak that seems to go unnoticed by the table's other occupants given that they keep talking without pause. Magna would more than likely look away, politely pretending he hadn’t seen it, but Vanessa … if she’d caught so much as a glimpse, you’d be hearing about it right now. That was at least one reason (of which there was many) why what you had with Yami, whatever it was, still remained a secret to the rest of the squad even though it was probably a miracle they hadn’t caught on already, especially when he was so damn handsy with you.

Normally you’d err on the side of caution for that reason alone but you felt just daring enough to give him little push back. Emboldened by the liquid courage sitting hot and heavy in your stomach, confident that he wouldn’t have initiated this had it not been safe to do so, you discreetly roll your hips into him. The drag of your pussy across the front of his pants makes your breath hitch and he stiffens underneath you. That’s all the reaction you get for your trouble though, prompting you to lift your head from his shoulder and lean close to Yami’s ear.

“ Daddy …”

It’s nothing more than a tiny, breathless sigh but the effect it has on him is instantly noticeable. Steel chorded arm tightening around you, he breathes out a terse exhale and pulls you more firmly against his chest until you can scarcely breathe. A wavering puff of air slips from you as your thighs flex around his waist, silently trying to urge him on. It doesn’t work though and a shudder works its way down the length of your spine when he turns towards you again, growling right against the outer shell of your ear.

“Watch it.”

You whine, bucking against him more insistently. “ Nooooo .”

Yami snorts and swivels his attention back around to the cards clasped in his other hand. Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you take a deep breath until the naturally heady scent of him swarms your senses like a fragrant, masculine cocktail. You can taste him in the back of your throat and it just makes you want him all the more.

Another wiggle of your hips is all the incentive he needs, calloused fingers slipping further down to grab a pinching handful of your ass. Roughly nudging you to sit a bit higher up on his thighs, he reaches lower and snakes his hand under your skirt. You squirm at the first touch against your panties, whimpering softly into his skin. Yami merely tightens his arm around you as he ever so carefully pulls the thin layer of cotton aside just enough to slide those sinfully long digits past the flimsy barrier.

“Spoiled brat,” He murmurs fondly, just loud enough for you to hear. “Already so damp and needy for me.”

You bite down on your tongue to keep yourself quiet, shuddering when he casually traces the length of your slit with abrasive fingertips.

Magna abruptly cackles about something and the sudden noise makes you jolt. Yami, to his credit, remains perfectly still though and merely waits a torturously long beat before continuing in rumbling hushed tones. “How long were you sitting over there in your own mess, hmm?”

“I - it’s not a mess.” You warble into his shoulder, your cheeks flushing hot.

“Oh? This certainly feels like a mess to me …” Pausing, Yami dips a finger into the meat of your labia and the slick quality of your pussy suddenly makes itself known. You hadn’t noticed until now, either because you were too caught up in your inebriated stupor or simply too focused on pouting to pay it any mind, but you were absolutely soaked. It wasn’t exactly surprising. Your body always responded eagerly to being manhandled by the captain but even this seemed a bit excessive.

Whining low in your throat, you decide you don’t want to play this game after all and try to angle your defenseless little cunt away from his searching hand. But Yami puts a stop to that quickly enough and shifts his legs further apart, forcibly spreading your thighs until you can’t find the leverage needed to wriggle out of his hold. You lip quivers when he takes advantage of this vulnerable position to worm a finger into the tight, squeezing heat of your body, gummy walls contracting around the intrusion with a pleasant flutter. It takes everything you have not to throw your head back and unabashedly moan up at the ceiling.

“Can’t you feel that, baby? You’re so wet I didn’t even have to work you open.”

Hiccuping, you shove your face against Yami’s neck again. “Dah - daddy … please .”

“Shh.” He warns even as he starts up a slow pace, sedately pumping into you. “Keep quiet or I’ll have to stop.”

As if on cue, Vanessa says something to him then and Yami effortlessly diverts his attention to the slurring witch as if nothing about the situation were out of place. You dig your nails into the broad expanse of his shoulder blades and bite back a groan, suddenly feeling ten times hotter than before. Even with all your concentration focused on keeping as still and quiet as possible, you find yourself imperceptibly arching to give him better access to your sticky cunt. It was certainly a blessing in disguise that she was just as drunk as you were, otherwise she might have given the whole thing a second thought. The way you were sitting on his lap. The smallest twitch of your hips to accompany the shallow quality of your breathing. It was so obvious what you two were doing. How had they not noticed already?

The table.

Neither Magna or Vanessa could see over it unless they came around and stood right next to the chair. You were essentially safe from the waist down and a fresh spark of confidence alights throughout your whole system with this realization, doubling and then tripling your arousal. It was still risky doing something so brazen right in front of them but you were just drunk enough not to care.

Loins twisting and curling, you carefully rear back to meet his shallow thrusts. You’d never felt more uninhibited in your whole life. “Oooh, daddy,” You whisper, choking on it. “Right there.”

Yami doesn’t miss a beat, easily keeping up with the conversation as he allows a second digit to slide in with the first. You feel the stretch in your bones and you quietly seeth, lashes fanning against the apples of your cheeks when it pushes you to just this side of discomfort. Even being as wet as you are, his fingers were just too thick for your eagerly clenching passage to accommodate them without some resistance and you hedonistically bask in the searing burn. It felt good. Almost good enough for you to lose yourself to the pleasure but, somehow, you manage to keep your wits about you instead of shamelessly writhing in his lap.

You may as well have thrown caution to the wind though. Discretion hardly mattered anymore. You already felt like a blatant little slut and the shock of how much that turns you on has your pussy drooling obscenely all over Yami’s hand.

“Hah - harder, daddy … nnghh, harder, please.”

Rather than obliging, he actually pauses his ministrations and you quietly mewl at the loss of friction. You squirm on top of his muscular thighs and desperately try to fuck down on his digits, panting like a bitch in heat against the captains neck. He shifts underneath you, says something to Vanessa that makes her direct a chiding tone at Magna. Their bickering starts up again and with the rise in volume, Yami gives his wrist a good twist that shoves his fingertips into your upper wall. Static electricity shoots through your system at the sudden pressure on that pulsing sweet spot and the tension in your gut immediately starts to toe the line of unbearable.

Your mouth drops open in shellshocked ecstasy but nothing comes out. It’s hard just to draw breath when the dizzyingly sharp jolt of arousal has your toes flexing uselessly in the air and you tremble, quaking in his arms. Unperturbed by the effect this is having on you, Yami takes his time caressing the velvety soft lining of your insides with sedately smooth motions. Those worn fingertips gradually curl up in the general direction of your belly button and press in deeper, harder, making your cunt absolutely gush around him. You weren’t going to last much longer at this rate.

“Oooh god !” You gasp, clutching him in a death grip.

Turning your head, you press your cheek against Yami’s shoulder and fix your gaze to a random spot on the far wall. The room looked like it was tilted on its axis - - spinning, spinning, spinning - - and all you can do is whine and shake when he scissors his fingers, making more room for himself within you.

You weren’t just overheated anymore. It was as if you’d caught flame, burning from the inside out, and it only gets worse when he flexes his hand, jabbing at the spongy soft spot again and again.

A choked off squeal rises in your throat, just barely held back by tightly clenched teeth. You’re almost positive you can hear the greedy, slopping clicks of your pussy sucking him in deeper just below the surface of the enthusiastic argument going on behind you but they don’t seem to notice. They just keep shouting back and forth at each other, oblivious to what was going on at the other end of the table. You have no idea how you’re getting away with this - aren’t even really sure if you will get away with this when all is said and done - but that’s the very last thing on your mind anymore as you haltingly roll your hips into the blinding pressure.

“Ah - ahh - d - dah - ahh - ddyyy !”

“Do it.” Yami murmurs, his mouth pressed tight to your ear. “Come now , baby. Do it while you have the chance. Come on.”

Your eyes roll back in your head and you give your pelvis one good little twist. The drag of your throbbing clit across the front of his rough pants is the last push you need, the resulting friction searing your veins. It sends you spiraling right over the edge into doped out bliss and you squeak, jerking against him when full bodied tremors grip you in earnest and make you shake.

Riding out the cresting waves as discreetly as you can, you blink back an onslaught of reflexive tears. Your pussy squeezes tight, milking your orgasm on his fingers, even though the effort of forcing yourself to remain quiet nearly breaks your resolve. But you manage, somehow, to breathe through it even as your hips weakly buck in unmitigated pleasure, subduedly twisting in his arms. It felt like you were drowning in it, choking on immense, all encompassing relief.

But Yami doesn’t immediately let up on his concerted attack, continuing to work you over until the spasms start to subside and you whine in frazzled distress. Digits finally stilling inside you, he offers a brief kiss to your hair and it makes you breathe out a tired sigh. You immediately slump, going boneless on top of him, now even clammier than when you’d started. The sweat clinging to your skin has you feeling worryingly damp but you were also satiated and comfortable. It was an acceptable tradeoff, as far as you were concerned.

“Such a good girl. You even managed to stay quiet for me. I’m proud of you.”

Smiling at the hushed approval in his tone, you snuggle further into Yami’s musclebound frame. You were floating on cloud nine, no longer concerned about being removed from the card game; not when the pleasant afterglow and the reassuring presence of your captain - your daddy - had you feeling so at peace. There would always be a next time.

[weapingweasley]

sore loser ~pt. 2~ (george weasley x narrator smut)

Description: Enemies to lovers (kinda). A Slytherin seeker has a minor bragging problem and manages to just get under every single cell of skin George has. After the biggest game of the year George decides he’s had enough.

Note: I am aware Umbridge banned Harry and the twins from quidditch and Draco is typically the seeker but we are going to ignore her and injure him for the sake of fiction.

Also, I am sure the narrator will piss a lot of people off, however I like her attitude a lot. She definitely receives the back lash for being a Slytherin, but is never the instigator. She just knows how to end any confrontation. I gave the boys a bit of a temper. Since the narrator is a Slytherin, I though I could use some of that prejudice to fuel some of the “hatred” between characters.

Disclaimer: NSFW, 18+, cursing, sex, and a lot of words.

I feel meh about the sore loser posts, but I am just trying to learn to write.

“Oh, I look forward to seeing you after the match. With my money.”

~ morning of the match ~

In the changing rooms I made sure to get all my gear on in the corner to avoid any benchwarmer jokes. I focus my mind on the game and how much fun it will be to even watch. Matches against Gryffindor are so much more enjoyable to watch just because of the clear rivalry. Nothing like beating down egos with Bludgers. Draco takes charge of the warm up and not so encouraging pep talk.

“If we lose to those incompetent freaks, practice will be hell for each and every one of you. I have worked too bloody hard to see them win and you should feel just the same. I want to see blood and not ours. So go out there and kill some Gryffindors!”  Such a poetic man, really knows how to control his feelings. 

We approach our tent and everyone gets into their positions, and I take mine right by the water. I swear if I hear one water girl joke I will indeed throw my broom through the commenter’s eye. 

The head referee signals the match to begin and without hesitation Slytherin ambushes the balls. Vaisey is able to get ahold of the Quaffle and pass it back and forth with Montague avoiding the Bludgers coming from the Wealsey twins. It only takes about five minutes for us to score. Lee confirms the goal and I jump up screaming, “Too fast for you, Cowards? Huh?”.

Twenty minutes into the match and the Snitch finally enters. Both teams continue to score back and forth, while Draco and Harry fight to get a hold of the speedy golden flyer. I watch as Draco reaches closer and closer to the Snitch with Harry close behind him. They are approaching a quick dive when Draco lets go of his broom to snatch it. He is so close when I spot Harry suddenly pulling his broom quickly up and out of the race. 

If I had blinked, I would have missed the Bludger hitting the very back of Draco’s broom. It sends him off his broom and down fifty metres where he lands on his wrist. The head referee calls a brief time out and I watch as Draco Malfoy is carried off the field. Panic erupts in my stomach. Yes, Malfoy was a coward when it came to everyday incidents, but not once has he ever allowed himself to be removed from a match. Never one was I expected to ever play seeker. 

I can hear Montague in the distance calling me in, so I hesitantly grab my broom and fly onto the field. Before even getting into position, sweat droplets start forming on my forehead and my hands are pulsing. The noises coming from my gut sounded like I had left Fang in the dark for too long. This is the opportunity I have been waiting for, but now I actually have to prove myself. 

As soon as the referee signals us to resume, I take my place above the action. I refuse to allow Fred and George the satisfaction of being responsible for getting me out of the game. If I keep moving while also keeping an eye out for Potter and the Snitch, I should survive. He stays close to his defense while I stray above the middle. Harry over the years has switched from staying above to being closer to the plays with the protection of the Twins. Too bad I do not have the guaranteed protection of my team.

The cashers on both teams were moving incredibly fast and it had turned into a game of catch me if you can. Each team was making goals and just quickly recovering. After about four goals each, the Snitch is set free again. It is dashing through the air and I can see Harry moving quickly to follow it’s every move. The twins react fast enough to hit any Slytherin that seems to be trying to get in his way. I sneak closer to the Snitch watching as Harry flips around trying to catch it. If he moved right, it moved left. 

I can hear the stands yelling at me to move faster and to get more involved, but I am aware of my strengths and hell I am fast. I just need to figure out where the Snitch is moving to next. Suddenly, Harry dives following it close to the ground and towards the side of the arena. I push down on my broom to get there as fast as possible. As I approach, I can see Harry’s hand millimetres from the Snitch. Then it does exactly as I expected and flies straight up. I add more pressure onto my broom and propel faster than I ever had. If I keep on this path the Snitch will change. So before it could, I grip my legs tighter and flip below my broom. Embarrassingly enough, but I squeeze my eyes shut and reach for it as fast as I physically can. 

I can feel resistance in my hand, but I am just too afraid to look. Lee Jordan’s voice screams out “THE SNITCH HAS BEEN CAUGHT! Slytherin wins (without cheating for once)!” The last part definitely earned him a slap in the back of the head from McGonagall. 

I fucking did it. Holy shit. I actually fucking did it. A wide grin stretches across my face as I fly laps around the arena with the Snitch in my hand and still upside down on my broom. I’m arrogant, I know. As soon as I land a mosh of Slytherins surrounds me and I receive enthusiasm left and right from my teammates. 

I hate to admit this, but all I can think about is look on George’s face when he gives me my 5 galleons.

Once the changing rooms settle, I sneak to the Gryffindor’s rooms. Without knocking I walk right in and up to the tall red head.

“I told you not to bet against me!” George’s facial expression resembles a child approaching their temper tantrum. Not only by the loss, but also from my inappropriate presence. His stare holds my eyes and with every step he takes towards me, I take one step back. We keep moving until the back of my legs meet a bench. 

“You really had to come in here, after everyone left just to brag.” His steps continue closer to me and my heart pumps at a rate I’ve never experienced before.

“Five galleons, please.” My voice is barely audible with the lump that has grown in my throat. Our faces are so close that he can probably feel the irregular rhythm of my breaths. I need to break this eye contact. So my dumbass takes a quick glance at his lips just before he speaks.

“You only came here for your money?” George’s voice is huskier than usual. Most likely due to the intense game and frustration from the loss. He must have noticed my glance because suddenly his hands latch to the side of my neck and face. He connects our lips. Like an instinct, my eyes flutter shut and I follow his hungry movements. I curl my fingers into his shirt to keep myself from falling back onto the bench. There is something sloppy and greedy about the kiss, like every insult we have inside is coming out. 

George leans deeper into me, forcing my grip on him to tighten. One side of my face becomes bare and he snakes his hand around the small of my back. The thumb still resting on my cheek moves in one small stroke and I melt. Before it can get any more affectionate his hand remaining on my face moves to the back of my thigh and grips my leg up to his hip. The gasp that exits my lips earns a grin from George and he shifts his lips from mine to the sensitive spot on my neck. His lips suck and nibble on the spot resulting in my rigid breathing. I grip his neck and his hungry attack encourages a light moan to leave me. My stomach fills with this light feeling and I cannot help but to tug at the hair on the nape of his neck causing a grin to form on George.

I nudge George to move his head from my neck, desperate to feel his mouth on mine again. He immediately takes the hint and reconnects our lips in a frenzy. His tongue parts my lips so he can bite and pull on my bottom lip. A whimper opens my mouth fully and George takes the opportunity to indulge his tongue. The make-out is scrappy with hands everywhere and hair being pulled. Our breathing became intense and wild. The pressure of the moment and George’s weight start paying a toll on my legs and I fall back onto the bench. The thud of my fall paints my cheeks pink and makes George chuckle. With the disconnect of our bodies, I slip off my quidditch robe slowly making sure his attention remains on me the entire time. The new exposure stops his chuckles quickly and the fire in his eyes that he had throughout the last few days returns.

“Five galleons, please?” My voice comes off quiet with a rasp due to our greedy actions. 

George takes advantage of me being seated and dives right into my body with one knee between my legs and an elbow resting on the bench next to my head. The contact of his pelvis with my pulsing lower half makes me moan his name. The tightening of his pants tells me that’s what he likes to hear. My fingers move to pull at his robe as he continues to grind into my body. 

George stands back up to take off his top robe and I took the opportunity to assist him with his pants. Once the button is undone, I look up and hold his eye contact as I pull his zipper down and drag the waistband down his legs. I cannot help but bite my lip as I see the tent in his boxers and his stare fixated on my face and eyes. I reach for the band of his boxers, but George grabs my bum and pulls me into a standing position. I wanted to taste him.

“I need you to keep me warm,” A shiver ripples through my body. I can feel his breath on my ear and the vibrations of his voice on my neck. He rips off the remainder of my clothing and plants wet kisses all over my shoulder and collar bone. 

George’s large hand picks me up from my arse and holds my body up against the lockers with his tense hips. His free hand creeps onto my back and unclasps my bra. The cold air hardens my nipples and makes them sensitive to touch. The mix of our body heats keeps the frost from biting. His lips attach to my nipple and his tongue rolls over the sensitivity causing my back to arch into him.

“S-shit, George!” My shaky voice only encourages his feasting and he pushes our bodies deeper into the locker. My hand grips onto his back while the other strangles his upper arm. The more he works my body the deeper my nails dig into his triceps. His arm moves from under my bum into my panties. While his pointer finger makes circles around my clit, he strokes my folds with his middle finger. I could feel him glide through my moisture and my hips buckle into him.

George’s lips left my chest and he aligns our eyes, “I didn’t know you wanted me so bad, Princess.” The way George said Princess it felt like a dare. 

I grab the sides of his face and hold his eye contact before speaking. “George. You need to fuck me right now,” Without a hesitation, George drops his boxers down just far enough to release his cock. My legs tangle around his waist. The force of the lockers are the only thing truly holding me up. George’s hands are now free and one keeps me by the back of my thigh and the other tears my panties right at the crotch. 

George nuzzles his head into the side of my neck as he inserts himself. The size of him stretches my walls so much I let out a gasp. His hot breath on my neck is sending chills down my spine while each thrust sends them up. I cannot help but let my eyes and head fall back. He feels so sensational inside me.

“Merlin, you’re so tight around my cock.” His voice is deep like a moan and I flex inside. 

George must have liked my response because my arm from behind his back is being pinned up above my head. His thrusts become deeper and harsher. Each movement he makes makes me want to scream in pleasure. My only available hand pulls his lips back to mine. The kisses are sporadic with our shaky breaths and harsh thrusts. I move a hand to the nape of his neck and pull on his hair again. His raspy moan causes my walls clench and legs to shake.

“G-George. F-fuck, I am gonna c-cum!” I grip tightly into his hair and dig my face into the crook of his neck. With his last thrust I plant a wet open-mouth kiss and tighten my legs around him. 

My walls strangle him as I scream out his name one last time. It is enough to send him over the edge with a deep groan leaving him. His warmth fills my core. 

Once we both come down from our orgasms, George sits us down on the bench with me straddling him. An exhausted smile appears on his soft face.

“You’re a sore winner,” he lets out in a baritone chuckle. I have a wide grin growing on my features. Our lips collide in a long soft kiss. I pull away to take in all of his features.

“And you, George Weasley, are a sore loser.”

[shijiujun]

May I please request a fic where LY realises that he is in love with QCS but then agonizes, really agonizes, over it as QCS is a ladies man? I kinda just want LY to suffer a bit while realizing that he took QCS for granted before he gets his happy ending. LY did say he cherished QCS but I wish the series showed more QCS cherishing by him. Thank you and looking much forward to your green dragon gang LY fic!! *__*

sad, hungry, angry and lonely

Jealousy is an ugly thing, and Lu Yao knows he’s the furthest thing from Chusheng’s ideal type. He’s not a nice person, for one. He’s not mature at all and ends up getting into trouble more often than not. He rarely goes out of his way to make someone else happy without something in return.

Most importantly, he’s no woman, and Chusheng is a ladies man.

—

5

Unlike what he’s read in romance novels and heard from some of his friends, no fireworks go off when he realizes that he’s in love with Chusheng.

It’s not something to celebrate about, Lu Yao thinks, a heavy weight settling into his abdomen as he tries to wrap his head around the fact that he prefers Qiao Chusheng to any of the women he’s ever dated in the past few years. That he wants Chusheng more than he has ever wanted anyone else.

He wants Chusheng to have eyes only for him, to reserve all his affection and adoration for him.

Lu Yao watches as Chusheng leaves his car, looking all dapper in a fresh suit. A different outfit from when he was at the station earlier with Lu Yao, and he must’ve gone home to change before picking his date up.

A long, slender leg is revealed from the other side of the car, and as Chusheng helps the woman — his date for the night — out like the gentleman is he is, he doesn’t notice Lu Yao standing there at the entrance to Bai Le Men.

It’s only when the couple turns around, ready to head inside the club that Chusheng’s eyes land on him, and surprise floods him.

“San Tu, what are you doing here?” Chusheng asks. “Did something happen? There isn’t a case, is there?”

I wanted to see you, Lu Yao thinks.

Lu Yao can’t really explain why he’s here either. Realizing that he is in love with Chusheng, the first thing he did was to find him, to take a look at the man he loves. His eyes rove over the features on that lovely, handsome face. From Chusheng’s brows, to his eyes, his nose, his lips, his neck… all the way to his toes.

A man that Lu Yao cannot help but love, and cannot have.

“Nothing much,” Lu Yao says, trying to sound nonchalant even as the pain in his chest burns on. “You’ve never brought me here to have fun even once, just felt like coming over.”

“I-“ Chusheng blinks, then looking between him and his date, he seems a little conflicted, put on the spot. “If you wanted me to bring you, I’ll bring you next time-“

“It’s alright,” the woman hanging on Chusheng’s arm says with a lovely smile, and Lu Yao feels the urge to snatch Chusheng over from her, “Qiao-ge, I’ll get us a table for three and wait for you inside.”

Then charmingly, she turns to Lu Yao and goes, “Detective Lu, I’ve heard a lot about you from Qiao-ge. It’s nice to have you join us today.”

Before Chusheng or Lu Yao can reply, she saunters into the club.

Chusheng sighs, but now that it’s just him and Lu Yao, it’s easier for him to talk.

Stepping forward until he’s right in front of Lu Yao, he says, “Look at how understanding she is. You, on the other hand… I did tell you I had a date tonight, didn’t I?”

And yet, because it’s Lu Yao, because he’s used to Lu Yao being ridiculous and childish, Chusheng’s voice softens as he asks, “Have you eaten dinner? Bai Le Men has excellent snacks on Thursdays-“

Look at how understanding she is.

“I forgot,” Lu Yao interrupts Chusheng, straightening his back. “I’m going home.”

He moves past Chusheng without another look, biting at his lips. Lu Yao is feeling all hot over and a little nauseous, but he doesn’t want to be here for a moment longer. Ignoring Chusheng’s call, Lu Yao walks in the direction of his home quickly, his mind focused on putting one foot after the other, the gravel on the road crunching loudly under his shoes.

Look at how understanding she is.

Of course, Lu Yao laughs, the sound hollow and wistful.

He’s not the least bit understanding.

It hurts like a jagged knife carving away at his flesh bit by bit, knowing that Chusheng is nice to him not because Lu Yao is special to him, but because he needs Lu Yao around to help him solve cases and along the way, he got used to Lu Yao being demanding and unreasonable.

Jealousy is an ugly thing, and Lu Yao knows he’s the furthest thing from Chusheng’s ideal type. He’s not a nice person, for one. He’s not mature at all and ends up getting into trouble more often than not. He rarely goes out of his way to make someone else happy without something in return.

Most importantly, he’s no woman, and Chusheng is a ladies man.

===

4

Lu Yao likes it when Chusheng’s hands are on his skin — wiping at his mouth, grabbing at this wrist, pulling him in around his shoulders — and it’s something that Chusheng continues to do without much thought. If Lu Yao enjoys the attention more than he should, no one is any the wiser.

He should have known that he is anything but special to Chusheng.

Chusheng brings him to Bai Le Men for a night out as promised a few weeks later, and as much as he resents having to spend the next few hours watching Chusheng flirt with other women, it’s more time he has with Chusheng and he’s all the more greedy for it.

Almost fifteen minutes in, Lu Yao is pissed off enough to regret it.

Right in front of him, three women surround Chusheng on both sides, all speaking in sickeningly sweet tones. Lu Yao’s mood darkens for the rest of the night, but he keeps quiet. After all, the food here is good as promised, and as much as he felt the momentary loss of his appetite, Lu Yao reasons that there is no need for him to punish his stomach too. So he buries his head in the dishes and finishes it all.

Halfway through, when Lu Yao looks up, the first thing he sees is Chusheng’s arm is around Mei Xiang’s shoulders, drawing her into his embrace.

The sight makes his blood boil, and if Lu Yao sits here for any longer, he’s afraid he’s going to cause a scene.

“I’m done,” he says, wiping at his own mouth with the napkin on the table and getting to his feet almost petulantly.

“… San Tu?” asks Chusheng, bewildered. “What-“

It’s hardly the gracious thing to do, Lu Yao knows, but he still turns on his heel and leaves the private room Chusheng reserved. He doesn’t stop even after Chusheng calls out for him one more time.

Lu Yao doesn’t know how if he’s disappointed or relieved that Chusheng doesn’t chase after him.

===

3

He doesn’t even make it into the room this time. Chusheng headed straight to Chang San Tang earlier to meet Yao Qin, who may have some leads on the new case they’re on at present. He sent Ah Dou to pick Lu Yao up in the morning and by the time he turns up, he hears soft, melodious laughter coming from the room both of them are in, the door open wide.

Lu Yao pauses in his footsteps before he reaches the door. From where he’s standing, he can see Yao Qin in a fitting, gorgeous green cheongsam, her long hair coiffed to perfection and her makeup accentuating the loveliest features on her face. Out of all the women that Chusheng knows, Lu Yao has to say he actually likes Yao Qin to some degree.

The last time they were here, Lu Yao remembers wolfing down some pastries, the same ones that are sitting on the table in the room right now. Chusheng’s thumb was gentle then, brushing away the crumbs stuck to the side of his mouth.

Today, it seems Yao Qin has that honour instead.

His breath catches in his throat, his eyes wide as he watches Chusheng’s hand reach for Yao Qin’s beautiful face. He forces himself to keep his eyes open as Chusheng’s movements mirror what he did for Lu Yao that afternoon.

She’s like my sister, he said then.

He wonders if he’s like a brother to Chusheng in this case.

It’s Yao Qin who realizes he’s standing frozen outside the door, and the warmth that surfaces on her features eases the tightness in his chest slightly. Lu Yao wants to run, but they have a case to solve.

“I’m hungry,” Lu Yao says instead, schooling his expression and walking in.

“What do you want to eat?” asks Yao Qin, her eyes brightening. “Lu Yao, didn’t you like those dumplings I made the other time? I’ll get the kitchens to send a set up.”

Before Lu Yao can say anything, she’s on her feet and out the door.

“You’re such a glutton,” Chusheng sighs, exasperation obvious as he pats at the seat next to him. “You didn’t even say hello.”

Before his epiphany, Lu Yao might have found Chusheng’s comment fond, but all he hears now is rebuke and disapproval. He picks up the last pastry sitting on the plate in front of him.

It tastes like ashes on his tongue.

===

2

Who was the one who said he would be my wallet, seethes Lu Yao.

His anger simmers like the pot of stew sitting on the stove before him as he tries to tune out what Youning and her new friend, the latest addition to the tabloids that Youning works at are chattering on about. Seated opposite them at the dining table waiting for dinner to be done is Chusheng, who is listening to both women intently, unaware of Lu Yao’s change in mood.

“… Chusheng-ge, I saw this camera at the store on Fu Lu street last week, but… it’s really expensive,” Youning whines. “Chusheng-ge, can you…”

In the span of half an hour, Youning has managed to coax a promise out of Chusheng to buy her an imported dress, and also to bring Youning and her friend out to one of the classy restaurants near Bai Le Men. Xiao Xu came to Shanghai all on her own, leaving her parents behind in Nanjing to better provide for them, and Chusheng-ge, let’s welcome her to the city, what do you say?

Lu Yao looks up, turning around for a peek when he hears the sound of a loud thud. There lying on the table between Chusheng and the two women is his leather wallet.

