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maybeimamuppet · 3 years

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catch you when you fall

happy wednesday friends! quick tw for broken bones (nothing graphic) and a mention of animal death (once again nothing graphic)

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Cady hates the sound of her ringtone.

Not the sound itself, but the meaning behind it. Other than her parents, nobody calls her with any sort of regularity. Janis gets anxious making phone calls, Damian doesn’t have time, and all her other friends just prefer to text.

Which is why her heart nearly drops out of her chest when her phone starts ringing in the middle of a lecture. Luckily, it’s with her favorite professor, who just waves her off and continues as she excuses herself to answer it in the hallway.

She grimaces when she sees it’s from Damian, he knows she’s supposed to be in class and that she has a huge test next week. She needs to be in this lecture. But, if Damian is calling it must be something serious.

“Dame, I’m in the middle of a lecture, what is it?” She asks frantically.

“I know, Cads, I’m sorry, but...uh...” Damian trails off.

“Damian, please, I can only be out here for a few minutes,” Cady begs.

“Janisbrokeherarm.”

“She what? What the hell happened?! Wait, where are you? I’m on my way,” Cady asks rapidly, running back to her seat in the classroom to grab her bag before barreling out the door. She’ll explain to her professor later.

“We’re at the hospital, hold on,” Damian replies. Cady gets a text with directions to the correct one. “She came to visit me at work today, so I was showing her around, and she fell into the pit. It’s not far, but she landed weird and broke both bones in her forearm.”

“Poor thing. Can I talk to her?” Cady asks, wanting to hear her wife’s voice.

“She’s... kind of unconscious. She was freaking out about being in the hospital and in a lot of pain so they sedated her,” Damian says nervously.

“I thought she got over her thing about hospitals,” Cady mutters. “My poor darling. How are you doing, though?”

“I’m fine. I just... really don’t like broken bones. And hers were very broken,” Damian says.

“Oh, Damian, I’m sorry. I forgot you had that phobia,” Cady says worriedly. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“We’ve been taking care of each other for twenty years, I’m not about to stop now. But you should hurry, the doctor just said she’ll be up soon,” Damian replies, already sounding a bit better. “They said she’ll be pretty out of it, but she’ll want to see you.”

“I’m almost there,” Cady says. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Love you,” Damian says before they hang up.

“Love you too, D.”

Once she finally arrives, Cady rushes up to the front desk with her ID already out. She signs in quickly before an intern leads her up to a small room.

Cady knocks on the door gently before pushing it open, finding a newly awake and very high Janis being cradled in Damian’s embrace. Cady sits in an uncomfortable chair by the bed, taking Janis’ unhurt hand and kissing her knuckles.

“Hi, darling, how are you feeling?” Cady asks gently.

“M’ arms tickle. ‘N this one doesn’ work,” Janis mumbles in reply, showing off her right arm with a dashing purple cast that goes almost to her shoulder.

“It will soon, sweetheart, you just have to wear the cast for a while,” Cady says comfortingly.

Janis finally looks at Cady, her eyes going almost comically wide in shock. She looks back and forth between Cady and Damian a few times as if making sure they’re both actually there. “Caddy?”

“Mmhmm. I’m right here,” Cady says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, but I’m here now.”

“You’re pretty. Will you be m’ girlfrien’?” Janis asks, looking to Damian for moral support.

Cady bursts out laughing. “I can’t be your girlfriend-“ she tries to say before getting cut off by a sniffle from Janis.

“Why not?” Janis asks pitifully, followed by a sad sob.

“Oh, darling, don’t cry,” Cady says frantically. “I can’t be your girlfriend because I’m already your wife, my love.”

“Really?” Janis asks with a sad sniffle.

“Mmhmm. See, your wedding ring is here,” Cady answers, lifting Janis’ left hand and pointing to her finger. “And mine is here.”

“Whoa. M’ wife. That’s so cool,” Janis says, totally starstruck by her wife. She reaches for Cady to hold her then, finally freeing poor Damian.

He stands and stretches, apparently having been there for a while longer than Cady had originally thought. “Janjan, are you hungry? I’m gonna see what they have in the cafeteria.”

“Wan’ nuggets,” Janis mumbles sleepily before he even finishes speaking.

“How many nuggets, darling?” Cady asks, cuddling her closer.

“All.” Janis insists. Damian blinks at her for a second before seeming to accept it.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Janis goes quiet for several minutes, seemingly content to just be held. Alas, it can’t last, and she pipes up again.

“Caddy?”

“Yes, Jellybean?” Cady replies.

“D’we have a dog?”

“No, we don’t, unfortunately,” Cady says as she tries to hold back a giggle.

“A cat?” Janis asks, getting more confused with every question.

“No cat either, I’m afraid,” Cady says.

“D’we have a baby?”

Cady freezes. She’s been meaning to ask Janis about children, but didn’t know how to bring it up. “No, we don’t have a baby yet, it’s just you and me for now,” She replies, deciding high Janis is probably not the one to discuss that with.

“Wha’ the hell’ve we been up to?” Janis demands. “No doggy, no kitty, no baby. W’ need something.”

Cady chuckles again. “We’ve only been married for a year, darling. Maybe we’ll talk about a cat once you’re less loopy.”

“Mmkay,” Janis hums, seeming content with that and nuzzling into Cady’s chest. Cady taps her awake when she realizes she’s falling asleep again.

“Don’t go to sleep, dearest, Damian will be back with your food soon,” she says as she drums her fingers on Janis’ cheeks gently.

“Mmh. Sleepy,” Janis whines.

Cady chuckles. “I know, Jellybean. But you need to stay awake so you can eat. You can nap when we get home, I promise. Look, Damian’s already back.”

“Hi, Dame,” Janis says with a bit more energy as he pulls around a table and rests her tray of food on it.

“Hi, Jan,” he chuckles in reply. “Here you go. They could only give me ten nuggets, I’m sorry.”

Janis glares at him as she tries to pick up her fork and grumbles under her breath about leaving a terrible review on Yelp. She blinks oddly at her hand when she can’t use it, wiggling her fingers as if she’s only just remembering she can control them.

“Caddy. M’ arm’s purple. Why’s it not workin’?” She demands, trying to grab her fork again.

“It’s broken, darling, that’s your cast. Use this hand,” Cady says gently as she taps Janis’ left hand.

“Oh.” Janis says. “I like purple.”

“That’s why we picked it, Janjan,” Damian says as he tries to hold back laughter. “Eat your food, you get discharged soon.”

Janis tries to eat again with her left hand, giving a quiet maniacal cackle when it actually works.

The doctor comes in with her discharge papers as Janis is munching happily on her fourth chicken nugget, explaining the proper care of her arm and cast to Cady upon noticing Janis is still fairly loopy. Cady thanks her and signs Janis out, letting Janis finish her food before they head home.

Janis falls asleep on the ride back, leaving Cady to haul her up to their apartment and into bed. She decides to email her professor an apology and get caught up on some schoolwork as she lies in bed next to her.

“Caddy? Wh’happent?” Janis asks groggily when she stirs a few hours later. She pauses when she tries to stretch, spying the bright purple cast covering her arm. “Ah, fuck.”

“You fell in the pit at Damian’s theater today, you broke your arm,” Cady answers with a giggle. “Do you remember anything?”

“I remember falling and then my arm hurt like a bitch, but nothing after,” Janis says confusedly.

“They had to sedate you at the hospital, you were hurting a lot and freaking out a bit,” Cady replies. “You were awake by the time I got there though.”

“I was? What did I do?” Janis asks, already dreading the answer.

Cady’s giggling only makes her feel worse. “Well, when you saw me you said I was pretty and asked if I would be your girlfriend.”

“Oh god,” Janis groans.

“And then you cried when I said no, until I told you we’re married,” Cady laughs harder.

“Oh god.”

“It was cute, don’t be embarrassed,” Cady teases, tickling her neck to get her to look back up.

“I’m not cute!” Janis insists.

“Yes you are. Anyway, um... you demanded Damian bring you all the chicken nuggets they had in the cafeteria and said you’d leave them a terrible review on Yelp when he could only give you ten, and then you asked me if we had a dog, and then when I said no you asked if we had a cat, and then when I said no to that too you asked if we had a baby.”

“Really?” Janis chuckles.

“Yeah. Then you got your food, asked me why your arm wasn’t working, and fell asleep on the ride home,” Cady says.

“Huh.” Janis hums. “Wait, baby, you were in class! Shit, I’m sorry-“

“Shh, Bluejay, it’s fine,” Cady hushes her. “My professor understands, and I can get notes later. It’ll be fine. You didn’t mean to fall.”

“That pit was not where it was supposed to be,” Janis grumbles. “Now I can’t straighten my arm.”

“You will soon, love,” Cady says. “Just a few weeks.”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t be so fussy, you’ll be fine,” Cady chides. She knows she’s about to make a very abrupt subject change, but can’t hold back the question anymore. “Um... do you... actually want a baby? At some point?”

Janis sighs. “I’m not sure. Definitely not anytime soon, but down the line, I don’t know. I like the idea of it, but I don’t think I would make a very good parent.”

“I get that, but I think you would be great. You’re fun, but you’re also so gentle and sweet. And a fair bit more responsible than you used to be,” Cady replies.

“I fell in a hole in the middle of a stage,” Janis reminds her, holding up her cast.

“It’s a step up from the time you sprained your ankle running from that cow,” Cady says. “But really, I think you’d make a wonderful parent if you wanted to be.”

“I don’t know. I just, like- what if my anxiety acts up, or my depression? What if I can’t take care of them?” Janis asks, cuddling closer into her side.

Cady hums sadly. “Then we’d support you, and I’ll step up a little more until you can. You wouldn’t be doing this alone, Jayjay. And you’ve been doing so well lately, your communication is so much better, and your therapist really seems to be helping. You’ve never let anything stop you before, if we decide to have a child someday you shouldn’t let it stop you then either.”

Janis leans up to kiss her gently. “Thanks, Butterfly. I’ll think about it more.”

“If you want to. We have time,” Cady says gently. “In the meantime... maybe we should see about a cat?”

“Really?” Janis squeals. She’s been begging for a pet for months. Cady had to take her to get a rabies shot when she came home with a raccoon one day. Hopefully a cat will stop her from taking matters into her own hands.

“Sure, why not? It’s almost summer, I’ll have a little bit more free time to help with it,” Cady giggles. “One of my mom’s co-workers does cat rescues on the side, we can pick one when we go home for Julie’s birthday.” Janis practically tackles her to the bed, kissing her cheeks over and over.

“Hey, watch your arm,” Cady scolds gently when Janis nearly whacks it against the headboard. “What should we have for dinner?”

“It’s your turn to pick,” Janis replies confusedly.

“Your forearm is in four pieces, you get to pick tonight,” Cady says.

Janis thinks for a second. She might be able to swing something special because of her injury. She whips out her best puppy eyes to boost her chances too. “Can we make pizzas?”

Cady raises an eyebrow at her. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute, loser. Come on.”

“I had to be right handed,” Janis grumbles as she tries to knead the dough with her left.

“Switch with me, Jay, you can do this with one hand,” Cady says from where she’s stirring the sauce over the stove.

Janis pouts. “But I always do this.”

Cady turns the burner off and comes to hug Janis around the waist. “We’ll just have to adapt a little until your arm is better. You only have to have the cast for a little while, we’ll figure it out.”

“Fine,” Janis whines.

“Oh come on,” Cady coaxes as she pulls her into a kiss. “You’ll be fine. We’re having fun!”

Janis tries to fight a grin at Cady’s efforts to cheer her up. She’s just so cute, Janis wants her to keep going. “We are. I love you.”

“There you go. I love you too,” Cady says sweetly as she pops up to kiss her one more time. “Now come on, or we’ll never get to eat.

She slaps Janis’ ass lightly as she turns to the stove, prompting a squeal and a “Hey!”, but Cady just laughs and winks as she finishes the dough.

Janis pulls her into a hot mess of a kiss once Cady turns from putting their dinner in the oven and setting a timer.

Cady returns it, checking briefly to make sure Janis has her eyes closed before sneakily reaching to grab a small handful of flour from the bag behind her. She dumps it on Janis’ head right as she pulls back for a breath.

“Oh, you’re in for it now, Peanut,” Janis gasps, arming herself with the bag of cheese as Cady grabs the leftover sauce and flings a spoonful at her. “Hey!”

Cady squeals and ducks behind the counter as Janis chucks a handful of cheese at her, scraping some more sauce onto her spoon and firing another little bit back.

“Missed me,” Janis teases, flinging another handful of cheese. Eventually she runs out and switches to grab the bag of flour, blowing a massive cloud in Cady’s face. Cady splutters, coughing it away before rushing up and dumping her leftover ammo on top of Janis’ head.

“Hey, wait,” Cady begs upon realizing she’s now empty handed. “I don’t have anything to fight with!”

Janis is immune to her plight, raining another handful of flour over her hair and making her look like she’s been through quite a blizzard. “Truce?”

Cady reaches around her to grab some pepperonis, flinging them at Janis like throwing stars. “Never!”

Janis just cackles with laughter and throws more, the two of them continuing until Janis realizes she’s down to her last bit of flour.

“I’m all out, mercy,” she says to fake Cady out. “Come kiss me.” Cady does, and Janis makes sure she’s put her pepperoni down before dumping the last little bit of flour on top of her head.

Cady gasps at the betrayal. “You liar! You tricked me!”

“I win,” Janis smirks.

“Because you cheated! You seduced me into letting you win,” Cady insists. “You little stinker.”

Janis giggles. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

Cady smiles back, kissing Janis again. “I love you too.”

“We made a mess.”

“Yeah, but did you smile?” Cady responds with a cheeky grin.

Janis groans. “Oh my god. Yes, I did, your evil plan worked. But now we have to clean the kitchen.” Cady looks over to check the timer on the oven, they still have a few minutes.

“I’ll vacuum the flour, you get the sauce and stuff. And maybe once we eat we can help clean each other,” she responds with a wink, heading to the hall closet to grab the vacuum. Janis gives a flustered squeak as she grabs a sponge. She really married her perfect woman.

————-

A week or so later, Cady takes Janis to the pet store to shop for cat necessities. She’s lucky that Janis can only use one hand, it gives her less opportunities for mischief. She holds Janis’ working hand and braces herself as they head in.

“Before you ask, no, we are not getting a bird or ferret or bunny or anything but things for our cat,” Cady says just to be safe. “And I will notice if you put a hamster in your pocket.”

“Okay,” Janis pouts, her obvious plans already having been foiled. “Ooh, look, they have little paintbrush catnip toys!”

Cady pulls her back for a second to grab a basket, but does let Janis add the package of toys. “Okay, now we get the stuff we actually need, we can get more toys once we’ve done that.”

Somehow Cady manages to cram a bed, two food dishes, a leash and harness, and several more toys in the basket. Janis holds the carrier they had chosen in her good hand, and Cady has the litter box in her other hand. Janis begs to go look at the birds once they finish, so Cady leads her over and secretly takes a video of Janis dancing with them.

A frankly exhausted looking teenager checks them out, scanning all the jangly toys and other things. Cady had noticed Janis disappeared as she paid for everything, and her jacket pocket is wriggling suspiciously when she returns.

“Put it back,” she demands, not even looking up as she helps the cashier bag all their things. Janis mopes her way back to the dwarf hamsters and puts the little creature back with his friends. “Why do you try that every time? You never get away with it.”

“But one day I might,” Janis replies, taking a couple of bags in her good hand and following Cady out of the store. “You never know.”

“With you, definitely not,” Cady sighs lovingly. “Let’s go get the apartment ready, hm?”

“Race you there,” Janis challenges, running ahead.

“Janis, no, come back! You’re already injured,” Cady calls, but Janis just sticks her tongue out at her and keeps going. “Fine, be that way.”

Cady runs to catch up with her, easily passing her and sticking her own tongue out at Janis.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be faster than me!” Janis whines as she rushes to keep up with her.

“Oh really? Then how was this supposed to be a fair race, hm?” Cady teases as she stops and allows Janis to catch up. “Come on, loser, keep up.”

“Hmph.”

—————

“Janis, no,” Cady demands, grabbing the hangar Janis is trying to stick into her cast.

“But it itches,” Janis whines.

“If you scratch with this you’ll get infected. Tetanus will be worse to deal with than a broken arm,” Cady says. “Come help me finish packing, it’ll take your mind off it.”

“Okay,” Janis pouts. “When do I get it off?”

Cady suddenly remembers Janis had been high when the doctor gave them the care instructions. “You have about a week left, then they’ll check to make sure it’s healed enough. If it’s not, you might need a smaller cast or a brace for a while.”

“Another cast?” Janis groans. “Ugh.”

“I know, lovey. But that would only be for about three weeks. And it’s important if your bones aren’t healthy enough, we don’t want you to injure it more,” Cady comforts. Janis hands her a shirt to fold and put in their suitcase. So far they’re not doing a great job of distracting her, so Cady changes the subject. “Do you have any idea what kind of cat you want?”

“No,” Janis says. “I kind of want a kitten, but I know senior cats have a hard time getting adopted, so I don’t know what age to pick. And I don’t think I want an orange one, I still miss Pancakes too much.”

Pancakes had fallen ill while Janis was in college, and was put down the summer before her senior year. She had luckily gotten to be there with him, comforting him to the end. She has his ashes in a little box on the dresser.

“I understand. He was such a good boy,” Cady says gently. “We’ll decide when we get there, maybe one will be extra special.”

“Maybe,” Janis says as she hands Cady their folded pairs of socks and does a little happy dance. “I’m excited.”

“I can tell,” Cady giggles. “I’m excited too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive any of it? It’s a long trip,” Janis says with concern. They were driving to Illinois instead of flying, so they didn’t have to deal with trying to fly the cat back home.

“My love, you’re a bad enough driver with both hands working, I’m very sure I don’t want you driving with just the one,” Cady chuckles in reply. “I’ll be fine, we have enough places to stop so I can take breaks. And I have you to keep me awake and stop me getting bored.”

“I’m a good driver!” Janis insists. Cady raises a suspicious eyebrow at her. “Most of the time.”

“Tell that to the turkey you ran over,” Cady responds.

“I was nineteen! And it was dark!” Janis says. “And to this day, nobody explained to me why the fresh hell there was a turkey in the middle of the road!”

“That’s fair. At least he survived,” Cady giggles. “But seriously, you’re not driving.”

“Okay,” Janis says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cady says, leaning in for a kiss.

————-

“Jay. Breathe,” Cady coaxes a vibrating Janis. They’re picking their cat today, heading to her mom’s friend’s house.

“Sorry,” Janis says, locking all her muscles so she stops shaking.

“Don’t be sorry,” Cady chuckles. “Come on, we’re here.”

“Hey, ladies! I’m Eleanor, you must be Cady,” a woman greets as they come up to the door.

“I am, hi,” Cady says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Eleanor shakes their hands gently before she leads them inside.

“Jesus Christ,” Janis says as soon as the door is opened. No fewer than forty cats are present, just scattered about doing their thing.

“Yeah, it’s a little jarring to newcomers,” Eleanor chuckles. “Do you have an age range you’re looking for? Our adults are mostly out here, and the kittens are in the room there if you’d like to see them.”

Cady looks to Janis. They both really want a cat, but Janis gets to pick which one due to her injury.

“Can we see the kittens?” Janis asks pensively, looking at the adults scattered around her. They’re cute, but none really jump out at her.

“Absolutely, please watch for tails,” Eleanor says as she leads them down a short hallway. “Our youngest litter aren’t ready to be adopted out yet, but the ones back here are about four months old now, if you’d like one of these.”

Janis squeals quietly when she sees them, trotting around a small pen and playing with various toys.

“You can head in if you like, they’re all very playful,” Eleanor says. Cady and Janis climb over the gate and sit on the ground, waiting to see if any approach them. Janis points to a little black ball of puff in the corner, snoozing quietly on a heating pad.

“Aww,” Cady coos. The kitten wakes to the noise, revealing bright lime green eyes. She comes trotting over, stumbling a couple times on her way. Janis extends a hand for her to sniff, and the kitten brushes against it gently. “Who is this one?”

“Her name is Pillow. We name the kittens random objects so we don’t get too attached,” Eleanor explains. “She’s usually quite shy, but she seems to have taken a liking to you two.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely a witch in disguise,” Janis whispers to the kitten nibbling on her fingertips. “Caddy, look.”

Cady also lets Pillow sniff at her hand, smiling as she apparently decides she’s trustworthy and plops down in her palm.

“Is she the one, Jayjay?” Cady asks, scooping her up to scratch her head. Janis nods and takes the kitten, holding her to her chest. “Can we change her name?”

“Absolutely. It might take her a bit to respond to it, but you’re certainly not stuck with Pillow,” Eleanor responds with a chuckle.

“Pillow isn’t terrible, honestly,” Janis replies. “What should we call her, Cads?”

Cady thinks for a second. “Paka?”

“Which language is that?” Janis asks curiously. It’s cute, but doesn’t really fit the dark little cloud in her hands.

“Swahili,” Cady answers.

“What does it mean?”

“Cat.” Cady mumbles. Janis bursts out laughing. “Don’t make fun of me, I’m not good at naming things!”

“It’s cute, but, uh...” Janis hums.

“I know, it just popped into my head. What do you want her name to be?” Cady asks.

“Something, like, witchy,” Janis says. “Look at her, she’s totally some witch’s familiar.”

Cady chuckles. “She could be. What’s the one from that one Broadway show Damian took us to when I came to New York for the first time? The green one, not the blonde one.”

“Elphaba,” Janis answers, cursing that she knows that. “But I don’t know if I want something that on the nose.” Pillow bites her finger gently. “Yeah, she doesn’t like that. Something close though.”

“What about Elvira? That’s witchy sounding,” Cady responds. “And not Elphaba.”

“That’s perfect,” Janis says happily. “What do you think, kitty? Are you an Elvira?” She meows loudly. “Oh yeah.”

“Perfect! Are you two ready to take her home?” Eleanor asks. “She’s already been spayed and microchipped, we just need to link her chip to your phones and y’all can have her.”

“I think so,” Cady says, chuckling as the kitten tries to nibble on Janis’ nose.

A week later, they’re officially back home in their little apartment, with their new kitten getting acclimated. They’re keeping her in the bedroom for now, and would slowly introduce her to the rest of the apartment soon.

Cady wakes up to something sort of rumbling on her face, and there’s a strange warmth over her forehead. She’s confused until she reaches a hand up and feels Elvira resting over her eyes.

It’s kind of nice, and Elvira is purring happily, so she leaves her there. Janis gradually stirs next to her, Cady can hear her stretching and giving a yawn. “Good morning, Cadd-what the fuck?”

Janis scoops the kitten off her forehead in a fit of giggles, then bends down to kiss Cady good morning.

“She was warm, it was like a nice little blindfold,” Cady says in response to Janis’ laughter. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” Janis asks with another yawn as she stops laughing.

“To have your cast off,” Cady giggles in reply. “Your appointment is today.”

“Oh yeah,” Janis says. “When?”

Cady looks to check the clock. “We have about an hour until your appointment.”

Janis pouts. No cuddle time. “Okay.”

“I’ll cuddle you after,” Cady compromises, knowing why she was upset. “Let’s go get dressed.”

Janis looks around anxiously as they enter the hospital again. She’s been scared of them since her father passed away, and her fear was exasperated when her aunt passed away of cancer when she was a bit older.

Cady squeezes her hand to comfort her as she signs Janis in and they’re led back to a room. Janis squeaks in fright when she spies the small saw they’re about to take to her arm.

“Jay, it’s okay, the saw doesn’t hurt,” Cady comforts.

“It’s a fucking saw!” Janis insists, sitting as far away from it as she can.

“It’s just to break the shell of the cast, it shuts off when it hits your skin,” Cady says gently as she brushes her hair from her face. “It just tickles.”

“How do you know?”

“I broke my leg when I was twelve, I had to be transported to a hospital in Nairobi so I could get treatment,” Cady says. “They did the same things to me. You’ll be fine.”

“You broke your leg?” Janis asks with a giggle. “How did you manage that?”

Cady starts laughing. “I was running after a bird, and was looking up at it instead of the ground. I tripped over a rock and fell into a hole.”

Janis thinks that’s about the most on-brand way Cady could’ve possibly gotten an injury as a child. “I can totally see that.”

“Right? I was such a stupid kid,” Cady chuckles.

The doctor comes in then, making small talk as she prepares everything. Cady holds Janis’ hand as the cast is removed, laughing as her eyes go wide at the buzzing sensation.

“Oh,” she mumbles when it’s off.

“I told you, it’s not bad,” Cady chuckles. “Go get your x-rays, loser.”

Janis follows after the doctor to get new scans taken of her arm, leaving Cady with the nurse. “Do you think she’ll want to keep the cast?”

“Probably not, but I do,” Cady says. “Remember how clumsy she can be.”

“Fair enough,” the nurse laughs, wrapping it up for Cady to take home. Janis comes back into the room after a few minutes with a pout.

“They’re not healed enough, I have to get another one,” she grumbles.

“Aww, I’m sorry mpenzi. But now your students will have something else to sign,” Cady says, desperately trying to find a positive.

Janis gives her a weak grin. “You’re so cute. I’m not that upset, this one only goes to my elbow. I’m just not looking forward to three more weeks of itchy arm.”

Cady nods. “I’ll be here to distract you.”

Janis knew she married Cady for a reason.

————-

“Caddy?” Janis calls about a week later from their bedroom.

“Yeah?” Cady calls back.

“Do we have any white spray paint?”

Cady runs into the bedroom, making Elvira jump in fright and scramble away. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing! Promise,” Janis says, raising her hands in surrender.

Cady looks at her suspiciously. “Then why did you ask if we have white spray paint?”

“I want to cover the color of my cast. Spray paint would do that the quickest,” Janis mumbles.

“Oh. Why do you want to cover it up? It doesn’t look bad,” Cady asks.

“No reason. Can I pleeeeeease go buy some?” Janis begs.

“If it’s that important to you, yeah, of course,” Cady says. “But only that. And no graffiti.”

“I’m not twenty anymore, I’m responsible,” Janis insists. Cady raises her eyebrow again. “I’m working on it.”

“I’m kidding. Go buy your paint, Picasso,” Cady says, kissing her and pushing her towards the door.

Janis comes back with her spray paint and a Kit-Kat bar for Cady.

“Hi, lovey,” Cady says from the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

“Ooh, spaghetti,” Janis says happily. “Thanks, babe.”

“You’re welcome,” Cady says, greeting her with a kiss. “Did you get your stuff?”

“Yeah. Got you a candy too,” Janis says, handing the bar over.

“Aww. You haven’t called me Kitkat in a while,” Cady coos as she takes the candy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Kitkat. Now come on, I’m

hungry.”

Once they finish their delicious dinner, Janis changes clothes, dons a protective mask, and heads to the balcony to work on her cast. Cady sits just inside to watch her through the door with their kitten on her lap. It’s a simple process, but Cady likes to watch Janis do any kind of art.

Janis wags her arm around for a few minutes after spraying the whole thing in layers, making the whole thing totally white. You can’t even tell it was purple underneath by the time she finishes.

Once it’s dry, she heads back inside and puts everything away. Cady is confused when she comes back with her paint supplies. Every shade of paint, every brush. But no canvas.

“What are you gonna do now?” She asks confusedly. Janis lies on the couch and sticks her arm out, gesturing for Cady to come sit next to her on the ground.

“I,” she says as she flops down. “Am going to watch you paint my cast.”

“Me?” Cady asks, pointing to herself. “But I can’t paint.”

“Of course you can paint, you just do it differently than I do,” Janis says, gesturing for her again. “You have free reign, do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Cady says anxiously as she sits down and grabs a brush. “Are you sure?”

“Peanut, it’s a cast, you’re not giving me a tattoo,” Janis giggles. “I want to see what you’ll do, and if I don’t like it I get this off in two weeks. I always like what you make anyway.”

Cady is comforted by this reminder. The last time she had tried to paint she’d only succeeded in making a blotchy mess of the picture frame she had been trying to decorate for Janis’ birthday. Janis loved and used it anyway.

She decides to start with the only thing she knows how to paint pretty well, a lion. She paints a little yellow circle on the inside of her wrist, surrounding it with orange and red stripes like a mane and adding a cute cartoon face in black.

Janis makes conversation and cuddles with Elvira as she works, not even looking at what she’s doing. Cady doesn’t really have a cohesive idea, so she makes little doodles all around like she’s decorating a whiteboard.

By the time she’s finished Janis has been thoroughly decorated with the lion, a rainbow near the bend of her elbow, a rough picture of Elvira, a cursive ‘I love you’ written so Janis can read it whenever she looks at the inside of her arm, a butterfly, several hearts, and a hot dog. All with room left in between for signatures.

“Okay, I’m done but don’t look yet,” Cady says as she runs off.

“Okay,” Janis says in confusion. Cady suddenly comes back from the kitchen brandishing a Sharpie, signing a ‘Caddy’ with a heart next to the cursive message she had painted. “Can I see now?”

“Yeah,” Cady says, biting her lip anxiously. Janis lifts her arm to look, smiling happily at what she sees.

“Cute,” Janis says with a grin. “You did good, Butterfly. I like it.”

Cady gives a quiet sigh of relief. “Good.”

“Come snuggle us,” Janis says, reaching for her and scooting Elvira over to make room. Cady crawls on top of her with a chuckle. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

—————

Two weeks later, Janis’ arm is finally freed for good and she’s given a warning to watch where she’s walking. She elects to take this cast home, wanting to keep Cady’s artwork.

Cady had told all their friends that Janis was finally getting her last cast off today, so they all decided to get together for a celebratory dinner.

Janis does a little happy dance as she leaves the hospital for what’s hopefully the last time in a long time, making Cady laugh.

“You’re free, Jay, your hand is back!” She calls.

“Yeah! And now I can do this again,” Janis says, running towards her and picking her up. Cady shrieks in surprise, but laughs happily and clings to her as Janis carries her to the car.

“Just don’t strain yourself, you should still be doing exercises and stuff to get your muscles back to where they were,” she says carefully, not wanting her wife to immediately re-injure herself.

“I’m fine, Cads, you’re still tiny. And I’m still buff,” Janis breathes as she sets her down.

“You are. Holding me in your big, strong arms,” Cady flirts as she leans up for a kiss. “Never gets old. But I do wish you’d warn me first.”

“That takes the fun out of it,” Janis teases as she lifts and spins her again. Cady squeals happily. “I love you. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“You took care of yourself just fine, but you’re welcome, love,” Cady replies. “I love you too.”

Maybe I can’t always catch you when you fall, but I’ll always help with the aftermath.

---------

hope you enjoyed!

quick note about requests: they are still open, but I've scheduled all of my works in progress and they go until the middle of July, so it will be that long before your request gets published. if you've left one before today, I am working on it and it will be out soon.

ALSO! urgent message, I have so far received one request on Tumblr in my asks. unfortunately, I wasn't aware it would disappear when I answered it. so, whoever left that: please leave it again so I can get your name to give you credit when its posted!

thanks for reading, have a lovely day!

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway

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myblueeyedbuggers · 3 years

Text

My Boys

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2075

Warnings: Slow Start, Language, Tiny bit of Fluff

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change

As Promised, here’s Chapter 6. I really enjoyed writing this one, heck I even laughed at one bit XD Also I’d like to thank you all for supporting my work so far, It really means the world to me that people are enjoying my work. As always Enjoy! :)

-Third Person POV

The minutes turned to hours, the hours turned into days, concern over the young girl was increasing day by day. Every single day Bucky and Steve were there, telling her how their days went and what was happening in the world all while holding y/ns hand, each day the boys watched her progress, the memory of her skin slowly regaining its colour giving them a new sense of hope.

Day by day the boys stayed as long as they could, only leaving when Mr and Mrs Barnes appeared at the door to bring them home, each time Mrs Barnes placed a small kiss on the young girl’s head before leaving. All of them taking the opportunity to show small sings of affection towards the girl, hoping that it gave her the strength to recover.

Later that night, when everyone was in bed and resting, a sharp ring disturbed the silence surrounding the house, half asleep Mr Barnes answered the phone, a wide smile appeared on his face as the news the family had been waiting for all week arrived. Quickly the parents rushed to the boys, the pair sharing a smile as they frantically ran around the room to get ready, a few tears of happiness sliding down their faces. A huge sense of relief flowed through Bucky’s veins, all the guilt he felt throughout the week lessened, at least now he knew that he didn’t cause y/n’s death.

-Back at the Hospital

Readers POV

My eyes felt like they’d been welded shut and my head was poundin’ like nobody’s business, what the hell happened to me? Finally, I managed to open my eyes and I was immediately blinded by the bright lights shining in my goddamn face, can I not catch a break for once in my life?! A loud groan accidently slid past my lips, why is it every time I wake up some part of my body is aching? You’d think I was a pro wrestler or somethin’!

I gazed around the room, distant voices could be heard from the corridor, hang on where the hell am I? the room was decorated plain white, with a few pictures hanging on the wall and a small sofa was tucked into the back corner. Another door, presumably for the bathroom, was to the right of the window, the curtains were drawn but the steady tapping on the other side told me it was raining. What a way to come back into reality, absolutely chucking it down with rain, my dumbass soon realised that the nurses might not know I was awake, which is kind of important information.

Slowly I raised myself up, the ache on my midriff increasing much to my displeasure, as I slowly moved my legs off the edge of the bed, both were shaking with the effort of holding my body up and I hoped to god that I didn’t land on my ass anytime soon. Hang on, that might be becoming a very bad habit of mine, I’m gonna need to work on that later… finally my legs stopped shaking, taking VERY cautious steps I started making my way to the door. You’d think walking 5 feet would be easy, wouldn’t you? apparently not.

After about 3 minutes of moving like a bloody snail, I could finally reach the door handle, now for the hard part… turning the door handle, a high-pitched squeak met my ears as the door slowly flung open, the voices outside my room stopped and foot steps came towards my room. Two nurses came around the corner and stopped when the spotted me, a few seconds passed before I started to feel awkward, so I decided to wave at them to try and break the tension. Which in hindsight was one of the dumbest things I could have done in that moment, but it did seem to break them outta their trance, they both came towards me and started fussing over me, “Miss you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed! Why didn’t you just press the call button on the bed side table? how long have you been awake?” There was a bloody call button?! For the love of god!

“I woke up about 5 minutes ago, I’m sorry but could you tell me what happened to me? All I remember is fainting near the bank” The nurses shared a look, both of them ignored my question for the moment and focused on getting me into the bed and calling for the doctor, they gave me strict instructions not to move till the doctor arrived. Well, at least I know I’m in a hospital but what the hell did I do to land in here in the first place? All I remember is getting ready for the war and setting up in the dinner before it all went wrong. Shooting happened, I was taken hostage, shooting happened again, Alexi punched me and broke my nose, I was held at ransom before till I got bored and ran outta the line of fire, Bucky and Steve were pinned behind a wall, I fought with a մոխրագույն օրխիդ and got shot…wait a second…

I’M GONNA KILL THOSE IDIOTS!