“Just take my wallet and go, I don’t want to hear any more about this,” sighs Chusheng. “You’re no longer a kid, Youning.”

“Aiya, Ge I know you dote on me the most! Even more than my silly father-“

“Youning, you’re so lucky to have such a doting brother,” Xiao Xu exclaims.

“If you need anything,” Chusheng adds kindly, speaking to Xiao Xu, “Feel free to look me up at the station. It’s tough being in Shanghai alone, without friends and family.”

You’re not that special, Lu Yao bites at his lips as he quickly returns his attention to the pot.

Chusheng has so much money and he never promised that he would be Lu Yao’s exclusive source of money. He has no right to be jealous, he knows that. Furthermore, this is Bai Youning! It’s his sister, and is Lu Yao going to go green with envy over Chusheng’s annoying sister?

Even so, miserable thoughts swirl in his head — Chusheng declared that he would be his wallet, but he refused to pay for Lu Yao’s baguettes a few times too. When Lu Yao asked for Chusheng’s money to buy that claypot over from the kitchen help a few cases ago, the inspector’s unamused glare almost made Lu Yao back down, despite eventually handing over his wallet.

It was simply a few pieces of bread and a pot then, and here Chusheng is at present, easily giving up his actual wallet to Youning to buy a dress and a camera at exorbitant prices.

It’s not that Lu Yao is greedy for the money itself, he has to admit. More than that, he yearns for the attention Chusheng seems to give him, that fond roll of his eyes, that wide, doting smile, whenever he ends up paying for Lu Yao’s meal or shopping. He wants it all to himself.

What if… what if Chusheng stops treating him to things altogether?

Chusheng peels the hard-boiled eggs Lu Yao made during the dinner a little later. He drops one in Lu Yao’s bowl first and Lu Yao should be happy about that, but he can’t find it in himself to be truly delighted when Chusheng drops the second and third eggs into Youning and Xiao Xu’s bowls too.

For the first time in a long while, Lu Yao finds his appetite entirely absent during a meal.

===

1

“She’s someone I might have considered marrying,” says Chusheng wistfully on a Wednesday evening.

They both watch as one of the suspects in the case, now cleared of all charges, walks away, and if Lu Yao wasn’t so in love with Chusheng, he might find himself agreeing to that.

It feels like Tong Li all over again. Seeing Chusheng’s dreamy smiles and that faraway look whenever he thought of the woman, sitting there quietly as support when she turned out to be a murderer and tear drops trickled down Chusheng’s cheek in a rare show of vulnerability, being with him as both their hearts broke for different reasons.

And here this womanizer is all over again, falling in love with another mysterious, intriguing and intelligent woman.

Qiao Chusheng has a type, and Lu Yao is once again reminded of how impossible it is to have his feelings returned.

Lu Yao wants to try. Right this moment, he wants to tell Chusheng just how much he feels, how much he thinks about Chusheng all the time.

How he wants to spend the rest of his life with him.

He knows it’s a lost cause, however. This was a battle lost even before Lu Yao had a chance to fight it and he knew it all along, through every instance of burning jealousy, his eyes green with envy as they tried to devour a man who would never be his.

Chusheng saying this is the last nail on the coffin. As much as Lu Yao wants to ignore the jagged knife digging into his heart, he knows he has no way to tie Chusheng to him.

“Mnn,” he responds, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “You could, if you wanted to.”

“… San Tu-“

“Inspector!” Salim marches into the interrogation cell, saluting Chusheng firmly. “The Commissioner is here in your office looking to speak with you.”

Chusheng’s eyes snap to Lu Yao, and then for some reason, he’s frowning as he grabs onto Lu Yao’s hand. He says, “San Tu, wait for me. I’ll be done in a bit, I have something to say, okay?”

What else is there to talk about?

He doesn’t reply or look at Chusheng, and in the end the man lets him go.

It’s an escape for Lu Yao and he takes it, walking away without another word.

===

0He knows he’s being petulant, but Lu Yao doesn’t have the slightest bit of energy to move. All Lu Yao feels is exhaustion and grief, his limbs leaden with weight as he hides under the covers on his bed. How long has it been? Two days, or three?

Not even Youning has dared to come and disturb him these few days. As much as they don’t get along, Youning can sometimes be terribly attuned to his moods when they’re at extremes. She tried coaxing him out once the first day, and when Lu Yao continued to lie in his bed unmoving, his head covered by the blanket, she left him to it.

He’ll be better once there’s a case. Before that, he’s entitled to a dramatic, ridiculous bout of self-pity as he wallows in utter misery.

Chusheng said he wanted to talk to him, but Lu Yao doesn’t want to hear any of it. He doesn’t want to listen to Chusheng drawing lines and distancing himself away from Lu Yao deliberately because he knows how Lu Yao feels about him. He has to know.

So wrapped up he is in his thoughts that he misses the sound of soft footsteps approaching, and it’s not until the bed dips that Lu Yao realizes there’s someone here in the room with him.

Judging from the lack of noise, it’s probably not Youning.

“You didn’t listen to me finish,” Chusheng’s low voice sounds.

“I wanted to say that she’s someone I might have considered marrying,” he continues with a soft sigh when there’s no response from Lu Yao still. “Before I fell in love with you, stupid.”

At that, Lu Yao finally sits up, the blankets falling from him. Before he can even accuse Chusheng of being a bastard and lying to him right now, the inspector snags Lu Yao’s arm with a firm hand, and Lu Yao almost yelps as he falls right against Chusheng.

He’s too stunned to say anything else.

“I’m sorry it took me a while to notice,” Chusheng murmurs in his ear, his arms tightening around Lu Yao, as if scared that he might run away again. “You must’ve waited for me for quite a while, huh?”

Lu Yao swallows with difficulty, torn between pushing Chusheng away and staying right here where he wants to be.

“You like… women,” he stammers.

“I do,” Chusheng agrees. “But I love you. I don’t care about anyone else.”

“Well I couldn’t tell at all-“

“I haven’t been to Chang San Tang and Bai Le Men in months,” Chusheng interrupts, pressing a kiss behind Lu Yao’s ear and as expected, the action makes Lu Yao weak as he melts entirely against Chusheng now. “I know you don’t like it when I get too close to others. And… I’ll leave my wallet for Youning, but you can have everything else I own.”

After months, months of having to quietly deal with his feelings for Chusheng, this seems too good to be true.

Lu Yao can’t bring himself to pull away, even if this turns out to be a lie.

Gosh, he would give anything for this to not be a lie.

“Why did it take you so long, you bastard,” he chides instead, one hand hitting at Chusheng’s back. “Do you know how long I waited-“

“I know,” Chusheng replies, sounding helpless. “I’m sorry I hurt you. And… thank you for waiting for me. I wanted to tell you for a long time now, but I couldn’t quite figure out where to begin.”

His thumbs carry away the tears on Lu Yao’s face, and his heart breaks at the dark eye circles under those bright eyes.

Chusheng leans forward and kisses Lu Yao sweetly.

When he pulls away later, Lu Yao is smiling a little, and Chusheng finds his own lips curving upwards in answer to that.

“I’ll do everything I can to make you happy, Lu Yao,” he promises, pressing their foreheads together.

“Everything?”

“Everything,” Chusheng agrees with a laugh.

===

There’s a lot Chusheng has to make up for, but here is where he wants to start.

***

[queen-scribbles]

Shepherd’s Honor

This oneshot brought to you by the mental image of Trouble carrying Trick piggyback that wouldn’t go away. :D Not that I tried all that hard.

----

Patrolling Haven was boring. Usually. Trick couldn’t say she cared much for how today chose to make itself an exception to that rule.

Namely the sharp, familiar pain that spiked through her right shin. It had her bracing one hand against a nearby wall for support even as her gaze tipped skyward.

Trouble must have heard her harsh breath in, because he stopped and swung around to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Trick said, not finding what she’d expected in her scan of the pale blue sky. She pushed away from the wall and fell in step next to him again, but only made it a few paces before a follow-up ache cramped her leg and made her flinch. “Okay, maybe something...”

Trouble shot her a look caught somewhere between confused and concerned.  “What?”

“Well, first off, it’s gonna storm later,” she replied, leaning against his shoulder for support as she tried to shake out the cramping muscles.

That made him frown up at the cloudless sky. “How can you tell?”

“I’m magic,” Trick deadpanned, cautiously setting weight back on that leg.

Trouble snorted. “Shit, I know that. Seriously, Trick, how can you tell? An’ are you alright?”

“Yes, to the second,” she assured him when her leg held weight, “and short answer for the first is I broke my leg real bad when I was younger an’ now it aches when rain’s comin’.”

His nose wrinkled. “That’s... bad. But also kinda cool.”

She laughed. “Tell me about it; all in lookin’ for the silver lining. I don’t like that my leg hurts, but it really comes in handy to have a warning about that kinda thing when you’re debatin’ if you should move on from a town or stay put one more night.”

“I’ll bet.” He cocked his head. “You okay to keep going?”

Trick nodded. “Kinda hafta be, don’t I? We’re only halfway done.”

Trouble rolled his eyes. “Like I’d make you keep walkin’ on that leg if it was hurtin’ you that bad.”

“Sweet of you,” Trick laughed, flipping her braid back over her shoulder. “But it’s fine for now. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

He grinned and nudged her shoulder. “Promise?”

“Shepherd’s honor,” she grinned back. “I promise.”

They made it another quarter of the way before it changed. Not coincidentally, that was when the first dark storm clouds appeared on the horizon. Trouble noticed those two things in the opposite order Trick did; saw the clouds and turned to look at her.

She was limping, she knew, just noticeably, and flashed a sheepish smile. “It doesn’t hurt. Not that bad. Only thing that might be a problem is stairs.” The words had barely left her mouth  when they reached the first (very long) flight of stairs back down to Ashtown and the Shepherd compound. “This just isn’t my day, is it?” she muttered wryly, and kicked a pebble off the top step.

Trouble scratched the back of his neck. “Want me to carry you?”

“What, like piggyback?” Trick snarked, touched by the offer but unsure how well it would work.

He shrugged. “’Less you wanna bang your head against the wall every few steps, that’s prob’ly the best way, dontcha think?”

“Yeah, but...”

He winked at her. “C’mon, Trick, you can’t be that heavy.”

Not for you, at least, she thought dryly. “It’s not that! I just know how fast carryin’ weight--any weight--can tire you out on stairs.”

Another shrug. “Better that than makin’ you walk on it.” Trouble grinned. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

Trick laughed. “Promise?”

His grin widened. “Shepherd’s honor.”

She only hesitated a couple seconds more. “Oh, fine.” It would be better than fumbling down on her own, no matter the loss of dignity. And they were pretty close in height, it was easy enough to wrap her arms around his neck and boost herself up. Trouble jokingly staggered sideways as he settled his grip under her legs.

“Muti,” Trick growled through a laugh as she freed one arm to punch his shoulder.

“Just teasin’,” Trouble promised with another grin.

“I know,” she said, resting her chin atop his head. His hair smelled like sun and charch and she smiled at the familiarity. “I’m good when you are.”

“Right.” He shifted ever so slightly so his hands were closer to the backs of her knees, and started down the steps.

It was trickier than either anticipated to keep their balance, but they managed to get to the bottom without killing themselves. There were two or three more similar flights to go, but Trick insisted on walking in between so Trouble could have a break. “It doesn’t hurt that much,” she promised. “More like a really strong cramp than anything.”

“You say that like it’s any better than your leg actually hurtin’.” he muttered.

“Trust me, it is,” she sighed, running one hand along her braid. I know from experience.

Trouble kicked a pebble, and they watched it skitter ahead of them. When they caught up to it, Trick kicked it further. This time it veered sideways when it ricocheted from the edge of a cobblestone and out of reach.

“So, how exactly didja break your leg so bad it helps you predict the weather?” he asked when they reached the next flight of stairs, longer and narrower and curving left.

Trick laughed as she hoisted herself up on his back again. “Oh, it was very exciting. I fell off a ladder.”

Trouble barked a disbelieving laugh of his own. “Really? That’s it?”

“Well, I may have been runnin’ from some people...” she allowed, tightening her grip when he started to turn and look at her. “Trouble, watch where you’re goin’.”

“Right, right.” He hesitated a beat. “Who were you runnin’ from?”

“You want the long version?” Trick chuckled. Even that wasn’t a terribly exciting story, in her opinion, but he was carrying her down steps without a word of complaint. She’d spin him any damn tale about herself he wanted.

“Sure, why not?” Trouble grunted, shifting his grip. “If you don’t mind, anyway.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” she promised, wriggling higher when she realized she was sort of strangling him in her current position. “So, there’s this merchant. Decided he wanted extra muscle for the trip from Capra to this town out near Lindell, which makes sense. He was offering good money and I needed work, so I signed up. It’s a pretty long trip, we had to scare off a couple groups of bandit, actually kill some mean-spirited critters, so I more than earned my lyss this time ‘round.”

“And?” Trouble prompted when she paused.

Trick snorted a laugh through her nose and rested her chin atop his head again.  “And the kisich tried to weasel outta payin’ me. Dunno if he was just a skinflint or had something against Diminished or whatever, but when I stood my ground instead of cavin’ like he expected, his men went to force the issue and we had a... uh, scuffle.” She chuckled. “Got the mother of all beautiful black eyes from that scrap. Anyway, partway in, one gets the bright idea to taunt me with the coin purse holdin’ my pay. Guess he thought it would rile me up so I didn’t think straight. He forgot how hard I am to rile. And how quick I can be.” She grinned, her fingers digging into Trouble’s collar. “Punched him in the nose and took off with my money when he dropped it.”

Trouble snorted. “Lemme guess, they came after you.”

“Like yiwari after a rabbit,” Trick confirmed, sliding off his back as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “But I had a really good head start.” Her leg cramped and she glanced up at the much closer storm clouds. “And I made it even bigger ‘cause the outskirts of the town had the houses all built close together, y’know, where you can jump pretty easy roof to roof?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“There was a ladder to the roof every so many houses, so I went up the first one I found and zigzagged my way along the outskirts, jumpin’ alleys an’ hidin’ a couple times ‘til I lost ‘em.”

“Good thing you didn’t fall,” Trouble commented

“Oh, very good,” Another of those silver linings. Trick agreed wryly, scanning the side streets they passed for anything off. It seemed all clear. “Would not have been pretty.”

“Why didn’t ya just tell somebody that kisich was tryin’ to cheat ya?”

She snorted. “Maybe I woulda if I weren’t so obviously Diminished.” She watched his gaze flick to her hair, then back to the street. “They had an.... unlovey reputation regarding how they treated my kind.”

“Oh.” Trouble cracked his knuckles. “I’da kicked their asses. The merchant’s men, I mean.”

“I know,” Trick said with a smile, bumping her shoulder to his(harder than she’d meant to, her limp was getting worse). “If I’d had you backin’ me, I mighta gone for that myself. As it was, I didn’t really wanna fight them. Not there. Just wanted my money. An’ I got that.”

This last stretch of road was a short one, and they reached the final flight of stairs much more quickly than the previous ones. The clouds were actually starting to dim the sun as Trick climbed up on Trouble’s back again, and she hoped the approaching storm held off long enough for them to reach the compound.

“So where this ladder you fell off figure in?” Trouble prompted as he started down the steps.

“Right.” Trick pulled her attention off the sky and back to her story. “Getting down. I waited a good... half hour in my last hidin’ spot to make sure they were gone. The sun was startin’ to set when I finally felt safe comin’ out; the shadows kept me from seeing the, uh, condition of the closest ladder. The wood was all dry-rotted, fourth or fifth rung down broke the second I put weight on it. I fell maybe fifteen feet? Somethin’ like that.”

Trouble gave a low whistle. “Ouch.”

“Tell me about it, I’m lucky my leg’s the only thing I broke. But it was bad enough to more than make up for being the only damage--bone ripped through the skin and everything.”

“What didja do?” he asked, boosting her higher as she started to slide.

“Limped--well, hobbled is prob’ly better--around til I found a healer. Fortunately didn’t take too long,” she shrugged. “Hadn’t scrapped together enough know-how to fix somethin’ that bad for myself yet.” She wiggled her finger significantly and snorted. “Barely had twenty lyss to my name after payin’ the man. And even with his help, it still scarred real nasty. ‘Bout this long.” She let go with one hand to hold thumb and index finger four or five inches apart in demonstration. “An’ now I have a surefire way of tellin’ when it’s gonna” --a fat, wet droplet hit the back of her neck and made her flinch--”rain.”

Trouble swore as they reached the bottom of the steps and he let her down.  “Was hopin’ we’d make it back ‘fore that got here,” he admitted as rain freckled both their shirts.

“You and me both,” Trick said wryly. She grabbed his wrist. The compound was in view down the the far end of the street. “C’mon, if we hurry, maybe we can at least avoid getting completely drenched.”

He laughed and let her tug him into motion, but was nice enough to not outpace her when her limp slowed her down. Which meant they both got drenched when the skies opened up just before they made it through the Shepherd compound gates.

Trouble swore again, but he was grinning when they ducked under the cover of the entrance and he shook water from his hair like a dog.

“Sorry,” Trick said through a laugh, only slightly sheepish, and squeezed water from her braid. “But thanks for the help. And stickin’ with me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he winked, thumping her on the back with one hand while he raked hair out of his eyes with the other. “It’s what you do for friends.”

“Still.” She lightly punched his shoulder. “I appreciate it. And I appreciated even more that you didn’t drop me.”

“Hey, I promised, didn’t I?” Trouble said with a laugh. “Shepherd’s honor an’ all.”

“And I’ve encountered enough people who didn’t keep their word to make me appreciate when someone does.” Trick glanced toward the courtyard, rain now falling in sheets. “You know we still have to make it across that to get to our rooms, right?”

Trouble’s grin widened. “Need another ride?”

Trick’s leg twinged even as thunder rumbled and she snorted a laugh. “Wouldn’t turn it down.”

““Alright, then.”

Neither of them cared if anyone saw their pell-mell run through the downpour for the dormitory wing of the compound, Trick’s arms locked around Trouble’s neck and both laughing the whole way. Trouble kicked the door shut behind them and Trick tightened her grip in a backwards sort-of hug before sliding off.

“Thanks, Trouble,” she grinned, bumping her shoulder to his.

“Welcome, Trick,” he returned, also grinning as he returned the shoulder bump before they headed for their rooms to dry off.

Trick found herself smiling as she stripped off her wet clothes--and not just because her gun had escaped getting wet. While her leg flaring up and then getting rained on wouldn’t have been her first choice for how to break the monotony of patrol, at least handling it with a friend--especially one strong enough to carry her--had kept it from being entirely awful.

Honestly, she had to admit as she dried off and reached for fresh clothes, it had almost (almost) been fun.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #370

“breakdowns, obscenities, it’s all i wanna be”

Do you have any bad habits you aren’t working on changing? If so, do you ever think you’ll try to break them? Downloading music, for one. I really should just start using Spotify... but my iPod has over 1k songs on it and I just seriously don't want to got through all the trouble. When was the last time someone surprised you with their reaction or behaviors? Hm. I dunno. What kinds of videos do you like to watch on YouTube, if any? I watch SO many different kinds. It used to be pretty strictly let's plays, but I've definitely expanded my watching interests. Now I'm really into watching educational reptile and tarantula husbandry and keeping channels, I watch one woman who is like my weight loss idol (Jordan Shrinks, she is amazing), there's a few vloggers, I enjoy some World of Warcraft channels, and then there's a couple urban exploration guys I like. I also occasionally watch some beauty YouTubers just for their personalities and the art of it. Have you ever reached out to a crisis center for mental health support? If so, how was the experience? Yes, but they were so busy that I didn't connect with anyone before I finally gave up and ODed. When was the last time you did something you were afraid to do, and how was the outcome? Ummmm I don't really know. What is one positive thing you believe about yourself? I care a lot about other people. What is something you have been through that has made you stronger? The breakup. It brought me to the lowest of lows, where every day was a struggle to survive. It taught me I can endure through almost anything, even if it doesn't feel like I can. Other than money, what is something you wish you had more of in your life? Happiness, contentment, being in love, motivation, energy, activities, travel... There's genuinely a lot. IIs there anything that you tend to ignore for the sake of your sanity? I'm very bad at ignoring things. If something is bothering me, it's going to put up a beastly fight to be at the forefront of my mind. What is something you wish was different about your family? I wish we were closer and better off monetarily. What keeps you going lately? The hope for a happy, satisfactory future. Have you ever been in an unconventional relationship (long distance, polyamorous, same gender, age gap, etc)? if so, what challenges did this relationship present, and were they worth overcoming? I've been in a long-distance relationship with another girl. I think the hardest part was that there was not being able to physically be there for each other when one of us was really struggling, and sometimes communication was an issue, not being able to read body language when we voice chatted or hear the tone in which we "spoke" when texting, though I'm pretty sure that's an issue with any online relations. I also feel it's difficult to really build and experience your chemistry with one another when you're not physically with the other person. I still think all these challenges were worth overcoming, though. I in no way regret the relationship and got only good things out of it. What is the most unhealthy relationship (whether friendship or romantic) you’ve ever had? What made it so unhealthy? Do you still talk to each other? I'm kinda torn between Jason and Colleen, but I think my bond with Jason was ultimately more unhealthy because it went beyond love: he was an obsession. Having him with me was the only thing that brought me joy, and I lit-er-a-lly could not imagine my future without him. Like that concept just didn't exist; it was entirely impossible in my head. On his end, he failed to communicate what he was going through emotionally, which only contributed to the damage. I never knew he was struggling because of me. Without realizing it, I put so much pressure on him to make me happy, so to answer the last question, no, we don't, by his decision - and I don't blame him. Have you ever been abusive in any way? Were you able to change or make amends, or, in general, what do you think people should do to make amends in that situation? A neverending battle I have with myself is if how I treated Jason after the breakup was qualifiable as emotional abuse, specifically with messaging him things like "thanks for sending me to the ER" and shit. My therapist reassures me that it wasn't abusive because I wasn't being deliberately manipulative, but rather genuinely hurt and convinced I had been wronged and wanted him to know and acknowledge it. She agrees that it was wrong, which I entirely agree with, but sometimes, I'm still convinced I was abusive. I fucking hate answering this question, so hurrying up: I don't know if he's forgiven me. As for how others could reconcile, that's not for me to say. I know sometimes the answer is to NOT make amends and completely stay away from their abuser. It's not my right to tell others how to cope with their abuse. Have you ever forgiven someone for being abusive or allowed someone toxic back into your life? Did this person change for the better or not? My former best friend Colleen was toxic as all fuck hell, and I let her back in way too many times. No, she never changed. I honesty doubt she ever will, given her pride. When was the last time you did something “meant” for children? Do you think it’s okay for adults to do these things (ie. watch cartoons, have stuffed animals, dress in cute clothing, etc), or do you think there’s an age beyond which it becomes unacceptable - and if so, why? Hmmm... I know this was semi-recent, but whatever it was is evading me at the moment. I personally have zero issue with adults engaging in activities like that; let people do what they enjoy if they're not harming anyone, especially things as innocent as dressing how they think is cute, etc. I would far rather people "act like children" (not emotionally, you know what I mean) than run around the streets selling drugs and shit. What was the last thing to “trigger” you (as in, in a true mental health sense, I’m being serious here) and how did you cope with it? What kinds of things do you tend to find triggering? What do you do either avoid or face your triggers? When I was riding to the sleep study section of the health plaza, where the hospital is, my anxiety spiked quite a bit, recalling all of my ER stays for being suicidal. It didn't help that the psych hospital I visited most is also in that whole jumble of buildings. I dealt with it by reminding myself I was in that area for a very different reason, and Mom reassured me that where I would be staying was more like a small hotel room than a hospital bed, which was true, so that helped. Regarding the next question, I'm not gonna lie to ya, I have a stupid amount of PTSD triggers: certain music, shows, fandoms, places, smells, even tastes of certain foods. I tend to stay away from my major triggers, but I'll *sometimes* fight the tiny ones, because I want that sense of ownership of myself back. If you’re diagnosed with anything, do you feel that it accurately represents what you’re experiencing? Yes. What are some minor physical discomforts that really bug you (eyelash in your eye, a wedgie, rumpled socks, etc)? I'm VERY sensitive to feeling anything in my nose, and it leads to me needing to blow it a lot. I also can't stand having holes in my socks, but since I wear flip flops essentially everywhere, I don't experience this much. Are you ever afraid to admit to liking something because you’re afraid other people will judge you for it? What is the worst that’s ever happened as a result of you liking something different from the crowd? What about the best thing that’s come as a result of a unique interest? Y E P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing really bad has happened because of admitting my interests, other than hearing things along the lines of "I don't get it." It's very odd, just how horribly receptive I am to judgment about things I like when I don't recall a time where I was ridiculed for anything. But anyway, the best thing to happen from sharing interests for me is making a new friend that likes the same thing, and I will IMMEDIATELY be closer to you than most people I associate with once you've helped me past that vulnerable spot of mine. Have you ever remained good friends with an ex? Yeah. Do you have a negative view of mentally ill people, or are you mentally ill yourself? Do you ever call others crazy, insane, etc? Do you ever call yourself those things? I'm mentally ill and empathize heavily with those who suffer themselves. I absolutely do not have a negative look on mental health sufferers; we don't choose to be victims. I'm definitely not a big fan of abusing terms like "insane," because I've fucking been there, and it's not a term to take lightly. I've thrown 'em around before, but I try to avoid it. I don't call myself any of those things nowadays, but in the deepest trench of my depression and PTSD, I honest to God think I fit the definition of "insane." Does it bother you to have people comment on what you’re eating, or do you not care? What are some comments that would bother you, if any? Do you ever comment on what other people are eating or make assumptions about their intakes? YES. JUST DON'T FUCKING COMMENT. I get EXTREMELY self-conscious when my mom does this sometimes when I occasionally need a small snack to hold me out overnight, and I absolutely never will say something to someone else. It's just rude, imo. Well, I guess if someone was really destroying their health and I was close to them, I would out of concern and be very gentle, but when regarding most people? I'm keeping my thoughts to my damn self. Do you like Redbull? I've never tried it and don't want to. I'm not an energy drink fan. Who is the last person you spent money on? My mom. I remember I bought us fast food when we were out once. What are you looking forward to in the next 4 days? G U Y S!!!!!!!!! I GET MY TATTOO TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!! :'''') Also on the same day, I start my TMS therapy, which I have high hopes for. Have you ever gone a whole day without eating? No. Do you sometimes use your music player to help you fall asleep? No, but I did that for years back in middle school. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you shave your legs more than once a week? Haaaaaaaaa. If you could cuddle with anyone right now, who would you pick? I really wish I could cuddle my late pup Teddy again. :/ I was thinking about that recently. Are you tanned? God no. I never am. Do you try to wear dresses whenever you can? No. I wish I was in a shape where I was comfortable wearing spring dresses again... I had this floral skull one in high school that I adored. Are you wearing something that belongs to someone else? No. Have you ever been called a bitch? Yes. Did you like the person you last kissed when you kissed them? I loved her. Who did you have a meaningful conversation with last? Sara. Do you have feelings for someone? Yeah, but they're like... on a leash, you could say. I don't let 'em run free and wild, and I know that even if nothing comes of those feelings again, it's fine. Are you trying to avoid liking somebody at the moment? I think Jason will be this answer for a very long time, if not forever, given the trauma and all. I have to remind myself frequently that I love his memory, not him, because I don't even know him anymore. It's been YEARS since we spoke. Just like I've changed incredibly, I'm sure he has, too. If you saw life in black & white, would that be okay with you? I mean, it would suck, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. When you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, what kinds of things are you likely to do? How often do you find you have trouble sleeping? I do exactly what you shouldn't do and get back on the laptop. I'd say I most often get on WoW and refresh the auctions I have up because that tends to tire me out because I do that shit manually to avoid any addon mishaps, and I have a looooot to put up as a gold farmer. What was the last lengthy packet you filled out? Something to see if I qualified for a sleep study. Are you a patient person? What is one way you have a lot of patience? What about not very much patience at all? I am NOT patient, at least regarding more trivial things, like sitting in waiting rooms. I do have patience though with other people with more serious things, like getting someone to open up to me. At what time during the day do you tend to feel your best? What about the worst? When I first wake up. It's a "fresh start" and it's nice to feel rested. Plus, I open a fresh can of cold soda as my "coffee" for lack of better word, haha. I'm in my worst mood probably late afternoon/early evening, by which time I am incredibly bored and just dulled down. What was the last thing you did that you wish you could take back or do differently? The last thing... I dunno. How frequently do you stay overnight somewhere that isn’t your own home? What things do you miss about home when you’re away? Do you tend to get homesick easily? Pretty much never. I do miss my room and its privacy when I'm away from home, but I wouldn't say I get homesick all that easily, so long as I have WiFi, haha. Do you tend to eat more in the beginning of the day or at night? Do you have a tendency to snack when you’re bored? If so, what kinds of snacks do you normally go for? Not necessarily the beginning of the day, but definitely more than at night. I am BAD about snacking when I'm extremely bored, but at the very least I'm conscious enough to try and find something semi-healthy, like granola bars, fruits, a scoop of peanut butter, but I also sometimes just eat like... a slice of bread or a tortilla. Horrible choice. I'm a carb fiend and I hate it. If you have any dietary restrictions, do you ever miss foods you can’t have? If not, what’s something you haven’t had for a long time that you wish you could eat again? I thankfully don't have any. I've been craving cheesecake like a madman lately. :< The spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden, too. Is there something you still can’t do even though you’re an adult or might be expected to do this thing? I don't have my license, and my driver's permit is even expired. I'm terrified of driving. I also don't have a job, and I can't cook. When was the last time you congratulated someone? Were you happy for them, indifferent, jealous? Uhhh I think someone on Facebook had a baby. Of course I was happy for them. What was the last milestone you reached in your life (graduating, buying a car, starting a family, etc)? What milestone are you going for next, if any? Um... I haven't reached a true milestone in years. Hell, I don't think since I started recovery from the breakup. Do you enjoy getting comments or messages? How likely are you to leave comments or messages for other people? Yeah, it makes me feel cared about. It really depends on the platform on how much I leave other people comments, and I'm extremely shy about messaging, but I'll do it sometimes. When are you most likely to scream (either out of fright, anger, or whatever)? Do you scream or yell often? When was the last time someone screamed at you (or in your presence)? Frustration, for sure. I've screamed into a pillow more than once. I definitely don't yell or especially scream often. I'm sure the last person to yell at me was Mom, but I don't remember about what. What would you say is your STRONGEST emotion? Maybe not the most frequent, but the most intense? And what emotion do you feel most weakly, even if you might feel it more often? I'd saaaay... maybe love. When I love something/someone, I love HARD. I think I experience joy the weakest; it's very muted for me. And lastly, what are you listening to? Is this a band you listen to a lot "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot. I wouldn't say I listen to them a lot, but I have been more than usual lately.