I got bloody shot! How the hell did I forget that?! It’s not like I stubbed my toe, an actual bullet went inside me! Oh god are Bucky and Steve okay?! Where are they? Did they get hurt? My mind was going crazy with worry, I hoped to god that this bloody doctor got here soon, or I’d be out of here looking for those pair of numpties! A knock on the door disrupted my thoughts as a team of doctors and nurses filled the room, a few carried important looking equipment with them, a man with a clipboard approached me with a reassuring smile.

“Good Evening Miss y/n, my names Doctor Miller, you’ve been unconscious for a week or so, due to a gunshot wound to your midriff, the bullet shattered on impact and we had to operate to stop any internal bleeding. Now don’t worry too much about that, it’s in the past and there’s no lasting damage done, but we’re going to have to keep you in the hospital for one more night to monitor your vitals but after that you’ll be free to go. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask me.”

Okay, all I heard was “unconscious for a week” and “no lasting damage”, I really hope that I don’t smell too bad, my pride’s been damaged enough for one week.

“Dr. Miller, do you know what happened to the two boys that were with me at the bank? Did they get hurt at all?” I could hear the fear in my voice, I dreaded the answer and prayed to god that nothing happened to them. He took a moment to reply, my worry increasing by the second, “No, none of the boys got hurt, but I can’t say the same for some of the members of the Црни лабуд, some were killed during the fight and a few passed away in their sleep. I believe that someone called Damien is still alive though, he gave a statement that completely cleared your name in court today”

What? I can’t believe it, why would he do that? One by one everyone started to leave the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I don’t understand it at all, why would Damien go out of his way to protect me? All that’d of done was increase his jail time for human trafficking. It doesn’t make sense…

-Time Skip

At some point I fell asleep, the sound of faint whispering disturbed me from my sleep as I slowly opened my eyes, sat next to me was Bucky’s mother, his father stood behind her as they both offered me a gentle smile. A few tears slid down Mrs Barnes cheeks when she realised I was fully awake, her arms immediately enveloped me into a warm hug, “Oh my Goodness sweetheart, please don’t ever scare me like that again, I was so worried about you” I didn’t reply to her, instead I chose to hug her tighter as confusion began to cloud my mind. Why would she be worried about me? Me? Other people would have been over joyed at the news of me being shot.

Slowly she pulled away from me, choosing to look me in the eyes as carefully stroked my cheek, inspecting the few bruises littered on my face, a small sniffle grabbed my attention as I turned away from her, my eyes glanced over in the direction of the sound. There stood in the corner of the room were the boys, both of their eyes red and puffy as they cautiously made their way towards me, none of us said anything when they reached my side. My eyes scanned over Steve checking for any injuries and damage before I pulled him into a hug, his body tensed up in shock before he relaxed and returned the embrace. “I’m so sorry y/n I never wanted you to get hurt, neither of us did we just wanted to help you” even with his voice muffled, I could tell that the poor lad was crying and I couldn’t blame him, bloody Niagara falls was streaming down my cheeks, I pulled away from him and turned to Bucky, he was looking at the floor and completely avoiding my gaze.

Oh, hell no, no sad boys allowed here! Carefully I leaned forward and grabbed his hand, intertwining our fingers together as I pulled him closer, something inside me hurt when his eyes met mine, they held so much guilt, so much pain and sadness and I hated seeing him like this. No words were exchanged as he wrapped his arms around me, a sigh of relief escaped him, my arms automatically tightened around him when a single tear fell onto my neck. His silent sobs cut me down to my core, behind him Steve stood to the side, his eye meeting mine as I grabbed his hand in reassurance, once Bucky calmed down we both drew back, and I pulled both boys in front of me.

“I want both of you boys to listen to me, none of this was your fault, this is all on me. I pushed you both away to protect you and I’m sorry for that, I should have been more honest with you, me getting shot has nothing to do with anything either of you did.” My voice was firm and assertive, but of course that didn’t stop either of them trying to argue with me. Not much of a surprise there.

“But we went in the middle of it, we tried to play the hero’s and we ended up being the villains, you should be mad, not forgivin’ our stupid asses” this is probably not the best time to notice this, but Steve just swore for the first time in his life, I couldn’t be prouder! Wait, where was I?

Goddamn it y/n, concentrate for once in your bloody life! “Okay, stop that crap right now Rodgers, none of this had anything to do with you, although I would like to ask the both of what THE HELL YOU WERE THINKING DIVIN’ INTO THE MIDDLE OF A BLOODY GANG WAR?!” it was safe to say that they weren’t excepting that.

It was actually quite funny, Bucky went completely pale and started stuttering while Steve actually jumped up in surprise and fell down, admittedly I felt a bit bad about that bit. Neither of the boys could form a coherent sentence, both completely panicking as they tried to explain the reason behind their complete stupidity. Slowly my eyebrows started to raise as a small smirk made its way onto my face, the pair of them making no sense as Bucky pointed to Steve and said something about justice. I know I shouldn’t be finding this funny, but I couldn’t help it, they were babbling like a bunch of school girls!

Eventually, they both shut up once they noticed me failing to stifle a giggle, their expression turning from ones of panic to amusement, and eventually I couldn’t contain it, “I’m sorry but your faces were bloody brilliant! Oh my god I’m dying” both of the boys rolled their eyes at me, shaking their heads as Bucky’s parents started laughing with me.

Another Chapter down, as always feel free to leave some tips on how I can improve my writing for you all, Requests and tags are open :) Thanks for Reading!

Rose xx

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america #captain america x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #fanfic #reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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kwanisms · 5 years

Text

No Longer - jjh

⤑ genre: angst, angst, angst ⤑ pairing: Jaehyun x Reader ⤑ warning: angst, strong language, alcohol consumption, sexual content, dark themes (tw: depression, suicidal thoughts) ⤑ summary: Jaehyun relives the past two years leading up to where he is now. ⤑ word count: 1.7k

a/n: this has some pretty dark themes in it so i just want to take this time to say that if anyone reading this is having a hard time whether it be in school, work, or life in general, just know my inbox and ask box are always open. I am here for you so please don’t hesitate to reach out. I love you all and please read this with caution. it’s some really heavy stuff. I wrote this when I was having a depressive episode and it’s not edited. ~K

The apartment sat dark and empty, the way it was when you left. Jaehyun could barely bring himself to get out of bed in the mornings but at the same time he didn't want to be in the apartment by himself. Not when you weren't there.

Meeting you was a rare chance that Jaehyun had been thankful for ever since it happened. He was immediately drawn towards you and didn't hesitate to say hello. Your smile caught him off guard, blinding him with your radiance.

He succeeded in getting your number that day and called you some time later. That was the first time he could recall being on the phone for several hours. Telling you all the cheesy jokes he could think of, enjoying the sound of your laughter.

It didn't take him much longer to ask you out on a date. You accepted immediately. Jaehyun planned the whole day. He took you out for a picnic near the Han River. Afterwards, the two of you spent most of the day relaxing and talking.

He tried hard to be a gentleman, even asking to hold your hand. You accepted and the two of you walked hand in hand down the banks of the river. He could remember the day like it was yesterday.

He wore a white long sleeve shirt with fitted black jeans, and grey sneakers. You had on a peach colored sweater with a white skirt and white sneakers. The day was mild with a slight breeze, soft grey clouds covered the sky in an overcast.

The date ended after the sun set and Jaehyun walked you home. You thanked him, kissing him on the cheek before heading inside for the night. Everything went well, according to Jaehyun and when you texted him another thank you, he knew this would be the first of many.

Time went on and one date turned into three, which then turned into a relationship. One month turned into six and soon you were celebrating your one year anniversary. For the special day, Jaehyun recreated your first date, except on a private boat on the Han River.

The lunch was exactly what he had prepared before. After eating, the two of you went topside to watch the sun set before Jaehyun pulled you out of your seat for a dance. It was the perfect day. The only thing that could have made it better was a surprise which you delivered.

You had missed your period. You were pregnant.

Jaehyun was shocked for sure but excited to start a family with you. He promised to take you ring shopping the next day, a promise he made good on. It didn't take long to find the perfect ring. Jaehyun was the one who found it.

Things seemed to be going well until the unimaginable happened. You called him at work, hysterical on your way to the hospital. Jaehyun left work early to meet you at the emergency room. He waited outside your room while the doctors worked tirelessly on you.

When they finally came out, they broke the news to him.

The baby was lost. You suffered a miscarriage. Jaehyun's heart shattered into pieces at the doctor's words. He was then allowed in to see you. It took every ounce of his willpower to stay strong for you. He needed to be.

He promised that things would be okay. He promised to be there for you. He promised that when the time was right, you could try again. He wasn't about to give up on you. Not when he loved you so much.

Things were okay for about a month before everything started to deteriorate. Your mental health took a huge hit. You couldn't bring yourself to get out of bed or take care of yourself. Jaehyun moved you into his apartment.

With his help, you started getting up, eat, and bathing regularly but only if he was by your side. Jaehyun had no qualms about this arrangement if it meant he got to be with you and be by your side.

As things started to get better, Jaehyun noticed you started to pull away from him. You were starting to distance yourself from him, especially when things started to get intimate. At first, Jaehyun understood but after the allotted time to heal passed, he started to get worried.

"You still love me, don't you?" he whispered one night while lying in bed. You looked over at him, eyes wide. "Of course I do," you replied. "I love you so much, Jae," you added.

He rolled over to face you. "I know what we went through was rough, trust me, I do," he started, reaching up to caress your cheek softly. "I miss you," he added. "I miss the intimacy."

You turned to snuggle into his warm embrace. "I know," you whispered. "I just need time." Jaehyun wrapped his arms around you. "Okay, baby," he whispered into your hair. "I'll give you time."

Jaehyun let out a sigh as he looked around the apartment. You said you needed time but clearly what you needed was space. Jaehyun could recall how even the smallest intimate gestures like a back hug or kiss on the cheek sent you over the edge. Soon, the two of you were fighting over anything and everything. Jaehyun hated it.

He hated how hostile you had become towards him and he wasn't sure how to fix it. The arguments had gotten worse and it all came to an end when Jaehyun asked why you couldn't just be happy with him when you dropped the bomb that you could be happy, just not with him.

Like that day the doctors told him his child had died, Jaehyun's heart shattered into pieces. You broke down sobbing, telling him that you cared about him, truly, but you were no longer in love with him.

And just like that, you left his life. Leaving the apartment void of your presence, your warmth, your love.

When you left, you took a part of Jaehyun with you. His entire life started to fall apart. He started drinking heavily to numb the pain of your leaving. His friends started to become worried when he showed up late to work and even more so when he stopped coming altogether.

On the surface, he was grieving the loss of the love of his life. Internally, he was drowning. He was suffering and no one else could see it. He preferred it that way. He didn't want anyone to worry about him anymore than they already were.

As his mental wellbeing declined, Jaehyun started becoming more reckless, more dangerous. Soon he was having dark thoughts of death and dying. He tried to ask for help but his friends sort of pushed it aside, saying time will help.

Time wasn't helping though. The longer he went on, the more he wanted to end everything. The only person who seemed to be paying attention to him was Johnny.

Johnny noticed how his friend had seemed to go off the deep end after the relationship ended. He kept tabs on Jaehyun the best he could and when the reckless behavior started, he did the only thing he could think of. He told you.

When word reached you that Jaehyun was becoming a danger to himself, you asked Johnny to step in for you. He promised to try.

Johnny asked Jaehyun to meet up with him. At first, Jaehyun refused, wanting to be miserable at home but Johnny finally convinced him to go out to a bar with him. Jaehyun put on some.clean clothes and headed out to meet Johnny.

The bar was quiet, surprisingly for the amount of people inside. Johnny met him by the front door, greeting him with a smile. "Hey man!" he said reaching out to pat his friend on the back. Jaehyun forced a smile as Johnny led him to the bar, finding two seats near the end.

Johnny ordered drinks for the pair and they started talking. Jaehyun noticed how his mood improved slightly spending time outside with his closest friend. As time went on, more drinks were ordered, and the bar started to empty.

Johnny set his drink down and looked at Jaehyun, watching the younger man chug his fifth drink. Johnny winced as Jaehyun finished it, setting his glass back down.

"How can you drink like that?" Johnny asked. Jaehyun looked at his tall friend, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess I just got used to it," Jaehyun said. Johnny eyed his friend suspiciously. "Yeah…" he trailed off. "I guess so."

Jaehyun looked down the bar at the bartender and asked for another but Johnny interjected. "Can we get two waters, please?" Jaehyun looked up at Johnny with disgust.

"Water??" he asked incredulously. Johnny nodded. "You need to hydrate." Jaehyun shrugged again, accepting the glass of cool water that was set in front of him.

After taking a large gulp, Jaehyun let out a chuckle, causing Johnny to look at him. "What?" Johnny asked with a smile. Jaehyun shrugged again, his eyes watering slightly as the weight of everything he was feeling finally broke his spirit.

"Have you ever wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again?" he whispered, not looking at Johnny. The older male slowly turned his head to look at Jaehyun. "What?" he whispered. Jaehyun turned to look at Johnny.

"You've never wanted to die?" he asked, genuinely shocked. Johnny shook his head. "No. I can't say I have," he replied. Jaehyun fell silent, looking down at the bar top. Johnny hesitated before finally speaking up.

"Jae?" he asked. Jaehyun turned to look at him. "Yeah?" he asked. "Have you…" Johnny began before looking around. Once he was certain no one was eavesdropping, he turned back to Jaehyun.

"Are you thinking about killing yourself?" Johnny asked. Jaehyun scoffed. "I've only been thinking about that since she left," he said before taking a sip of his water. Johnny's jaw dropped slightly. "Jaehyun," he said a little more sternly.

"What?" Jaehyun snapped. "Do you want help?" Johnny asked. Jaehyun looked away. "No. I'm not going to actually do it. I just miss her a lot, Johnny." Jaehyun said, his voice cracking. Johnny nodded. "I know you do, Jae. I know this is hard but you should talk to someone."

Jaehyun shrugged. "Maybe so," he whispered. "I guess I should try," he added.

All he knew was that while you no longer loved him, he could no longer live like this. He had to do something.

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hms-chill · 5 years

Note

The RWRB gang involved in a sort of shooting or something at a really huge international event. Worst-Injured Character (Henry) Half-Conscious And Begging To Know If The Others (Alex most especially) Are Okay.

“The Olympics, Six Years Later”

"I can't do it. I need a big, strong athlete to carry me; my legs are too sore," Alex complains. "There were so many steps yesterday. I'm going to die."

They're only halfway to their seats for the 2022 olympics, but after their trip to the Great Wall the day before, they're all starting to feel it. Bea, June, and Pez had opted to take the skylift to the top, leaving them well rested to enjoy the wall itself (which was comprised almost entirely of more stairs), but Nora had dared the boys to take the stairs with her and raced them to the top. It was a great idea in the moment, but between that and the number of steps on the wall itself, they're all regretting it the next day.

"Race you to the seats," Nora says, and Alex perks up almost immediately, pushing past the others to elbow her out of the way and get what could only be described as a "running" start if his bedraggled slouching upward counts as running. Nora's not far behind. They're both out ahead of the others, muscles straining, panting and laughing and elbowing each other, when it happens.

The next day, someone will say it was just bad construction. The stadium went up too quickly, and some things didn't set just right or get checked well enough. Someone else will say it was sabotage; sugar mixed into the concrete to weaken it as an act of resistance. Someone else will say a bomb went off, and people will talk about whether it was too early or too late or right on time. But in the moment, all Henry knows is that one second, he's trying not to be too obvious about watching Alex's ass, and the next, the steps below him are falling away. He barely has time to scream.

Alex and Nora feel the steps shake. There's a crash, the sounds of collapse. Someone screams. They turn around a second too late to see it happen. Henry's gone. Pez is gone. June and Bea are on the other side of a hole in the stairs, one that goes straight down to the basement of the stadium, where it ends in a pile of rubble. Bea has her hands over her mouth, a picture of horror, and Alex's brain starts to short circuit as he tries to process Henry's absence. Beside him, nora is running forward. He's not sure if she's going to try to jump over the hole or look into it, but he grabs her arm to hold her back just in case. She leans over the edge, then shouts.

"He's... he's... Alex, help me." She's reaching into the hole, and when Alex comes level with her, he can see Pez, clinging to a broken piece of metal with wide eyes. Alex lies down beside her, and between the two of them, they get Pez out. Nora wraps him in a hug immediately, but Alex is back to the edge of the hole, looking frantically. Henry has to be there somewhere, too. He has to be holding on. He has to be safe.

"Henry! Henry, where are you?" He doesn't realize he's crying until there's a hand on his shoulder, and Bea's pulling him up and into a hug. "Henry... he's... he's down there somewhere. He's not... He's still here. I know it. I... He's not... I'd know if he was."

Bea just holds him close, and they're both sobbing. There are other arms around them, and June starts trying to guide them up and away from the hole. Alex only lets her move him down the stairs to the ground floor, where he and Bea both settle as close to the rubble as they can get and refuse to go anywhere else. Alex knows that if he moves, if he leaves, he won't be there when they find Henry. He has to stay, because when they pull Henry out of the rubble, Alex has to be there to love him right away. So he stays put, and so does Bea. There are people moving around them, crews starting to move rubble and officials shouting in what feels like every language on the planet. Alex barely processes any of it. He refuses to process anything beyond Bea's hand in his and the pile of rubble in front of him, because anything else, anything more than this terror, will destroy him.