[lunnanunna]

No Worries, Kid

iKON Extra Member AU

Summary: Bao confronts DK about his recent weight loss.

A/N: This takes place back in the second half of 2016. DK had lost an extreme amount of weight in only the span of a few months and it was really worrisome. I’m glad that he’s healthier now. Hope you enjoy it!

Requests are open! And let me know what you think.

Bao made her way down the hall of the company, looking for Donghyuk. She had run into Lisa who had directed her to one of the dance practice rooms at the end of the hall, saying that he had been practicing for a few hours by her guess. Bao wasn’t surprised, seeing as he left before she woke up, and hadn’t shown up for lunch.

They had a free day today, and most of the time, each of them would dedicate at least an hour or two to practice, but Donghyuk was way past that mark. And Bao was not happy about it one bit. 

The others said that it was fine, that Donghyuk knew what he was doing, but Bao knew better. Everyone outside of iKon could see just how much each member overworked themselves. Bao was definitely on that list, but today her main focus was on the dancer.

She finally made it to the end of the hall, and stopped in front of the door that led into the practice room. Bao could hear the music playing on the other side, along with the squeaking of sneakers. 

Shifting both plastic bags to her right hand, she reached to open the door with her left. She poked her head in and saw the younger in the middle of the room, running through the choreo of Dumb&Dumber. He hadn’t noticed Bao as she walked in and she quietly took a seat in the corner.

As he kept on dancing, Bao took Donghyuk in. Their schedule had been so packed these last few months with Heroes of the Remix and their tour, that Bao hadn’t noticed just how different he looked. Or better said, the extreme amount of weight that he had lost. He was more pale than usual. His cheeks had hollowed out. His white practice shirt hung loosely on his too thin frame.

Bao worried her lip as she looked at the bag next to her. It carried not only lunch for her, but also for the younger, seeing as she was pretty sure he hadn’t had any yet. She quickly wondered if she should maybe give him her lunch too. The girl was actually worried that he’d wither away if he didn’t eat something soon.

The music stopped and Bao looked up to see that Donghyuk was by the stereo, hands on his knees to support him. He was looking at Bao through the mirror, chest rising and falling as he took in deep breaths.

“I-I didn’t… Hear you… Come in,” he spoke in between breaths. Bao saw just how shaky his legs were and quickly made her way over to him. And just in time too.

Donghyuk’s legs gave out just as Bao reached him. She was able to get her arms around him before he fell, and helped lower him down gently. He felt smaller in her arms, and barely weighed a thing. How had she not noticed this sooner?

“Thanks. I guess, I kinda over did it, huh?” the dancer laughed, but Bao heard the worry in his voice. He obviously was as shaken as Bao with his sudden loss of strength.

“It looks to me like you’ve been overdoing it for months now,” Bao grumbled out, reaching for his water bottle that was a few feet away from her, and handing it to him.

He took it silently, avoiding her eyes, “Maybe a little.”

“Bullshit,” Bao turned to get up and go over to where she had left the bags. She walked back over and found Donghyuk staring at the bags, then at her. He quickly looked away when she made eye contact with him. She actually hated that he was avoiding her eyes like this.

“Here,” she held out her hand, the bags hanging in front of him. Donghyuk looked at the bag and made to take it, but held back. “It’s food, not poison,” Bao snarked, inching the bag closer into his hand. He nodded taking it, hands shaking.

“Thank you,” he whispered. The rapper sat down next to him, legs out in front of her, ankles crossed. She watched as he opened that bag and pulled out two sandwiches and two rolls of kimbap. He looked at them and handed one of each to Bao.

She took them deciding against making him eat hers. Bao didn’t want to overwhelm him, but she’d definitely talk with Yunhyeong about making sure that Donghyuk gets enough food from on.

She peeled the tinfoil on the kimbap as she spoke. not looking at him, “So you wanna tell me what’s up? Or am I gonna have to bring Hanbin in too?” Donghyuk tensed next to Bao, and she internally growled at his discomfort.

“I don’t get what you mean,” the younger responded, voice shaky. Bao could sense his emotion building, and she wasn’t sure if she should be the one to deal with this. Maybe she should have brought Jinhwan or Yunhyeong.

She screwed her eyes shut and groaned. “I’m not the right person for this,” she mumbled out, then turned to find Donghyuk looking at her anxiously. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m only now noticing how thin you’ve gotten. And I’m pissed at myself for taking so long.”

Donghyuk looked at his sandwich in  his hands and picked at it. “I’m supposed to be on a diet. What’s the big deal,” he shrugged, voice sounding choked.

“Hyukie, you’re way past dieting. This is some X Game mode dieting. It’s not healthy,” Bao frowned, but found herself smirking as the boy smiled a bit at her comment.

“I know,” he whispered. Bao’s brows furrowed together as she watched him wrap up his sandwich. Placing it down, he turned to look at the older, swallowing the lump in his throat. When he spoke again, his voice cracked. “I-I just can’t…Stop.”

Bao bit her lip, watching Donghyuk duck his head in shame. She shouldn’t be the one here. Hell, Junhoe or even Chanwoo would be a better option. But the fact that he was talking to her, admitting this to her, had to mean something. There had to be some sort of trust here.

“Why didn’t you come to one of us?” Bao tried, voice gentle. She had no idea if this was how you’d handle a situation like this, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try.

The boy shrugged, “I don’t know. At first it was fine. I was finally losing the weight. The fans were happy. But then- I don’t know. When we got so busy, I just, ya know…” Bao nodded as he trailed off.

“Kinda put in on the back burner?” she offered. Donghyuk nodded, staring at the floor.

“It was easy to not worry about eating too much, when we didn’t have time for it,” he answered, playing with the lace on his shoe.

Bao nodded taking in what he said. She gathered her thoughts, planning out what she’d say next. “Do you want to stop? Do you want help?” A silent nod from Donghyuk. Bao could see the tears welling up. “Okay. Well, first things first,” Bao reached over and grabbed his uneaten sandwich, and handed it to him, “Ya gotta start eating.”

The rapper watched as he took the food from her hands. He hesitated a bit, but then took a bite. Bao smiled slightly, watching as he swallowed then took another bite. She’d have to talk to Hanbin and call in a team meeting, because this was not something that she could handle herself. 

“You’re gonna talk to Hanbin-hyung, huh?” Bao handed him a napkin to wipe his face as she nodded.

“I’m gonna have to, Bub. This will have to be a team effort,” Bao slung an arm around him, pulling him close. “We care about you, Hyukie. We may have all been busy, but that’s no excuse for us to let you dwindle away,” Bao said, smirking as Donghyuk snorted.

“Okay,” he said quietly after finishing up half of his sandwich. Bao could tell that he was getting full. If she had to guess, she’d say that he’d only been eating a quarter of what he had right now. They’d have to work on this quickly, Bao didn’t want it to get worse.

“I’m glad that you told me,” Bao smiled at the younger.

“I don’t think I had much of a choice,” Donghyuk chuckled, almost sounding like his old self.

“What do you mean?” Bao demanded in fake annoyance.

“You were probably going to bully me and force me to talk,” Donghyuk laughed, resting his head on her shoulder. Bao normally would have moved away at that, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it now. Not when Donghyuk was smiling again.

“Why does everyone say that I’m a bully?!”

“You pick on Jinhwan-hyung all the time.”

“That’s different. He’s shorter than me,” Bao laughed as Donghyuk’s eyes crinkled.

“So am I,” he giggled.

“Yeah, but I could never pick on you. Believe me, I’ve tried,” Bao shook her head. The two fell into a comfortable silence until Donghyuk spoke up.

“Thank you, Noona,” Donghyuk smiled, wrapping his arms around the older in a hug. Bao smiled back, tightening her hold on him.

“No worries, kid. I’ve got you.”

Bao’s Masterlist

[yafaemi]

vi. | revenant.

What? I’ve definitely been writing this entire time. What do you mean? I didn’t take a break for too-tired-to-even-exist reasons. I’m definitely not going to be going a bit slower with this stories, because honestly I Am Still Fairly Tired.

Anyways, this is a really like... exciting story for me!! This is another one of those kinda stories that I had the entire plan for, but just never got into actually writing. I’ve been planning for something like this to happen for months. Literal. Months.

Description: In the midst of a morning stroll, Amandine is bumped into by a rather... interesting stranger. Yet, even from the first, there is something... unsettlingly familiar about them.

_________________________________________________________

She didn’t know what to make of the man before her. 

This stranger was so hauntingly familiar. Amandine knew she had never met him before. She was good at faces, yet this one was… had she not still been staring so intently, there would have definitely been a deepening frown on her face. 

“...just remembered, I never mentioned my name.” One hand ran through almost-black hair, and he smiled. “But where are my manners? Bumping into a stranger, and not even introducing myself! Averoux D’amboise,” he said, with a half-step back into a bow. 

It took her a few moments to pull away from the overpowering feeling of familiarity. She knew that name, and she knew that face, yet from where? “Amandine,” she replied with a bow of her own. “Forgive my forwardness— we haven’t met before, have we? For some reason, I…” she trailed off, arms crossing. “...nevermind. It must be my mind playing tricks on me.” 

Averoux’s eyes furrowed for a moment. One eyebrow raised a half-second later, leaning forward towards her. There was a frown on his face as he said, “That makes two of us, then. How strange.” 

There was plenty strange about their encounter already. One that Amandine had been pretending not to notice was how similar they looked— had she seen herself and this stranger side by side, as a random bystander, she would have assumed of some familial relation. Yet that wasn’t…

Even then, from what she had been told by her aunt, before...

It didn’t bear thinking about. Amandine shrugged with a far more tense smile than she meant, “A funny coincidence if there ever was one.” Another half moment to look around, as if thinking of something other than the strangeness occurring before her, before, “I believe it’s about time that I take my leave. May the Fury watch over you.” 

“...Wait.” 

Amandine stopped at his side. She glanced over with a raised eyebrow, watching Averoux slowly turn towards her with a narrowed gaze, clearly searching for… something. She shifted her weight slightly, and stole another glance to the way she’d been going. Then with an even breath turned directly towards him. 

Averoux’s expression was far less dignified for several moments as he seemed to spot whatever it was in her face he looked for. “Were you adopted into your family?” One half of a second and he added, “Rude, yes, and I absolutely beg forgiveness— yet I can’t shake that feeling. Nophica as my witness, I am not crazy.” 

For some reason, she highly doubted that. “I advise that you explain yourself, before I lose my patience,” Amandine said with a slow reach towards her staff. Her fingertips brushed against it at first, before finally wrapping around its length. “And deliver you to the Temple Knights in pieces for your questionable act.”

Normally, she wouldn’t make such threats towards someone. In the middle of the day in Ishgard, no less. Yet something about the encounter seemed far too off. Perhaps it was the still-remaining sense of familiarity. The only time she blinked was when her eyes started to burn. 

And still, the living enigma of an Elezen before her didn’t so much as flinch. If anything, the light violet stare seemed amused. He cracked a smile— hardly an echo of the polite-yet-distant smile of one talking to a stranger they’d just met. It took every ounce of Amandine’s self-control not to wipe it off his face with a whack of her staff. 

“I’m going to say I’ve struck a chord.” The worsening state of her glare apparently confirmed it for him. Averoux’s tone quickened, racing words like an excited child, “Allow me to take a guess— you are… roughly 25, yes? And you were when you were adopted…” he took half a second to count on his hands, numbers mumbled under his breath, “...Approximately 2?” 

She didn’t reply. Just raised a brow. 

“I’ll take your suspicious glare as a yes.” He glanced at her hidden hand. “I would… also appreciate it were you not actively reaching for your weapon. I have no intention of causing you harm. Nophica— once again— as my witness.” When she didn’t move, he only sighed. “...Very well.” 

“I would appreciate it if you could get to your point. I have far better to do than listen to the ramblings of a madman.” 

“I am as sane as they come, my good lady.” 

“I would sooner believe a coeurl say it doesn’t intend to make a meal of my bones,” Amandine said through gritted teeth. Perhaps it was a show of her lacking sanity, to be entertaining the fool for so long. Or a telltale sign that she spent far too much time around people— or, more specifically one person— who always believed the best of everyone. 

There was that smile again. “What good news for us both, then. Last I checked, I am no coeurl.” Before she could even react, Averoux nodded. “I’m afraid it only gets more convoluted from here. Should you like to hear it, then I have a story to tell. I think you would benefit from hearing it in full.”  

Amandine let out a sigh. “Do you need a formal invitation to tell this story, then? Speak. While I’m still foolish enough to stand here and listen to this nonsense.” 

“One specifically in cursive, if you please, with a lovely floral border,” he replied with a bare nod. There was a smirk now, instead of a smile. Amandine was about to clobber him half to death already, yet that made the idea of it so much more tempting. Whether by his own realization of her ever-withering patience, or just an observation of how she shifted her grip behind her again, Averoux cleared his threat. “23 year long winters ago— or, near enough not to matter— there was a family. Disillusioned with their life in the Brume, and tired of the near constant eyes of Ishgard’s wealthy gazing down at them, they left.

“A mother, a father, and two siblings…” He trailed off there, and the look in those light violet eyes seemed far too intense. “A boy and a girl.” At that, Averoux turned away, and began pacing. Amandine’s eyes never left him as he moved. Measured, even steps. “Where their footsteps went was anyone’s guess. Only one thing remained certain: it was away from Ishgard, and that was enough for them.” 

Amandine would have crossed her arms, were one of them not already occupied with her staff. “Heretics in the making, I would guess.” 

Averoux stopped and smiled at her. He said nothing of her comment, only pausing long enough for the stop to be noticeable. And then, he continued pacing again. “This family, they were slaughtered. Likely by Dravanians, given locale. Any soul with an understanding of the creatures would assume the tale ends there. However,” he said with a dramatic turn back to her, “By the will of Halone or by some other deity, the young boy was spared this fate— just barely. 

“Awoken some time later in a new place, where the sunlight poured abundant into every window and the whisper of the elements was in every crevice to those who could hear it. And there he stayed with a lovely little couple of farmers who did all they could to make this child happy. Nophica Herself had sent them to be this child’s aid that day, and they were diligent about their work.”

“What good fortune.”

Either he didn’t notice the sarcasm in her tone, or he just didn’t care. Averoux nodded with another smirk, “Good fortune, indeed. Yet there was one thing they could never give to this child: his family back. They found, quite quickly, that he remembered it. He remembered this loss, and despite their greatest effort, they simply couldn’t replace that which he lost. Even then, they lived a happy life together, for many long years.” 

That certainly wasn’t what Amandine expected. She couldn’t help the small amount of pity that flashed across her face. “It sounds as if these people in your story met a tragic end. I would offer my condolences.” 

“Oh, hardly. They still lead a comfortable life at home. They let their little boy go when he reached his nineteenth winter to finally fulfill the one wish they couldn’t for him. He enlisted in the Archer’s guild, learned all there was to know, and then set off with a single mission. He was going to find what had happened to his family, for he was certain not all of them had perished.” 

Even since the story had begun, Amandine’s feelings about it hadn’t been the brightest. Yet as he continued explaining, she’d slowly been getting more unsettled. Whatever conclusion there was to be had from this, the sinking sense in her gut said she already had a feeling of what it could have been. 

“So he went. For years, he searched. Through the chaos of the Calamity, through the legendary end of the Dragonsong War, all of history was happening, and still he stayed firm in the past. There was nothing more important than this, in his eyes. Nothing.

“Yet, on the eve of another unsuccessful year of searching… he gave up. To spend his life searching for those who were already dead… it was time to accept it. And so he did. And was left without a purpose.” 

Averoux stopped again. His shoulders raised in a long sigh, dropping only at the exhale. With that, he turned around again, yet not in the pattern he’d taken. Instead, he went to stand in front of her again. “And that was where he remained. Drifting, wandering, taking odd jobs and leves to make ends meet until his tracks returned back to the place it had all begun: into Ishgard.

“And what else did he meet there, except a hauntingly familiar stranger, who was the striking image of his late mother. So much so, in fact, that he was so taken aback by the sight that he walked right into her without even realizing.” Were it not for the intense focus she had on not acknowledging the sudden nausea, Amandine would have already followed up on her promise of clobbering him.  

It felt like several minutes had passed before she actually felt like she could breathe again. “If I’ve been following this winding story correctly,” Amandine began with a very forced calm in her tone, “Then I am your sibling.”

He nodded once. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” 

Halone forgive me, this may be my stupidest decision yet. She took her hand off of her staff, and crossed her arms. “Then I am sure you will not refuse this most simple of requests,” she said, and let her arms fall to her sides. “And rest assured, I would be glad to help, should you be willing to accept.” 

His answer was already obvious, even before the words left his mouth. “I accept, then. This is the closest I’ve come to hope in a long, long time.”

“Very well.” Amandine smiled. “Prove it.” 

[pinesprings]

Bulletproof

Summary: No matter how strong they are, they still get injured. They still bleed. They aren't bulletproof.

Or the one where Sam gets injured and Dave goes crazy

Notes: Had some feels, wrote an oneshot on Most Wanted (nostalgia ahh), Bulletproof, for lack of a better title. Hope that someone actually reads this thing Hope you guys like it :).

Warnings: Blood, Panic attacks, gun violence, an itsy bitsy teeny weeny amount of angst. Ok the it's a lot more. But it's not too heavy angst I swear.

Reading time: 12 mins (1.5k words)

Or read here on ao3

***

Gun drawn out and muscles tense, he walks through the empty building, the empty halls, but he doesn't look around. There are a few unconcious bodies lying around, they could be officers or civilians, but he won't bother look. His eyes are fixated on the intersection of the grand hall and the main corridor of the building. He can't think about anything and he is also thinking about everything at once, his eyes are open wide but he doesn't look around.

His eyes are fixated on the intersection of the grand hall and the main corridor of the building, because he swears he can spot a human form. His grip tightens on the handle of his gun, not because of the form, not because he expects to find the killer he would be hoping to catch. He's nervous. As if this is his very first case, he can feel a panic attack beginning to devour his insides.

Only the thought of it sends shivers down his spine because he can guess who the form is. And, oh god, he would rather not.

"Detective Reyes... There's no sign of the suspect", the officer's voice sounds hollow into his ears through the comms and he can't quite process the words. "Looks like he shot his way through a group of civilians. We've got victims. I'm calling for medical aid."

Completely ignoring his colleague's statement he takes a few more steps, his soles brushing the ground, feeling his own weight intolerable, and not quite able to catch his breath.

He takes one last step and he can finally see.

He can look at the form, it looks so horribly fragile.

The gun slips out of his hand at the familiarity of the golden locks of hair.

Dave is now looking down in terror at the blood soaked woman lying on the marble flooring.

He whispers under his breath, wishing that it's all just another of the nightmares that constantly plague him in his sleep.

"No..."

He darts down the corridor as fast as he can with his heart beating just as fast and his palms starting to sweat.

"Sam!"

This time it's no dream to wake up from.

The detective kneels beside his partner only to sink in the pool of blood on the floor. Sam's chest is going up and down with a horrifying difficulty as her infamous blouse is dyed deep dark red. He stares wide eyed at her grazed face, contorted in pain and can't help but get overwhelmed with panic.

"No..Sam....Please, stay with me" he pleads while caringly reaching to stroke her blonde streaks. With his other hand he checks for her pulse, hesitantly. On his forehead is forming a frown so stiff it hurts his skin, but he ignores it, he can't be bothered by that, not now.

Sam is awake still, hurled into herself, trying to process, to tolerate the pain. It's too much. She winces at her effort to move towards Dave, which stops no further than half an inch, a movement too subtle to be noticed.

Mildly encouraged by the steady beats he senses, Reyes lets out a breath he knows he has been holding since first laying his eyes on his wounded partner. Without further delay he proceeds with finding the source of the bleeding.

Lacking the tiniest hint of remorse for ruining his incredibly expensive suit, he takes it off with a swift movement and folds it sloppily into a small square fabric, using it to press the wound and prevent further blood loss.

Sam winces and let's out a strangled noise of protest. She tries her hardest to stay put as the taste of blood floods her mouth, neutralizing all other senses.

Dave is struggling to keep himself from losing his mind because right now, he feels just as helpless as when his mother was the one with the bullet inside her body.

"Hang on, the paramedics are on their way. Just.. hang in there." His voice is trembling and he tries to reassure her and himself that it will be ok, that Sam would make it. She ought to make it.

Dave wasn't there. He wasn't there when it happened and the only one he can possibly blame at the moment is himself. He should have been by her side, bringing down Hayley's murderer together. Instead they had let their issues and disagreements drive them apart, now look where that got them. He should have had the chance to do something, to react.

Now all he can do is wait until help arrives and he can't stand the bloody waiting. It's his goddamn partner's life that's on the line. That's why he shouldn't have a partner in the first place. He didn't want one. He was forced into seeing how amazing Sam is and now he can't even begin to imagine having to work -no, to live- without her. She should have gotten on that damn plane a few weeks ago, as she was supposed to.

That way she wouldn't be entangled in this disastrous case. She wouldn't have been shot. Another wave of panic suddenly shoots through him, shaking him to his core and sending some really unnecessary shivers down his spine. Somehow he's burning and freezing at the same time and then his thoughts are traveling to places they shouldn't be at the time.

Dave turns to inspect his partner's wounds once more. A shot to the stomach and another bullet pierced through her forearm. He presses his blood stained suit and shirt on the wounds as best as he can to stop the bleeding but he can tell it's not going to be enough.

He grits his teeth and curses under his breath.

"Damn you, Massey.."

While he makes an effort to ignore her pulse getting weaker and her face turning paler by the minute, the marshal starts mumbling something incomprehensible. She can't spit the words she wants out, she needs to push herself harder but it feels like she will choke on her own blood if she tries to speak any clearer. But she needs to know... after all it hasn't been long...they could have made it...

Sam, with all the strength left in her, forces her eyes open into two narrow slits, just as they can hear the sirens wailing in the distance.

"Did we... did we catch the.. the bastard?"

Her voice comes out rough but weak and vulnerable, contrasting the marshal's sparky personality and usual crappy Texan spite.

Dave's eyes widen before he pulls his face in a somewhat relieved grin. "You've been shot in the guts and you're worried about that ?" he scoffs, while plastering his face with a smile that doesn't quite reach his ears.

Sam tries to huff a chuckle but all that comes out is a repulsive cough, one that spatters blood all over Dave's chest.

He flinches at the feel of the body fluid wetting his bare skin, but it's worry that washes all over his features. "Save your strength and don't let me have all the fun alone, ok?"

After what felt like an eternity, the paramedics arrive. In a blur they place Sam on a stretcher, taking her inside the ambulance to transport her to the nearest hospital.

The detective insists on boarding with her on the vehicle. He takes a seat beside her while nervously biting his lower lip and rubbing his knuckles. Sam notices and attempts to grab his hand to comfort him and pull him out of his stressful contemplation. Dave raises his head to meet her foggy emerald eyes. He cautiously cups her hand with his and gives it a light squeeze, dying her somewhat clean fingers with thick blood.

"Reyes... I'll be fine, goddamn it".

He smiles bitterly as she slowly turns her head forward and closes her eyes.

"Yeah...you will." Reyes mutters, breathless, mostly to convince himself.

***

Bonus:

"Should have known you are too stubborn to die" he quipped with genuine happiness, disguised into a firm smirk

She chuckled at the comment and replied with a smirk of her own.

"We've still got a killer to catch, don't we?"

"Damn right we do. And this time we do it together" his tone was serious and this proposal was not to be met with a negative answer.

So she agreed.

"Together "

She drifted her gaze to the room's window, watching as the sun washed the city of Los Angeles with a warm light. She still had one more day until she was ready to go. Before continuing her life. She turned back to Dave only to deliver her realization.

"Wow.. we sound kinda cliche" she added from her hospital bed, a bright smile adorning her features.

Dave laughed at her witty remark and at that exact second of time he realised just how lucky she had been. Her smile lit up his eyes and he wanted to hold on to it. She wasn't bulletproof. He wasn't bulletproof. But together they would surpass every obstacle thrown in their way. Because they had to.

"Hah! I'll take that".

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 7)

“Are we almost there yet?” Charlene whined, her feet protesting with each step she took. They had stayed at the cabin for almost two weeks until their supplies startled to dwindle. The brothers had decided it was time to leave, whilst they still had some things to take with them. It didn't make much sense to wait until they ran out to leave, then they’d be walking back to the truck for a couple of days with no food or water. So they had packed what they had left between their three packs, and Daryl had discreetly made sure Charlene's was the lightest. The last thing they needed was her falling over and getting stuck on her back like a damn turtle.

It was dark outside and Charlene kept falling over tree roots, stones, her own fucking feet. Everything seemed creepier at night, she couldn't see a thing and every noise had her gasping and jumping. It was Merle’s great idea to trek through the night, to keep pushing on so they could hurry to the truck and bike. Daryl hadn't agreed, he thought they should rest up. He knew Charlene would get tired, she seemed to get tired easy trying to keep up with him and his brother.

“Be there around daybreak,” Merle huffed, sick of the same question every ten minutes. He was at the back, taking up the rear whilst Daryl walked up front with his bow at the ready. Charlene was in between them, safe in her little bubble of Dixon. She tripped over again, tumbling into Daryl's back as her hands gripped his sides. He tensed up, glancing over his shoulder.

“Y’alright?” he rasped, watching as she righted herself again with a sigh. She let go of his sides and he ignored how he felt the loss. Their time at the cabin had spoiled him a little with her closeness. Sharing a bed with her every night, even if he didn't touch her. It was like it was second nature for him now to be right next to her and anytime she was further away, he hated it. He had been true to his word about not letting her out of his sight. He followed her everywhere and it had gotten a little too far when he tried to follow her to the bathroom when she needed to pee. He had argued with her, not getting what the big deal was. And after she promptly shut the door in his face, he had sat next to Merle brooding something fierce. It was embarrassing that it took his brash brother to explain simply what the issue was, that his protectiveness had clouded his judgement that much.

~

“Didn’t peg ya for havin’ that kinda kink,” Merle had cackled, making Daryl look at him with a scowl.

“The fuck ya talkin’ about?” he huffed, glaring at him.

“Shit, I thought ya had more game than that little brother. She's a girl, she ain’t gonna whip her pants off and piss right in front of ya. If ya need me to tell ya that then maybe it’s been far too long since ya been with a woman,” Merle had snorted at him, making his cheeks flush as he realised how fucking stupid he was being.

~

“It’s too dark,” she complained, glancing around in the complete darkness like she was waiting for something to pop out and get her. Daryl chewed on his lower lip, his own eyes glancing around. He didn't have much of an issue seeing in the dark but she clearly did, she was falling over every five minutes and now it was slowing them down.

“Maybe we should set up camp, just rest and start again tomorrow. Can't see shit out here,” Daryl suggested, looking at his brother through the darkness.

“I can see just fine and I sure as shit know you can too. Its little miss here that can’t see shit,” Merle snorted. Charlene huffed, folding her arms over her chest, he wasn't exactly wrong but it didn't mean she liked it.

“Don't matter does it? She can't see and she's tired so we need to fuckin’ camp out,” Daryl glared, not noticing Charlene now squinting at him, the way they were both talking about her like she wasn't there, noticing just how much she couldn't keep up with them.