Henry knows, logically, that he must have blacked out as he fell. Because even if he is surrounded by nothing but darkness, death shouldn't hurt this much. He tries to shift, tries to move, but he can't. Something's pressing down on his legs, something else on his chest. He's lucky to have his head and an arm relatively free. Instead, he does what he can to take stock of his situation, asking himself what's happened, what hurts, and what he can control. His mind won't focus. At least the answer to what hurts is simple: everything. Every part of his body is in pain, and when he tries to cough the grime out of his throat, the pain that shoots through his ribs makes everything flash white. In the pitch blackness, it's almost a relief.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes. It's enough to make him laugh a bit, though that hurts as much as anything else. Even at the best of times, he doesn't answer his phone for anyone but--

Alex.

Alex had been higher up. He'd had farther to fall. It's a miracle Henry survived, but Alex...

No. He isn't dead. If he was dead, Henry would know. But if he's not dead, that means he's down here somewhere, running out of air and probably hurt worse than Henry is. He's hurt worse and probably buried deeper, and Henry feels his heart start pounding at that. It's going to hurt like hell, but he takes a deep breath anyway and shouts, "Alex! Alex!"

He barely manages those two before he's reduced to coughing up the dust he's inhaled, trying to hear any sort of response over it. Deafening silence. In theory, he knows yelling won't really change anything. He should protect his throat, make sure not to make enough noise to unbalance anything, and wait for someone to find him. He'll have enough air for a while, and he doesn't seem to be bleeding, so he should be okay. Unless he's bleeding internally. Or unless someone digging shifts something the wrong way. Or unless this was an attack of some sort and the area isn't safe enough for relief teams at all.

He's thought about dying, of course. He's probably thought about dying more than the average twenty-something, given the number of 'Someone-Might-Try-To-Kill-You' lectures he grew up with and the raging dumpster fire that was the years after his dad's death. But he hasn’t thought about it all that much recently. With Alex and their friends, with things as perfect as they are, death seems miles away. It’s not something Henry’s wished for since they got together, and not something he’s given much thought to recently.

He thinks about it now, and he's surprised to find himself a little scared. He pushes it down, and quotes float to the front of his mind, snatches of other people’s words, glimpses into their views of death so he won’t have to imagine his own.

“... the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying...”

“... dulce et decorum est pro patria mori”

“... look for me under your boot-soles...”

Henry tries to cling to those, tries to piece together enough bits of their thoughts and words into an idea of his own. But faced with the possibility, with the idea of actually leaving behind Alex and the others, of abandoning the future they could have together, he can't seem to think of anything else.

When another thought surfaces, though, it courses through him with a pain worse than anything he's felt yet. It's a reminder that Alex fell, too. He had to have. If Alex fell, or if any of their friends did, that means his own death isn't the one Henry needs to worry about. If he loses Alex, if he loses Pez or Bea or any member of their group, he's going to fall apart. New words replace the old, words of grief indescribable, the life he could find beyond this mess.

"...while I had him the rest seemed good enough/ But he ain’t here...”

“... he is lost among the stars...”

“... I cannot now accustom myself to your absence...”

And that's when the tears start to gather in his eyes, when the sobs begin to tear out of him, shooting pain through his throat and ribs that only amplifies them. He's scared. Looking at how badly everything could go wrong is terrifying, and even imagining how much he could have already lost is the worst thing he's ever felt. If he's lost them, or if he's about to make them feel the pain he's terrified of, he's not sure things would ever be alright again.

His tears have slowed, and he's starting to get dizzy when a shower of pebbles hits his forehead. He realized he's probably bleeding from somewhere around the time his eyelids started to droop closed, but he forces them to open. There's nothing to see but the blackness he's been surrounded by since he fell, but something's happening. The pebbles have to have meant something. When he was a kid, getting briefed on what to do in case of a fire, they taught him to tap the floor so that rescuers could find him. He's not sure what it will do in this case, but he has to try. His hand feels like lead as he lifts it, but he manages to tap three times. Three little taps, just like he’d do on Alex’s knee or the back of his hand somewhere public. Three little taps, like the ones he’s gotten used to getting in return, when Alex needs his attention or when he’s given an interviewer an answer that Alex particularly appreciates.

Three little taps: ‘I love you’.

He tries to force himself to do it again, but his hand is too heavy. It’s getting hard to think now, and the sliver of light that's opened above him feels like the other end of the universe. Still, he fights to keep his eyes on it. Because somewhere, somewhere in that light, is Alex. He knows it.

When they pull Henry free of the rubble, coughing, he’s the same color as the sheets on the gurney. His throat is rubbed so raw from the gritty air that breathing hurts, meaning his voice is shot, but he manages to rasp, “Alex? The... the others... is Alex okay?”

The paramedic smiles slightly, but moves aside without answering. Henry’s fighting to keep his eyes open, to look for Alex as best he can. He has to find him. Then there’s a hand grabbing at Henry’s, and he can hear Alex’s voice, wrapping around him like a blanket as his eyes drift closed. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with the condition of his throat and his lungs, but he taps Alex’s hand three times. The gurney starts to roll as he hears Alex sniffle, but the hand never leaves his. With all of the chaos around them, the plethora of languages and the shouting of the paramedics, the only thing Henry can focus on is Alex’s hand in his. He knows he’s probably lost consciousness at least once, but for every moment he’s even marginally awake, Alex is holding his hand. And more times than he can count, Alex is giving it three little taps. When he manages to give them back, he's rewarded with a kiss to the back of his hand, and he could swear he hears Alex sniffle a bit more.

He wakes up properly in a bed with clean sheets, Alex’s hand still holding his despite the fact that Alex is deeply asleep in the chair next to him. It hurts to breathe, hurts to think, hurts to move, but he turns as far as he can toward Alex anyway, trying to see if he’s hurt.

He’s dirty, covered in the same layer of grime Henry is. But he’s not obviously bandaged, and he’s not in a hospital bed. He seems to be okay. Across the room, June, Pez, and Nora are piled nearly on top of each other on a couch, some sort of arrangement that only they could ever make comfortable. Bea is in an armchair next to them, sleeping as well. Henry smiles and taps Alex's hand three times, and Alex squeezes back. Henry lets his eyes close again. Alex is okay, their friends are okay, and that means that everything else will be okay, too.

On AO3

Notes:

The 2022 olympics are in Beijing! And I've been there, so I can write about it a bit more easily, which is fun given how important the olympics are to these boys! And from what I remember, there are just... so many god damn stairs to get up to the top of the Great Wall, y'all. Then once you're up, there's just... more stairs. It's all stairs (until you take the slide down, which is awesome).-

This is a bit odd, but if anyone’s good at reading cover letters, please let me know! I’m applying for some things I really want, and I’m scared. On a similar note, if you want to, you can buy me a Ko-fi here! Thanks y’all!

Sources for quotes (all of which are gay):-Todd, Dead Poet's Society-"Dulce et Decorum Est", Wilfred Owen-"Song of Myself", Walt Whitman-"The Lost Pardner", Badger Clark-"Last Meeting", Seigfried Sassoon-A letter from Lafayette to Washington, 1799

#rwrb fic #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #bea fox mountchristen windsor #june claremont diaz #nora holleran #pez okonjo #FirstPrince #hurt/comfort #mostly hurt not gonna lie #angst with a happy ending #i don't kill my gays i swear

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domesticsns · 5 years

Note

first, thx for answering all my asks abt tobirama and sasuke + cheating or whatevs, but its truly amazing how your mind works for all those scenerios i seriously admire it. and it makes sense, both sasuke and naruto are dumbasses who deadass can’t put 2+2 bc they think they’re doing the right thing and that’s what i love. but now that you brought up naruto’s insecureness, i’d like to see how he handles that in an internal way without telling sasuke because he feels like he shouldn’t nag at him

Thank you, I don’t think i 100% got what you were trying to say between line 3 and 4 but I know you mean it as a compliment so I’ll take it.

I actually like answering asks, it helps me think deeper about this AU. So you can always come ask away. even off anon because y’know I don’t bite...outside of the bedroom.

Naruto strong arms is that he is very social and quite open. He might feel a little awkward talking about this particular feelings because it is not fair towards Sasuke or Tobirama. If he would talk to Sasuke about how he feels around Tobirama. It is not for Sasuke to come with a solution of transfering to another precinct or dropping the case to another detective and ignore Tobirama. Even though he knows Sasuke would do all of that in a heartbeat if Naruto would tell him how he feels. But it wouldn’t be a good thing. So Naruto not talking to Sasuke is for his own benefits because he doesn’t need a solution for feeling this way he needs to feel ‘acknowledged’ which is not at all Sasuke’s strong suit.

So he would probably talk to his close friends about it. That would include Lee, Kiba, Shikamaru and Chouji. Lee and Kiba stood by Naruto his entire relationship long whereas Shikamaru and Chouji knows them since middle school. In this particular scenario Lee is the kind of guy u need to have. He is such a morality booster. If Naruto would talk about how he feels and says that his feelings are unfair and but he feels them nonetheless. Like he wish he was dangerously strong, analytical and more mature but he is not. It is not in his nature he will forever be a dork who always tries to see the good in people and be emotional and maybe...Kinda dumb.

Lee tells him he is a wonderful human being and an amazing husband. and he gives examples of times Naruto was an absolute sweetheart and made some pretty good reasoning that there is a reason Sasuke is with Naruto for as long as they have and it is because they complete each other and it forms a balance. If Naruto was more like Kakashi or Tobirama for that matter it would have never lasted for over a decade.

Naruto admits Lee is making some pretty good points. He talk about his other issue of feeling kinda goofy and weak when it comes to Sasuke or Tobirama. Sasuke is always the one protecting Naruto. Naruto get is an argument with some racist/sexist asshole. Sasuke protects him. Some people are calling them homophobic names for holding hand in public. Sasuke beats them up. Somebody even dares to raise a finger on Naruto. Sasuke is there.

He says recalls the time they were dating for a year and how they got in this argument with this asshole at the bar and he threatened to punch Naruto in the face and Naruto said if he did that his boyfriend was going to break his arm and then Kiba reminded them that Sasuke was working that night and not with them and Naruto turned back to the guy and said, “Oh shit” and got a bruise on his cheek and that very same night when they were in their apartment icing their bruises and Sasuke dropped by saying he heard them talk in the hallway so he figured they were still up and he saw Lee,Kiba and Naruto covered in bruises and he asks, “Who?” and Kiba give an accurate description of this huge bodybuilder bold guy and Sasuke says, “where?” and lee said the bar they were in and got kicked out off. Sasuke nods and says, “be right back”

and in an hour they heard a knock on the door and they found the guy on his knee, one arm heavily bend in a way an arm should not be bend. Weeping as his face was swollen up and he could barely see from one eye while blood was still coming from his broken nose. This guy was well over 2 meters tall and over 300 pounds of mere muscle was on his knees on the doorstep, crying, while Sasuke this little over 175 cm slim guy barley weighing 130 pounds is standing behind him, arms folded, looking pissed aff.

“Say it!” He hissed and this man sobs every harder, clearly frightened and said. “I AM SORRY! I AM SO SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME I SHOULD HAVE NEVER EVEN RAISED MY VOICE AT YOU!”

Naruto looks wide eyes and Lee and Kiba both share a look with one another.

“And!” Sasuke hissed.

“Women should not just stay in the kitchen and immigrants should stay in this country and not be deported. Also I was wrong to call you ugly you are so very cute and...”

“We’ve been over this.” Sasuke narrowed his eyes and this guy is trying to remember his text, “Hot?”

“I SAID SEXY!” Sasuke hissed and this man just grabs Naruto’s legs and hold on to it begging him to call his boyfriend off.

Naruto still looks shocked and he is like, “yeah....Yeah...I think he got the point. I accept your apology”

“Now scram.” Sasuke demands and this guy looks so relieved he can finally run away and Sasuke turns to Naruto and holds his face in his hand, kissing his bruised cheek.

Lee laughs at this and says that that was the moment Kiba stopped rough housing with Naruto because he was too afraid of Sasuke.

Naruto smiled at the memory before stating he never was able to protect Sasuke like that and Lee looked at him a bit baffled and said, “But I didn’t think a guy like him needs protection in that sense?”

Naruto looks kinda confused at this and said, “Obviously he can handle himself, but it might have been nice knowing I was some use-”

“but you are Naruto. You’re his emotional support, you have always been that to him, have you not?” and Lee recalls the time they were going out one night and the evening had barely started when Naruto got a phone call from Sasuke and it was a two minute conversation where Naruto stated he was going to go and when asked what was wrong. Naruto said,”Sasuke never calls.”

“But did he say something was wrong?” Kiba asked a bit pissed his friend was leaving so early. and Naruto said, “It is Sasuke. If he calls to ask me where I am and proceeds to respond with okay nevermind...It means something is wrong.”

and he apologised to his friends before going to Sasuke. Who had woken up from a pretty bad nightmare and was still shaking when Naruto arrived. He had hugged him and talked to him and placed soft kisses all over Sasuke until he managed to fall asleep again in peace and even thought it was barley twelve o’clock. Naruto stayed with him till 7 in the morning where his boyfriend had to get up for work.

It was fair to say, talking to Lee made Naruto feel a lot better and realise, yeah he might not be physically strong. He would never gain those skills, but he is always there for Sasuke on an emotional level.

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lyrazehedgieboiii · 4 years

Note

Maybe prompt number 25 it sounds very sincere to the heart

Rated M b/c of cussing, and mentions of sexual activity.

Prompt 25- “Do you realize how much I love you?”

Modern Sonamy oneshot. This is for you, Anon! Whomever you may be~

Amy was walking home after a long day (of getting kidnapped) and started breaking down. After a few minutes of sobbing, she heard an innocent voice call out to her.

“Ms. Amy? Why are you crying?” Amy looked up to see ten year old Cream, with her chao, Cheese. She changed her outfit to something a little more conservative. She wore an orange sweater dress in the winter, along with black leggings like Amy did. Amy had a similar sweater dress, except it was a turtle-neck, and it was a little tighter around the waist. Amy wiped away her tears and smiled.

“I’m fine, Cream.” Her voice cracked. Now Cream definitely knew something was wrong. Amy’s sweet, melodious never cracked.

“Stop lying, Ms. Amy. I’m going to call Ms. Rouge, Ms. Blaze, and Ms. Lyra. They’ll know what happened.” She called the following girls on her phone. She had it in case of emergencies. Clearly this is one.

“Hi, Cream. What do you mean? WHAT?! I’m on my way, Rouge is with me, I’ll get Blaze. Just get her home.”

“Hi Ms. Lyra. Amy’s crying for some reason. I don’t know, she just dropped on the floor and started crying. Okay, see you later.” Cream ended the call, and helped Amy up, while giving her a hug.

“It’s about Sonic, isn’t it. That no good, cowardly, piece of-” Rouge’s mouth was covered by Blaze because of Cream’s presence.

“Cow pie. A stinking poop is what he is!” Cream exclaimed in anger. The girls all agreed at Cream’s comment. Amy sniffled.

“W-why?! Why c-can’t he l-love m...me?! Is it the way I look?! I can change! I-I’d even dye my hair!” The girls all looked to each other. They all shook their heads.

“Amy...I-We, don’t think Sonic’s worth it. He keeps breaking your heart, no matter how much you do for him. He’s not even considerate. You deserve so much more better than that.” Blaze told Amy, as she cried in Blaze’s arms.

“B-but, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to fall for anyone else! And Sonic wouldn’t allow me to date other people.” Rouge looked puzzled. Lyra asked the question that Rouge was thinking.

“What do you mean, Sonic won’t let you date other people?” Lyra brought her chair closer. She was sitting in the corner, writing about at least fifty different ways she could kill Sonic for breaking Amy’s heart.

“Well, I can’t really explain it. Rouge, you know how you set me up on a blind date? Well, I was sitting with him, and suddenly Sonic came out of nowhere, and pulled me out of the cafe. He told me to stay away from other guys. Of course I was upset, so I told him to stop acting all overprotective, I can do whatever the hell I want, and he doesn’t listen, he just drops me off back here, and basically patrolled my house for the next few hours while I cried myself to sleep.” Amy said, her tears not scared of falling out.

“That little shit!” Rouge yelled. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

“Oh! It must be my mom.” Cream ran to the door, and there stood her mother. She said ‘bye’ to everyone and left.

“Okay, since I couldn’t say this in front of Cream, but, wanna go to the bar? It could get your mind of things!” Rouge literally started begging.

“Fine. I guess that would help. Let’s go.” Amy was about to get up, but Rouge stopped her.

“You’re not going anywhere in that. I brought some outfits, and we’re gonna wear them.” And with that, Rouge took out four skimpy outfits. Lyra had a poker face.

“Ain’t no way in hell am I wearing that shit.” Rouge rolled her eyes. She took out a denim jacket, and handed it to her. They all put on their outfits in Amy’s room.

Amy was wearing a red silk strapless dress that hugged at her waist, she wore some bright red lipstick, but used a napkin to bring down the tone.

Blaze was wearing a purple spaghetti strapped deep sweetheart cut at her chest, and was wearing some lipgloss to make her lips sparkle.

Rouge was wearing a black strapless dress which ended about mid-thigh. The dress clenched at her waist. She wore deep red lipstick, and didn’t bother with the tone.

Lyra wore a white circle skirt dress, the skirt ending to her knees. She had a denim jacket on. She put on some lip balm, not really bothering putting on make-up. She sneaked her headphones and laptop, knowing that she’d need it later. The girls all took their purses and left in Rouge’s car.

- At The Bar

There was hip-hop music playing, lots of people everywhere, strangers getting all over each other, and some private booths for...you know...