“We’re not campin’ out little brother, I ain’t gonna tell ya again. We push through, we’ll be there in a few hours. Feel free to give girlie a piggyback or somethin’, but we ain’t stoppin’,” Merle argued, glaring at his brother with hard eyes, letting him know that was final. Daryl glowered at his brother, a tense silence overtaking them as Charlene looked around nervously. Daryl ran his tongue over his lower lip before tossing his bow at Merle. He only just about caught it and gave him a dirty look for acting like a child. Merle was about the only person Daryl trusted with his bow and he knew his brother knew how to use it. Daryl took off his pack then, tossing it to his brother's feet, still glaring at him. He crouched down and Charlene just blinked at the back of his head.

“Hurry the fuck up Tiny, get on,” he huffed. She heaved a sigh as she got on his back, squeaking down his ear as he stood, his arms hooked around her legs. She tightened her hold around his neck, the sides of their heads touching and Daryl tried so fucking hard to ignore the closeness, how she felt wrapped around his body like that.

Merle slung Daryl's pack over his shoulder as he started walking, bow in hand. Daryl trudged off after him, trying to keep up with the weight of the girl. She didn't weigh that much but it was still more than what he was used to with his bow and pack. They walked in silence, both brothers alert and tense as they navigated easily through the woods. Charlene suddenly felt like she weighed even more and he side glanced at her, he couldn't really see her though. A soft snore left her lips and he found his own lips tugging into a small smile, knowing she had fallen asleep on him. Hopefully, she’d get a decent rest and he would wake her when they got to the truck.

“Lookin’ a little happy their brother, somethin’ ya wanna share with the group?” Merle smirked obnoxiously, looking over at his brother. Daryl cursed inwardly that his brother had seen him smile, hoping to fuck he couldn't see as he felt the tips of his ears burning bright. A scowl etched on his face then as he continued to stomp through the woods, a little harder than necessary.

“Don’t know what ya talkin’ about,” he huffed, not even sparing his brother a glance.

“Shit, ain’t nothin’ wrong with enjoyin’ the feel of a woman Darlina. Maybe we could trade off soon?” Merle snorted suggestively. Daryl clenched his jaw, if his arms weren't currently occupied holding Charlene's legs, he would have probably punched him with the rage that shot through his body at a simple comment.

“Ain’t happenin’,” he growled, pushing through to walk ahead a little.

“Aw c’mon now, that shits unfair. Ya can’t be selfish, keepin’ her all to yaself!” Merle cackled, clearly not so concerned with being loud. Merle jogged to catch up to him, glancing at his brother and his tense posture as he walked.

“Shit little brother, I was just fuckin’ with ya. I know better by now, I ain’t gonna try and steal ya woman,” he smirked to himself, knowing he was getting under Daryl's skin.

The fuck does that mean? Daryl wasn't sure what irked him more, the fact Merle called her his woman or the fact he had insinuated he could steal her away if he wanted to.

“She ain’t my woman,” he replied tersely, still not looking at his brother.

“Uh huh, whatever ya say…” Merle grinned to himself, knowing his vague response would only bother his brother more. Thankfully Merle shut his mouth after that and they continued their walk in silence, watching out for threats from the dead or the living as they tried to make their way back to the truck.

It was just starting to get light outside when Charlene stirred on his back. She had slept for a couple of hours as he carried her and his arms were starting to burn like a motherfucker. He didn't want to say anything though, to look weak and have Merle say something to embarrass him. He also quite liked having her so close to him, feeling her pressed against him like this. He wasn't sure when he would get this chance again. She blinked her tired eyes, lifting her head as she glanced around trying to get her bearings.

“You can let me down,” she said softly, her sweet voice tickling his ear and he had to suppress a shiver at the tingles that ran through his entire body. He stopped, crouching a little as she slipped off him and he turned to look at her as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. She looked fucking adorable and he was fighting a smile, he didn't need his brother catching him smiling down at her like some fucking idiot and calling him out again. Things would get really fucking embarrassing.

She glanced up at him and gave him a little smile and it made his heart beat all funny, unable to look away from her pretty tired face.

“Thanks for carrying me,” she said quietly, trying to keep her voice down so she didn't attract trouble.

“Ain’t nothin’,” he shrugged, ignoring the burning in his arms as he chewed his thumb. They just stood there somewhat awkwardly, not really knowing what to say before Merle looked over from where he was a few feet away.

“Almost there, c’mon!” he ordered gruffly. Daryl rolled his eyes before trudging off after him with the girl by his side.

It was less than half an hour later when they finally made it out through the clearing near the back of the store.

“Finally!” Charlene sighed dramatically, so happy to be out of the woods, to be able to sit down soon in the truck. Daryl snorted and shook his head lightly as he glanced at her. Sure enough, the truck was still there with the bike strapped on the back.

“Ya ridin’ the bike?” Daryl asked as he looked at his brother. Please say yes, please say yes… He really hoped for some peace, for Merle to not be in the truck so he could just enjoy Charlene's presence without his brother shooting him sly smirks.

“Nah, I’ll ride in the truck for a little bit, saves the gas,” Merle mused as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. Daryl had a sneaking feeling though it was more just to be a pain in his ass. Charlene didn't seem to give any fucks though as she hopped up and climbed into the truck, letting her feet stop aching. Despite her sleep on Daryl, she was still exhausted.

She rummaged around in her pack, grabbing out some tinned soup as she used the can opener she had in her pocket, the one from the cabin. She opened it as she looked out of the window at the brothers who were talking. She couldn't hear what was being said but Daryl didn't look happy in the least. She slurped some of the soup, grimacing at how it tasted when cold. She just sat there waiting for the boys to get in so they could go wherever it was they were planning on going.

“If ya think for one fuckin’ minute ya gettin’ in the truck after ya just popped some damn pills, ya more insane than I thought!” Daryl snapped, trying to keep his voice down so he didn't worry the girl.

“Calm the fuck down Darlina. It ain't the same shit, it’s fine,” Merle sighed, looking like he was bored with the conversation.

“I don't give a fuck what it is, I ain't havin’ ya so close to her when ya high on more than weed,” Daryl growled, glaring holes into his brother. Merle watched him for a minute before he pursed his lips. There wasn't much he could do, the pills were in his system and he couldn't be bothered having a fucking fight. He shook his head with a huff as he hopped into the bed of the truck next to his bike, flopping to sit ungracefully.

Daryl eyed him for a minute warily, unnerved by the lack of fight from his brother, but he knew to count his blessings. He climbed into the truck and shut the door, chancing a glance at the girl who was slurping soup out of a can like a cup of coffee.

“Wheres Merle?” she asked, furrowing her brow a little. He didn't know how to feel about that. Part of him was annoyed why she was asking about his brother whilst the other part of him found it endearing she was giving his piece of shit brother the time of day, more than most people had ever given either of them.

“Sat in the back,” he replied vaguely, making her squint at him, her slurping seizing for a moment.

“He's high isn't he?” she sighed, catching Daryl off guard by how perceptive she was.

“Yeah, won't be a problem though,” he insisted, levelling his gaze on hers. He was trying to convey without words, because he sucked ass at forming words, that she didn't need to worry, he would keep her safe. The look must have worked because she just nodded, tearing her eyes away from him as she continued slurping some more. The noise would have grated on him if it was anyone else but annoyingly, even her slurping was cute. Turnin’ into a fuckin’ pussy in a chick flick.

“Want some?” she asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. He blinked at her for a moment before to the can. He just nodded and she smiled, handing it to him. He finished what was left in a few long gulps and tossed the can out of the window he opened.

“Let's go!” he heard Merle call from the back, smacking the roof of the truck as he clearly got impatient with them not going anywhere. Daryl rolled his eyes as he started up the truck and peeled out of the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” she asked softly, giving him that fucking look again like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Merle wants to try for the highway, to Atlanta,” he shrugged, once again following orders off his big brother. She didn't say anything, just nodding as she got comfy in her seat, just grateful to be a little safer than out there in the woods. Daryl chewed his lower lip, glancing at her every now and then. He wondered just what they would find in Atlanta. Would it be safe? Shelter? He fucking hoped so, for her more than anything. He didn't know just how bad all of this was. Was it all over the country? The world? He hoped not. He wondered idly about a cure but then realised optimism never got him anywhere. He better prepare for the worst, that way he would be ready for anything and wouldn't be disappointed. He knew the pretty little thing next to him probably thought the opposite. Probably hoped there would be safety and a way out of this. He wouldn't tell her otherwise if that's what she wanted to believe, if that's what would make her feel better. He would prepare for the both of them, because Lord knows he wouldn't be leaving her side no matter what they found in Atlanta.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend

[nightmaretyrantvantas]

I am not my insecurities reflection- a truthful based oneshot

IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE PLEASE READ

Ok, this will be a long author’s note but please bare with me as this is very important for you to understand this oneshot. For some context here because I havent posted alot about her yet, this is a oneshot about my Dc oc Gracie Lucio, set kinda in the same universe(i guess) of the teen titans judas contract movie( with Damian as robin) and its a oneshot written partly out of a vent of my own body image issues and partly out of an expression of how I’ve learned to look past said issues slowly.

But this gets very angsty until the end

Now to give a bit more context for the piece itself. The oc herself, Gracie Lucio( because I havent posted any art of her yet) for the reader’s understanding, she is not human, she is a werewolf(it feeds into her story so dont get me started on it alot of research went into this aspect of her character and it plays into her body issues)and body wise looks similar to Dick in the first season of Young Justice. Shes a naturally thin figured , broader shouldered girl who could( if she really wanted to) pass as a feminine boy with short jaw/ barely chin length hair( think of a thick messy longish pixie cut of dark hair). So shes naturally lean and lanky and a little underdeveloped for a 13 year old girl and as a heroine she has toned muscles from years of hero work. Most wouldnt see her having too many insecurities about her body image and appearance, but in truth shes riddled with them. She ages a bit differently than humans, it takes her body longer to develop and even then in some areas it develops differently all together. She struggles to gain any extra weight or build up natural feminine curves, something she wants. She WANTS to look like other girls her age, with more developed and heavier bodies, with curves and more weight and an actual figure. But with a supernaturally high metabolism added on top of a already genetic based thin figure and a intense and sometimes rigorous training and workout routine plus her work as a heroine gives no leeway to gain really any extra weight, its always worked off one way or another. And this causes...comments to be made about why she looks that way by civilians. and though she never shows it publicly  she takes many of these, usually not flattering and sometimes cruel and rude, comments to heart(much like I used to unfortunately) and it worsens her negative feelings. This is a small story of her seeing those problems and issues and trying to face and overcome them. This is more centered around Gracie and Dick and Jason and their platonic and sibling like relationship as they help her through her darker times( again, this is partly me expressing my own personal struggles with body image (which arent the exact same as the character but the language and the comments are very similar)and partly how those two helped inspire me to have more confidence in my body no matter what I look like) and also a deeper peek into her complex relationship with Damian(but thats not the biggest focus) Sorry this was so long I mightve info-dumped a little but its important to understand the story. I hope you guys enjoy?

This is also told in Gracie’s point of view

This will cover some pretty deep kinda issues like body image problems and over eating and weight loss/gain and mentions of eating disorders without really discussing them and bullying so if that upsets you in any way now is the best time to scroll past for your own sake, I dont want you to upset yourself over my crappy emotional writing

I do not look that bad.

That’s what I have to force my mind to accept as I look into the mirror, meeting my own aqua green eyes hesitantly.

I always hated looking in the mirror lately, especially after training or after bathing, like now as I stood in the middle of my room in a slightly loose training type sports bra and spandex shorts. I don’t even want to glance down at my body, out of fear for seeing the same thing I always do.

‘She so skinny...is she eating right’

‘She needs to eat more and gain some weight’

‘what a twig for a superhero’

‘how have bad guys not snapped her in half? Jesus Christ I could probably break her with a sneeze!’

‘What a bad influence shes setting for young girls with such an thin figure!’

‘I think He needs to eat more Christ that poor boy must be starving! Why isn’t Nightwing feeding him more’

The flashes of comments flooded my mind the moment my eyes flickered down to the rest of me. To my thin, unfeminine figure. My underdeveloped and flat birdcage of a chest. To my lanky, toned, too flat stomach. The pinched waist figure. The flat empty expanse I called hips that blended too well into my too dainty looking bony legs. I looked too fucking skinny. And maybe they were right...as a hero I was a role model to those younger than me, and I promoted a Bad Body Image for girls to idolize with my lanky boy figure.

And it was a horrible body type I had no goddamn control over.

My species was not an easy one to live as, especially not intermingled with humans. The team knew, the team understood, but the rest of the world didn’t. As a lupinotuum pectinem, or lycanthrope which in easy translation is simply “Werewolf”, my whole body inner workings were different. Most of my kind were naturally lean and thin, like tall healthily thin model athlete body types and in general the females, even alpha females, were practically born twig like almost. And on top of that our bodies developed....differently. I was not raised by a pack or by my own kind after age 8, so even I didn’t know the full extent but females bodies took longer to grow and it made it very hard for them to gain weight because of the unnaturally high metabolism. Add being a superhero who once trained under a certain league member to the mix and you go from being the “healthy and admirable” type of skinny to the “unhealthy and concerning”type of skinny.

I hated it, and I hated my body. I hated pictures of me from the neck down, because they all looked the same no matter who they were with. And I saw the comments everyone made. Whether its a surprise photo Garfield took dragging me into the picture to commemorate something or another or me taking pictures around Gotham or Blüdhaven with Dick on the social media Gar helped me set up, or even the rare photos I’d get to take with Jason or Damian or Tim and get to post. Every time the flood of comments were the same. The same things I now repeated over and over as I looked over my body angrily.

OMG look at that poor girl is she ok??? She looks like she needs to be hospitalized!

Christ almighty BB isn’t it too early to be posing with skeletons?? LOL

Dude not funny that girl must be anorexic or something.

Such a cute sibling couple but sweetie you need a fast food break to add some fat to those bones!

Fuck kid go eat something instead of taking pictures

Awwww you two look real happy! I hope you’re on the way to lunch or something!

Holy shit your guy’s size difference is so vast its almost worrying

how are you even alive with that little weight

Go eat some junk food or something before you pass out

OMG look at her shes so small and stick like! Her clothes look like they’re hanging off a scarecrow!

That girl cannot be healthy tell me someone is making her eat more

Every time its always the same damn thing....

I couldn’t do it anymore. I turned away from the mirror nearly in disgust and went back to changing into more casual clothes, bitterly noting how my clothes did in fact seem to hang awkwardly on my body as if I was too thin for them to fit correctly. Like they always did lately.

Ew look at her she looks so gross all stick-like like that!

What a fucking twig of a girl! Are those her ribs poking through her shirt??

Bitch go eat a fucking hamburger you need some damn food in you.

God that weight cant be healthy you need a doctor!!

     “Kid? Yo kid you in there?” My head jerked up from the comments flooded screen of my phone to meet Jason’s eyes, catching the quirk of his eyebrow as he sat across the diner table from me. We were at a diner he favored whenever he came into town to visit, a little family owned treasure with delicious and greasy food and the sweetest staff on earth. We frequented the spot during his visits, our own personal little thing since we’d gotten closer. I plastered on a smile and ignored the slight narrow of those blue eyes, the small furrow of his brow got as I snapped off my phone and set it aside.

      “Sorry Jay, BB tagged me in something dorky and I got distracted. So what were you saying?”

He didn’t believe me, and I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t the most convincing at that moment but I kept that damn plastic smile on my face and snagged some of his curly fries right in his face, making him crack a smile and smack my hand away from his tray.

      “ Hands off my food, eat your own wolfie.” I rolled my eyes at the stupid nickname I’d been branded and let the plastic smile slowly be replaced by a more genuine one as we began chatting again, grabbing my over sized cheeseburger and finishing every last bite and moving onto the large fries and two milkshakes, hopelessly praying that maybe this time the calories would stick and trying to push away the comments to the back of my mind. I was with Jason and we were having a damn good time, and I wasn’t going to let those comments ruin his visit...not again.

You should be ashamed. All you’re doing is promoting bad eating habits looking like that.

You’re such a bad influence for young girls who idolize you with such a horribly unreachable appearance.

Shes too bony to ever be considered pretty

Does she have a eating disorder or something?

I stiffened instantly startled by a hand on my shoulder, turning off my phone  instinctively and making the endless comments disappear into darkness before whoever could see them over my shoulder. The hand was big, calloused, and gentle and I felt myself relax as I looked up behind me with a smile.

         “ Hey Dick, did you need something?” He smiled down at me with that big bright smile that made all the dark thoughts and feelings melt away and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, blue eyes meeting aqua green.

          “ Well I was wondering if you’re doin’ anything right now or if you’d want to go catch dinner with Kori, Dami, and I. I noticed that you’d skipped your usual early dinner....” I wasn’t surprised he noticed, he normally did...

Once again that smile plastered itself on my face as I told him I’d love to, and to just let me go get changed into something better. I saw his hesitation at the fake smile, practically smelled it on him and prayed he wouldn’t bring it up right now, god please don’t ask now or I might just break...

Maybe god is listening because he didn’t mention it and just told me to meet them by the front doors of the tower in ten.

How are you not dead yet?

Jesus Christ stop promoting your eating disorder like its a good thing!

She looks so sickly is she ok? :(

Yeah shes sick, sick in the damn head for posting such disgusting pro-Ana pictures

How can you post pictures with a clear conscience looking like that?

Some “superhero”

I was wrong, no god was listening to me.

Dinner was rough to get through, even if it didn’t start that way.

For once I didn’t have to worry or dread possibly checking my phone for anything, I turned it off by the time we got to the restaurant. I even got a small compliment from Damian on our way in, though it was more a snark at me not tripping up the stairs. But it was Damian so I snapped right back with a smile, knowing he didn’t really mean it. Sitting beside Dick and across from Damian, I nudged his foot with mine in a silent gesture to cheer up even a little. He huffed through his nose but I saw his body relax and it made me relax. Those moments before the food came, our chatter and soft laughter as we looked over the menu, and the soothing knowledge knowing that Dick pulled me and Damian along to this dinner so we would go out on a date ourselves, ever the best brother and wingman. The mood was light and pleasant and I could see even the ever sharp and moody Dami lighten up a little by the time we ordered. Maybe the mood shifted into something different as we waited for our food and I was sipping on my tall glass of iced cola, when Damian’s fingers casually brushed over the top of my unused hand that laid peacefully on the table. The gesture was subtle and light, quick enough to miss if your senses weren’t sharp. I didn’t acknowledge it and neither did he, a silent understanding that words would just ruin whatever this was. I accepted that happily, as he was much more engaged in the conversations and even smiling a little more during them as he debated with Kori on leading strategies. Things were pleasant, comforting at that table in those few seconds before the decline, Dick smiling and chuckling at his lover and little brother, Said lover and brother having a more upbeat discussion about different leadership styles and their effects, and lightly debating which work better for what. And Damian’s hand next to mine, ever so lightly brushing against it in his wordless way to say I was still there and at even the smallest twitch I’d have his attention again. Dick ruffled my hair and asked how my online courses were coming along, since I didn’t attend schools publicly and I was more than happy to babble about my classes, and my current work in them. It was nice and I was happy, all the horrible feelings from before draining away as I tuned everything else but these three out of my enhanced hearing. Why had I even felt so shitty when I had great people like them in my life?

Then I heard it as that damned supernatural hearing tuned back in to the rest of the world.

The words and whispers and mutters and the blatant gossip and bad mouthing.

“Look at that younger girl sitting at that table dear...shes so thin I think she should be in a hospital not a restaurant.”

“Ewww mom look that girl looks like a skeleton!”

“ Honey shush….”

“Is….is that girl ok?”

“Dude of course she isn’t just look at her shes unhealthy as fuck. Probably has some kind of eating disorder too or something.”

It all flooded over me and all of my happy mood washed away under the wave. I couldn’t tell if the others could hear them so I grit my teeth tried to tune it all back out, trying so hard to focus more on Kori’s explanation of her points. My hands began to curl up subconsciously, making Damian’s attention snap to me. Fuckin I….no, I cant tell him...I shouldn’t. I forced my hand to uncurl and that stupid smile sprawled across my lips as if someone had put tape over them. I saw his eyes narrow and near begged mentally for him to not say anything or for Dick to distract him...anything.

“Ahem….your meal.”

I have never more thankful to a waitress before in my life...until I saw the look she gave me as she placed my admittedly large order of food in front of me, something that was normally a platter for two people’s worth of beef and sides. I caught the judgmental and suspicious look she had glancing between me and my food and I felt shame burn all over, starting to hang my head to avoid that damn look.

“ If this is all our food then your job is done. Don’t you have OTHER tables to be serving?” Damian’s curt and sharp tone cut through the air and briefly through my shame. This waitress knew nothing about me and i certainly owned no one any explanations about my eating habits, so why was she hanging around giving me looks about my food…?

“ Damian don’t be so rude!” Dick cleared his throat and I felt his strong arm wrap protectively around my shoulder as he leaned close to the edge of the table while Kori’andr apologized for Damian’s attitude vaguely. But I could hear it, there wasn’t much life to her apology. It sounded like a politely required apology, almost...defensive?

“ I am so sorry about my little brother Miss. He’s also sorry. But do you need anything else since we seem to be all set here but you’re still hanging around when you must be very busy…?” Dick’s words were sweet and cheerful, but there was an edge to his tone that gave a clear warning. His arm around me tightened a little protectively as he gave one of his signature charming smiles that could light up half the damn city as he then inquired if there was some sort of problem. The waitress stammered that there wasn’t any problem and that it was fine and for us to enjoy our meal before scampering away to continue her work. I felt other patrons eyes most DEFINITELY on us now and I couldn’t help shrinking into the taller man’s side to hide.

“ I’m sorry this keeps happening…” I murmured to him as our respective dates started eating and slowly reviving their conversation, moving on to mission recounts and training while Damian shot a dark look at the other patrons that made them look away. Dick gave my shoulder a squeeze and i moved closer for that familiar warmth and comfort...my chest felt heavy and my appetite had died and I wanted to curl up in my room and die of the shame. But I couldn’t, he wouldn’t have let me. So instead I instinctively sought out the safety Dick’s presence brought me, like a protective older sibling whose arms I could be enveloped in and forget about the harsh world outside them.

He knew without words, catching my body language before anyone else at the table. He knew me best.

“ Do you want to leave? We can get to go boxes and enjoy this meal all the same back at the tower, or even mine and Kori’s apartment. Is that what you’d rather do?” It was tempting, oh god it was so tempting to just say yes and let him lead me away while I re-gathered myself, same way he did when we were both 13 and living under the same roof...before…

I shook my head and forced those thoughts to the very back of my mind. I was in a dark enough place of mind already without that.

“ N-no...you guys set this up...i...i don’t want one nosy waitress to ruin our whole meal. Lets just eat ok D?” He smiled at the nickname and ruffled my hair with a nod, both him and Kori making sure I knew if things got too uncomfortable we could leave and the heaviness eased a little at their consideration. I started picking at my food and slowly regaining my appetite, once again nudging Damian with my foot to start up conversations. I ignored the words for the majority of the dinner, we even began to enjoy ourselves again. The last straw was probably as we were paying and putting leftovers in to go bins. I was admittedly nibbling on food out of my bin, despite starting to feel full.

“ I swear you are a bottomless pit sometimes Gracia.” I rolled my eyes at Damian’s remark and gave him a small smirk as I licked my fingers clean.

“ This bottomless pit can still kick your ass in training wonder boy~” He grunted and I saw the challenge glow in his eyes as he smirked back, an excitement for tomorrow’s combat training flaring up between us.

“ You really shouldn’t mix up your delusional dreams with reality alpha PUP.” I said something snarky back and we began to bicker halfheartedly over who was winning. I finally snapped shut my leftover box and stood with Damian as we stared each other down confidently, Dick chuckling at our competitiveness.

“ Tomorrow morning’s combat training will certainly be interesting with these two all riled up already.” The words didn’t fully process as I cracked my knuckles and squared up to the admittedly….taller boy.

“ Last I checked Damian I was ahead 11-10. And tomorrow, I just cant wait to make it 12.” He gave a hard laugh to my face and faced up to me with a smirk as our other two companions stood and shooed us more in front of the table so they could leave their seats. He opened his mouth to say something likely scalding and snarky back at me when the worst comment pierced between us both like a goddamn bullet.

“ Damn, I never knew such a sickly, too skinny bitch like her could eat like such a fat fucking pig.”

I think I stopped breathing as my body flinched at the following laughter. The man was clearly on the tipsy side and sitting at a larger table with a group of laughing friends, though the one who said it was standing next to the table with a drink that reeked of the cheapest alcohol this restaurant probably sold, and he didn’t stop there. Oh god of course he didn’t stop there. He kept laughing and loudly making obvious comments at me and openly mocking me and how much I ate to his table, either fully aware of what he was doing and that we could clearly see and hear him or too drunk to really care as more insults and name calling that I had heard and seen and read plenty of times before fell from his mouth. My heart was pounding in my ears as the next few moments happened slowly.

I thought I had seen anger plenty of times before, the worse being the one and only time someone made a malicious joke about my appearance to my face when I was walking beside Jason and it took all my supernatural strength to drag him off and away the guy before he murdered him in broad daylight and to keep him walking to wherever we had been heading.

I had seen pissed, but I had never seen downright hellish fury until that moment when I looked at Damian and Dick.

I had seen Damian mad, and angry, and pissed, a few times in our first meetings at me personally. I had seen Dick mad, angry, and pissed off a a fair chunk of times, even if they had never been directly at me. I had never seen this expression on either of them in those times. And in those few moments that passed almost in slow motion and Damian began to lurch forward with murderous intent the thought finally hit me. ‘ Was this...the first time these two had really heard the comments about me? Oh god…’ I felt like I was moving in honey as Damian stalked past me and I tried to reach out to him slowly, a gleam to his eyes that made my blood go cold.

If someone was to ask me in the future what I believed Death looked like, I would say with completely conviction that death would have the exact eyes Damian had in that moment: lethal, merciless, and furious. And he would have Dick’s cold expression, a look I never wanted to see on the normal cheerful man’s face ever again.

Time snapped back to a normal speed like a whip and my hand grasped nothing but air as Damian stormed over to the man.

“D...da--”

“What did you just say you disgusting drunk.” I might’ve shivered at his tone and I felt Kori’s hands on my shoulders tugging me back protectively as she looked down at me worried.

“ Gracie...don’t listen to him, there’s no reason to cry.” Cry? What was she talking ab--

That’s when I felt it, something warm and wet sliding down my cheeks and dripping off my chin. I...I was crying. My walls and my limit of bottling things in for one day was crumbling away as I watched Damian go to confront the man, my voice disappearing under the surge of hurt and anxiety. I couldn’t even say his damn name. I felt frozen and helpless as Dick stalked after Damian, fists clenched.

I had to do something say something anything to stop them before things went badly I had to I had--

“Eh?What the fuck did you say to me brat?”

“ You heard me you worthless piece of filth. Apologize to her, now.”

I needed to do something anything as I felt myself crumbling. Why wasn’t Dick stopping him why

“ And what if I don’t pipsqueak? You gonna hit me? Now scram. Maybe take your little bitch to a hospital for treatment instead of parading her around a restaurant with normal people!”

“ He might not do anything, But I will. Now take it back before things get messy.”I think my body began trembling as I watched panic swelling. I just wanted to leave and go home. I didn’t want to see this unfold, I just wanted to be home at the tower curled under my covers to simulate the warmth of another person holding me. I wanted to be anywhere, anywhere else then stuck in this nightmare.

So I moved without thinking and lunged, aiming for the back of Dick’s jacket to grab and ready to swallow any shards of pride and beg to leave. Instead I collided with Damian’s back and rolled with it, hugging him tightly from behind and tugging back with a whimper.

“ P-please you two...l...lets just leave...please lets just go home please…” Kori grabbed Dick’s arm firmly and tugged him back.

“ Dick...shes in the midst of an anxiety attack, let it go and lets leave. We need to get her out of here.” He took a difficult deep breath but nodded glaring down the man harshly enough that he flinched and scurried to the bar with his tail between his legs mumbling insults. One of his friends started to stand and began nervously apologizing, though one vicious look from the boy I was holding shut him up fast. It took me and Kori working together to drag the two out of the restaurant and the ride home was tense and silent. I couldn’t look at any of them, instead opting to stare at my feet wiping my eyes.

“ Does that happen often. People talking about you like that.” His cold tone made me flinch a little. At this point I was so upset and anxious and emotionally drained on the inside that I thought Damian was mad at me of all people for what happened. Those dark thoughts began to slowly bubble up to the surface and my insecurities screamed that he blamed me for what happened in the restaurant. I remained silent, too upset to answer. I heard his growl of annoyance and I began to hunch up, ready for a verbal fight.

“ Damian drop it for now. Shes in no right place of mind to talk about it.” Dick warned from the driver seat with a low voice that reminded me he was also upset and angry. When we got back   to the tower I didn’t wait for anyone to say anything, I just bolted for my room as fast as I could, at a inhuman, unnatural speed that they couldn’t keep pace with.

I stayed locked in my room for three days, not willing to face any of them the next morning during training. Everything was heavy and hurt and it was hard trying to rebuild those shattered walls of protection, that image of unbothered confidence. I stayed in bed locked away from the world and curled up under the weak protection of my sheets mostly unresponsive to those outside it.