“Here we are~! Let’s go get something to drink!” Rouge drags the girls to the bar counter. She orders four cocktails (lol I’m too immature to drink and go to clubs) for the girls and they sit down in a couch that surrounds a circle table. After a while, Rouge sees a familiar red figure at the entrance. She stands up and waves, making the other three girls with her confused.

“Rouge! What’re you doing here, babe?” Knuckles asked the bat as he, and his three friends, one being a specific hedgehog. Lyra signaled Rouge to huddle up as a group.

“He’s here. With them.” Blaze said, her eyes wide open, gesturing to Amy and wanting her to be happy.

“I want her to be happy and forget all about that asshole. The only way to do that is to keep him away from her! She’s suffering through heartbreak.” Lyra bluntly stated. The boys, being the idiots they are, decided to try and eavesdrop on their conversation. They heard something about her heartbreak. Everyone looked at Shadow, seeing he was the womanizer.

“I haven’t been playing with any girls, honest.” Shadow said emotionlessly. The boys turned to Sonic. He looked confused.

“What did I do?” Was all he asked. Knuckles face-palmed, Silver was making an ‘Are you fucking kidding me?!’ look, and Shadow just rolled his eyes, looking like he doesn’t give a fuck, but cares for his self-proclaimed little sister’s wellbeing. “No, seriously, I don’t understand, what did I do?” He dared to ask.

“You’re off breaking hearts, like normal.” Silver muttered. Sonic got even more puzzled. Silver sighed. “You hurt little Amy’s heart, Sonic. The little cinnamon roll doesn’t deserve this. We all know you like her, you ain’t fooling anyone.” Silver was right, but Sonic’s ego didn’t want to admit that.

“He’s right, Sonic. Ya’ know, she’s been having suicidal thoughts lately.” Lyra lied. Lyra was right tho-WAIT, WHAT WAS SHE DOING IN THIS CONVERSATION?!

“Pegs, this is a boy conversation, stay out of it.” Shadow told Lyra. She muttered some profanities at him, and he only smirked.

“PEGS? What the hell are you doing to my sister?! Why the hell have you given her a name that doesn’t even suit her and doesn’t even relate to her?!”

“Relax, Faker. Let your sister date whoever she wants. She won’t let me flirt with her. Focus on your own girl.”

- WITH THE GIRLS~~~~~~~

“Why don’t we hook you up with someone, hmm? I hear Shadow’s fre-”

“Fuck no.” Lyra and Amy said simultaneously.

“No offense, Rouge, but I don’t think I’m interested in dating or having a fling with anyone. My heart’s stuck with someone who could possibly be attracted to boys-” Amy’s comment was interrupted by a loud snort by Lyra.

“What do you mean, could possibly be attracted to boys? I hope you’re not mistaking Silver as Sonic.” As Rouge said that, Blaze scowled at her friend. Rouge thought for a moment, not acknowledging the fact that Blaze was burning imaginary holes through her head. Rouge gasped and ran over to Knuckles and whispered something into his ear. He did a small nod to his girlfriend.

“Oh, Shadow! Silver! There’s this new spirytus bottle that I’ve been dying to try out.” And with that, he dragged Shadow and Silver out of the scene.

“Oh, I think we should do the same! Right Lyra, and Blaze? Amy, you stay here, I know you get a little tipsy you get after a strong drink. You even flirt with boys when you’re in that state.” That one comment made Sonic snap his head towards Amy. Amy mentally facepalmed. Sonic’s not happy. AT. ALL. Rouge dragged the two away from the oblivious hedgehogs.

“So...you’re sixteen, and you’re drinking. And it’s obviously not your first time. Am I right.” Amy stayed silent. She just wanted to melt into the ground, not wanting to listen to the useless shit that the guy who ruined her life was spitting out.

“Why do you always try to find other guys?” This really made Amy snap. She stood up, giving Sonic a chance to scan her figure very quickly without her realizing. No wonder he’s called the fastest thing alive, am I right? Amy gave herself a few minutes to regain her posture because she was a bit drunk.

“Now listen here, y-you ass-napkin! I hate being treated like I’m not allowed to date other people, when I am. So, stop it. You have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do. Just don’t talk to me Sonic the Hedgehog. Stay away from me, and don’t talk to me.” She straightened out her posture, and before walking away, she said something that made Sonic truly feel like an ass-napkin. “Do you realize how much I love you?” A hand grabbed Amy’s waist, and pulled her to their chest. She tried squirming out, but the person wouldn’t budge. She took in the scent of the person, and stopped. It was Sonic.

He leaned down, and captured her lips in his own, even though she wasn’t kissing back. He kissed harder, and Amy had no choice but to give in. She decided to take advantage of the moment, and to take as much as she possibly could. In the background, Lyra and Rouge were fangirling, Blaze was recording a video, and the boys were silently cheering Sonic on.

“The reason I keep you away from dating other boys is because I want to. Seeing you with other boys internally hurts me, that’s why I’m so protective of you. But, I’m too shy to confess my feelings to you. I just want to keep you safe.” Amy smirked.

“You’re not shy, Mr. the Hedgehog. You’re just afraid it’ll cause a huge damage to that oversized ego of yours. Go choke on a peanut or something.” Lyra yelled “HEY!” at Amy because that was usually her line. “But, I no matter what I do, I just can’t get my mind off you. Frick that rhymes.” Amy looks over to the fourth wall, where the author is sitting. (”Sorry for that unintentional rhyme, I don’t want to change it.”)

“Sorry Ames. I just love you too much to let you go. I want you to be mine, but...I just want to run, too.” Sonic put his head down. Amy rolled her eyes.

“Enough with the cheesiness, Sonic. It’s soooo not you. First of all, it wasn’t so hard to confess, was it? Second of all, I won’t tie you down. All I want is for you to be happy, and I know that running makes you happy. So whenever you’re with me, and you feel like running, don’t hold it in. Just go.” Amy said calmly. Sonic grew excited and kissed her again. His confident signature smirk was back, and he looked down at his new girlfriend.

“So, there’s no way I’m letting you get away with wearing that outfit, missy.” Sonic said smugly. He picked Amy up bridal style and ran to her house.

#sonamy

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thegingertrekkie · 5 years

Text

Lost in a dream world

Bnha fantasy AU (reader insert)

Part 1: prologue

"...So that's pretty much it! Do you have any questions (y/n)?"

Manual's voice brought you back to reality. This was the first day of your work study and you should be excited, but all you could think about was all the exciting missions your classmates were probably going on. Your quirk wasn't flashy and you never got the chance to show off during the sports festival so your work study options were limited. You were lucky that Manual took you on, but the crime rate in Hosu City was still low after the Hero Killer incident. There wasn't much hero work to do.

You forced a smile "I think you covered everything! Thank you!"

Manual rub the back of his neck and good smile wavered. He could tell you weren't excited to be working with him. "Hey I know it's not super exciting, but at least this will give you realistic expecta-"

Manual's phone ringing cut him off and he answered it quickly, stepping off to the side to talk. You couldn't hear what he was saying but you could see the concern on the normal hero's face. Excitement bubbled up in your chest and pushed down the guilt that came with it, you shouldn't be excited about bad things happening.

"(Y/n), let's go. Stay close."

Manual's whole demeanor had changed, he was tense and on edge. He was sprinting through crowds of people and you did your best to follow closely, your mind racing. You ended up in a residential area, Manual abruptly stopped and put an arm out to keep you behind him. Your gut twisted at the scene in front of you. Several police cars and police tape surrounded a house that had been cut in half. Collapsed debris was scattered everywhere and small portals kept opening and closing at random around the house, dropping furniture, pieces of house, and... Body parts. A severed arm suddenly dropped in front of you and Manual. You looked at it horrified.

"A child's quirk just manifested and they can control it" a police officer explained, waving Manual over closer to the house. "Anyone who's tried to get close has been transported back by a portal... Not always in one piece." Another portal popped open right in front of you and dropped more debris from the destroyed house. You let out a shaky breath and clenched your hands into fists.

Manual put his hand on your shoulder "come on (Y/n). Stay close. We can do this."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. This was your first mission. A weak smile crept on your face and adrenalin started pumping through your veins. 'It'll be easy' you thought to yourself 'get in, find the kid, calm them down, get out... Simple.' You followed the normal hero into the crumbling house.

It didn't take long for you and Manual to get separated. A portal opened up below the hero and he fell through, you heard a thud and groan come from outside the house. "(Y/n)! I'm coming! Be careful!" You heard him call. You know you should probably wait for Manual, but you pushed on. The deeper you got in the house the weirder things started to get. For one the house just kept going on and on, the modern japanese style house had been spliced together with other houses. Wooden floors abruptly changed into tile floor, and then into dirt floor. You jump away from portals that appeared randomly and for brief moments you could see what was on the other side. Mostly you saw other parts of the house or the outside, but there were other things too, different houses and far away places. One portal opened up and showed you UA's campus. That would be a huge problem in the future, but you pushed those thoughts aside.

"Hey!" You called "anyone here? It's ok! I'm here to help you!"

A portal opened up right in front of you and you yelped as you fell through. You appeared in a room full of small portals opening and closing rapidly. In the middle of it was a small child, no older than 5, huddled in a ball and sobbing loudly. You bit your lip and took a cautious step forwards, holding your hand out to them.

"Hey, hey, hey... It's ok" You did your best smile reassuringly. "I'm a hero, I'm going to save you."

The child looked up at you with puffy eyes. "A hero?"

"Yeah a hero." You took another step towards the child "I know you're scared, but it's ok. Come with me, we can figure this out"

Your foot touched something heavy and soft on the floor. You glanced down for a split second and screamed internally at the dismembered body of a young woman. It took almost all your will power to keep a smile on your face. One wrong move and you would also be a pile of body parts in the ground. The child was almost within your reach, you held both hands out toward them. Another step forwards and the child reached out to you, small hands trembling as you bent down to pick them up. The portals stopped appearing and the child wrapped their arms tightly around you. Letting out a sigh of relief you thought 'it's almost over'

"(Y/n)!"

Manual's voice made you jump and you turned to see the hero rush into the room with two officers in tow. The child flinched and before you can react the room is full of portals again. Everyone is panicking, objects start flying around the room and there's blood everywhere. The child in your arms is shaking again and you rub their back gently trying to soothe them as you try to avoid the debris flying around you.

And then you're falling. It's like time slows down. There's a large portal below you and you're sinking into it. Your eyes make contact with Manual's. Without thinking you throw the child in your arms toward him. He lunges forward catching the child in one arm, reaching the other out towards you in vain. You maintain eye contact as the portal closes, your hand reaching for him even though you know Manual is too far away.

"(Y/n)!!!"

Then the normal hero is gone and you're staring up at a clear blue sky. Your feet hit the ground hard and awkwardly, pain shooting up your legs as you fall down onto your backside.

"Owwww..."

"A-are you ok?" A familiar voice asks behind you.

You quickly turn around to see friendly green eyes, messy green hair, and a nervous smile. Your whole body relaxes and you run your fingers through your hair.

"Oh thank God it's you, Midoriya! I've had the worst day! There was this kid and I got serperated from Manual and... What are you wearing?" You stop your rambling when you notice the strange outfit your classmate is wearing. Midoriya was wearing a white button up shirt with a green vest, white gloves and around his waist was "is that a sword??"

Midoriya had a confused expression on his face he put both his hands up and he was slowly backing away. "H-how do you know my name...?"

You could feel his anxiety, you took a step closer and he yelped, putting a shaky hand on his sword.

"Midoriya, it's me (Y/n)." His hand clenched his sword and you put your hands up defensively "don't you recognize me? We've known each other for two years now... We go to school together!"

Midoriya scowled and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand "you're not making any sense... Did-did you hit your head when you fell from the sky?"

'Fell from the sky?' You hadn't taken the time to look at your surroundings. A gasp escaped your lip at you looked up at huge trees around you. You were in the middle of a forest "Where are we?" You breathed, your eyes were wide looking up at the blue sky above you.

"What do you mean... We're on Yuuei island."

#fanfic #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero au #boku no hero x reader #reader insert #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #Manual #my hero academia #fan fiction #fantasy #fantasy au

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hillywooddestiel · 5 years

Text

The Retreat Chapter 15

Characters: Bucky x reader, Wanda, Pietro

Warnings: angst, lil bit of fluff

Word count: 2.2k

Description: Y/N Y/L/N: determined business woman, sought after by most businesses, creative visionary for advertising. She has it all. Or so she thinks. Life has a way of kicking you sideways when you least expect it, want it or are in anyway prepared for it. Numerous times. How can Y/N remain from cracking under the pressure when her career isn’t the only thing on the line and everything isn’t all that it seems?

A/N: Hello again! Sorry I missed Thursday but I need to get back into the habit of posting. I am trying to work on my other series and one shots but it’s taking time. But anyway, this series is all written so I can post it freely, enjoy xx Marvel Masterlist Series Masterlist

Story:

“Thanks.” I mumble as Wanda opens her apartment to let me in. I have nothing with me, no bags to drop on the floor, so I just stand awkwardly in her little hallway in my bare feet. Her apartment is much smaller than mine but it’s not cramped: there are technicolour scatter cushions on every couch and I imagine on her bed too, fairy lights are wrapped around the curtain rails, there’s bright pieces of art on the bare brick walls and a soft looking burgundy rug covers most of the laminate flooring in the living area. I’ve been before, but only briefly to drop off papers and call in on sick days. It’s cute, I like it.

“So… do you want to talk about it. You seemed really spooked back there.” Wanda asks while heading into the kitchen to make tea. Opening up with Connie helped me before. What am I doing exactly, keeping it bottled up? Okay, it’s time I told somebody about this.

“Wanda, I need to tell you something.”

She listens to me very carefully. She stays quiet, except for gasping at some points and clasping her hand to her mouth at others, until the end of my story.

“How long? How long has this been happening?”

“Since last Thursday. And if… if all of this has happened so quickly then… what are they going to do next?” My voice cracks and I break down sobbing into Wanda’s shoulder, probably getting mascara all over her sweater.

“Hey, we’re not gonna let things get that bad. Have you called the police?” she lifts me away from her and holds out a tissue. I take it and blow my running nose.

“No! This person keeps following me wherever I go, they’ll know if I call the police and who knows what they’ll do!”

“Y/N, you have to tell the police. Whoever this is could be dangerous…” she has a point. But, if I call the police, Bucky will get brought into it and everyone will find out about us and the story will look bad for the company and I would get fired and the threats might get worse if I call the police and I would probably have to move to get away from it all but I won’t be able to afford it with no job and- “Y/N, calm down… you need to keep calm.” Wanda takes a hold of both my hands, breathing deeply to help me slow down my own.

“I can’t call the police, Wanda.”

“Okay, that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything about it yet…” she hands me another tissue and I take a shaky sip of tea, “… Can I ask though, what this is all about? Why would someone be threatening you?” Of course she would ask, she’s not stupid. She was never not going to ask questions. I have to tell her. She can keep a secret.

“When I told you that I was seeing someone, that wasn’t a lie. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth. Jimmy is actually… Mr Barnes.” I trail off so quiet I doubt she can even hear me.

“WHAT?!” She screeches. When I look back up she has a huge grin on her face.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing’s funny. It’s just… you and Barnes… that’s just so… so…”

“So?”

“So… Perfect!” She does a little clap.

“What?” I stop crying in pure shock- this is not the reaction I was expecting. I thought she’d be furious, telling me it’s reckless and stupid of me to be dating my boss. It is reckless and stupid. But here we are.

“You two! Two hard working business people finding love in the office, especially you two. You make a really cute couple.”

“All right, when you’re quite finished planning the wedding.” I stop her with heat rising from my cheeks. Cute? Me and Bucky?

“Have you told him about this? I would think with all of his money he can make this go away.”

“I am not getting him to pay them off. And no, I haven’t told him.” I admit rather sheepishly. We’re hardly even a couple so should I even tell him? Hey, I know we’ve not been on a proper date yet but could you just save me from a stalker please? Nope!

“Y/N/N you have to tell him. He’s involved in this!”

“Who’s involved in what?” The front door clicks open and Pietro comes strutting inside in full running gear. He’s absolutely ripped, who knew?

“This is nothing to do with you Pietro, move along.”

“Aw c’mon, tell me!”

“You know it’s getting late, we should be getting to bed.” Wanda stands up and goes to her bedroom, returning with blankets and a pillow.

“Wanda!” He looks to me with a pleading look. I shrug giving him an unknowing look back. I think one person knowing my secret is enough.

The aroma of freshly brewing coffee fills my head and I feel more awake already.

“Morning sleepyhead.”

“Mornin’”

“Sleep well?” Wanda brings me a steaming mug as I sit up. I doubt I got that much sleep what with everything going on. And not that her pyjamas and sofa aren’t comfortable but I would have preferred my own- maybe I’m a sleep snob. Right now however, I don’t think would feel safe in my own apartment let alone my own bed.

“Thank you. It should be me making you coffee.”

“It’s nothing, honestly. You can get lunch.”

“Deal.” I laugh, humming into the cup of dark liquid. We sip in silence for a moment, Pietro’s snores carrying through from his room.

“So, are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know.” For once, I truly do not know what I’m going to do.

With each step I take into the office building, I feel the nerves grow in my chest and my head feel fuzzy. It’s like I’m facing all my biggest fears at once and my body is doing everything it can do to turn me back around. I’m really tempted to. No! I’m the one in control here. If I turn back, they win. At least Wanda’s clothes are comfortable. They don’t fit to me as much as my own ( sue me, I like a tailored jacket) but they look more presentable than what I was wearing before and I do like the smell of her fabric softener. She’s walking in step with me, ready to grab my hand if I try to run away or if I need the support. What would I do without her? The wait for the elevator is daunting but at least no one else gets in with us so we can talk in privacy.

“Do you need to stay at mine again tonight? Because you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“I can’t ask you to give up your couch again Wanda.”

“Don’t be silly! If you’re not safe at your place then you need a place to stay and if you’re with me, I know you’re safe.”

“I need to figure this all out… I can’t keep living like this.” I sigh, the backs of my eyes stinging with tears. Oh god, don’t cry! We continue to go up and up, not stopping at any floors until 17 where lo and behold, Bucky is stood behind the opening doors. Perfect! Just perfect…

“Y/N…” He almost whispers, his eyes as wide as saucers. I have to motion to Wanda with my eyes and tilt my head rather obviously before he slips back into his serious business persona.

“Mr Barnes…” I nod: Wanda may know about us now but that doesn’t mean we can just drop our guard around her. Plus, he doesn’t know that she knows about us and I think that’s for the best for now.

“I was actually going to call you and ask to meet in my office.” I see Wanda failing to suppress a smile at this with her hand. Insert my internal eye roll here.

“Can I ask what it’s about?”

“It’s better we discuss it in private.” Seriously Wanda, you’re terrible at secret keeping.

“I’m not busy right now.” I offer calmly as he pushes the button for floor 25, the elevator doors sliding closed in front of us.

“Great.” Yeah… great…

I exit the elevator silently with Barnes, Wanda no doubt bursting into laughter the moment the doors closed. He strides off towards his office so I follow him in, my fear returning. I have to tell him. When he suddenly turns around, I bump into his chest and find myself encapsulated by his arms- well this is new. I’m not complaining though.

“I’m sorry for last night. It was a bit of a dick move.”

“What else could we have done? Steve would have found us out.” I reassure Bucky. I would do it all again if it would keep us a secret for a little while longer.

“Yeah, but would that have really been so bad?” He lowers himself to make eye contact without me having to crane my neck. Yes, that would be a bad thing! If people start to find out about us, they will be very judgemental and people will whisper around the office- it will be a living nightmare!

“I don’t want people to know yet Bucky!”

“Why not?”

“People can and will be horrible. I don’t want to be the topic of everyone’s lunchtime gossip.” I explain, looking down at my feet. Bucky tips my head up with two fingers and leaves a gentle kiss on my lips.

“Hey, I would never let people talk about my girl like that.” Bucky smiles. My girl. Hmm. I like that. The two little words send a feeling of calm spreading through my body, pushing away any and all thoughts of being afraid. How strange, “Oh, I almost forgot!” Bucky goes behind his desk to look for something.

“My purse!”

“I thought you might need it.”

“Thank you!” I pounce on my phone immediately. Messages- 0. Missed calls- 0. Emails- 13 but that’s to be expected. After everything that happened yesterday, I thought for sure that there would be something. I’m not relaxed, not by a long shot, but no messages does seem like a good sign that maybe this person really is done with me now. They’ve had their fun and now it’s time to move on. But then there’s my door. Is it wishful thinking to believe that I’m safe now? And do I tell Bucky? I need to do something about this before my hair starts falling out from the stress.

“So what do you say?” Wait what?

“Sorry, I was in my own bubble… What did you say?”

“I was asking you if you would like to be my date to the benefit on Saturday.” Umm… A date? In front of people?

“Oh… umm…” Why does my brain always decide to short circuit in these situations?

“We don’t have to tell people about us if you don’t want but I would like to take you with me. There’s no pressure.”

“Yes.”

“Really? That’s fantastic!” He jumps forwards and hugs me tightly. It’s like my answer came out automatically. I just can’t say no to him.

“How fancy should I dress?” I’m going to need to go shopping.

“It’s a very classy event so very. I’ll book you in at that boutique on 6th and you can pick something out.”

“Okay… Do we want to go all out and get you a matching tie?” I laugh- then people will know we’re a couple!

“Only if you want to doll.” What did I do to deserve him?

After much convincing, Wanda lets me go home to my own apartment at the end of the day. I take the stairs to prolong the wait until I see that awful red paint again and to give myself some time to prepare for it mentally. Just breathe, you can do this. I have surface cleaner and sponges inside the apartment and a toilet if I need to throw up. Oh god, there it is. Still there but oddly, not as terrifying. Right, let’s do this!

I scrub and scrub and scrub away at the door with hot soapy water, a sponge and some grease remover from the kitchen cupboard (it was all I had okay?) dressed in jogging pants and an old t-shirt. The paint is stubborn but eventually begins to run down the door in bubbly streams of red, pooling on the floor in a suspicious looking puddle that I will need to mop up. I feel refreshed doing this- like a weight has been lifted ever so slightly. Connie’s words come back into my head as I clean away the ‘U’. This person has done nothing physical to attack me, they just want me scared. It’s a mental attack. They won’t touch me. If I just ignore all of this and carry on past it, none of it will mean anything and they will be achieving nothing: I shouldn’t be letting words scare me. If this person wants a fight, they’re going to get one. And I’m going to win.

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #ceo!bucky #ceo!bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #ceo!marvel #ceo!au #marvel au #marvel #mcu #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #angst #series #fluff #the retreat

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aggrievedgt · 6 years

Text

garrett watts x borrower oc | part one

hi so me and @pocketsizedlove were plotting out this idea and i started a fic??? so let’s go?? they might have their own fic going as well and it might be different than mine so be sure to check them out too just in case they also start one bc im sure it’ll be better than mine JSJFNEFF BUT ANYWAY i love garrett watts so much and there’s NO WAY this man isn’t a g/t fan bc he collects tiny kitchen supplies like....... boi...... but anyway on with PART 1

Why Oliver chose to live in a pigsty was beyond him.

Technically, he didn’t know it would become a pigsty when he first moved in, but he did choose to stay. The bean he moved in with had started off okay, a little quirky but overall an average human. Over time, though, he began collecting things, and then more things, until the house was like an episode of Hoarders. Oliver had seen that show in passing on the TV when the human left it on, and he couldn’t help but compare it to his current home.

The mess allowed for a few pros, however. Clutter meant that he could hide easier, could utilize his environment to climb and traverse the house better, and that things going missing were less noticeable. Or, so he thought.

Oliver had been making his daily rounds, scavenging in the kitchen for food. There was none, as per usual. The human— Garrett Watts, he’d read off of a piece of mail one day— rarely grocery shopped and always finished the food he ate, leaving absolutely nothing for Oliver to borrow. He was lucky to find the discarded crumbs from a bag of chips on the floor that night, but they were stale.

“This’ll have to do,” he grumbled, shoving the chips into his bag. He kept a piece to eat while he idly made his way back toward the living room. He wasn’t worried, Garrett wouldn’t be back until—

The doorknob rattled. Oliver swore under his breath, his first instinct to dive behind the trash can. His breathing ragged, he pressed his back to the wall. Why is he home so early?!, he thought to himself. Garrett pushed open the front door, and Oliver could hear him humming to himself.

He wasn’t supposed to be home for another hour, it had said so on the text on his phone that Oliver had read that morning. He would always sneak into his room while he was sleeping, since he slept far longer than Oliver, and check his phone for texts from friends detailing plans, or calendar reminders for events. This morning, he’d gotten a text from someone named Shane, saying that their plans would go until 7 p.m.. It was only 6.

Oliver hated unpredictable beans.

He sighed, leaning his head back into the wall, resigning himself to waiting until Garrett was out of the living room. Then, he’d make his way to the cabinet under the sink, where his entrance to his own kitchen was. With a start, he realized that he’d left the cabinet wide open.

Oh, he was so screwed.

Garrett knew there was a borrower in his house. He was sure of it.

He may have a lot of stuff, but he kept track of all of it. He knew where every knickknack was, every collectable. He knew that he had two tiny pots and one of them was missing. He knew that he had a full container of safety pins, and over time the supply had slowly depleted, though he had not used a single one. He knew for a fact that he did not leave the kitchen cabinet open before he left. But, there it was. Wide open.

“Oh, I knew it!” he exclaimed, hands on his cheeks in excitement. “Dude, if you’re in here, you can totally come out! I won’t hurt you, I swear, I think you’re super cool and I wanna be friends!”

Garrett, of course, got no response, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He lowered himself slowly onto his hands and knees to search under the furniture in the living room, all the while muttering general reassurances to coax out the borrower. This time for sure, he’d find them.

Oliver’s heart skipped a beat. Garrett knew he was here. He thought he’d been careful, but obviously he’d underestimated the human. He needed to get into the walls, and fast. He couldn’t, though, not with Garrett actively searching for him about 5 feet away. He’d surely notice Oliver running like hell to the blatantly open cabinet. He’d not only catch him, but also find one of the entrances to his home.

This was a fucking nightmare.

With Garrett making his way to the kitchen to continue his search, Oliver internally debated whether it would be worse to be found or to reveal himself. The fact that he wasn’t even considering trying to escape demonstrated how unbelievably hopeless he was. He could see Garrett now, walking past the trash can, and involuntarily began to whimper. God, Garrett was fucking huge.

Even for a human, Oliver knew that Garrett was much taller than average, and had a much stockier build. He was a true giant. Oliver’s eyes stung with tears, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. Garrett steadily approached his hiding spot, causing him to tremble and shake. This was it. It was over.

Garrett caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and swore that he heard… oh, no, is that crying? The YouTuber made his way toward the movement, and gasped as he glimpsed what was behind his trash can. He pushed the can away, kneeling very slowly.

On his floor, curled up against the wall, was a tiny person. Curly, medium length black hair was pretty much the only thing he could see, as the borrower was compacted into a ball, and shaking. He was right, the noise he heard was the quiet whimpering and sniffing of the crying borrower. Garrett looked at them in concern and sympathy.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, I promise I’m nice… my name’s Garrett, what’s yours?” he inquired softly.

The borrower didn’t respond.

“...Okay, I know this is probably scary, but I swear, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I'm not planning on hurting you or keeping you like a pet or anything like that. I may be huge, but I’m not a monster.”

Still nothing.

Garrett sighed, and adjusted his position so he was on his stomach, arms crossed, head resting on top. He was nearly eye level with the borrower now, or would be if the tiny person lifted their head. He would be patient though; he would let the borrower cry it out, and then hopefully they would be more eager to talk.

Oliver wasn’t planning on talking anytime soon. He was going to sit here and cry, and then he was gonna pretend to keep crying even when he was done. He would wait, with his head down, until Garrett gave up, or fell asleep, or something. He would not interact with him. There was no way he’d give in.

He found himself fake crying for far longer than believable. It had to have been at least two hours, and Garrett hadn’t moved. He’d even ordered food, something called ‘Chipotle.’ Oliver decided after a while that crying wasn’t going to work, and instead let his sniffles and sobs die out into soft, even breathing. Surely the bean wouldn’t take advantage of a sleeping borrower, right?

PART TWO COMING SOON!

#g/t #g/t community #youtube g/t #Giant/tiny #ooF

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colitisandme · 5 years

Text

It’s no coincidence that ‘stressed’ is ‘desserts’ spelt backwards. That’s what I typically dived towards when I was stressed or sad. Desserts equaled gluttonous happiness. Whenever I was anxious, I ripped into packets, tubs and cake shaped items with joy and frenzy. Desserts and stress were my bed fellows. They were brilliant friends, hogging all the blankets under the duvet of my life, leaving me cold, plump, hyperactive, covered in sugar and shivering, with no cover on me, cursing the fact I didn’t wear fluffy socks to bed. my mind would whirl away like a washing machine. And so, cold and shivering with my hair on end, looking like a deranged Womble, I would end up seeking something sweet to eat. Instantly after the first mouthful, my hair would become less wild, my thoughts would be less chaotic and I would sink into a pile of sugary blissfulness. So when I had to give up sugar, I was, well stressed irronically.

Stress and worry have followed me around my whole life, from when I was in Primary school right up until present day. It has become such a huge part of my existence, I didn’t feel right unless I was worrying about something or constantly going over things in my brain. Not just tangible thoughts. Nope. My worries consisted about serious things that are going on in the world, my finances, my families happiness, the house, husband wellbeing, friends, have I upset anyone? Am I being a good wife? To other thoughts and worries like; Have I locked the door? Have I turned off the tap? To really helpful thoughts and worries like; ‘I am pretty sure I heard a crunch under my foot when I put out the rubbish? ... Why didn’t I turn the light on? Oh my god was that a snail? What if his family are waiting for him to come home. What if, because he never appears, the mum snail becomes an alcoholic, becomes hooked on nettle wine, and the children forgo their education to look after her. Eventually they leave because she’s just too much to handle, and so, alone and drunk, she sings songs about her lost love, while hiccuping and wailing in a nettle wine stupor ... And it will be all my fault.’ So round and round my thoughts and worries went, until I felt like a hamster on a wheel, running and running and going nowhere. I didn’t vocalise these worries. They were all internal. I just couldn’t switch off.

I beat myself up for anything that goes wrong. Nobody need punish me, I do a great job of that myself. Once when I was very young, I decided that the cat simply had too many whiskers that she didn’t need. Even at aged 5, I reasoned I was doing her a favour and she was probably absolutely fed up with having an even number of whiskers on each side. I was sure that if she could speak she would beg me to reduce her grooming time, as she was taking simply ages to preen her whiskers, tell me stories about when she would get laughed at by all the other cats for having rediculous symmetrically numbered and placed whiskers, and longed to remove herself from mediocrity and boredom. Well I certainly didn’t want her to be a laughing stock. Happy to oblige.... *snip* (I probably should have stopped when the cat tried to scrabble away from me, eyes wide with fright as I confidently strode over to her, gleefully, with arms outstretched looking like Edward Scissor Hands, but never the less I was convinced I was doing her a favour.)

I came downstairs clutching a traumatised, angry cat in one hand, and a pair of scissors and newly trimmed whiskers in another. I proudly showed off the new look to my parents. They were not as open to the new aerodynamic moggy as I had hoped, and freaked. I immediately lost it. I sobbed. I apologised over and over to the cat, I tried glueing her whiskers back on, I stroked her, cuddled her, I was convinced I had ruined her life. I was inconsolable. I spent many days after that setting up a makeshift counselling clinic for my cat, where I would stroke her and make sure she knew what a beautiful cat she was and I told her I was sorry that was going to be lob-sided, and struggle getting in to tiny gaps, and try and make up for what I did by taking extra special care of her. My parents didn’t chastise me, because nothing they could do could make me feel any worse than I did. Even at age 5, I worried a lot.

So you can imagine that as adulthood embraced me, just how easily worrying had become a part of me. As natural as breathing. Stressing about everything became normal. Overthinking was critical to my daily life. I lived each day on high alert, in case I needed to jump into action and fix whatever needed fixing, just like I tried to do with the cats whiskers. I am at my best in a crisis, and god knows I have had many to deal with in my life. I love being Superwoman. I love saving the day. But being in this hyper-alert state was not fun and certainly not healthy.

I became ill after a BIG burnout. I had been playing Superwoman for too long. I had been living on the edge for months, I was always stressed, I wasn’t sleeping, I was in pain, I was withdrawing, I was experiencing horrendous brain fog which was really sodding useful as I had just started an incredibly stressful job, where I would drill myself to be perfect and chastise myself for processing information incorrectly. On top of this I was dealing with a managerie of outside issues. Very quickly and surprisingly, (to me as everyone closest to me would describe me as the strongest person they knew,) my health and mental health imploded like a double whammy firework. I did not know it was coming, but oh my god when it did, I was floored. I had never been so ill. I was scared. I knew that I could not continue doing what I was doing. I needed to change my behaviours. I needed to spring clean my brain. I couldn’t turn to sweet treats anymore to relieve that anxiety because cake or sugar would make my bum explode. I needed to find another less ‘caboom, fire in the hole type way’ to manage my anxieties and stress.

IBD forces me to think purely in the present because I have to spend a huge amount of energy simply functioning. I have to stay in the moment. If I worry or think further past a day/ week it becomes impossible, as I am never sure what one day will look like from the other. Stress hugely exacerbates my IBD symptoms. I learnt this very quickly. The more I worried about why the hell my body was being so unco-operative, the worse my body felt and the more angry it got. And with IBD there is a lot to stress over. Finances, health, stigma of having an invisible illness, work, isolation, diet, questions over future plans etc. It’s a big thing to deal with. It’s enormous. So I worried and got worse and worried and got worse. And so eventually, feeling like I had been kicked by a horse, totally hungry, weak, prone to explode, sugar deprived and looking like a bum with eyes, with my wonderful Mum’s encouragement and support, I came across meditation and mindfulness.

Meditation and mindfulness have helped me manage my stress. After phone calls chasing mental health appointments, referrals and cursing the incompetence of Drs, mental health professionals and admin teams, I turn to mindfulness and meditation as a way of calming my mind. It has taught me to accept things, the way they are during the moment because that may change in the next moment, And be in the moment with it. For example, the pain I get with IBD can feel like your belly is being sawn in half. It feels like a group of can can dancers, jig about on my groin, back and stomach wearing high heels, and using exquisite timing and excellent rhythm, stomp on my intestines, causing me to chew my fist in distress. If I use mindfulness and meditation during painful episodes like this (sometimes whilst crossing my eyes, grinding my teeth and chewing the carpet) it helps me not to fight the pain, but to breathe through it and accept it in the present. When I am anxious, Meditation takes my mind away to another focus in a gentle way, and if my mind wonders off like a hyperactive butterfly, it gently brings it back again. It’s not easy. Sometimes it definitely does not work, but sometimes it does. I have learnt to focus on my breathing, I have trained my brain to change each thought. From a time where the thoughts on a day to day basis felt like they were running around my brain on fire, screaming fire engine noises, wearing a bucket on their head, careering into other thoughts who fanned the flames with a manual citing ‘50 ways to put out a fire’ and can’t work the hose, to a calmer place. One where my thoughts can pick flowers, float in a babbling brook, frolic with fluffy animals and where the fire extinguisher is readily available. Because IBD has forced me to strip everything back in my life, there is no room for extreme stress. No room for high anxiety, because it just hurts me. Physically and mentally. Where as before, I would keep my worries to myself because I didn’t like bothering people with them, now I talk about them, accept the things I cannot change, appreciate things in the moment and change the things I can change. So strangely in that way, IBD has probably saved my life. It’s very strange how things work. I am the most ill I have ever been and should be the most stressed I have ever been, but I can’t be, because that would make me even more ill. Don’t get me wrong it’s still a battle. But I try. I try to appreciate every moment. I appreciate every mouthful of food, and take ages eating it, where as before I would thoughtlessly shovel it in.