The first to come knocking and checking on me was Kori, asking if I was ok and if I needed to talk. She left after a little while of trying for a response unsuccessfully though, saying she’d come back to check on me later. It was maybe an hour later that Garfield came knocking, asking why I’d missed breakfast AND training. His voice was concerned as he asked if everything was ok and if I was even in there. The concern poked painfully into my silence, tempting me to speak and make myself vulnerable.

Vulnerability killed. I knew that first hand. So I forced myself to stay quiet until his knocks and footsteps faded away.

The rest of the day passed in a bit of a self deprecating blur, only marked by Kori’s two other attempts at my door. The last one I barely noticed as exhaustion kicked back in and I drifted off into an unsteady sleep

The next day after I woke up things still went by in a near timeless blur. I could hear my phone buzzing and vibrating and rattling for my attention but I left it there on the nightstand unnoticed and curled further under the sheets, lost in a slate tinted world of dark thoughts and darker temptations. But that day was harder to drift away through.

The first to stop by was Jamie, knocking a few times and calling out to me with concern and worry clear in his voice as he asked if I was ok. He asked if I’d eaten at all since yesterday, since he hadn’t seen me leave my room. The thought of eating made my stomach stir and my body curl around it ashamed. He knocked a few more times after that, his voice growing a bit more worried at the lack of answer. After awhile I heard him walk away and I barely lifted my head as I hugged my too skinny too unhealthy body close, feeling those blaring imperfections and flinching at myself.

It was no wonder everyone said those things...if so many people said them so often then they must be true.

The next to come by was Raven. She only knocked twice and gave a small sigh.

“ Gracie...I know you’re in there. If you need someone to talk to...my room is in the next hall over, and I will be here to listen. I wont force you to come out...just please remember you aren’t alone here. You have the team behind you.” I bit my lip hard enough to make it bleed to keep my ensuing whimper silent. The words, soothing and reassuring in context, stabbed into my heart and my resolve. I WANTED to depend on them, to throw open the door and break down under the assurance I could and would not be treated differently after, and be assured and comforted and remind of the positives. I wanted it so badly I was scared of it. Or maybe...I was scared of it NOT happening as those damn fears and insecurities and dark thoughts sowed heavy doubt through me. She lingered a little longer than Jaime, eventually her footsteps disappearing. I remember meekly poking my head from the sheets to stare absently out the half covered windows lost in thought, time slipping by me once more to the point I almost didn’t register Garfield and Kori both stopping by my door again at least twice more worried.

When Dick stopped by as the sun was setting was when the harder pain set in.

I heard the knocks and ignored it in favor of the changing color sky the sunset offered, my room washed in a dim orange and amber gleam. Then I heard his voice, soft and sick with worry from the outside and my heart thudded so hard it hurt. Hard.

“ Gracie...C’mon Gracie-girl please open the door. We’re all worried about you...I’m really worried about you. You haven’t eaten for a day and a half...Please let me in...” I almost broke completely at the pain in that familiar voice, the voice I never wanted to be the cause of being in pain or anguish again.

Well looks like I did a GREAT job of preventing that didn’t I?

He knocked again, asking and pleading and trying to reason, anything to get that door to open. My eyes burned with hot fresh tears and I curled up into a tight ball whimpering softly and breaking my vow of silence.

“....D-dick...p-please...j-just leave me a-alone…I-i just need some t-time alone…”

My voice came out pathetically weak and shaking with tears, which I know he heard. There was a silence for a few moments, perhaps shock that I actually answered this time. I felt warmth sliding down my cheeks as he sighed and reluctantly muttered that he’d come check back on me tomorrow and that there was leftover dinner ready for me to heat up on the kitchen counter before he slowly walked away. His fading footsteps echoing in my ears. Was my heart breaking on every step away? I couldn’t tell. That feeling slipped into the dark thoughts that followed the setting sun. Dark thoughts that also reminded me of the one person who HADN’T come to check on me, and the resulting pain of his absence.

The third day had been mostly quiet. It was almost a painful relief, quiet meant no additional pain of--

“ Gracia.”

That one word coming from Damian’s mouth sent so many things through me and sent any resolve I had spiraling away. His tone was a forced kind of neutral, he sounded as if he was trying to stay calm but it wasn’t exactly working. There was something to his voice I had no energy to figure out. He didn’t knock and there was silence for a few moments but I felt his presence remain.

“ You haven’t eaten since the restaurant.” No questions with him, he didn’t need to ask, always calm and analyzing.

“ ...You cant just stay in there forever Gracia.” A stern lilt to his voice, weakly enforced by the faint sound of his hand on the door. I could only whimper and curl up more. There was another stretch of silence before he sighed and his footsteps continued down the hall.

He was the only one to come check on me, a blessing and a damnation.

The day and night went by so listlessly I didn’t remember falling asleep, only waking up to banging knocks on my door. The volume grated on my sensitive hearing and made me flinch. Who would even be knocking like that…?

“ Oi. Kid. I know you’re still in there. Open the door.” Jason’s hard and no shit taking voice shot through me. Why...Why was Jason in the tower? Why was he in the city?

The knocking continued relentlessly, unlike the others. It even got louder and angrier.

“ Kid I said open this goddamn door.” There was no request or plea in his voice. It was a command, a harsh, cold command. I tried covering my ears with my hands and curling into a tight ball as the knocking continued. He wasn’t about to give up to a little girl.

I knew this too well.

“ Graciea Rosica Lucio I swear to god if you don’t open this goddamn door in the next couple second I will break it down. Now get off your fucking ass and answer me.” I don’t know what it was, but hearing his threat sent my body into mechanical motion, trudging over to the door and reluctantly unlocking it and letting it slide open with a low hiss, the banging finally ceasing. I couldn’t look him in the face, empty and ashamed it took threats to get me to open the door. So I stared dully at his boots and took in his scent as he grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me back inside. I stumbled clumsily along with as he sat me on my bed and stood in front of me. I kept my gaze down towards his knees, the smell of nicotine wisping off his body in a way that told me he very recently had been smoking, no less than an hour ago most likely. Smoke and city is what filled my room. There was only a beat of silence before he spoke.

“ Look at me.” I lifted my head and stared at his chest and his crossed arms, unwilling to look him in the eyes. I couldn’t bare to see what kind of disappointed look he likely had on his face. Perhaps I didn’t want to see my reflection in his eyes, see the sickly, disgusting and bony figured girl with greasy hair and dark circles under dulled eyes and sallow cheeks. I heard the slight growl that rumbled from the back of his throat in warning and I briefly wondered if I would be forced to look him in the eyes. His arms uncrossed and I prepared myself for anything.

Anything except for two big plastic grocery bags filled with fast food bags and orders was dropped onto my lap, the contents still hot. I blinked slowly once, twice, and finally got enough courage in my confusion to look up at his face. When I did I was a little startled.

“ Eat. And you aren’t moving until those bags are polished off understand me?”

He looked visibly angry, eyes narrowed and mouth locked in a fearsome scowl with eyebrows furrowed. But his eyes were soft and worried and it took me a minute to realize worry was what was making his scowl so harsh. He crossed his arms across that broad chest again and I realized he was in his work gear, all the way down to the guns strapped to his thighs. All he lacked at the moment was his helmet and domino mask, his dark hair messier than usual and the white streak falling between his eyes. We had a staring contest and in those pupils I saw myself, I saw the shell I had become and it made me sick, breaking me briefly from the depressive haze.

How the hell had I let myself fall this far, this deep?

We didn’t speak until he grunted, eyes narrowing more in a way even those concerned blues didn’t weaken the glare as he spoke gruffly.

“ You better start eating before I start just shoving it down your damn throat.” I knew he would too. He wasn’t fucking around, I didn’t doubt he’d follow through with any threats made. Slowly I looked down at the pile of food and reached for the first bag, pulling it open and blinking fast as fresh tears stung my eyes.

It was from our favorite diner, and it was my usuals two cheeseburgers and large lightly salted fries with a second order of fat steak fries and fried pork strips. He’d even gotten all the little sides I enjoyed with it and I looked back up at him with a pained look. Maybe that look made him relax because his expression softened slightly, his voice quieting to something gentler.

“ C’mon now...I brought you all your favorites, now start eating...it’s been three days and your body cant handle that. We can talk after.” My shoulders slumped as all the tension stored in my body dissipated a little as he continued to speak, like a tightly pulled strong finally cut loose.

“ Kid I’m not mad at you. No one is. So just eat the food and then we’ll figure shit out, just like we do on any other visit.” I think the tears started falling because his face got blurry and there was warmth in my face. If I did start crying he didn’t say anything, just nodded at the bag. I gulped and slowly but surely pulled out one of the burgers and slowly took a bite, struggling a little to swallow it with a throat that was closing up from emotions. Once I did though my hunger kicked me hard and I began devouring the food, one bag after another.

It took me about a half hour to finish both plastic bags but I did, followed by slamming through at least two water bottles and one thick milkshake that almost made a mess. Jason simply watched over me as I ate from his spot in front of me. The silence was almost soothing, not painful as it had been before. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I looked back up at him and we made eye contact.

“ So are you going to tell me what happened? Really happened?” I broke his gaze to stare towards the floor as the acidic shame began to creep back over me. He sighed.

“ C’mon kid just let it out already. Who am I to judge? So why don’t you trust me like you USED to and tell me?” Those words shot through my heart and head.

I...I wasn’t trusting him...trusting anyone...I…i...

It was like Jason opened a flood gate.

It all came spilling out with a new surge of tears and mid sentence cracking sobs, my body physically heaving from the intensity as it all came out. All the months of insecurities and pain and doubts and fears and comments and negativity and hate and bullying came rushing out like a tidal wave and Jason took to all, listening to everything without a single word as I let everything out and let myself break down completely, wails and sobs replacing words eventually. I felt him shift and kneel in front of me, felt big strong sturdy hands grip my shoulders to steady me and keep me anchored as I buried my face into my hands and gasped out cries and pained wailing yowls that filled the room and spilled out of it. I vaguely remember the sounds of multiple hurried footsteps coming towards the door but I didn’t care. All I felt was Jason’s hands on my shoulders and his steady, continuous heartbeat in my ears as well as he strong breathing. One set of footsteps dared to enter the room and hurry over, only stopped by Jason’s calm voice.

“ Let her get it out, its the only thing that’ll help.” The footsteps stopped and eventually the wails faded into blubbering whimpers and whines and hiccups, constantly sniffling. I lifted my head to look at him through blurred eyes and got one brief sight of Dick standing behind Jason that sent me into a whole new wave of sobs.

God I’ve been nothing but selfish and now I’d fucking hurt Dick again even when I swore I’d never do that again and i--

I let out a high pitched whine that turned into pathetic blubbered and wailed apologies. Over and over like a broken record I couldn’t stop apologizing to them for everything even parts that weren’t my fault  in any way I still apologized for it I just couldn’t stop. Jason’s grip on me tightened only slightly before slipping away and for a single moment I was terrified I’d annoyed him with all the apologies and was about to add that to my list of them when two strong arms wrapped around me and and Dick’s scent surrounded me.

“ Shh shh shh shhh….shhh Gracie its ok now shh shh its ok I got you its not your fault…” I sniffled and wailed out more sobs and begs for forgiveness as I clung to him like he was a life preserver. And at that moment he was. He hugged me tighter and practically cradled me into his chest stroking my hair as he murmured reassurances, assuring me I was well forgiven and it wasn’t my fault. Everyone got insecurities especially when facing so much negativity. How I was so strong for fighting it for so long regardless. But it was ok to not always be strong and be able to handle it. That he was there and it was ok now. It took awhile but eventually all my noise quieted down to sniffles and hiccups and the occasional whimper as my trembling and heaving finally eased away into a limp tiredness. I felt exhausted but in a way different than the past couple days. I felt lighter and the more Dick spoke gently the lighter and more relaxed I felt,all the pain easing as he banished every dark thought one by one.

“ You ARE a hero Gracie.”

“ you aren’t a skeleton or a scarecrow or a twig.”

“ You are not too bony.”

“ You’re beautiful.”

“ You aren’t sick and you don’t need any doctors.”

“ You’re ok. The way your body works and retains weight naturally is not your fault.”

“ You’re only thirteen you’re still growing kiddo.”

“ I was scrawny and thin until I was at least sixteen Gracie its not that uncommon.”

“ You do NOT have to hold yourself to stupid human beauty standards.”

“ You’re beautiful to us, that’s all that matters.”

“ You’re ok, you have us.”

Each and every statement cleared my mind and I slumped against him with tears still falling down my cheeks. His hand carefully cupped the back of my neck in a soothing gesture to ease the wolf side of me, adding a very small amount of pressure to ensure the sense of security and safety the movement brought. I whispered out a hoarse thank you, my throat sore and raw but already beginning to heal. He smiled into my hair and I let my eyes slip shut in contentment. I felt...stabilized, as if the whole world had been constantly tilted dangerously under my feet for months and now it had finally been returned to normal, balancing me once again.

I felt a second, no technically third, hand tangle itself into my thick and greasy hair and ruffle it affectionately, fingers tangling themselves in the dark chestnut locks.

“ We’re always here for you kid. Whether you like it or not. You can be honest and confide in your inner circle Gracie. We aren’t going to look at you any differently...so next time don’t keep your mouth shut.” My nerves settled and I leaned into his hand with a loud hiccup, making him snort. I looked up and saw both older men smiling down at me, both with their own kind of soft expressions. I rubbed my eyes and wiped my nose and smiled back shakily, feeling like everything was going to be ok for the first time in a long while.

I learned a few things a few hours later, after I’d fallen asleep in Dicks arms and woke up on the couch out in the Tower’s game room with Garfield and Jaime looking after me. My head was resting on Garfield’s leg and he had his elbow rested on my upper arm comfortably as he and Jaime played some kind of two player video game, keeping their voices lower than usual to be considerate of me sleeping. Opening my eyes was difficult as they felt dry and crusted and stung from crying so much. But my throat was no longer sore. When they saw I was awake they paused the game and and told me they were happy I was up, as I had been out cold for at least a solid couple hours. That was when I learned the first thing : Dick and Kori had informed the team of the incident at the restaurant after the first day I stayed locked up in my room, and Garfield had let it slip in his rage that he thought I had finally stopped getting those comments, and confessed that I’d been getting bullied and harassed about my appearance online for months. What I found out was all those months what I failed to notice was Garfield fighting back on my behalf every chance he got. He defended me, constantly called people out for harassment and even worked on getting some of the worst and most aggressive ones banned. For months he’d been do it as relentlessly as he could, filling his own social medias with both our pictures and his constant defense and positivity towards me to fight it back. It got lost in my own comment section so I stupidly didn’t realize. It warmed my heart knowing he’d kept my back even when I never noticed or mentioned it, though he waved it off and just gave me his big old smile telling me it wasn’t that big a deal,

“ After all, you’d do the same for me in a heartbeat!” And he wasn’t wrong. But I still hugged him tight in thanks anyway, an embrace he happily returned as he warned me next time I lied about being harassed there’d be hell to pay.

I assured him there wasn’t going to be a next time anymore and for the first time in months finally wholeheartedly meant it.

The second thing I learned was Jaime told me during those first two days I was locking myself away Damian had gone back to the restaurant and used Bruce’s name to hunt that guy that had been harassing me down and gotten a few hefty harassment charges and minor endangerment charges slapped onto the guy, throwing in a sob story of how I was now in emergency care in the hospital because of him. I knew he didn’t throw his last name around often, didn’t exactly like having to do so to be taken seriously. The fact he did for me…

I had a lot more feelings for Damian after that knowledge.

The third thing I learned was that the only reason Dick and Kori hadn’t come by to check on me yesterday was was because they spent the entire time hunting for Jason to get his help with getting me out, and when they DID find him he stormed for the tower and made it there before they did somehow, he was that angry.

As they were telling me this and retelling a very tense video call between Nightwing and Batman during the second day Damian came in in his full Robin attire, regarding us stoically. When I saw him I stood and the room quieted as I approached him, the both of us observing each other. When we stood a foot apart I stared into his masked eyes quietly and he looked into my tired eyes. I saw his mouth start to open to speak and my body lurched forward without me, hugging onto him tightly.

“Thank you...you didn’t have to do that for me thank you thank you thank you…” He was quiet and I was about to let go and move away when I felt his arm come around me and grip the back of my shirt, returning the embrace. Neither of us was at a point that we were really physically affectionate by any means but my heart swelled when he hugged me back, leaning his head against my own and allowing me to bask in the warmth of his arms and his scent. When I felt him roll his shoulders I took that as my cue and slowly pulled away, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek as I did before retreating back to give him his space.

I think I saw his cheek flare pink but I’ll never say for sure because that would mean admitting just how red my own cheeks were.

I’d love to say that after that everything ended happily and perfectly and things went great forever and ever. But I cant, life doesn’t work like that.

But things did get better.

I was under heavy supervision several weeks, with almost stricter watches on my food intake to make sure I didn’t try to over eat or try to force weight gain. Bruce had me stay with him and Damian for a few weeks as well to make sure I didn’t slip back into that dark place. It was a bit smothering at times...but in all honesty I welcomed the smothering because I knew it meant how much they all cared. And staying with Bruce again...it brought up my mood believe it or not. Being in the manor brought back happier memories of my childhood and seeing the man I considered a fatherly figure more often perked me up. Plus I got to see Tim a lot more than usual in those few weeks, a perk and joy all in itself as he kept me company when he wasn’t too busy with his work. Tim was also the one who disabled all comments on my social medias one calm rainy evening in the lounge. I was grateful and he patted my head after as he read his case files. I think I might’ve fallen asleep against him, I cant say I fully remember. With each passing week I felt better and better. It took a long time for my self esteem and confidence to rebuild itself, but it got some jump starts. Perhaps the best part was two months later after a sparring session with Kori. She was giving me tips on striking with a staff when Dick and the big bad bat Brucie himself walked in.

“ Batman? Has something happened?” He shook his head and put his hand on my shoulder.

“ I’m going to borrow Gracie for a few minutes.” Dick gently took her hand and smiled as he whispered something to her as he led me out of the training room and placed a long bottle of what looked like red chewy vitamins into my hand. When I looked up at him confused he gave me some of the best news of my life.

“ These are specially created vitamins designed to accommodate your body’s inhuman metabolism. Tim helped me create them. They're designed to help regulate fats and carb distribution in your body and allow your body to hold onto and gain more weight without immediately burning it off. Take one every week and in a few months you should be up at least one weight class if not more as long as you keep to your regular healthy eating habits, just like you wanted. By Tim’s calculations within the year you should gain enough weight to have a thicker figure, though you may always retain this thinner “ballet-ques” figure...you will more closely resemble the figure of girls your age.” I stared up at him then at the vitamins and sniffled, fighting off tears of joy. All those weeks with Tim and his seemingly just curious questions about my species and their anatomy...the “ case files”...I owed Tim a lot for this.

“ It was Dick’s idea, after all that happened two months ago.” The softer tone brought a smile to my face and I nodded, barely restraining the urge to hug Bruce while he was in the cowl.

“ T-thank you...thank you this means more to me than you know…” He nodded and turned to leave but I caught the ghost of a smile on his face as he walked away.

And once he had I ran back into the training room and tackled Dick to the ground with a ecstatic howl, shifting mid leap into wolf form and licking his face in gratitude, making him laugh as he lazily tried to push away my affection.

I started taking them that day, and it took a few months for a noticeable difference to take place, but it did. My clothes and uniform stopped hanging off me like a walking scarecrow and I started developing the beginning of a feminine figure. I stopped trying to stuff my face too much at every meal and with every week after my self esteem raised back up a little higher. Maybe people saw it in the big, wide crooked smiles in pictures of me now, no matter who they were with. Or maybe the team saw it in the fact I stopped trying to hide my body in layers of clothes, walking around in my favorite tank top after missions instead of over sized sweatshirts and shirts, or the fact I didn't mind sudden pictures taken of me. Regardless it showed and in time I was more than happy to show off that confidence. Throughout it all Jason made near constant visits between jobs to make sure I didn’t have too major of setbacks and Dick stayed by my side as often as he could, supporting me and being a physical reminder almost that I was never alone.

And I didn't feel alone.

And one day as I was getting ready for an outing I paused in front of the mirror and looked at myself, looked at my slightly more filled out tank top and the small curve of slightly more defined hips and an actually fairly filled out stomach, a fuller figure to match my broader than normal shoulders. I slowly looked into my own eyes and after a moment I began to smile.

Somehow….I didn't hate looking into the mirror as much as I used to.

“ I do not look that bad. I look fine.”

“ Gracie c’mon you coming? C’mon the others are gonna leave without us!”

I smiled at my reflection wider before running off out of the room after Jaime’s voice.

“ Im coming!!”

I dont look that bad.

And now I could finally start to see that.

The end.

OOOOOOOH ITS FINALLY DONE ITS FINALLY DONE! 

Ive been working on this for three months now and it was really difficult to finish. Originally it wasnt supposed to be so angsty but...it turned out really angsty at the end.

@phantommoonpeople

@kid-crashed

@call-me-n0ni-chan

Tagging those I know will want to read this

I hope you all like it!!

[lucacangettathisass]

‘There’s just nothing inside you, nothing at all.’

The Southern Raiders Episode And Kataang Zutara Katara

so a few years ago (i wanna say 2014? smthn like that) @irresistible-revolution mentioned wanting to write a meta about the southern raiders episode of atla and how it’s really about katara and not kataang or zutara. i’ve just finished the episode and i have my own thoughts on that so i’ve decided to get them out and dedicate the following meta/word vomit to her.

(also @gameofdooweeoo since u seem to enjoy my word vomits and @mythaelogy since u asked for content. i know it isnt the meta i was talking about, but hopefully this can tide u over until then.)

spoilers ahead obvi.

so, i think we can all agree that atla is a far more mature show than what is usually aimed at children. from the themes of war, imperialism, lost innocence, and compassion and the lack thereof (still working on that meta, gonna finish the show before i really knuckle down and get started on it), among many others, it’s safe to say that it’s an incredibly mature show, and an episode that best exemplifies that is ‘the southern raiders’.

quick recap: when they were still children, katara and sokka’s mother, kya, was killed during a raid on the southern water tribe to find waterbenders (the show only has katara and sokka say their mother was taken from them which implies imprisonment, which did happen to previous benders, but it’s far more heavily implied that she actually died. kinda weird how they kept that ambiguous considering all the other stuff that was included but eh.), and the raid was lead by yohn ra. years later, after joining the gaang, zuko offers katara, who still harbours hatred and anger towards yohn ra, a chance at revenge and closure. now, here’s where some of the shipping wars and conflicts arise.

full disclosure, i ship both of these ships and have done for years, so i never really focused on that aspect of the episode, however i can see why other people did.

i don’t involve myself in shipping discourse, but from what i’ve seen there are some zutara shippers (as well as non shippers) who say that zuko is helping katara deal with her emotions, while aang invalidates them. i would like to respectfully disagree.

in this point in time, zuko is still dealing with his own intense emotional trauma and learning to let go of his anger as well as trying to get katara to like and trust him, and he sees this as a way to accomplish the latter. he was raised in an environment that encouraged aggression and violence, and no doubt getting revenge would’ve been part of that. and i don’t just mean his homelife/childhood, but we’ve seen how society in the fire nation is also geared towards violence (as is typical of imperialist, warmongering nations, but that’s a meta for another day), so it would make sense for him to jump to that as a course of action. i also believe he’s living his own revenge fantasy vicariously through katara, he was unable to save his mother as a child, and perhaps sees this as a way to make up for that (even though he was, y’know, a child). this is not to say that zuko’s thinking was inherently wrong. his thinking and view of the world had been so thoroughly warped by that stage, that to him, getting an eye for an eye was more than fair for katara. he may have changed sides, but it takes far more than that to undo such intense cultural conditioning. his feelings and opinion on how katara should deal with her grief are every bit as valid as aang’s.

another moment for disclosure; i 100% agree with aang in this instance, no question. revenge is all well and good, but an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind and whatnot. one of the biggest messages of atla is how violence begets violence and that breaking that cycle is the only way forward (this will be further discussed in that ‘atla and compassion’ meta), and aang has shown this attitude throughout the series. despite the fact that he’s literally the most powerful bender in the world, aang has consistently shown to value non violent approaches to conflicts, as he was taught by the monks (who, as we all know, were based off buddhist monks). and when he tells katara he understands what she’s going through, he means it. don’t forget, he’s the last airbender, the lone survivor of a genocide. when he went to the southern air temple and saw the destruction, he was enraged and went into the avatar state over it. he carries that weight and anger and loss and grief with him every day, the same way katara carries hers. he knows this pain, knows it all too well, and he doesn’t want it to drag katara down. she’s a lively, vibrant, compassionate soul, which he (and myself and i’m sure many others) loves, choosing to exact revenge on someone, however ‘deserving’ of it they may be, could easily twist that. if she does it then, what’s stopping her from doing it again and again and again? and what’s to stop anyone else from trying to exact revenge on her? the cycle continues, the wheel spins, and nothing is changed. in the end he does concede that this is something she needs to do and accepts that, although not without some trepidation, because it’s about her and her feelings. and he’s right.

now for katara.

here’s the thing about katara: as a character, she truly is one of a kind. she’s a young woman (of colour) who is shown to be kind, loving, compassionate, friendly, and brave, all the good things a person should aspire to be. but the writers don’t try to kid themselves or us into believing that that’s all she is. she’s also ruthless, can hold a grudge like nobody’s business (obvi as a grudge is the catalyst for this episode), and possess a temper that is honestly rarely seen in a female character (ur fave could never, as the kids say). and that side of her is on full display this episode. the writers never once make katara seem ridiculous or vindictive or petty for holding onto this anger, they are totally honest about it. sometimes even kind, sweet people we love and hold dear to us are capable of extreme hate and violence, and we need to reconcile that. and we also need to deal with our grief and anger in our own ways.

the loss of her mother is significant to katara in ways that are different to sokka. this is not to say that losing his mother didn’t affect sokka, of course it did, but it was different for them both. katara had become the mother to both her and sokka (sokka himself said in ‘the runaway’ that when he tries to picture his mother’s face, he sees katara), which is a huge responsibility. there was of course gran gran and hakoda, but sokka’s comment is very revealing. katara and sokka lost more than their mother that day, they lost their innocence, and katara specifically lost her chance at girlhood. she had to, or at least felt like she had to, step up and replace her mother, a responsibility that was no doubt kicked up a notch once hakoda left for war (possibly another reason why she resented hakoda for leaving? discuss.). after all gran gran was an old woman, expecting her to care for two children, one of which was their tribe’s last waterbender, is somewhat unrealistic. and while there is a feeling that everyone in the southern water tribe would’ve pitched in and raised all the kids together, katara still felt the need to become the new mother (and considering sokka’s pre-series sexism, it’s unlikely he was a big help), while not knowing what to do. sure she would’ve learned from gran gran and the other women, but there’s more to motherhood, self imposed or not, than just tasks. there’s being an emotional support, a voice of reason, an example of bravery. being all of these things is taxing on an adult, nevermind a heavily traumatized child. yohn ra made katara grow up too fast. he ripped her girlhood away from her. it’s only fair she rips what’s left of his life from him.

when we meet yohn ra, he is far from the fierce raider commander from the flashbacks. he’s now an old man, living with his (implied to be abusive) mother, and tending to a garden. while he still displays some skill at firebending, it’s clear that he’s no match for zuko and katara, who in a previous scene expressed a willingness to bloodbend despite her reservations about it in ‘the puppet master’ (a prime example of just how fierce she can be). katara is able to stop some of the rain, creating a dome of cover for the three of them, after revealing that she was the last waterbender in the southern water tribe, not her mother. she creates a flurry of sharp icicles, all of which look like they could easily impale yohn ra, and throws them at him.

and then she stops. she calls off the attack.

yohn ra takes the opportunity to try and placate katara, admitting that what he did was wrong (was he sincere or just trying to save his ass? discuss.) and beg for mercy, offering up his own mother’s life (an eye for an eye). katara says that before, she couldn’t imagine why someone would do something like take away a person’s mother. and she says that she’s understands now.

‘there’s nothing inside you, nothing at all. you’re pathetic and sad and empty.’

it’s something that i’m sure many victims/survivors wish they could say to the people who traumatized them. you did this horrible thing to me, nothing you do or say can undo it or untraumatize me. you’re pathetic, sad, empty. you’re nothing. for katara, it’s no doubt a cathartic moment. throughout the years, despite not knowing his name, yohn ra was the monster that lurked under her bed. the shadows that seemed to move on dark nights. the nightmares that chased away pleasant dreams and sleep.

yohn ra cries, begging for mercy.

and katara grants it.

she tells him that as much as she hates him, she can’t do it. she can’t bring herself to take a life the way he did. yohn ra may be pathetic and sad and empty, but she is not. she has her family, her friends, her promise to aang to help him defeat ozai and end the war. a war that took her mother and brought her to that moment. she has things and people to live for and love, she has happiness and joy, she has fulfillment. she is not yohn ra. she will not act like she is.

i haven’t read any interviews/discussions from the writers on the episode that talk about why katara spared yohn ra instead of killing him. perhaps it was to help foreshadow aang’s show of mercy to ozai. maybe it was to keep katara’s status as a heroine and not have her ‘go over to the dark side’ so to speak. i don’t know, and to be perfectly honest, i don’t really care (death of the author babey!!!!!!). for me, this episode was about katara growing as a person, learning that exacting violence on someone for the violence they exacted on u (whether directly or indirectly) is never good and will not lead to a sustainable society. to kill yohn ra, despite the things he’s done, would solve nothing. her mother is still dead. she is never getting her girlhood back. and she would never be able to undo killing yohn ra. by sparing yohn ra, she showed the kind of grace and mercy that many real world adults are unable to show, and that’s extremely powerful. i can only imagine the kind of strength that goes into that kind of restraint.

she hasn’t forgiven him. perhaps, despite aang’s hopes, she never will. but she can learn to let the anger and grief go, and fill herself with other things, like forgiveness for zuko, and love for aang.

she will not be nothing. or pathetic. or sad. or empty.

she will not be him.