I start each day with a mantra and meditation, and even though sometimes Its not effective, I can honestly say that practicing Mindfullness and meditation, are the best stress relievers and stress deterrence I have ever had. They are also the best dessert substitute I have ever had, because meditation doesn’t make my jeans bulge, make me act like an over excited toddler at a birthday party or attract an enthusiastic colony of ants who desire to lick my sugary face. So if like me you are a natural worrier, I urge you to not get so stressed out, you end up gnawing on yourself like an Octopus and try it. Doing a little a day may just take the edge off and sometimes just doing that will help deal with things a little more positively. And when we are living with a long term chronic disease like IBD, being positive, even in the face of a huge challenge like this, is everything.

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chantalkrcmar · 3 years

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India Receding…Further and Further

29 April 2021

As western news outlets catch on more and more to the enormous COVID tragedy unfolding in India, more and more people here in the US are asking how our friends and family there are doing.

And what do I say?

The truth is almost unbearably hard.

My mother-in-law, Sudha Dave (Mummy to Rahul and me; Dadi to Anamika), died unexpectedly a couple days ago. Another COVID casualty. Because of COVID’s burden on India’s already patchy and weak healthcare system, Mummy did not get the medical care she needed. So, though she will not be counted in the official COVID statistics, COVID was a contributing factor. (A note about the Indian government’s official COVID stats: Do not trust them. Currently, they put the COVID fatalities at 200,000 — not even counting those who died victims of the failing healthcare system. Experts claim the fatalities directly from COVID are actually already one million.)

The advice most everyone in India is getting right now from medical professionals and the government is: do not go to the hospital unless you are at death’s door. The unspoken message is also: And even if you are at death’s door, do not come expecting to get the care you need. Maybe you’ll be lucky, and maybe you won’t. Well, our family doctor gave my in-laws that advice when Mummy started having breathing trouble and low oxygen levels. My mother-in-law and father-in-law knew she was not well, but they thought she must be stable. Her doctor probably knew, but my in-laws did not know she was actually on death’s door. So once they brought her to the hospital, she went into cardiac arrest and that was it.

So what do I say to well-intentioned folks who ask me about India now? To us, it’s not an abstract headline in the New York Times or a clip on NPR. It’s flesh and blood and lots and lots of tears.

Honestly, it’s been horribly hard to hear, “How are your friends and family in India?” when I can’t respond with a simple, “They’re safe and healthy. Thanks for asking.”

The real answer is more like “Absolutely horrible. My mother-in-law just died, ripping a huge hole in the fabric of our family. One that will take a good long time to mend. And one that right now is just goddamn painful. And almost everyone else we know is getting COVID, to boot. Thanks for asking.”

I’m not sure that’s what well-intentioned acquaintances want to hear.��

My mother-in-law is gone, and with her, our experience of India is irrevocably and irreversibly changed forever. As I sit in the fog of grief, one of the many thoughts that keeps recurring is how much Mummy made India what it is to me. The first time I ever came to India, she met Rahul and me at the Mumbai International Airport with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers in hand. As she passed them to me, she said, “Welcome home.” Within minutes of getting to the apartment, we were sitting with hot cups of Ambubhai’s world famous chai in our hands. And so it began…At the time, I did not know how much India would become my second home. I came to find over time that Mummy was right. I was coming home.

Our family home in Mumbai will be so…quiet…next time we’re there. My mother-in-law was a presence to be reckoned with. She brought a lot of laughter and love and zaniness and, yes, sometimes exasperation, into our home. She and Anamika would paint together, and watch Paw Patrol in Hindi, and have epic battles of the will over how much aanda or dhal or bhindi or chapati Anamika would eat. Ultimately, though, my mother-in-law adored Anamika so much that…well, who do you think won their battles of the will? We all managed to live together through the world’s harshest lockdown without even fighting that much. Even while going through it, I knew how remarkable that was. Sure, there were annoyances, and sure there were some arguments, but we five adults and one four year old managed pretty well.

My mother-in-law was imperious, curious, quite adventurous — especially for a woman who was raised in a time in India when girls and women were expected to be nothing but docile and demur. Many, sadly, are still expected to be that way. She loved Anamika’s feistiness and self-assurance, probably partly because she saw parts of herself, and her aspirations for herself, in her little granddaughter.

Mummy’s death is having wide ripple effects. Anamika and I are grief stricken; Rahul is, of course, even more so. Ambu Uncle is a mess, too. On WhatsApp video calls, he looks so drained. Riaz Uncle, my in-laws’ driver who hasn’t really driven them anywhere all year but is still being paid (if only other Indians would be as fair and humane as my father-in-law) looked stricken when we spoke to him on WhatsApp too. My father-in-law called Riaz Uncle to come drive them to the hospital so Mummy could get a CT Scan and then drive them home. Nobody knew that it would be a one-way trip.

Tutuji and Hemanta are also so affected. When we called to tell them Mummy had died, Tutuji and Rahul both broke down and sobbed together. Tutu and Hemanta have stayed in our home in Mumbai with all of us many times over the years. Hemanta calls my in-laws Dada and Dadi, just like Anamika does. Over the past couple days, Hemanta has been calling us regularly. Our 11 year old foster son is acting so mature. He inquires, “Has Haathi Papa [Rahul] eaten lately? Is he sleeping enough?” Hemanta also called us in the middle of the night yesterday to report that he had called Ambu Uncle to check in on him and Dada. He is concerned about them too. “Dada has eaten cherries,” he solemnly told us. Hemanta’s care for them is so touching. Anamika has also been so attentive to Rahul. She’s been hugging him and holding his hand and stroking his head when he cries. She keeps saying, “Dadi was my Dadi.” And then she reluctantly follows with, “And she was yours, too, Papa.”

Now we all must mourn and celebrate Mummy together over WhatsApp. Rahul’s cousin Alka, mercifully, lives in Mumbai and is fully vaccinated. So she’s been helping my father-in-law navigate the bureaucratic hoops, and the emotional fallout, that follow death. Alka helped Rahul “attend” Mummy’s cremation through WhatsApp video. Because the COVID situation in India is such a nightmare, we cannot go there now. Many international flights to and from India are canceled anyway, and soon all will be. Rahul and I have not gotten our second dose of the vaccine yet either. My poor father-in-law can’t even have visitors right now. So he and Ambu field phone calls from friends and relatives, and then sit in their quiet home. A home that is stuffed with my mother-in-law’s being — her colorful sarees spilling out of one whole closet, her tiny bottles of shampoo, perfume, lotion everywhere. She had a funny habit of collecting small hotel toiletries from everywhere they traveled.

Anamika and Mummy painted together a lot during lockdown, but after we left India, my mother-in-law took her artwork to a new level. Using Anamika’s bedroom as her studio, she was constantly trying new techniques. She was waiting for our return so she could resume doing art with her favorite creative companion, Anamika. The fact that that day never did come is such a loss for her and for Anamika. Theirs was a bond that brought me such joy. My only surviving grandmother when I was a child was downright mean. So to see how much love my mother-in-law showered on Anamika was heartwarming. So that’s what a grandmother/granddaughter relationship is supposed to look like!

I never thought when we left India in September that we’d never see Mummy again. We knew that my in-laws were in a high risk category for COVID, but we also knew they were willing to be shut-ins until the pandemic was past and that Ambu Uncle would take excellent care of them. I think we overlooked the fact that the Indian healthcare system would totally collapse, leaving them at risk if anything else went wrong.

This post is obviously about my mother-in-law, but the grief over her death is being compounded by our stress and worries about others in India, too. I am not sure I can even appropriately convey how dire the situation in India is now. As I was writing this post, I got a message from Thresiamma, a friend who runs an NGO in Kerala, the south of India. She is 74 and she has COVID. She has taken a turn for the worse and was hospitalized. I hope she makes it out. But I am not too terribly hopeful. And Rahul’s good friend Ahmet who lives in Mumbai has told him that about 10% of his co-workers have died of COVID. His colleagues were not elderly — nor were they poor and unable to afford medical care. It’s just not available much of the time — no matter who you pay off. The Indian crony system has met its match during this pandemic.

Here’s a little taste of just how bad it is in India...

https://thewire.in/government/india-covid-19-government-crime-against-humanity

Right before the pandemic hit India, we took a little family vacation to one of our favorite travel destinations: Kodaikanal, a small town in the Western Ghat mountains in Tamil Nadu. Thank the gods we got there one last time. Who knew what was just around the corner?!

I snapped this photo of Anamika hamming it up with her Dadi and Dada in front of one of our favorite spots in Kodai: The Pastry Corner, a little hole-in-the-wall bakery with the most amazing South Indian filter coffee, delectable homemade ice cream and gooey pastries. The Pastry Corner is tiny; it’s grimy; the ice cream server’s nine fingers were always dirty. But we all loved it and made a daily pilgrimage down the road to share outdoor benches jam-packed with locals and sticky from all the treats customers had been dropping all day. Best. Place. Ever. (And, no, those coffee cups were not all ours. Just most of them were.)

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an-almost-dropped-croissant · 7 years

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What’s the story on what your principal does? Cause I’d like to know a little more about the story behind it, but. Regardless of what it is, I am 100% HERE for getting him fired for harassing people, however it is that he’s doing that. Because it’s not okay. Hats off to you for wanting to start a student revolution. You got my respect 🙌👏❤️

Thank you for asking, I figured nobody would care about this. This is gonna be a long post. I’m think about making this thread an event-to-event kind of record of what’s happening. So let’s jump into this mother goose nursery tale.

For the past two years, my school has had a new principal. His name will be changed for privacy reasons to Mr. Jones. One thing you need to know about Mr. Jones is that he’s 6'7", a gym teacher, and very aware of his size. This man is huge and intimidating.

My first interaction with the man involved him forcefully brushing snow off of the back of my jacket in eighth grade. I had no clue who this man was, and he scared me. The next time I saw him he was reading my class an excerpt from his book of memoirs. He seemed chill enough, but he still had me on edge. Maybe it’s just my distrust of men, especially large men. So I don’t think twice about it.

Third interaction and he’s in my class again. To ‘break the ice’ he starts telling us a story in a comedic manner. Except it’s not funny, it’s cruel. At his old school, a child had pulled on a girl’s ponytail, so he was supposed to deal with him. In that particular school, they had a hallway for the locker rooms. He cornered the kid in that hallway and screamed at him so loudly that you could hear him on the other side of the school. According to him, the kid shit himself. Sounds fake, but whatever. The problem is that he laughed about it. He though him intimidating and bullying a child who had made a dumb mistake was ok somehow. That scared me.

As the months passed, we never spoke. I’m a good kid so I never had to go to the office for any conflicts. Occassionally he would comment snidely about my lipstick or the length of my shirts (which were well within dress code with high waisted jeans). I’d overhear him talking about how girls my age shouldn’t wear such dark colours and should stick to Chapstick. As time passed I realized I wasn’t the only one he said this stuff to. Keep in mind, I’m in ninth grade. In Canada middle school is 7,8, and 9. I’m fourteen, fifteen next month.

Things were worse than lipstick. He would comment on their shirts, leggings, ripped jeans, heels, sometimes in private and sometimes in front of their friends. One thing he never commented on were the dresses our sports teams were required to wear for comps. He’d find any excuse to shame you for what you wear, even if you were covered, just because he didn’t like it. He’d nitpick anything he could get when it came to slutshaming children. He did this to the twelve-year-olds, too.Then there was the touching. My town has a reputation for pedophilic teachers; a band teacher from our high school was just fired weeks ago for sexual assault allegations over the course of many years. This however was harder to prove, which feels like exactly why he did it.

With the boys, you’d get a hand on the shoulder, arm, etc. With the girls, you’d be led by your waist. Fun fact: in my province we have a strict no touching policy for teachers. Even if a six-year-old is bawling you can’t hug them. Now this jackass, instead of asking you to move, would put his hands on you and physically move you. There’s also a story about a girl that he shoulder bumped for standing on the benches. He invades personal space daily and picks favourites to tease. One of my friends was targeted not too long ago. He would wait at her locker every morning for her to take off her coat so he could comment on how inappropriately she was dressing. She reported it, but nothing actually happened.

So now that you understand the context, let’s begin.

I was in gym today and we were playing badminton. I had forgotten my sneakers because it’s winter so I was wearing timberlands. Let me just say, they were clean. Not a fleck of dirt. The snow had washed them off and they were dry. I was stood next to my classmates waiting for my turn in the singles tournament we had been playing. I see Mr. Jones coming towards us and he’s making this intimidating eye contact with me as he approached. He asked for my name and pulled me aside.

He had sat me down inbetween him and another teacher, even when I tried to sit where I wasn’t surrounded. He asked me how long I’ve gone to this school, my homeroom and internally I’m panicking. I have anxiety, and after recent events I’ve been in a bad place. I was already on edge, but this just really did it. This is where it gets fun. He said, “you seem like a smart girl, so I don’t understand why you think it’s acceptable for you to be wearing those work boots.” That was the note that he hit on over and over in this conversation. I don’t understand why you think this is ok. And because of how indirect he is, I asked if this was a serious conversation and he said it was very serious. I was defensive so I kept saying stuff like 'i forgot my sneakers’ and 'its safer to wear these than to go in socks for badminton’. He kept pushing me. I kept pushing back in a respectful way.

He said, “I expected you to be like 'oh shit’ and say you’d never do it again but here we are.” Me being the little shit that I am responded with, “ I’d never swear at you”. Shots. Fired. He said it was nice to meet me and sent me back to my group. I was on the verge of a panic attack and I was going to start hyperventilating if I didn’t leave so I grabbed my nearest friend and booked it. We went to the locker room so I could calm down and I explained the conversation. How he talked down to me, insinuated that I was stupid for my choice in footwear, intimidated me. She was pressed as hell and so was I.

When all the other girls came back we talked about it and I heard stories about the screwed up things he’s said and done to my peers. I was furious, but still was on the verge of a panic attack. So I, along with another girl who had found the confidence to report him, and our friend went to my homeroom to explain the situation. She referred us to the guidance counselor. We all sat together and discussed the issue and she agreed that this was unacceptable. Halfway through the meeting she gets a phone call. Guess who it’s from.

That’s right. Mr. Jones.

With thirty seconds warning, he waltzed in and sat opposite me at the round table. My friends were scared but were trying to be strong for my sake. I knew that this was my battle to fight and I needed to be reasonable so he’d have nothing to fight back on. I explain my side of the situation to him and he keeps repeating how he doesn’t understand how I think this is ok. He said how I’m making excuses and not acting my age. This is when I get angry.

I start asking why he called me out specifically. Why not the others with dirtyass sneakers. Why he dealt with it the way he did. You know that thing liars do where they tell a story to make the lie seem true? He did that. He said that outside shoes don’t belong in gym. Went on and on about how he has to sweep the floors before his teams practice so they don’t hurt themselves on the rocks. I stated that everyone else didn’t own indoor sneakers, they had dirty shoes too. He said that he deals with them to in his class. I say I’m not in his class, and my actual teacher didn’t say anything. Apparently in his eyes that’s a big problem. He makes excuse after excuse and I’m past the point of being done. The more I call him out the more he tries to blame it all on me. He tried to get my guidance counselor to join him in yelling at me and was annoyed when she wouldn’t pick a side.

He kept going and my band had snapped. Within ten seconds I was hyperventilating and sobbing. According to one of my friends, he smiled at the counselor in a condescending way. The counselor claimed it was to lighten the mood but it felt more cruel. He said he didn’t mean to make me have a panic attack or intimidate me. Never once did he apologize. He sat there staring at me until I asking him very directly to leave.

I had my attack brought in after five minutes of tissues, breathing, and water. We discussed the conversation. When the bell rang, I dragged my weak ass to my locker, praying he wouldn’t confront me on my own. Luckily my friends surrounded me. As I explained what happened to those who weren’t there, he came over and leaned against the wall a few doors down from mine. I gave him a look then left. This could have been handled with a simple question of 'where are your sneakers.’

I’m done. I’m done with the fact that there’s this unspoken thing of him touching and saying inappropriate things to children. I'm done with him picking fights to feel big. The adults are too scared to fight back for us, either that or they just don’t want to. We live in a world where students are fighting to change gun laws in Florida. Malala was not much older than I am when she was shot. Children can change this world when adults don’t see the need for change. They think it doesn’t affect them because they can just ignore it. They’re wrong. If you yell at me I will scream back. You will not silence my voice.

The current plan is to get a wide assortment of girls and male witnesses to make statements saying that he is guilty and should not be around children. Nobody likes how he treats us girls, we’re just too afraid to speak out about it because we’ve been taught that authority is to be respected and situations like these have to be tolerated. Nothing has to be tolerated.