[hydrospanners]

A-Z on the writing meme because I need to know absolutely everything immediately.

WELP okay but just remember you asked for what’s about to happen. meme is here. most of this is under a cut cause i’m longwinded as hell.

A. If you could rec a piece of music to accompany one of your fics, what would you pick? Why?

Um I absolutely was vibing to Lips by The xx when I wrote a wish your heart makes and you should too.

B. Who’s your favorite side-character from something you wrote?

I feel like the answer here is supposed to be Doc because he is not The Main Character in the game but also I have written about him and from his POV so much it feels unfair to call him a side character at this point. So instead I’m going to say this random woman named Cherita who was just trying to make a midnight snack for her pregnant wife from a little eggstra. I thought she had a lot of character for someone I pulled out of my ass for the sake of an outside perspective.

C. Get any good comments on your stuff this year?

I am thirsty for praise and I feel every single comment is a good comment but I think the one that sticks out to me is when I wrote a wish your heart makes someone said something like “if you like doc at all you have to read this” and I don’t remember who it was or where they said it but it really stuck with me!!! If that was you, thank you!!!!

D. Any drawings or pictures that had a big influence on your writing?

No!!! I feel guilty about this answer somehow but it’s true. I think it would be a fun challenge to try to write a piece of fic inspired by someone’s art so I may play with that idea next year (Editor’s Note: it was still 2k18 when I wrote the answer for this one) but for 2k18 the answer is no. :(

E.  Who’s your favorite main character you’ve written?

I feel like this answer is obvious but it’s my girl Rea. I’ve reincarnated her as an Inquisitor and a Pathfinder but the OG Jedi Knight is still my fave.

F. What stories are you planning for the future?

I won’t pretend that a lot of planning goes in to my fic. I normally only write short bits so it kind of goes like this: I have a concept, I write the bit I fixate on, and then it sits in my WIPs for five years until I get motivated during some Fictober or something to finally finish it.

I will say I do have serious designs to finally finish the second chapter of the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one as that one is a little more complex than stuff I usually write. I have plans to do some kinda flashback-y thing that finally lays out The Velaran Backstory in clear and obvious terms after years of hints and tidbits I’ve been peppering through my fic. I also have a thing planned and kinda partly written about the first instance of horrific violence in the lives of all the Knight’s companions. Also I have a long series of AU vignettes that glimpses into universes where Rea is a Sith or Kira never made it off Korriban or Rusk remained a pacifist or where Rea never joined the Jedi after losing her family the second time. Stuff like that.

G. Where do you think you grew the most this year?

Structure? I’ve been really working on trusting my reader to bridge some gaps and not letting myself get caught up in details that are important for me to know to write the next part but that don’t necessarily need to be in the story. I think I’ve really tightened up my game where trimming the fat and staying focused are concerned.

H.  How do you write? Paper, pen, computer? Music, no music?

My fic writing process is very different from when I am trying to write original stuff and is even kind of different depending on the mood I’m going for? I always write fic in Google Drive cause I write fic from a lot of different machines and need the easy cloud saving.

My ideal condition for fic writing is listening to instrumental music or ambient sounds playing through headphones either in a coffeehouse or the library or when I am at home completely alone. Angst and smut are best written at night with the lights low and warm. Comedy and fluff are best written in the late afternoon/early evening after one single alcoholic beverage (any more than and one I am drunk and no longer capable of writing).

Realistically though, I usually write in whatever time I have. Mostly at work. My job requires me to sit at a desk and wait for things to happen. Since I start work at 5am, things usually aren’t happening. Even with me going out of my way to create new work for myself and excel at what work I do have, I have a lot of downtime. I spend it writing fic. I get interrupted too much to have the focus I need for original writing, but fic writing is much easier so mostly I write my fic at this bland little desk under the terrible fluorescent lights with lots of noise and interruptions, occasionally playing a thematic playlist very quietly in the background.

I.  What’s your favorite work you did this year? Why?

This is a very tough question. Surprisingly, I published a lot of things that I really liked? ([not pictured: me high fiving me for finally allowing myself to state that I like my own writing]) I think I’ll go with when the wicked play if I have to pick just one. Relative to my other work I think it’s very structurally sound and thematically focused and pretty efficient with its characterization and imagery without ever getting too sparse. Also I’m a slut for examining the commonplace nature of violence and brutality in the Star Wars universe.

J.  What are the best jokes you told this year? Any jokes you thought were funny that people didn’t catch? Vice-versa?

I’m gonna say the pun I used as the title for bars and stripes. Honestly the whole fic is a joke and I like it and I don’t care if anyone catches it or not because I know that I am hilarious and no one will ever convince me otherwise.

K. Who have you killed this year? Why did they have to die?

No one, I think? I don’t think I even mentioned any specific off-screen deaths except for shit from the decades old Tragic Backstories. Not even Valkoriate. I’m not an especially murderful writer, maybe because I haven’t had to deal with a lot of that kind of loss in my own life. Mostly I write about things that are somehow adjacent to my own emotional state/journey. That’s why I fixate a lot on the weight of duty and moral philosophy and the nuances and complications of relationships, of how you can hurt someone and be hurt by them and still love them and how messy yet fulfilling the whole thing is. Thankfully--for me--not a lot of grieving the dead in there yet.

L.  Which character did you most write about this year, and why do you like ‘em?

Pretty sure it’s Rea. Maybe Doc because of the Docember thing I squeezed in at the last second but I’m still pretty sure it’s Rea. Pretty sure it always is.

There’s a particular kind of release I get from writing her because her whole sloppy person is a part of me that doesn’t often see the light of day. I won’t say she’s aspirational because I like who I am and I don’t have any special destiny or Force powers or anything to save me when the consequences of living like she does catch up. But there are pieces of her that I admire, pieces that are still part of me that I have a hard time expressing, and spending time with her gives me a little more strength to unlock those dark musty corners of who I am, I guess? Writing Rea makes me a little more bold, a little less apologetic, a little less prone to overthinking and anxious fretting and a little more prone to doing. She makes me feel strong enough to ask for the things I want and confident enough to feel like I deserve them.

Also she is a damn good time, even when she’s falling apart.

M. Meta! Have any meta about a story you’re dying to throw out there?

Of course I do. I could ramble for hours about the story behind any single one of my stories. Aren’t all of us creative types like that??? Don’t we all love to talk about what we were going for and why we made the choices we did??? What we liked and what we think needs improvement??? Why we wanted to make the thing we made in the first place???

I could ramble about this for hours and honestly the possibilities are overwhelming so I am not going to go into any detail and just say yes. Obviously I am willing to ramble about the story behind every single story I’ve published but there’s 63 of them so if there’s something specific you want to hear about you’ll have to ask about the specific one!!!

N. Anything you were planning to write that never got written?

Nothing will ever be “never got written” until I am dead and unable to write. I am still going back to WIPs from 2014. I am rewriting garbage exercises I wrote in 2013. I like to think everything in my WIP folder will eventually be moved to my Published folder and I am going to keep thinking that until I am physically incapable of writing.

O. Do you believe in outlines? Show us one!

I believe in them very much and yet I do not practice them usually. I rely on them more with my original work which is longer and more involved and doesn’t already have a convenient structure to follow in the form of 300000 hours of video game. Most of my fic is really short, just a single scene or so. I usually start out by writing the moment that inspired me to write the fic and fill in the before and after. I do have an outline for the second half of the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one but I don’t really want to share it for something that isn’t written yet!

P. What are your pet peeves in other people’s work?

This question makes me kinda uncomfortable so here we go with some disclaimers: I write the stories that I want to read or that I really need to tell to satisfy something inside of me and I assume other authors do the same. I don’t want to say anything here that might have a chilling effect on someone exploring some idea they really need to explore, even if it’s tired or cliche or offends my own tastes. Writing is very personal and I think everyone should tell the stories they want to, whether anyone else likes them or not.

That being said, I am always desperately wishing for more media about close, intimate friendships and familial bonds. As someone who isn’t interested in sexual or romantic relationships, it makes me weep basically every time I read a story about characters who are friends or family that give that kind of relationship all of the value and weight and nuance that you see romantic relationships getting. It is a very special kind of feeling to see that it is possible for people to value what I have to offer them as much they might value someone who will romance them and sleep with them. It is very validating to see the possibility of emotional intimacy with people outside of romantic/sexual partners.

But I would never want anyone to feel bad about or stop writing their romances and their smut. That stuff speaks to people and that’s what fic is about. Telling the story that speaks to you. I want everyone to write what they want to write and if that leaves gaps, well that’s why I started writing fic in the first place. There was a story I needed to read and no one had written it yet, so I did it myself.

TL;DR Genfic & friendfic & familyfic is the greatest gift anyone could ever give me, but no one should write to satisfy other people. Always write for yourself first and foremost.

Q. Quote three bits of writing you read his year. Can be your writing, or not.

I keep little quotes everywhere--index cards and sticky notes scattered among all my belongings, snippets on my phone, untitled documents on every cloud service there is, random word docs hidden amongst my many hard drives--but the only ones I can find right now are from @meonlyred‘s Dark Horse so please enjoy three bits from that fic that I loved:

They remained sitting on the floor, Rossa leaned against him, eyes staring into the distance. Her silence might as well have been weeping.

I just love how I can feel the vacant, numb quality of her despair in this line. How it feels more poignant for its lack of drama.

“You're an idiot and I hate your hair,” Jonas said over the rim of his glass.

I mean.... Do I need to explain this?

He had never believed in happily ever afters. Not for him, at least. But the cruelest thing about being with Rossa was that he had begun to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was possible.

Closing his eyes, Theron didn’t expect to open them again.

This little snippet still punches me in the gut no matter how many times I read it. It’s so relateable and so Theron and so painful.

R. If you had to rewrite one of your stories from scratch, which one would it be? What would you do to it?

I don’t think I’d rewrite any of them? At least half of my fic has been completely rewritten once or twice before it ever gets published so I mostly have it out of my system before anyone else sees it.

S. What’s the sexiest thing you wrote this year?

a wish your heart makes. It may also be the saddest thing I wrote this year which I consider an achievement. (I was asked for smut but I literally do not know how to write just smut without anything else going on in the story.)

T. Themes, motherfucker, do you have them? What are they?

The importance and nature of family (it is what you make it and not what you were born with! but sometimes you get lucky and get to choose the one you were born with!)! The cost/impact of violence and war! Failure and coming back from failure! The nature of what is right and what is wrong and how much responsibility any one individual bears for the moral direction of their society!!!!

I don’t think I’ve ever written anything that didn’t include at least one of these concepts and most of my stuff deals heavily in at least two of them.

U. Any stories that took a abrupt u-turn from where you thought they were going?

Yep! I was trying to make a stupid joke about a haircut when I started making take back what the kingdom stole but in working my way backward from the joke I ended up with a heartfelt exploration of my character’s past emotional trauma, her character growth, and the nature of friendship and forgiveness.

V. Which story was the most viscerally pleasing to write? Tell us your narrative kinks.

I don’t know that I would necessarily call the sensation pleasing but, once again, the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one was probably the story that made me feel the most, that I was the most connected to. It hit on every single one of the themes I find compelling and I really got to play with telling the story in the white spaces, which is something I really love. I’ve been working a lot on trusting my readers and not over-explaining and I think this story really saw the impact of that work, stylistically. It’s peak self-indulgence honestly.

W.  Who are your favorite writers?

Does this mean like authors of original published works or fic writers????? How am I supposed to choose???!!!! Either way my reading habits this year have been abominable. I have really been going through some shit, lifewise, (not bad shit but emotionally consuming and time consuming nonetheless) and I had to let the reading go a little bit.

I have been really into NK Jemisin though. Her stories are complex and challenging and there is so much poetry and power in the straightforward way she tells them. I also was obsessed with the Temeraire series by Naomi Novik. The characters were so textured and real with such clear voices and the relationships and ideas were so complex and compelling, yet the story never got weighed down by the heft of the subjects. She has a very light touch as a storyteller that makes her work so easily digestible without making her tale any less impactful or profound.

As for fic…. I’ve got about forty million fics bookmarked, waiting for me to get around to reading them and I am the worst kind of person because I have not yet read any of them. I’m behind on reading one of my very favorite fics right now. I think I’ve read a total of like ten fics this year and straight up probably only read that many because I was doing a bit of beta’ing.

I’m gonna do better in 2019 and I’ll get back to you on all the good shit I’ve read then.

X.  What’s your least favorite work of this year?

crapshoot. It was a really old concept that probably would have been better as visual art than a fic but my artistic talents were too limited so I wrote it instead. It could probably stand a little more meat and a lot more polish, but I don’t have the time to try and turn every goofy image in my head into a fictional masterpiece.

Y. Why did you write? For fun, for a friend, for acclaim?

For fame and fortune obviously. It’s why most of my fic is about a super popular ship in an enormous fandom.

Or, y’know… not. I write for fun and because I have to. Because there are stories inside of me I want to tell, ideas I feel compelled to explore, things I need to say. It doesn’t matter if anyone else hears them or likes them; I need to get them out of me. Also it’s a really great way to work through my own emotional turmoil at a safe distance, so I can engage with what vexes me without being consumed by it.

Z. If you could choose one work and immediately finish it, what would it be? How would you end it?

the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one. It’s the most self-indulgent thing I’ve written probably but it means a lot to me and if I knew how it ended I would have finished it months ago. D:

[paladinsheadcanons]

ash x tyra is my life fuel. i'm not kidding when i say i screamed after finding the ashra tag on ao3. my gay heart wants more, so would mod ash be willing to write some fluff?

i like you. i love your taste. also if you found my stuff, i hope you liked them ovo;;

as like before, my ashra stuff…. tends to get a little too long. slightly inspired by this (kinda) and this. sorry for any grammar errors and inconsistencies! 

- mod ash 

Tyra rarely gets invited to Ash’s office room. 

Of course, it’s not like they’ve made a habit out of it. Upon entering the relationship, Ash knew and made clear that they are still colleagues and in the Magistrate’s eyes, Ash is still Tyra’s superior, even if not directly. And while they worry a lot about any possible complications that this may ensue, most days are spent talking about work, and how they have spent their long shifts or missions, often ending in drinks, dinners, and passing out from laughing too much. 

And this may be a special occasion, Tyra thinks. She remembers it is an anniversary of sorts, but she does not remember for how long. She has already told Ash that she would be out for Sentinel-related issues for a few days, and would not be able to prepare or have anything ready. Ash, while sounding rather upset that they won’t be able to spend a day-off together, is still rather accepting, and just says to meet her after she’s finished with her duties.

And she is, after a trip to the infirmary and a long scolding. The wounds she had received during her duties were not the most easily-ignored, but she presses on. She has haphazardly compiled together a huge box of items she wanted to give Ash way before the mission, as well as a few trinkets she got during the mission. She had known Ash for a while, and knew she is surprisingly sentimental with items and associating memories, and so a care package may be something she would like. 

Carrying the box turns out to be a challenge. Not expecting herself to be injured during the mission, she thought carrying it would be a breeze, but her muscles complain with every move and all her body suddenly wants is to rest. She reaches the office door with great difficulty, and manages to knock once before barging in. 

Ash had situated herself by her desk, setting up… a meal? No, just some snacks on a tea snack rack and some coffee for both of them, and some other things…. she could hear the faint static-like noises accompanying a vinyl record playing, Ash herself was out of both her armor and army fatigues, instead has dressed herself in a plain dress shirt and darker pants, and having way more eye makeup than her standard eyeliner.

She looks amazing. It made Tyra feel bad that she came here without even preparing for it, and as she carefully lays down her huge box of gifts, she looks at herself – just dressed in her fatigues with a thick layer of bandages around her gut underneath her loose shirt.

Tyra looks up to a rather confused Ash. “Should I… go?”

“What– no!” Ash stands up from her seat and walks to the huntress. “Come here.”

Tyra does step closer, although a little hesitantly. She looks over the wonderful woman before her, and felt both wonder and guilt, suddenly unsure. “I didn’t expect you to have anything, to be honest.”

“It’s not much, really,” Ash starts, “it’s just slightly better coffee and some fancy snacks.”

“I should probably have headed back to change clothes at least,” Tyra says, somewhat mournfully. “You look… very gorgeous.”

“It’s fine! You’re here, that’s what’s important right?” Ash doesn’t even hesitate as she pulls her closer to embrace. “I missed you.”

“I know.” Laying her head over Ash’s shoulder turns out to be way more gratifying than it seems, hands around the woman and resting herself against her. Tyra could almost feel her heartbeat faintly through her bandages. “It’s been a while.”

For a few moments, the vinyl played soft, static-y music, filling the silence between them with recorded guitar strumming and the soft singing of a woman, familiar old tunes from home-bound tongues. It is not a tune that is strictly romantic, but it sounded like home, Tyra realises. Her embrace becomes tighter, and the tune suddenly becomes slightly faster, like one would hear in more livelier places.

“Can we… can we dance?” Ash breaks the silence. Tyra doesn’t see her, but she can tell from her tone she’s rather expectant. 

It takes her a few minutes before responding. “I… don’t know.”

Ash doesn’t let go for a second, and for a moment she doesn’t say anything, obviously rather confused. Her hands merely travel around Tyra’s back, until it stops and settles on the thick wrappings of bandage around the huntress’ abdomen. Realisation seems to hit the war machine, and she pulls away from the embrace slightly. 

Her eyes say a lot of things, peering towards Tyra looking for an answer. Worried, concern, a hint of anger. 

“Bullet wound,” Tyra elaborates, avoiding Ash’s rather concerned glare. “Jumped through enemy lines, I didn’t make out in time to get out unscathed. It’s not the deepest…”

“It’s okay, we can just do–”

“No.” Tyra insists, cutting Ash off. “I want to dance.”

If you don’t want to, it’s–”

“I insist.”

Ash pauses for a second, obviously at a loss on what to do, feeling the urgency of her insistence. She looks around, on the drinks she has made, and then on the vinyl player, still going at it with the pace. She pauses, and sighs, breaking off the embrace entirely. 

“Something slower, then,” Ash says. She unceremoniously yanks the disc off the player, hopefully not damaging it and stopping the music almost to a screeching halt, before picking out another vinyl off a nearby box and playing it instead, the tune slower and much like a sung poem. 

“You know,” Ash says, quickly walking back and resettling herself back in Tyra’s arms, and slowly coaxing her into a slow, swaying dance, “if you want something, I can make it happen.”

The singing from the record continues, still in the same old home language from earlier, accompanied by softer harps and a steadier harmony. Tyra follows the war machine’s lead, since these are familiar, easy steps. It’s not like the dance itself mattered, not really. It’s been a week, possibly longer, since the last time she’s held Ash. The Magistrate never sits idle, and as their campaign goes on, it takes the war machine away from what little personal time she has with her, and even just the feeling of her hands is making standing up for an extended period of time worth it if it meant catching up to lost time.

Anything to make it last longer.

“That’s very tempting,” Tyra says, softly leaning against Ash’s weight. “But this is good enough for now.”

Tyra doesn’t know if Ash didn’t have an answer for it or if she deemed it a good answer, but she stayed silent. Ash’s hands merely settled on her waist, right around the wrap of bandages, and the huntress can feel her hands find new places to settle on around her, as if unsure how close or how gentle is she being. 

In the end, she returns her hold by Tyra’s waist, brushing against the bandages, palms flat, as if she’s trying to guess where the wound exactly is as they swayed, and as Ash leaned her head against her. It is not too much of a wound, Tyra will admit, as she had far worse injuries in the past. But for it to hamper her physical strength and her personal time… it’s not the disadvantage she was hoping for. 

“I… wish I was there.” Ash breaks the silence. 

“Yeah, because you’d scold me for an hour longer.” 

Ash laughs, hearty and loud and raspy. “You don’t want me to be concerned?” 

Tyra has several answers to it, like not wanting her to get involved in duties she shouldn’t dip herself in, among other things. But she settles for a reply. “Well, it would make it a little easier for me to deal with if it’s you who’s scolding me.”

The war machine hums a rather dissatisfied noise, almost whiny. “If I’m there, you won’t be hurt in the first place.” 

Of course.

Ash has always liked protecting her. And it made sense, even though Tyra knows both of them are capable, strong warriors who can be independently amazing in combat. However, she knows that Ash didn’t earn her reputation out of thin air, and there are several things she regret in her years as a higher, decorated officer. Some people she couldn’t save, some things she’s seen best left to be forgotten.

Tyra dares not ask about them. But she knew what Ash would do if she were there.

“You’re going to be the one who’s hurt,” Tyra states, “then I will be the one scolding you.” A few moments pass with wordless dancing and Ash doesn’t answer, but she’s avoiding Tyra’s look rather guiltily, so the huntress concludes her guess was right. “I want to keep you safe too, you know.”

“I know.” The war machine closes her eyes, leans against the huntress. “I know.”

“Trust me,” Tyra says, “I will be okay. And you will be, too.”

“I trust you.” Ash smiles sheepishly. “But let me worry.”

The huntress merely smiles. “How many hours have you slept tonight, anyway? I doubt I’m the only one in this room with bad health choices.”

Ash avoids the huntress’ gaze. “I’ve been awake for fifty hours straight.”

Tyra doesn’t scold, nor laughs. Having such a reputation and being a high official is not easy work, and she knows Ash works hard to keep herself high up in the ranks. She remembers days where she would see her injured but still determined, shaking off any inconveniences that comes. Ash just… she is a very selfless woman. One Tyra is very glad to have met and loved.

But she hopes Ash would also take care of herself the same way she takes care of her.

“I can see where you’re going with this and the coffee,” the huntress comments. 

“I make time when I need to.” Ash murmurs softly, almost sleepily. “For you, especially.”

“Just promise me to sleep after this, okay?”

She doesn’t answer for a while, but Tyra later feels and hears her make an assenting noise. She doesn’t know if she should take that as a “yes”, but she does not want to ask further, letting the silence permeated by soft music take over.

The now-slow paced tune of the music taking over, their dancing has mostly reduced to an extended embrace disguised by the occasional sway or step. It didn’t really matter now, no one was really watching, and Tyra didn’t care if it was not close to a waltz. Ash is what matters, right?

Later on, the dancing had stopped, both of them choosing to put their attention on the now-cold coffee and the snacks Ash had brought along, slow music and harmonious singing still spinning by the vinyl. Tyra couldn’t count or sum up how long they have stayed there, as the night had dissolved into a blur of conversation, laughing and discussion, and while the coffee was a little cold, her company sure is not, later on putting her attention on the care package she has brought along, filled with charms, souvenirs, treats, and a few clothing and comfort items Tyra made way back.

They had seated themselves on the couch near Ash’s desk, hands touching while they talk about work, the mission, and life in general, not even noticing the recorded music stop and the mess of packaging and wrapper around them. Later on, they finish their drinks and snacks, and they spoke in hushed tones for hours, trading touches and kisses as they spoke.

None of them bothered to check what time it was. It’s not like it mattered. Both of them knew that once they part tonight, they might not see each other again for a long while, with the Magistrate pushing forward on it’s major campaign and it taking more and more of Ash’s time as a higher official and Tyra as a Sentinel. 

In the end, Ash never bothered to end the conversation, or tell Tyra to leave to prepare for the morning. And Tyra didn’t excuse herself, no matter how much her wound ached, or how much she knew she had work in the morning. It was in the middle of the night when both of them had decided to just fit each other on the couch to rest with each other, lying down and speaking softer and wearier. 

Tyra doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes up a significant amount of time later, a little groggy and feeling several things ache. But upon seeing Ash close, her breathing steady and seeing her so rested, she knew she’s home. 

[homogrimoire-archive]

The Remnant Branches

CH. 6 - The Woe of the Wretched

Part 2: The Love of a Friend

With a proper weapon, Ironwood ventures into the the depths of the Junk heap with a father named Nier and the book he appears to be married to. He finds more than just mere automatons though...

AO3 Link

“What you see before you is The Iron Will.” explained Weiss.

“You know about that weapon?” James asked, surprised.

“It would be wise of you to think more highly of me.” suggested Weiss. “But yes, I do. Supposedly, it absorbs the flesh, blood, and bone of its victims. It can also allegedly absorb other metals as well. In that process, it gets heavier and stronger.”

“Hey, that’s kinda like you Weiss.” Nier told Weiss.

“I suppose, but no mere blade can compare to Grimoire Weiss!” he announced proudly. Ironwood started to think he should be thinking more highly of the book.

“So, what do you think?” Jakob asked him. James studied the weapon. Iron Will, he thought to himself. It was incredibly long, and incredibly sharp now. He figured it could slice through the toughest grimm with ease, in part thanks to its weight. Its old metal that was stained red seamlessly merged with the fresh silvery fix. It looked crude and was far too heavy to be practical to most, but it was worthy of any competent huntsman who was strong enough to wield it.

“You did a wonderful job. Keep up the work, and people from all over will come to you to upgrade their weapons.” James told him.

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.” and he did mean it. If only the kid knew who was really giving him such praise. With that, he made his way out the door, just as the younger brother, Gideon, made his way in.

“Ready?” asked Nier.

“As ready as I can be.” he replied. With a nod, they made their way to the entrance of the factory.

“Since you’ll be with us for the time being, would you care to tell us your name?” questioned Weiss as they walked.

“You can call me Ironwood.” he told them.

“Ironwood and Iron Will… What an odd coincidence, don’t you think?” asked Weiss.

“Odd indeed...” Iron Will . In retrospect, he thinks that The Iron Will would have been a good name for his semblance. His semblance was an ability to defy and surpass the logical way of the world. It was a semblance that was almost entirely passive, like Qrow’s Misfortune.

It was Willpower: the might to make one's vision a reality. This powerful ability to make the illogical, logical, came with a dire drawback. The more his Willpower was up against the odds that dictate reality, the more aura it would require. And if what he willed was so illogical, it would cost him aura that would never regenerate. He learned that the hard way once when he was young, and thankfully it was a minor loss. This might of the semblance and its drawback was tested and reaffirmed once more with his accident.

His semblance proved useful when he was younger, when what he wanted was a simple, better life. As he grew up, he desired to give others a better life as well. He didn't want people to suffer as he had. It was only human to want that, right?

He learned that a key to a better life was power, but power was more than just physical strength. Strength was just one variable in the equation that was power. He had no one to guide him, no one to show him just how to obtain the power to make his desire come true. All he had was his own will, and what a mighty will it was.

-

“So, where are you from?” Nier asked as he leaned on the kart as it slowly moved across the tracks.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m from a place far from here. It’s called Atlas.” he said. He was looking down into the depths below when Nier got his attention. It was so deep, it was pitch black. He just hoped the old cart and rails would hold the two of them.

“What’s it like over there?”

“It’s...” he hesitated, not wanting to reveal he was from a whole different universe. “Just like any other place, full of people and its own problems.”

“If it is anything like here, please don’t let this man go there. He insists on helping out every stanger we run into who has an issue that needs resolution, no matter how small.” Weiss complained.

“What? They need something done, I take care of it, and they pay me.”

“Hmph, you are too kind for your own good, stubborn man. No matter, we have company.” Weiss said as he noticed the machines manifesting. To Ironwood’s amazement, they began to pour from the walls, fully capable of fighting, and now equipped with projectiles. The projectiles were slow, large spheres of energy. It still amazed him how the automatons seemed to have unlimited energy. As Nier and Weiss took care of the front, he took care of the rear. The Iron Will made a good shield thanks to its sheer size, so with it, he blocked the projectiles and downed any machines that strayed too close.

Glancing back now and then, he could see the Grimoire at work once more. It was shooting out its seemingly limitless supply of dark energy as Nier struck anything that came close enough. They made a good duo, he thought. It had been so long since he worked with a partner, but James figured it was easier to be alone. Soon, the flying machines began to thin out and they neared the end of the tracks.

“So, I take it you’re the local hired hand. How long have you been doing that for?” Ironwood asked as they exited the kart.

“About five years, I think. Before that, I was a nomad traveling with my daughter, Yonah. But, her Black Scrawl became too much, and I was lucky enough to meet Devola and Popola. They helped us settle down in the village.”

“Black Scrawl?” Ironwood asked, curious.

“Perhaps it is known by a different name where you are from.” Weiss suggested.

“It’s the disease that causes some strange black letters to appear on your body. There isn’t any cure yet. ” Nier explained with a saddening expression.

“But, there is medicine that can help ease its effects.”

“Expensive medicine. … And speaking of Yonah, she said Weissy promised her a story.” he teased.

“Bah! As long as she doesn’t ask me to be her cookbook. Anything but a cookbook.” Weiss shuttered. “I hate cookbooks. But, if we find one, we should get it for her. I’ll be willing to be in  the presence of one if it so helps her cooking skills.”

“If she’s anything like her mom, it won’t help unless its about bread.” he said, not looking forward to having to eat her food again.

“Sound rough being a father.” Ironwood commented.

“Yeah, but I love her, she’s my daughter. I’d do anything for her.” he said solemnly. James did not doubt him. Already, he had been nearly electrocuted at least a dozen times, almost blew himself up, and accidentally fell down one of the seemingly bottomless pitfalls, from which Weiss had to bring him back up.

James marveled at his tenacity. A parent’s love was indeed powerful. He could understand why that is so. Its only natural for a parent to want to do all they can for their child. He knew that. However, he knew that a parent’s love was something he would never end up giving. Working with children was an inspiration. They gave him tremendous hope. But, working with them made him learn that he did not want to be a parent. And as a man many said was married to his work, he’d be too old to raise a child by the time he retired. If he retired.

Eventually, they reached a large room, which they got locked into. Again. Here, they ran into more P-33 models. When James first saw them, he wondered how the factory was able to upkeep the production of them, and then just started to assume it was magic. It was the only logical answer, all things considered. They looked like the stereotypical robot toy a child would have: retangular, boxy body, glowing eyes, and lanky. The difference was that these were much larger, and very deadly.

He had wondered less about the energy source, and began to wonder more about how they worked. There was always another way to power something, but only a few ways, at best, something could work as desired. They seemed to be entirely automated, performing the same actions over and over. They were no advanced AI. They were predictable, but effective at keeping their enemies busy. They would be good for fighting grimm..

However, they were met with something they did not expect. Once the P-33s and other automatons were cleared out, the door did not unlock like it should have.

THREAT DETECTED. a speaker from somewhere announced. TO ENSURE THAT KALIL IS NOT HARMED, YOU MUST NEVER RETURN, OR YOU WILL BE TERMINATED.

“Who the hell is Kalil?!” Nier shouted.

KALIL IS MY FRIEND, AND YOU WILL NOT HARM HIM. THIS IS YOUR WARNING TO NEVER RETURN. stated the robotic voice.

“Grimoire Weiss will not be ordered around by some automaton! I will do as I please!”

“Yeah!” exclaimed Nier.

Ironwood was also not willing to comply, as he still had to find more information on the machines, but was too late to voice his opinions. The ground opened up beneath them, and fell to a platform below. Ironwood’s aura broke upon hitting the ground, and got up with a grunt. He looked around to see where Nier was, but did not find him until he looked up. He was hanging onto Weiss for dear life as they floated down. He let out a sigh of relief once he touched the ground.

“Thanks Weiss.” Nier said.

“I have accomplished more difficult tasks.” he replied, “And it appears as if we will have to accomplish one more.” In the round room, a pair of giant hands emerged.

“Intruders detected. Activating Defense System Geppetto.” stated a feminine automated voice. And then, a giant robotic head appeared, situated on the wall between the hands.

SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND! KALIL TAUGHT ME THAT LINE! Happily shouted the robotic voice. With that, the machine beamed to life.

“Shit.” Ironwood let out, very concerned.

From a finger on each hand came out a laser that began to track them. It followed in suit, but was fortunately, it was slow enough to where it would not touch them so long as they kept on moving. For a moment, it stopped its attack, and on the other side of the platform, he saw Nier and Weiss charge an attack. In mere seconds, an array of lances materialized, and were sent flying in quick succession at a hand, doing a decent amount of damage.

This time, the machine began to charge all of its lasers. Unsure of what would happen, Ironwood placed the Iron Will in front of him, hoping it would protect him from the onslaught. He was very grateful when it did. It swept across the area with incredible power and speed that put any Atlesian tech to shame. The lasers had knocked Ironwood back by at least a fourth of the platform. Nier, however, was not able to react quick enough and was sent flying off the platform, but thankfully managed to hang onto the ledge.

While he struggled to get himself up, Geppetto set forth another attack. It used a pair of lasers once more, but this time, it tracked only him. It was then Ironwood had an idea. He quickly ran towards the edge.

“Keep on hanging to the ledge! Don’t get up yet!” he shouted.

“Are you crazy!?” Nier yelled. “We’ll be sitting ducks!”

“Trust me!” As fast as he could, Ironwood dropped down, holding onto the edge. “I think we have to be on the platform for it to detect us.” he said just loud enough so Nier could hear him. For a moment, they waited, and did not hear the defense system charge up for another attack.

“Intruders not detected. Withdrawing Defense System Geppetto.” stated the voice as the deadly machine descended. Nearby, they could see a walkway emerging, connecting to the platform. Quickly, they got up, and ran to safety. Once in an empty, automaton-free hallway, Ironwood sank to ground, breathing heavily as he sat. Meanwhile, Nier was bent over, his hands on his knees, also catching his breath.

“Damn.” Nier huffed out, “Smart thinking back there.”

“Agreed. I would much rather have to face that monstrosity when you two are more prepared.” Weiss told them.

“So you do care.” Nier teased.

“Ugh.” Weiss said, lovingly annoyed. “Let us leave then, for the time being at least.”

“I’m right behind you Weiss. Damn it's been a long day.” he exhaled as he stretched his arms and legs.

“You two can go on without me. I’m going to stay down here to do some more research.” Ironwood told them.

“You think you could do us a favor then? Er, well, more for those kids.” Nier explained.

“What is it?” Ironwood asked.

“While you were waiting on the sword, Jakob’s brother asked us to see if his mom is down here.”

“Oh.” he said quietly. “Of course. I’ll do my best while I’m down here.”

“Good luck then, stay safe.”

“And to you too.” he said with a slight bow. With that, they went their separate ways.

-

Ironwood was very happy. He managed to find a control room, and in it, a computer with the information he so desired. He thought he would have to spend probably his whole week transferring the information manually, but it surprisingly was able to detect his scroll, thus allowing him to transfer the information on machines with relative ease.

Scanning through some of the files, he learned that his assumptions about the machines were true. They were mere automatons, following through a set of predetermined code. Nothing too special.

All sorts of information on the world prior to the apocalypse and magic was also found. Ironwood discovered that it was a world somewhat similar to Remnant in terms of technology. However, the lot of it looked different and ran on different sources of energy. It lacked semblances, dust, and faunus. And also unlike Remnant, it had seemingly countless cultures and languages. What it did share with Remnant was war and cruelty. It was all filled with so much hate. And yet, love still existed too.

But if information on machines made him happy, information on androids made him ecstatic. Some were once stationed around the world, along with magically enhanced humans, to eliminate a threat ominously known as The Legion. There were also other androids set to perform a variety of other duties.

Video footage showed some of them fighting eerily human looking figures. The main difference between it and a human was that it was entirely colored a grotesque white. Despite their human appearance, they were anything but. One unfortunate android was caught off guard, and was swiftly torn to shreds. The Legion fought with the force of a god, and Ironwood was glad his world did not have to deal with them. Although they had less variety than grimm, they made up for it in raw, sheer power. They were something that even Salem could perhaps come to fear.

As for the impressive and valiant androids, they wielded an array of weapons, from melee to ranged, large to small. They all wielded the weapons with ease and expertise that only the precision of a machine without technological parallel could achieve. Melee weapons could even be moved without being touched. A wave of the hand or an arm movement would result in a fallen enemy that was yards away.

They could also seemingly be summoned at will, but those special weapons always had a glowing circle of unknown script around their handle. To his delight, there was lots of information on these androids.

However, movement on a nearby camera feed caught his attention. The shadowy figure appeared to be small and humanoid. It sat down and pulled its knees to its chest. A shade. He had fought some earlier, and thought they were odd. Like grimm, they were shadowy beasts that were hellbent on destroying humanity.

However, unlike grimm, they could literally appear out of thin air, and bleed. Also unlike gimm, shades had an unnatural looking, neon yellow texture that would shimmer across their body from time to time in certain places. It was unsettling seeing the book devour their blood, and eerie that The Iron Will seemed to soak in the blood like a sponge, getting heavier just as Weiss stated.

This shade, however, seemed different. All it did was stare at a closed door. The screen showed that it detected sound and Ironwood tuned in onto it as fast as he could.

I REMEMBER THIS PLACE. The P-33 stated. James was surprised to hear it utter a phrase that didn’t involve a threat on his life. The shade replied to it, and even more surprisingly, subtitles for its garbled noises were displayed.

Mhmm. Its where we first met.

ELEVEN MONTHS, FOUR WEEKS, TWO DAYS, TWENTY-THREE HOURS, AND FIFTY-NINE MINUTES. … ONE YEAR AGO.

That’s also about the time when my mom was killed.

YOU WERE VERY SAD THEN. AND YOU ARE SAD RIGHT NOW TOO. The machine sat down too, holding a hand out for the small shade to climb into. Once in its palm, the shade resumed its position.

I am sad right now. Very sad. But, I’m not as sad thanks to you. Thanks for being there for me Beepy.

YOU’RE WELCOME KALIL. IT’S WHAT BEST FRIENDS ARE FOR. WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE A MOMENT OF SILENCE FOR HER?

Yeah.

Ironwood couldn’t believe it. Not only was this shade obviously not a monster, which had terrifying and murky implications, but this machine was no mere automaton. He was dumbfounded that the autonomous weapon could even make a friend. No one programs a weapon with friendship in mind. He thought.

He also then realized that this must be the machine that sent them to fight the defense system. How it gained control over it was unknown to him. The shade was a curiosity, but he knew his mission, and knew that Qrow and Glynda were covering the front on shades.

The shade had begun to cry, and Beepy brought the child-shade in closer to comfort it. And there, they stayed.

Thank you Beepy. I feel better now.

I THANK YOU TOO KALIL. I’M GLAD I MET YOU.

You’re welcome.

… I AM UNSURE IF THIS APPLIES, BUT AS MY BEST FRIEND, I WANT YOU TO KNOW I LOVE YOU.

Of course it applies silly! Best friends can love each other, and you’re my best friend, and I love you too! The shade jumped up and down in the robot’s palm, to which it lifted up so Kalil could embrace it at the side of its head.

The love of a friend… That was something James believed he could feel. It was lonely at the top, but he managed to find some hope of friendship. Glynda was a woman as stern as himself, but still very understanding and kind. They had nice chats now and then. Ozpin was a fellow headmaster, so they had lots to talk about with each other. While much of it was work related, it still felt personal enough. Winter, even if she was his subordinate, cared for him on a personal level. He cared for her in kind. Her personal matters with her family were usually a sore topic, but their work gave them enough to talk and chat about.

Qrow was an absolute drunk and very annoying, more often than not. However, he was more caring than he let on. They had shared a drink or two on a few occasions during some downtime, and James found that he could be tolerable. It was nice to have someone talk to him like he was a fellow human being, and not some terrifying, heartless work machine general, even if Qrow could be a little shit. But, that’s just how friends were sometimes.

Love for one’s friends. Ironwood believed he could perhaps feel that someday. He considered that he could already be feeling such a love.

-

We give the cry of life. Hot iron forms our body. Steel hammers temper our shape. The dim light of the forge and sparks of steel watch over us. We are the iron will. Born of the thundering roar.

For all life, there is death. The Iron Will is no exception. A baby is born crying. The Iron Will was born with a plea to live, a prayer to be strong. The gods answered his prayer, and he was given a mighty will unmatched. However, the gods are cruel.

Little does The Iron Will know the price he paid.

[irishplaguedoctor]

Adeo Fit Creator

Warning: This fic has mild gore, adult themes, and cursing. Audience discretion is advised. Also it’s very long so...

Summary: Instead of leaving like he had originally planned, Henry decides to stay with Joey and help him out with the old and new problems constantly resurfacing at the studio. But with Henry’s new medical issue, and the sudden disappearances of his fellow workers, he’s starting to regret his decision. Luckily, his ol’ pal Joey has an offer for him that he can’t possibly pass up.

Despite the impossible deadlines, despite the violations of safety regulations, despite the incessant absence of my best pal, the new and broken pipelines, the constant complaining of whats-its, and the growing void in the company’s bank account...I chose to stay.

Joey’s losing it, I can tell. Ever since he lost the ability to walk he was a shell of his former self. He’s a lot more reclusive now, he barely leaves his office anymore, and half the time whenever I try to talk to him it’s like I’m talking to a wall. That rambunctious man that wasn’t afraid to let anyone know what he was feeling and why, is gone. He’s just a broken old man now, and his old pal just didn’t have the heart to leave.

I still draw the scenes, sketch the forms of the devil darling himself, and give them the love and care I always do in all my works. Though, the same couldn’t be said about the others. Sammy has been a lot more hostile ever since Joey shut his doors to him, Alisson has yet to stop looking over her shoulder because of the breakdown she had to deal with from a raging Susie who felt she was just backstabbed. Everyone else...everyone else is just...it's as if everyone has been shrouded in dark ambience. Some are extra tense, some are depressed, and some are just not all there. If I hadn’t been working here for a couple of years I would’ve thought this place was a funeral parlor. 

But it’s not, and these people are still acting as if someone had just died.

I stilled my pencil at that thought. I looked at the unfinished sketch of a sad demon who’s crying over the loss of his melted snow-pal. I tapped the edge of the page in anticipation to continue working but decided against it and let the pencil fall onto the table. I sighed and leaned back on my stiff chair.

Someone might as well have.

I gently knocked on the door, careful not to spill the stack of sketches and work pieces in the other hand. There was a gruff ‘come in’ and I gingerly turned the squeaky knob. The door whined as I pushed it open and was greeted with a dimly-lit office and the boss leaning forward in his wheelchair, staring at what appeared to be a blank page with his writing hand halted in contempt as to what to write.

I shut the door behind me and walked up to the desk and laid the stack of papers down before him. He didn’t look up, nor did he even glance at the papers before him. It was only after a moment of silence did he give up on writing and laid his antique pen down.

“I take it these are the new storyboards?” He didn’t look up but instead caressed his pale hand on the top page gently.

“Yeah, I finished it. We should be good to go.”

“Good. Good.” He nodded slowly, taking the top page off and inspecting it with tired, glazed eyes. “I’ll get this to Sammy and we’ll discuss the music arrangement.” He placed the page back on top and slowly swiveled his chair to reach the outer right drawer. He pulled out a large binder and scooped the stack of papers inside, his ghostly hands shaking the entire time. It broke my heart to see him like this, it hurt every time I came in here. I was about to say something when he beat me to it. “Good work. That will be all for today.”

I stared at him for a minute before deciding now wasn’t a good time. He’s still reclusive and dismissive. To think this man used to be a stubborn show-off.

I left the desk and went to turn the knob before something stopped me. I turned to him to find that he picked up his pen again and finally started writing, it was very slow and almost a pain to watch due to his shaky hands.

“Joey,” I called. He didn’t look up, but he did stop writing. He didn’t say anything so I continued. “You can always come talk to me. You know that right?”

His pen started moving again, and I decided not to linger anymore. I closed the door and left the broken man to his work.

I couldn’t go to work today, my leg wouldn’t stop hurting. It started out as harmless charlie-horses at night, but now it’s constant. I couldn’t get out of bed, every moment I tried putting weight on it the pain would slice through me like a knife and make me bawl like an overgrown baby.

My wife decided to call the doctor and make an appointment. I told her that I probably pulled a muscle and needed to rest and that she was just being her usual overactive self. She huffed at my comment and made one anyways. Thinking back on the conversation, the way that I said it, I never realized how much Joey had rubbed off on me.

I called Joey and told him the situation. He was quiet at first but sent his regards and hoped that I would feel better. It kinda through me off guard, he was always the type to chide me for the smallest things and make a big joke about it, but then again he hasn’t been ‘Joey’ for a while now.

Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed my sketchbook off of my night stand and continued where I left off. I drew until noon, in which my wife helped me to the car and drove me over to the doctors. As we waited in the office, I pulled out my sketchbook again and put the finishing touches on the sketch. As I finished shading in the last piece, the doctor walked in with his trusty clipboard in hand. He was an older gentleman, and a sweet one at that, he wore a smile that could put a tantrum child to rest.

“My, my, if it isn’t the calmest man in the world.” The doctor chuckled softly, examining the clipboard one last time before setting it on the counter nearby. He grabbed his stethoscope and placed the cold medal on my ribcage. I flinched at the touch, in which the good doctor chuckled again. “Well...maybe not in the world but…” After he finished, he swung the stethoscope to hang behind his back as he grabbed the clipboard and sat next to me, pulling a pen out of his coat pocket and flipping to a blank page. He licked the tip of the pen with his tongue for a few seconds before jotting down the name and date. “Alright sport, what seems to be the problem?”

“It’s his leg doctor,” Linda intervened before I could even think of what to say, “He’s been in pain last night and all morning. Nothing seemed to help ease the pain either.” The scribbling of the pen on the board replaced the temporary silence after my wife paused, waiting for a response, when none came she continued. “I was hoping you would help.”

Finishing his notes, he looked at my wife with a silly smile. “Well, I mean, don’t you think you’re kind of, I don’t know, jumping the gun? It may just be the classic case of a pulled, or twisted muscle.”

I gave her a knowing look, and she rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want to take a chance.”

The doctor’s smile broadened at the cute exchange. “Well, there’s no harm in that.”

He placed the clipboard back on the counter and pulled out rubber gloves. The familiar snap of a glove-slapping-wrist echoed in the room as I lied on the bed and allowed the doctor to roll up my jeans. He pressed various points all along the leg, turning it over every so often to get to other areas that were hard to reach. He did this for about five minutes before unrolling my jeans back into place. He took off the sticky gloves and threw them away in a nearby trash can. He picked up the clipboard once again and sat back with his pen in hand.  

“Hmm...There’s definitely a lot stress and constriction,” He looked up for a brief minute as I sat back up again before continuing, “Can you please describe your pain?”

I looked down at my leg, still feeling the tight, throbbing pulses shoot through me like an elastic band constantly snapping. “It...hurts like hell,” I started hesitantly, “like as if someone is grabbing my leg and pulling and twisting it to go the wrong way.”

The doctor paused and my wife looked at me worriedly. “That’s quite...the description.” The doctor continued writing down on his clipboard before looking back up at me. “I may have an idea as to what it may be, but it’s too soon to tell. In the meantime, I’m going to subscribe to you a muscle relaxer and see if that helps.” The doctor tore off a piece of the paper and handed it to my wife. “Give this to the pharmacist and they should help.”

The doctor got up and swung the stethoscope back to the front. He patted his coat and wiped off the excess eraser shavings on his clipboard. “I want you to come back in two weeks for a follow-up. Though, if the pain is getting worse I want you to come back as soon as possible. In the meantime,” He gave me a warm smile, “try to relax and limit as much strain on the leg as possible. I’ve got some work to do.” He nodded his farewells and left me with the Misses.   

Time has passed, and it didn’t get better. It only got worse. The spasms were more frequent, and they hurt like hell. But it wasn’t just my leg anymore, my whole body started jerking uncontrollably, and I felt extra heavy, like all my energy was sucked dry.

My wife called the doctor again, except this time he was coming here because I couldn’t get out of bed without collapsing into a ball because of agonizing pain.

When he arrived, he pulled my covers off and immediately examined my leg like the previous appointment, except this time his touch felt like needles pricking into my skin. He hummed grimly as he placed the covers back over my leg.

“Not good. Not good.” He mumbled as he reached into the bag he brought and pulled out a very small vial and syringe. “Alright, I think I know what you’re problem is and I believe this is going to help.” Infusing the shot with the unknown liquid, he uncovered my leg again and inserted it into my upper thigh. I gagged from the unsuspecting surge of pain and tightened my grip on the covers until my knuckles were white as snow.  “I know, I know. That should do it.” He placed the syringe back into his bag and covered my leg again.

My wife, who’s been watching this entire time from the back of the room, made her way to the edge of my bed. “What’s wrong with him doctor?” She whispered hoarsely.

My brain couldn’t think from all the pain. In a vain attempt to make it stop, I threw the covers over my head and shut my eyes.

“I believe this to be a generalized dystonia; perhaps a dopa-responsive type.” The words were muffled but I could still hear them. “Tell me, has your husband experienced any trauma in the head or spine?”

“N-no. He hasn’t. His work doesn’t really involve him doing a lot of exercise since he’s an animator.”

“Any previous jobs?”

“He used to work at a local factory, but that was before we met so I don’t know that much about it.” I could feel my wife sit on the bed, drumming her fingers on the bed sheets. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

The doctor hummed thoughtfully as he picked up his bag. “I’m sorry to say there isn’t. The medicine I gave him should help but unfortunately it may take a long time for it to take effect. Make sure he keeps taking the muscle relaxants, it should help the process. Luckily, what he has isn’t fatal so you don’t need to worry about that.”

The doctor was about to leave when a sudden thought occurred to him. “He can still work, but I advise against walking at all costs. I recommend a wheelchair in the meantime. I shall take my leave now.”

With that he was gone, and I was finally able to get some sleep.  

“So...that’s gist of it.” I finished relaying what happened the past ten days to Joey who only listened in silence with a very stern look on his face. “I can still work, but I will need to take more breaks, and my pace may not be the same as before, but I’ll make sure everything reaches its deadline.”

Joey nodded in understanding. “I see, no worries Hen. I’ll make sure everyone is aware of your new condition.”

Hen. That’s a nickname I haven’t heard in a long time. I’ve forgotten how much Joey teased me for acting like a mother hen when it came to making sure my drafts were perfectly correlated into the animation sequence. “You need to stop fluffing your feathers whenever someone made a mistake, Ms. Hen,” He would say. Which I found hypocritical considering he was more of a perfectionist than me.

Thinking on it now, I didn’t realize until now that Joey seems more...himself than before. In fact, the opposite. He seemed like he was full of life. The last week and a half or so really threw me for a loop with days full of pain and others filled with soggy thinking and heavy breathing that I didn’t notice the slight shift in the atmosphere in the studio.

It wasn’t just Joey that changed either. There were a lot of maintenance going on with new pipe installments, and some kind of plan for machine? I only heard rumors, but I didn’t think much of it. But still, I had absolutely no idea as to why Joey needed such large pipes, but I figured that’d be something I could ask later. Right now I just needed to focus back on getting into the swing of things again.

“But I’m glad to see you’re back at work, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Probably go out of business was what I wanted to say but I didn’t want to sour his mood after the weeks of downcast I had to deal with from him and everyone else.

Actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen as many people around; no Sammy, Susie, Norman, not even Thomas. I thought for sure I would’ve ran into at least one of them on my to Joey’s office, especially with the new maintenance going on, but it’s been extra quiet lately.

Well, excluding the sounds of drills and pumps everywhere.

I decided to ignore the thought. “Me too.” Was all I said. I placed my hands on the cold wheels of my chair and awkwardly turned around to head out the door. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“Actually…” His voice cut me off and I turned my head to look over shoulder to stare at the sly grin plastered on his aging face. “...there is something you can do for me.” He chuckled to himself as he pulled out a book from one of his drawers and placed it on the desk. From what I could tell it was black and newly published, but it was too far away for me to make out the words. “Could you meet me downstairs after hours?”

It was a very odd request, especially coming from Joey, but considering how I missed a good chunk of work and not being able to be by Joey’s side when he might’ve needed me the most made me obligated to pay him back, no matter how weird it was.

I looked at the new elevator before me, it looked nice...and functional. Joey had these installed the first week he got stuck in the wheelchair so he could go anywhere in the studio without having to worry about the stairs, including the new, lower levels he demanded on. Why would he need so much space anyways? To build an amusement park? Now that was a silly thought.

I sighed. It seems like he doesn’t tell me anything anymore. I was usually the first one he talked to for a new plan, but now, it seems like I’m the last.

I sighed again.

But only Joey uses the elevator, not because it’s exclusive for him but for how everyone knows that the elevators were known, well, for not being made with the proper materials. Budget was strict and Joey couldn’t afford some of the right material, and it showed quite often. The ticks, the screeches, the rough movement, despite the fact it’s only little over a month old. I doubt it would even last the year, but who knows. For now, it’s my only way to reach the basement without worrying about the stairs and heaven knows there’s no way I’m going to go through that awful agonizing pain again.

I hesitantly pushed the button and rolled into the slightly dilapidated elevator. I pushed the button for the basement and the elevator jerked upon request. I jumped a little when the elevator started to descend slowly but relaxed when I realized I wasn’t falling to my death. As I waited, I looked down at my troubled foot. I never knew how much it was twisted until a few days ago, it was almost as if I broke my ankle based on how much it faced the wrong way. I always shuddered at the sight of it. Luckily, however, it wasn’t hurting right now, it reached its climax a while back and has slowly deteriorated to a mild sore. I guess I could thank the muscle relaxers for that, despite it taking about a week for them to actually start working.

Upon entering the level, the doors screeched upon opening and I quickly rolled out of the death trap with relief. I made my way through the halls and headed towards the storage room Joey wanted to meet me in. As I slowly rolled my way over, I couldn’t help but feel...nervous. Joey always asked the weirdest things sometimes but nothing like this, it kind of put me on edge. But I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, so I trudged onward.

But once I reached the room and opened the squeaky door, my heart dropped into my stomach. On the floor, sketched in what looked--and hoped to be--ink, was a pentagram.

“What...the…”

“Ah! Henry!” His voice pierced my thoughts and I swiveled my chair to see Joey off to the side, with the black book from before in his lap. “Thank you for coming.”

“What the hell Joey?!” Was all I could say at the moment as I tried to wrap the idea around my head why there was a demonic symbol on the floor of the studio’s storage closet!

Joey chuckled. “That’s about what I would expect from you.” He rubbed his book like a sweet child and looked up at me again, “But before you decide to do anything else, let me explain.” It was more a question than a statement, but right now I was deciding whether or not to get out of there or get a valid reason for...whatever the hell he was doing. I decided to choose the latter, and do the first right after.

I held my hands out in aggravated submission, and Joey smiled in anticipation. “Excellent! Now...where to start...oh!” He looked at his book and showed it to me. “Do you know what this is?”

I squinted at the small text and read aloud, “The Illusions of...Living?” But the smaller text below was just too small to see from the distance, and I wasn’t inclined to move an inch further into the room.

“Yes! Yes! I wrote this book. It took me years but I finally finished it!” He hoisted his book up in pride. “So much research, so much time, and now everything seems so much clearer now.”

I was afraid to ask what was clear so I remained silent and let the old man ramble on.

“I know what I must do for this company.” He opened the book to a specific page, and stared at its contents in nostalgia before looking back to me. “This,” he said, gesturing to the unholy symbol on the floor, “is the answer.”

“What does...this...have anything to do with making cartoons, Joey?!” He’s lost his mind! “This isn’t something you should mess around with.”

Joey rolled his eyes at my accusation. “Do you think I’m stupid? I have studied these things for years, I know what to do and what not to do, and I know what I’m doing.” I wanted to retort but the soft squeaks of his chair silenced me as I watched him stroll over to the other side of the pentagram with a wild look in his eyes. His smile grew wide, too wide for my liking, and gave me a determined look. “I’m going to make my- no...our dreams a reality!”  

There was a flash of light and a resounding boom, I shielded my eyes and prepared for the worst. An unknown force propelled my wheelchair into the room and jerked to a sudden stop, causing me to fly off and land face first onto the stained floor. It all happened so fast that I failed to acknowledge that the pentagram below glowed a blood-red color. I tried to get up but it felt like gravity was ten-times heavier than it should be. It took most of my energy to just lift my head up and look at the crazed man I called my friend.

He looked down at with me a hefty chuckle and a twisted grin on his face. “You ready to witness a miracle?” It was no more a question than a statement. He opened his book and started spouting gibberish.

As much as I wanted to get up off the floor, let alone smack some sense into this guy, I couldn’t.  

My head hit the floor as my neck gave out. I cursed as I felt my head throb in pain, I tried to reach my hand to the tender spot that made contact with the floor but only felt an icy, wet substance touch it instead. While the touch felt nice against the heated temple, it also felt too...wrong. I looked at my hand only to see it be completely covered in a black substance. I stared at the black mass before me in horror as I twisted my body around to find that my legs, too, were engulfed in the icky, black gunk. I tried to wipe it off, shake it off, but it only spread. I flipped onto my stomach with weak determination and stared at the sinister man before me. He was laughing now. Laughing and laughing and laughing!

“J-Joey! W-wha-!” Bile started growing in the back of my throat and before I knew it I coughing it up and spitting it out onto the floor. But it wasn’t mucus or blood, it was black just like the crap that was growing all over me. Shit, it’s inside me too?! I cringed at the taste that was left in my mouth, it was stagnant and disgusting, but all too familiar. It reminded me of when I inked over the rough sketches; when I would lick my pen when the ink on the stub would dry over.

That’s when I realized what this black stuff was. It wasn’t some unholy plasma, or any such thing, it was ink. Regular ink.

“It’s torture, I know.” My gaze shot up to the crazy lunatic above me. I glared daggers at him but the only response was an amused grin. “But you are the only one capable of it. As for the others…” He closed the book and rolled over to the objects in the back of the room that were covered with old, worn bedsheets. He struggled as he looked for a good hold and yanked the bedsheets to reveal wooden coffins. I held my breath but immediately coughed up more of the ink. The air felt like daggers when it brushed against the back of my throat. “...different methods are advisable.”

“...o-others…?!”

“That’s right!” He wheeled around and came back to the circle. He was close enough now that, if I had the power, I could reach up and touch his foot. But the ink that has now spread up to my neck is weighing me down even more. My hands don’t look like hands anymore, just nubs, and I couldn’t feel my legs anymore, let alone have the power to turn onto my back to even look at them. “Did you think you were the only one to receive this wonderful blessing?”

“Blessing my ass!” My outburst caused another round of coughing fits and as I hacked up more of the ink. I couldn’t even see the etchings of the pentagram anymore.

Joey shook his head and waved me off. “You’ll thank me later. They always do.”

I growled, and stopped. That growl was too deep to be mine. Too sinister to be mine. I choked on a whine as everything started to set in. I could feel the ink drench my hair, blind my eyes, and dye my teeth black. W-what’s happening to me? What’s Joey doing to me?!

“J-Jo…” I gurgled as I kept trying to spit the ink out, but it kept coming. I was getting colder, and colder, and then it felt like thousands of needles were pricking my skin all at once. I tried to scream but it came out distorted and wrong. So wrong!

“Oh how I envy you Henry.” Joey mumbled, turning his wheelchair away from the abomination that I was becoming. “As much as I want to be the star of the show, I am not suited for the role. I would be incomplete, a misshapen creature that would never be perfect. But you!” He abruptly faced me again. “You. Are. Him! You are the only one with the proper ingredients, the essence, the living image!”

He looked down on me with a confident, endearing smile as if he was a proud father of an accomplished son. “You give him life!” He laughed and extended his hands in fantasia. “A life that is now yours!”

His laughter was drowned out as my ears melted away into nothing. Everything was melting away. My hands, my legs, my face. It hurts so much, and there was nothing I could do to make it stop. It felt like my body was stretching and thinning out into infinite. I wanted to scream, to cry, to yell...to call for help. To call for Linda! The more I struggled, the worse it got, the more it felt like the floor stretched on forever.

Oh gosh...Linda...it hurts! Make it stop! Make the pain stop please!

Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop

MAKe iT sToP

iT HurTs…

….heLP ME…

...Linda…

...please…

....

…

And then all I saw was black.  

________________________________________

Whispers. I hear whispers. I hear crying...and screaming. They sounded strange, yet familiar.

….

I’m so tired...and scared, but I also feel safe and warm. Where am I?

Darkness. Inky, blackness. Am I underwater? It feels like it.

I look up and see a very small glimmer of light. A way out maybe? I swim up to it, and make contact with the outer world. It’s dark, but not as dark as the water. I struggle to climb out. My body doesn’t feel right. My arms, they’re too long and thin. My legs too. I feel wrong. I look wrong. Everything is black like the water, no...ink.

I’m starting to remember.

My head is throbbing.

I reach and caress my head as I tried to rub the source of pain. I feel horns, one longer than the other. I’m not supposed to have horns, right? I ignored that and tried to focus. I can see images, but I can’t define them.

They’re on the tip of my tongue.

It was frustrating.

I looked around the room, it was hard to make out because of how dark it was. I needed to find the light switch.

I cautiously got up, trying to be aware of the fact that my center of balance has shifted last I remembered, and I took a step, and then another, but soon I fell to the floor. I caught myself just before my head could make contact with the hardwood. I looked at my right foot to find that it was twisted. Twisted so much that it faced the wrong direction.

Then I heard the whispers again. I turned around to find nothing, but then I looked at the ink puddle I came from. It was still, and yet it seemed to call to me; to return to it. The offer was very tempting to crawl into that black cocoon I came from, but I wanted answers to the new questions that constantly berated my mind.

I ignored its calls and stared back down at the twisted appendage in deep thought. How did my foot get so twisted in the first place?

I shooting pain drowned those thoughts as my head started throbbing uncontrollably. More images were being broadcasted into my head and suddenly pieces came together at last. My leg, my disease...Linda...Jo-

Just as quick as my memory came, something else did too; a swelling sensation in my chest. All I could think about was that throbbing, malicious strain in my chest. On instinct, my hand touched my chest and I could feel the tassel of what seemed to be a bow below my neck.

Then everything clicked. All of my memory was back.

Joey did this. Joey did this. Joey DiD ThIs!

My entire being seethed with rage. I got to my knees and stared down at the floor in heavy contemplation. That bastard! That fucking bastard! I growled and digged my hands into the wood. I didn’t notice the inky veins cascading the walls and floors of the room as it began to rain ink as I continued to dwell on my newfound rage. Whatever the hell he did to me, he’s going to fucking pay! I punched the floor like it was nothing and splintered wood flew everywhere, leaving a large hole on the ground.

“JoEy,” I cringed at the sound of my own voice, but I didn’t let it deter me. If anything, it made me even angrier, “I’m GoINg TO fiND You, anD riP YOur FuCKinG HeARt OUT!”    

It took me awhile but I was finally able to get the hang of walking again. I limped pretty badly, but there was no pain. The inky tendrils displays itself on the walls and the unfathomable rain follows me wherever I go. It actually looked kind of pretty.

But I didn’t care about that. I didn’t care about any of that. I just want Joey. I want him to suffer. I wanted to make him regret ever trying to do that satanic shit with me!

I want to RiP that black heart of his out of his chest.

His hEaRt will BeAt in my hands as I get to watch the life fade from those awful, devious eyes.

I want to see that stupid smile twist into a pAIn.

Nothing else matters at the moment. Nothing else.

________________________________________

*Riiiing* *Riiiing*

The sound of the phone jittering on its medal pedestal knocked on the aging man’s mind vehemently. A scowl crept onto his pale face as he took his eyes off of his prized novelization and onto the annoyance. Who the hell would call this late at night? And to Joey Drew of all people?! He so badly wanted to ignore it, but his stubborn instinct warned him otherwise.

He sighed and picked up the damn thing.

“Hello?” He greeted the caller with hidden malice. A familiar, sweet voice responded. Bile started to surface in the back of his throat considering the new, treacherous circumstances this particular woman would be calling, but it didn’t let it bother him. He shoved the feeling away. “Aw, Linda I presume?” He waited for a response but nothing came. Henry’s wife always was the shy, introverted type especially in front of the glowing beacon that was Joey Drew, but she seemed extra quiet. He assumed that the call was about Henry--why else would she call?--and used his charm to dissuade her worries.  “Henry’s still here if that’s what you were wondering. He wanted to catch up on the work he missed while he was gone.”

The woman’s voice responded with a very faint I see before the static of the phone overtook her again. The man was getting more annoyed, and more intense, he began drumming his fingers nervously on the wooden desk. After what felt like forever she spoke again, except this time her words left the man chilled to the bone.

“I’m going to come over and check on him.”

He needed to act fast. “Oh no no no, please, you’ll only bother him. He wants to be kept alone, he insisted! But don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll keep my eye on him and make sure he’s alright.”

But the woman on the line wasn’t convinced. “I’m coming anyway.”

Damn! “No, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Please, it’ll make me feel better just seeing him with my own eyes. I’m sure you would understand, right?”

He’s losing the battle! “I do! But I also understand that Henry can be-”

*Hrrrrrrmmmmmmm*  

The sound pounded his ear drums violently, she hung up on him. He bit his lip and slapped the phone back onto the pedestal venomously. He lost, and now that woman is coming over. She practically threw a wrench in his plans!

He glared at the phone sitting quietly at the corner of his desk and then to his book in front of him in contemplation. He opened it and flipped the pages nonchalantly, organizing his thoughts in his tired mind before an idea popped into his head.

He smiled. “If that incessant bitch wants to come, let her come.” He stared at a certain page full of runes and incantations with hungry eyes. “She’ll make a fine addition to the family.”

________________________________________

There. There it is. Joey’s office, just at the end of the corridor.

It’S ALmOst TIme.

My body shivered in anticipation. I took a deep breath and a soft whistle escaped my overbearing SmILe as I trudged onward. Ink spiraled and spread across the walls as I got closer, the rain staining the floors and echoing a faint plip plip that seemed to soothe me. It was almost hypnotic, but not hypnotic enough to steer me away from my goal.

The ink entrails are staining the door now as I held out my oversized hand and viciously gripped the knob. The door rattled but did not budge. I scowled. The door is locked.

“What the-”

I swung my head around to face the other end of the hall. My first thought was Joey, but all I saw was a shaky teen quivering in over \-sized overalls.

It was Wally. I thought it was just Joey and I here, but then again, Wally did like to sleep on the job…

“WalLy!” I called. He has to have spare keys, he is the janitor after all. “HElP mE OuT!”

He shook his head and took a step back. “Uhh...ugh…! N-no I-!”

I took a step forward and a loud squish echoed throughout the hallway. “WaLly! KeYs!”

He bit his lip, then he turned tail and ran. “The money ain’t worth this! I’M OUTTA HERE!”

“WALLY!” I tried to run after him but the uncomfortable tug on my foot stopped me. There was no way I could catch up to him.

I looked down at my malformed hands, and then my skeletal torso. Am I...am I really that terrifying? Wally has always been the skittish and cowardly type, but the way he acted now sent chills down my spine. I’ve never seen him so pale. So horrified. PeTRifiEd.

....What about Linda?

I stared down at my left hand and noticed the absence of my wedding band. I felt all along my ring finger to see if it was just covered up by the ink, but there was nothing. Oh gosh, how was Linda going to react?! The thought made my heart ache. As if she had enough to worry about…

There’s gotta be a way. There’s gotta be a way to fix this! There HaS tO BE!

I clenched my fists. Change of plan. I’m going to torture that son of a bitch into fixing this.

And then I’ll proceed to rIp HiS HEarT OuT.

________________________________________

*rattle*

The sound made the tired man jump from his seat. He closed his book and watched the door in horror. A sea of ink cascaded his door as it seemed to move up and down like the waves of the ocean. Never had he seen such a sight, he didn’t know whether or not to be scared or in awe.  

*rattle* rattle*

It seemed like someone was desperately trying to get in, and for once he thanked his anxious-thinking for making him lock his office door like he did every night after hours.

“Who’s there?!” His hands were trembling but he made sure it wasn’t evident in his voice. He was very good at that.

…..

Silence. The door stopped rattling and knob stopped twisting, but the ink still swirled and shifted on his foggy-glassed door. He didn’t dare break the silence for fear of who--or what--was behind the door to start doing it again.

For all he knew, it was just him right now.

Another minute went by and ink started drooping naturally on the door. The man relaxed a little. “...maybe it was just the ink in the pipes again.” He muttered. “It has to be. There’s no one else here.”

Suddenly a loud scream could be heard.

“UUhhh. Ugggh!”

The man froze, his hair standing on end. The voice sounded familiar. “I-Is that...Wally?”

“....I’M OUTTA HERE!”

Yes it was definitely Wally, he recognized the young teen’s quip anywhere.

But then it was quiet again, just like before, but this time the man was still on edge. “Hmph. Kid must’ve slept on the job again.” He told himself, trying to shake away the feeling fear in the back of his mind. Wally was probably the one trying to get in, to do his usual rounds. Yes, that had to be it. There was nothing to be scared about. Henry’s in the basement in the middle of his metamorphosis, and his other creations are down deep into the newer, lower levels of the studio. Everything was fine. He let out a shaky breath that he didn’t realize he held and chuckled to himself.  “That stupid teen...scaring the wits outta me...I’m gonna have to dock his pay for that-”

*Pound* *Pound*

The sound of the door being pelted over and over again shook the man senseless. He thought it was over. He thought Wally had gone, but it appears whatever he was doing he wasn’t finished.

POUND POUND

It got louder and more violent. “What the-” Joey couldn’t even finish his sentence when the door was yanked off his hinges and thrown away like a piece of plywood.

The thing standing there, glowering at the man with unrelenting rage, definitely wasn’t Wally.

________________________________________

I punched the door with my fists over and over again. If I can’t unlock it, I’ll break it down. The door screeched from the constant abuse as wood began to splinter and the medal beginning to bend out of shape. I could hear a distraught Joey on the other side and it brought a smile to my face.

So close. Soon it’ll be over. I’ll make Joey change me back, I’Ll kILl thE BAstArD, and say it was an aCciDEnT. I grabbed the bent door frame and pulled all of my weight onto it. The sudden pops and groans of the hinges was bliss. I’ll THroW his corpse into the elevator and cut the lines. I’ll bREak it and send it hurtling towards HeLl! No one would suspect me. And JoEy will be right where he belongs!

TO. rOt. In. HelL!

With one final pull the door was yanked off his hinges, and I hurled the piece of wood behind me. There, sitting behind his desk as usual, was a pale man with a horrified expression on his disgusting face. The sight made me laugh as I triumphantly limped over to his desk and thrusted my hands onto it. The wood underneath my hands cracked and bits were sent flying everywhere.

“Hen-!”

Before he could even say my name, I grabbed the edges of the desk and threw it across the room. It made contact with the wall and chunks of wood exploded everywhere, causing Joey to hold his hands up in a guard against the flying debris.

With one swift move, I was holding him by the neck with my gloved hand as I held him up to be eye level with me. He instinctively clawed at my hand to no avail as I gleefully watched him writhe in agony.

ONe mOVe. And his life will be mine. But firSt…

“JOeY.” I glared at the piece of trash I held and flexed my hand around his neck. “yOU BaStARd.”

“Hen-!” My grip tightened.

“SHUt uP!” I bared my fangs and growled. “YoU Are GOinG tO FiX THIs, JoeY. YOu aRE gOinG tO TuRn Me BaCK TO NoRMal. NOW!”

“I-I….*urk*...can’t!” I hissed and flexed my gloved hand again, but despite that he continued, “That’s...impossible!”

I scowled at the wriggling man and threw him down in a fit of rage. I held back a roar, his voice still continuing to pierce my ears. “It’s...irreversible.” He coughed as he wrung his red neck. Despite the choking and foreboding situation, he still had a fire burning in those infuriating eyes. “Perfection requires s-sacrifice, don’t y-you understand?!” He struggled to get up but failed to do so with nothing to support him, desk nor wheelchair. He tried to stand but felt too weak to even get on his knees. And yet that determination never waded. He spotted his book a few feet away and tried to reach for it in vain. “You are incomplete. We must continue the r-ritual and-”

I kicked him in his pie-hole and his head whiplashed and hit the ground hard. His nose bled furiously and his teeth were stained a bright red. I hissed at him. “NO! YoU WiLl tURn mE BaCK tO NoRMaL!”

He coughed more and spat out blood. He turned and glared at me. “W-why...can’t you understand?” He wiped away some of the blood and sat up. “I’m doing this for you! For us! Once you’re complete we’ll become successful! We can fulfill our dreams! Do you know how they’ll react? Seeing a real-life ‘Bendy the Dancing Demon’? We’ll be big!”

“sHuT UP!” I roared as I swung and kicked him on the side of the head. He was sent skidding a few feet away, trailing blood along the wooden floor. “I DOn’t WanT THiS! I NeVEr wAnTeD thIs!”

He hacked up more blood as he tried to lift his head, only to crash back down onto the floor. But his eyes didn’t waiver. “Y-you’re an i-idiot. W-why can’t you accept m-my gift of immortality?! Why can’t you let me help you?”

It’s the same thing. Over and over.

“Our lives can change for the better! No longer would we be shackled to the unending cycle of life and death, we can build a better place, a better world for our studio!”

Over and oVer.

“Nothing could stop us. We can achieve greatness!”

Over AnD OveR.

I dug my claws deep into his neck and hoisted him to my eye level once again, staring into the fiery eyes of a mad man.

“Heh heh. Y-you just need to trust your old pal.” He smiled, showing off his bloodied teeth. “You just need to stop being such a mother Hen-”

Crack.

His limp body dropped to the floor with a soft thud. His eyes now a dull and empty gray. The smile was gone and was replaced with a grim, thin line.

I stood there, staring at the body with an empty gaze and then over to the black book he cherished so much. I limped over and grabbed it, flipping through the pages.

Gibberish. Just gibberish.

I threw the book aside and went back over to Joey. I grabbed one of his legs and started dragging him out of the room, towards the elevator.

I grinned.

One swift motion...and HiS lIfE wAS MINe.

The sound of a door creaking open broke the ominous silence. The sound of heels soon followed as the whine of the closing door clicked shut.

“H-hello? Mr. Drew?” Linda’s hushed voice was quivering as she looked around the empty, inky studio. Splotches of ink were everywhere and the sound of turning wheels was the only sound she heard in the room.

She walked over to her husband’s desk to find it empty. She looked at the unfinished sketch on the table with mild interest as she walked away in the opposite direction. She was starting to get worried now, she knows it’s much too late for anyone to be working now but surely she would have seen Mr. Drew or her husband by now, right?

She did call in advance.

She decided to continue her search anyways. She followed the signs and headed towards the Ink Machine room. No one was there except for the monstrous mechanism that was hoisted up with chains. The room held a foreboding atmosphere and she walked out the moment no soul could be seen.  

The moment she did though a loud crash boomed throughout the studio and shook the foundation. She yelped in surprise as she lost her balance and fell on her bottom. She waited until the shaking stopped before trying to get back up again. To her disgust she fell onto a puddle of ink but that was the least of her worries right now.

“What the hell was that?!” She prayed that whatever it was, Henry wasn’t involved in it. Although chances in that are exceedingly low considering the lack of presence now.

For now, she put those thoughts in the back of her mind and ran towards the source of the noise.

________________________________________

It was done. It took a lot of time and effort to drag both Joey’s body and his wheelchair to the elevator, but I made it with no injury. Now, the only problem was how to cut the ropes and chains on top. It was way too high for me, despite my new, uncanny height, and my leg prevented me from climbing it. Not to mention I didn’t have anything to cut it with. I thought about my claws but the rope was too thick and the chains were too hard. I needed pliers of some kind, or maybe an axe. But where the HeLl am I supposed to find that?

So cLoSE, and yet sO FaR!

The ink around me bubbled. What do I do now? I seethed as I flexed my claws in thought. Then, to my surprise a large tentacle rose up from the ink. I took a step back in fear and readied myself for combat, but it did nothing. In fact, it moved when I moved. Confused, I walked back to it and touched it. It didn’t faze it, whatever it was. I reached my hand up and waved to the side, it did too. I waved my hand to the other side, and it did that too.

I looked at my hand and then back at the inky tendril. Am I controLlIng it? I waved my hand repeatedly and watched as the tentacle swished side to side as well. Can I control the InK?

An idea popped into my head. I swung my hand back, the thing copying my motions as well, and lashed forward in the direction of the elevator. The tendril swung and cut through the chains and ropes that held up the deathtrap as if it was butter, and watched in triumph as the box screeched downward into the abyss.

There was a loud boom and the tremors knocked me off my feet, causing the tendril to sink back into the vibrating ink beside me.

Once it stopped, I whistled in relief.

It was OvEr. JoEy’s GONe.

I chuckled to myself as I stood back up again. But I stopped myself when a thought pierced my heart.

WhAt NoW? I have no way to turn back to normal. I looked at my deformed body in distraught. How can I come home to Linda LoOKiNg LIke tHiS?!

A whine escaped my teeth as realization hit me like a ton of bricks. What have I done?! I wandered helplessly over to where the elevator was and stared down into the darkness. I KiLled my friend! HoW cOuLd I EvEn THINK tO Do sUch A ThINg?! The ink rain is starting to rain harder now, pelting me and the floor furiously.

WHat HAVe I beCOme?!

I held my hands and examined them in contemplation. The ritual must have done something to me, something more than just change my appearance. I would never think to go so far as to even think about killing someone, no matter who or what they did. Even if it was Joey. I would never hurt a fly!

I stifled a sob. Am I going insane? If I could easily kill Joey, my old friend, my wife may be in danger as well. What if I hUrT her too? The thought broke my heart.

The sound of heels brought me out of my thoughts. The ink rain dissipated into a subtle pour as I turned my head around. There, standing in the doorway, was Linda.

She held her hands up to her mouth as she slowly walked away from me. She was white as a ghost.

“LInDa?!”

Her eyes lit up immediately but as quick as it came her eyes were shrouded in darkness again. She shook her head in disbelief, and then ran off in the opposite direction.

“LINDA WaIt!”  

This time I ignored my incapacitated foot and ran after her. The sound of her breathing and the steady tapping of her heels helped locate the direction she was going. She was faster than me, but I know that between the two of us I had more stamina, even when I was out of commision during that hellish week of staying in bed. I kept calling her name, over and over again, but her only response was her breathing getting heavier and heavier.

At one point we reached a long hallway and I could finally see her. She paused towards the end to catch her breath, but the moment she saw the inky patterns flourish on the wall she pushed herself to keep moving. She rounded the corner and suddenly there was a shriek, followed by a loud thump.

Terrified, I pushed myself to run even faster. It felt like I was running in slow motion as I neared the end of the hall, the anxiety draining me constantly. It was excruciating. It felt like hours but I finally rounded the corner to find Linda sitting on her side, holding her right foot close to her. Her heel was off and she was shivering uncontrollably.

She must have twisted her ankle.

Cautiously, I limped over to her. “LiNdA.”

She whipped her head around and on instinct threw her heel at me. It hit me square on the forehead and stumbled back, putting my hand over my pulsing temple. I growled as the throbbing berated me over and over again.

The growl threw her off and Linda immediately stood back up again. Using the wall as a support she ran away. She stumbled multiple times and constantly collided with the wall to confirm my suspicions.

I was able to compose myself and ran after her again. She noticed and hastily grabbed her other heel. “L-leave me alone!”

She threw it but this time I was able to jump to the side just in time. She bit her lip and tried to run again but tripped over her own feet and fell onto her stomach. The wind was knocked out of her and she lied there, stunned and immobile.

I limped to her side and crouched to her level. The only thing I could think to do was sit her up and have her lean against me. She struggled weakly at first but gave up when it was too hard for her to focus on breathing. I tried to shush her to calm down but only a whistle was heard. It didn’t help.

“L-let…*huff*...m-me g-g-go.” She pushed her free arm against me, but I tightened my grip and tried to cradle her instead in hopes of getting her to calm down. I wanted to raise her arms to help open up her windpipes to make it easier to catch her breath, but it would make her feel more vulnerable and scared, so I decided against it.

“iT’s OkAy. I’m nOT gOIng tO HuRt YoU.” I spoke softly. She started struggling again, but I held my ground. “It’S mE LiNdA, iT’s HenRy.”

She froze at the name and gave me a frightened look. “Y-you’re….you’re not my husband!” I flinched as she pushed harder against me. “You look nothing like my husband!”

My heart broke, and it seemed like time stopped for me. I was stunned, and she took advantage of that. She broke free from my hold and crawled away. She stood back up and wobbled over to the wall, glaring daggers at me. “You’re a monster!”

That was it…that was what killed me. It felt like my heart shattered into little pieces. I continued to sit and stare at her in disbelief, shaking my head in denial. “I-I...I’m not a MoNstEr…I’m not...”

She took this chance to limp away from me, and I still couldn’t move. It hurt too much. I continued to watch her until she rounded another corner and disappeared. That was when my despair reached its critical point as inky tears cascaded my vision, leaving everything blurry. It felt like I was melting, like before when Joey was doing that awful ritual to me.

I sobbed as the ink rain pelted me once again. The loud sounds of ink meeting the floor drowned out my soft wails as I continually denied what just happened; how Linda ran away from me screaming bloody murder like I was a monster!

Then I heard it again, that familiar whisper. Except this time it wasn’t from any puddles, it was coming from inside my head. It beckoned me to return to the ink again, its sweet voice promising love and safety. It was so tempting, so so tempting. I just wanted the pain to go away. But I was scared, those whispers weren’t natural.

But then its voice changed into something familiar, something sweet and soothing, and it said something that perked my ears.

“Come and join your family.”

Family. Linda wanted a family. I remember having the talk, about how she wanted kids and that she and I would raise them together. ‘It would be wonderful,’ she told me, ‘we would shower them with love, and we get to watch them grow up into wonderful people! Wouldn’t that be amazing?’ That smile she gave me that day was extraordinary, it gave me the same feeling that this voice is giving me now.

The voice sounded exactly like hers.

It must be good then, right? Right?

“Please, won’t you join us Bendy?”

Hearing it say my name was bliss. That was my name right? Yes, it must be, it feels right. I stopped crying as the rain lessened, the pain was fading away.

“The children need a father.”

Yes, yes they do. Someone has to take care of them; to protect them from unwelcome strangers, from wandering into the dangerous world beyond these walls, to protect them from themselves. That’s how a father shows his love and devotion to his children.

RiGht...LiNDa?

I smiled as the ink clouded my vision with a welcoming, inky, bLaCk.

Henry is GoNE, buT BEnDy iS hErE.  

________________________________________

She kept running, heading towards the exit. She was close now, just around the bend and she’ll be home free. She’ll get out of here, call the police, and get everything situated. She’ll find her husband and things will be okay, everything will be okay…

...everything will be okay...everything will be okay…

That’s what she told herself anyway, over and over again.

Around the corner and there it was, the exit. To anyone else it was a shabby old door but to her it was salvation. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she rushed over to the door, happy to have this nightmare end. But she stopped as she watched in horror as ink sprawled itself all over the hallway and onto the exit. Ink started pelting her as large drops seemed to ooze from the ceiling.

She didn’t need to turn around to know that that thing was close behind her. She ran as fast she could with her twisted ankle, one hand on the wall as support and the other shielding her eyes from the constant downpour of black liquid.

Her heart racing, she reached out her hand and grabbed the medal knob but failed to twist it when she was suddenly yanked back. The creature got her.

She screamed as the monster grabbed her by the throat and held her up to its eye level. It had a pleasurable grin, just like the one her husband always drew on his devil darlin, and it growled. It slowly tightened its grip around her windpipe as she struggled to break free, kicking it and scratching at its claws with now debauched nails.

“L-let go!” It was getting harder and harder to breathe for Miss Linda as the monster only tightened its grip and growled in mild satisfaction. Her tears have not let up, her mind stricken with fear and terror at the thought of dying and not seeing her beloved again.

Its grip tightened once more. She sobbed. “H-henr-ry…*hic*...H-henry! H-help me…*hic*....”

The monster flinched and seemed to frown at the poor woman in confusion. Its grip loosened as the ink rain let up and scrawl on the walls became less evident. It continued to loosen its grip until it finally let go and the dropped the woman unto the inky floor. She collapsed into a fit of coughs and hiccups as she tried to catch her breath.    

Her arms were shaking vehemently as she tried to sit up, but her all energy was drained from the near suffocation and collapsed onto the floor once more. All she could do was stare at the monster’s legs as she gulped the air to fill her thirsty lungs. Everything was blurry for a moment until things started to reset back into position when she noticed the monster’s right leg; it was twisted and facing the wrong way.

Then it clicked, like someone turning on a switch in her oxygen-deprived brain.

There was only one person she knew that had that injury.

She turned her head upwards to look at the creature clutching its head with a scowl on its inky face, as if it was berated by a migraine. Her eyes darkened as realization hit her.

This thing was her husband.

While the ink rain was barely raining now, the ink was now up to her eyes and she did her best to lift her head high enough to not let the ink get in her mouth. She shifted her body onto her knees to try to sit up again when the sound of wood cracking stopped her.

For a moment she felt her heart pound mercilessly against her rib cage as she tried to figure out where the sound was orginiating from. But the moment she realized where it was coming from, the floor below her gave way and she fell.

Time seemed to slow as she watched the ceiling get farther and farther away. She was too shocked, too tired, to scream or yell as she continued to fall. Her life flashed before her eyes: her childhood, her high school years, the day she met Henry, the day she married Henry, the day she watched Henry drive off to his new job at an animation studio…

...She felt herself tear up at the memories.

“H-hen…”

THUMP

Her head met the wooden floor.

________________________________________

The ink demon knelt down and looked through the new hole in the floor to see the body of the woman lying there, unmoving, as blood slowly stained the floor around her head. It cocked its head to the side in confusion. WhEn DiD tHiS haPpEn? Whatever happened, it looked to be recent. But if he was here, wouldn’t he have seen it happen?

He growled and clutched his head, he was getting a bad headache so he decided to not dwell on it.

He decided to investigate the scene. He stood up and, as if it was second nature to him, opened up an inky portal on the nearby wall and limped through. The portal opened up into the room below and instantly everything grew dark as ink sprawled all along the walls and as ink rain casually fell from the wooden ceiling.

He limped over and knelt down next to the woman. He could have sworn he seen her somewhere before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He sighed, he was getting a bad headache again. He hated this.

Unlike the multiple souls he could feel further down into the levels of the studio and in the embrace of his ink, he doesn’t sense anything from her, no movement, no soul, whoever she was she’s dead now.

He shrugged his shoulders. Didn’t matter anyways. He grabbed the woman’s waist and lifted her up. He limped through the same portal from before and emerged back onto the first floor, heading towards the ink machine.

She’ll make a nice addition to the family.