I’ll keep you guys updated.

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england-kirkland-bottoms · 7 years

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Wicked Serendipity - FrUkUs/ UsUk

Word count: 10k+ Smoke wafted through the night sky as Arthur took another whiff from the pipe between his lips, exhaling the smoke out as he stared absent-mindedly from the balcony of his dingy apartment. The occasional shouting could be heard from the streets below as a few kids from the neighbourhood cycled back to their home. His phone buzzed in his back pocket and Arthur fished it out only to turn it off immediately without checking the caller ID. He could guess by now who it was that had phoned him. Turning his back to the night sky, Arthur stepped inside the lonely house that once used to have such a lively feel to it. Such a difference to the gloom and silence it held nowadays. It was rather ironic really for Arthur as he had bought this place for his solitude but in its early days, only chaos followed him and his adoptive younger brother. Arthur washed away the pipe and began cleaning it before keeping it back in its case. His eyes flitted to the words etched under the lid, where it can only be read when the case was opened, but before his eyes could register the letters he slammed it shut. His mind though remembers with almost perfect clarity what was written. ‘My hero, my brother’ Shaking his head, Arthur kept it back in its place. His lips tilting up slightly around the corners, yet they were pursed and his eyes reflected the forlorn that has been echoing in his heart for a year since that night. He took a few steps back; his head that hung low was slowly raised to stare at the wall mirror in front of him. Ah, when did he start crying? There were tears trailing down his cheeks, dripping down his jaw and spattering lightly against the spotless ceramic floor. Arthur caressed his cheek with the tip of his fingers, his lips parted in a small gape. His hand fell back down to his side; he turned his head away from his reflection and gritted his teeth. Why was he still hung up on that person, why could he not forget and move on? Perhaps, perhaps it was because he could not forgive. Arthur was very well aware of this fact that may be the reason he clung to the past while the other had left him. There was this huge gap between them and no bridge in sight to let him cross the deep chasm. So he stared into the deep, pitch black abyss and saw no end or perhaps an end – an end that involves death if you look for it for the only way down is by falling. “AGH! To hell with him!” He shouted before punching the table in front of him, his knuckles throbbed. His breathing quickened as he gasped for air; his chest moving up and down rather erratically. He missed him, he missed his little brother. Somewhere in the United States of America; Alfred F. Jones was thinking of an Englishman. I did not mean to hurt you, I did not mean to let go of your hand, I did not mean to put a frown between your heavy eyebrows that I secretly adore. I regret wiping away the smiles that I took for granted away from your face. It was never my intention to disappoint you. I merely wanted to…I wanted to show you that…. His thoughts trailed off from there and he picked up his phone that laid next to him on the bed. He shifted his body to lay on his sides; using his left hand to dial the familiar number only for the call to be rejected for the nth time. Already expecting it, he dropped again on his back, laying in a spread eagle position on the king sized bed. His phone in hand, he gripped it hard. It was a gift, from Arthur and he had it with him for years. It was obviously a very old model but he cherished it dearly. It has been years, he barely remembered how Arthur’s smiling face looked like, yet the image of Arthur on his knees, in front of him, with tears pouring down like river from those peridot green eyes, was burned into his mind. He never wanted to see those expressions on Arthur ever again. “I want to see you again, Arthur.” He whispered to himself. In the drawer of the bedside table, was a plane ticket to London. Alfred held up his phone high in front of his face, he wanted to tell Arthur he was coming but the man was not picking up. The past year was the longest year of his life but he had to, he had to stay away from Arthur. He wanted Arthur back in his life but not as an older brother, never as an older brother. It would be very painful to stay by his side and watch him take a lover that is not himself. Arthur was his and his alone since the moment the Englishman picked him up from the street and graced him with a kind smile. He wondered if he should message the man. “Maybe I should surprise him.” Alfred decided, his eyes crinkled while his mouth formed a happy grin. He would get to see his Arthur tomorrow and he could not wait. But I digress. Alfred stepped out of the airport, holding a luggage bag in his left hand. His right hand held out as he watched the grey, pouring sky. “Heh, I forgot it always rain here.” His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on his luggage, determined. “Just like that time we met.” He muttered in reminiscence. Seeing a taxi driving past he quickly chased after it clumsily, his hand waving in a frantic motion. Thankfully it stopped and Alfred climbed in quickly, his coat supporting several wet spots from when he chased after the taxi in the rain. “Where to?” Asked the driver dutifully. “Here please.” Alfred did not bother to cite the address and merely handed him a slip of paper with Arthur’s address written on it. The taxi moved again, heading to where the address stated. Alfred looked out the window, a small smile remained on his lips for the rest of the journey. Arriving at Arthur’s apartment, he paid the taxi driver and stepped out. Holding hope close to his heart as he began his ascend through the stairs to the topmost floor. Thank God, there were five floors at most. Walking along the hallway, he stopped in front of Arthur’s apartment door, smiling at the familiar faded gold coloured figure of six. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. There was no peephole so Arthur had to open his door to look at who had knocked on his door. He merely had to wait a few seconds after knocking before the knob was twisted and turned; the door pushed out and Alfred stepped out of the way. The first thing out of his mouth? “You look like shit, old man.” Smooth Alfred, smooth. He hit himself and screamed at his stupidity internally. Arthur scowled and tried to slam the door shut but he might have caused a bruise on Alfred’s foot instead, though it was the younger one’s fault for blocking the door with his own foot. “Go away, Alfred.” Arthur hissed. He missed the other, and because of that he would not open the door. He would not lis– “Listen to me, Arthur. Please.” The blue eyed blonde pleaded with his puppy eyes and Arthur’s resolve melted as quickly as ice next to a lava river. Alfred knows Arthur and he knows when his pseudo older brother’s resolve was unsolved. He had been living with him under the same roof for 15 years; since he was five years old. So, with a small smile Alfred opened the door enough for him to slip in and dropped his small luggage down on the floor. Warmth, and the scent of damp forest mixed with all kinds of tea. Ah, he missed his once upon a time guardian. His guardian that he fell in love with. “I miss you, Arthur.” He confessed as he hugged the shorter one of them, enveloping the other in his own warmth and scent. “Git.” Arthur let out softly, though Alfred could clearly hear him trying to hold back his tears. “What are you doing here, you–” “I love you. Arthur, I love you.” Alfred confessed, saying it before he lost his nerves. “I meant what I said last year. I don’t want to be your brother anymore. I can be independent, I have a respectable job and I have my own place now. So will you–” This time, Arthur cut him off from continuing his speech; by punching him hard. “YOU TWAT. YOU SLIMY GIT!” He yelled, tears filling in his eyes, threatening to spill. “Did you even think? How I felt when you suddenly declared your bloody independence on your bloody birthday? With your things all packed? Blimey, I thought...I thought” Arthur suddenly fell on to his knees, his hands cupping his face as tears finally spilt. “That you hated me.” Looking at the sight in front of him, of Arthur down on his knees in tears, reminded Alfred of that day. He realized how much his action hurt Arthur only when the man was down on his knees. Looking at the same sight again, more than a year later, hurts no less than the first time. It hurts him to realize that he was hurting the only person he had fallen for in his 21 years living. “Arthur.” Alfred started, crouching down and gently grasping Arthur’s hand and uncovering the older one’s face. “I may be a mere five years old when you found me sleeping on the streets and took me in but I already loved you when you took me to your home and took care of me. You were alone and only seventeen but you took me in to live with you. I saw how hard you worked for us both even when you tried to hide it from me, I promised myself that I will be independent and successful enough to take care of you. So that you don’t have to work yourself to the bones anymore.” His body moved to once again embrace his dearest and was met with no protest, which Alfred was certainly glad for. “I love you, I came back to tell you that. If...if you don’t want me, I..that’s....I’ll accept that and go back to America.” Arthur felt his heart stopped for a moment at the declaration and shook his head vehemently. “N-no! Don’t, please, stay here, with me.” Arthur was already in tears, he did not want America to go away again. He missed his little brother so much, certainly he loves Alfred, but he was not in love with the younger American. “I love you too.” He whispered in between his sobbing. Lying. No, it was not a lie. He does love Alfred, just not the way his adopted younger brother wants. It aches him to see Alfred breaking into a wide grin yet at the same time it was also a pleasure, to see the happy smile that belonged on the younger boy’s face. “I’m in love with you and you are too, right, Artie? That is what you mean, yeah?” That nickname, he hates it but he’ll ignore it for this once. “Yes.” Alfred moved in with Arthur for two years before finally managing to persuade his lover to live in America. It would be easier, his business was in America and it was rather tiring to constantly fly back and forth from England to America, the separation was also something the young blonde hated but he had to endure it since Arthur was adamant on staying in England. It took a lot of persuasions and after two years it bore fruit. “Hurry up, old man. Or we’ll miss the plane.” Alfred shouted as he rushed through the airport, alright, perhaps it was his fault that they were late but hey, Arthur was too tempting to not eat. Arthur was panting as he dragged his luggage, chasing after Alfred. “Git.” He shouted back as he sped up. They barely made it in time to board the plane. “One business class and one first class, yes?” The person guarding the gate took their tickets and nodded to them, letting both blondes know that they may pass. “What the hell? Are we not sitting next to each other, Al?” Arthur frowned a bit. Alfred pouted and nodded unenthusiastically. “Since we bought the tickets really really really late, they only had two seats left which was lucky enough.” He, though, sent a teasing smile at Arthur. “You can have the first class. I know you never got on the first class seats before.” In response, Arthur elbowed Alfred with no mercy. Alfred only laughed as he avoided the attack. Enjoying the hint of red on the tip of the Brit’s ears. It was an adorable sight. “I love you.” He slipped. Arthur paused, before giving a small smile. “I know.” He gave a peck to his younger lover on the lips before hurrying to where the first class tickets were seated. His eyes wandered as he searched for his row, hoping that he would get the window seat though that the chance seemed unlikely as the plane was almost full. His seat partner would probably be there and claimed the window seat already. When he finally found the label that mirrors the label on his ticket, Arthur found that his earlier assumption was right. Oh well, he better put his small luggage on the compartment above them first before any further dwelling. Opening the compartment with little struggle, he found that he was unable to completely push his luggage inside and it threatened to fall on top of his head. He would definitely get a concussion if that were to happen. “Need help?” A man spoke, with heavily accented English, which was really hot if Arthur might add. He looked towards the voice and saw the man that was to be his seating partner looking at him with bluish eyes. Arthur nodded silently, not trusting his voice to speak. The man quickly got off his seat and settled Arthur’s problem swiftly. Arthur noticed that the man was almost as tall as Alfred. “Done.” The man offered a smile at Arthur, looking at the Briton up and down. “Tres bien.” He whistled lowly. “T-thanks.” Arthur nodded in gratitude for the help, feeling his cheeks getting warmer at the smile. It was a charming smile, he has to admit. Though he wonders what was it that the other had said in that foreign language – it sounded French. The taller of them was silent for a while before suddenly saying. “Would you like to take the window seat?” Arthur blinked in confusion but nodded anyway and the taller one stepped aside to make way for the other. “Um, thank you?” He said almost hesitantly when they were both seated. The man smirked, it should be illegal. “No problem, I have something better to view other than the empty sky and sea now anway.” Was the man flirting with him? To cover his embarrassment, Arthur held out his hand for a handshake and introduced himself. “Arthur Kirkland.” “Bonjour.” The man took Arthur’s hand into his and caressed the knuckles softly with his lips. “Francis Bonnefoy.” A Frenchman. Arthur felt himself blush even further. “I’m not a bloody lady!” Arthur drew his hand back, feeling flustered. Francis chuckled, it was an awkward sound unlike Alfred’s deep rumble but Arthur found that he it was dorky, in an attractive way. “That is rather obvious, mon ami. You seem like a fine gentleman.” Holy hell, this prick knows how to flirt. Arthur gulped and muttered. “Damn right.” Deciding that for his sanity he would ignore the Frenchman with beautiful golden locks framing the handsome fa- No, don’t go there Arthur. “Vacation in America?” Francis asked, looking to start a conversation with the adorable British, at least he assumed British from the accent. Arthur shook his head. “Um, not really. Moving actually.” Now, that got Francis really interested to know more. “Alone?” Arthur shook his head. “Ah, no. With a....friend.” He sighed, opening the small window to gaze outside. It was not a topic that he preferred to talk about. “You don’t seem so excited about it.” Francis pointed out. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Of course, no country is better than England and I like living in London thank you very much. I don’t even know how he managed to persuade me to move in with him to America.” He may or may not have pouted a bit at this. “You must miss your friend very much, yes?” Francis, not wanting to drop the conversation continued speaking. Arthur brows furrowed. It was a funny sight to Francis as the man’s eyebrows was incredibly thick. Adorable. Would he miss Alfred? As a friend? Maybe. As a brother? Definitely. As a lover? Arthur really did not know. It has been two years, they hadn’t done things only lovers do yet. Yet. “Probably.” Arthur answered verbally for Francis’ benefit. He then turned his head to face Francis but was surprised by their close proximity as apparently the Frenchman was leaning close to him. Disturbingly close. “What do you think you’re doing, frog?” Arthur hissed, remembering half way that they were in a plane and tried to quiet down his tone of voice. Wait, shit. Did he just accidentally insult a man he only just knew like minutes ago? Damn it Arthur, not cool. Francis did not seem bothered by it though, confident prick that he is. “If I’m a frog would you kiss me?” “Do you think you’re some kind of a prince charming?” Arthur scoffed and crossed his arms, though it was clear he was enjoying the beginning of their playful banter. He had planned to sleep on the flight, but sitting next to Francis stole that option from him. Not that he minded. The rest of the flight continued with the Brit and French bantering, flirting. Alfred grinned so wide, when the plane landed and his feet planted on the land of his birth, it hurt to see. “Where is that old man, anyway?” He asked himself as he looked around, looking for the familiar tuft of blonde hair. Catching sight of his lover, looking rather spaced-out, he immediately bounced towards Arthur and jumped on the smaller one’s back. “Arthur.” He yells in excitement. “O- oi! Get off me you heavy prat!” Arthur cursed and Alfred did so reluctantly. “You’re so mean, you make it sound like I’m fat.” Alfred whined. “Well, maybe that’s because you are, fatass.” “It’s the muscles!” “Keep dreaming, Al.” Arthur said, a fond smile curving his lips. Alfred harrumphed and decided to drop it in favour for something more fun. “Let’s go home, shall we? I’ll show you around tomorrow! Oh yeah and we got this super cool neighbour who can cook really well so we don’t have to worry about your dangerous cooking anymore since he can teach you how to actually cook.” “What does that mean, git?” Alfred started running, thankfully the other people at the airport gave the two a wide berth, and Arthur started chasing after him. “Oi!” Alfred had already ordered for a cab for when they landed so they had time to mess around for a bit and Alfred surrendered himself when his phone rang, answering and was informed that their cab had arrived. Their things would be sent to their new home later – Alfred had already pre-arranged that so there was no fuss about fitting in their luggage into the cab. The ride to Alfred’s house took about an hour and Arthur was stunned when the cab stopped in front of a three-storey bungalow with a huge front yard and it was the corner lot too. Arthur sincerely hopes the backyard is just as large, he had always loved gardening and he possessed a green thumb to go with it but back in his small apartment, he could only afford to have a few potted plants. “Like it?” Alfred hugged his older lover from behind, smiling cheekily. Arthur harrumphed and turned his faced away. “O-of course not, idiot. It was just bigger than what I imagined.” Crossing his arms but not pushing Alfred away whom merely chuckled and pulled Arthur closer, kissing the exposed neck on the back lovingly. “Let’s get our things inside.” Alfred said, taking a step back and letting go of Arthur. “Okay.” Arthur nodded and they both pulled out their luggage from the cab’s boot before it drove away. Alfred was already at the front door when Arthur slowed his steps to take in all the space, already planning in his head what to do with all the bare space and turn it into a beautiful, organized garden that would be subject of envy of the neighbourhood. Speaking of neighbourhood, Arthur turned to peek at their neighbour’s garden on the right. Since they got the corner lot, they do not really have any neighbour on the left side. Arthur craned his neck a bit and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the smell of roses. Roses almost overflowing everywhere as far as he could see, even the pavements were sided with rose shrubbery. Closest to him, was the English Rose in full bloom and it brought a smile to his face. Would the neighbour notice if he plucked it? He reached out a hand, ignoring the sting of the thorn in favour of the rose. It was futile though. He needed garden scissors to cut the stem. Just as he thought of that, the rose was cut from the rest of its’ vines that connects it to the rest. Arthur was so concentrated on his earlier task, he did not notice the owner, probably, of the garden came. He wanted to hide in shame but his wrist was caught in a strong grip, automatically he lowered his head, flushing from ear to ear in embarrassment to have been caught red-handed. “You have a good taste in roses, rose thief.” The owner said in French accented English. Wait, he knows that voice. Immediately Arthur raised his head and true to his suspicion, it was Francis Bonnefoy. “Hello, again Arthur.” Francis greeted with a teasing grin, holding the rose close to himself. He took out a small pocket knife and used it to clean the thorns from the stem casually. “Wait, you’re the neighbour?” Arthur asked, incredulous. Francis only confirmed it with a sound of agreement. “I haven’t seen Amerique in two years, so I am guessing he has been staying with you back in London?” “Amerique?” Arthur frowned. The word came out weirdly from his lips and it earned him a small chuckle from Francis. “America in French. He’s the most American person I ever met and that’s saying something since I lived here longer. He told me he grew up in London but from his accent you can’t even tell that he has stepped out of America his whole life.” Arthur huffed. Knowing that even after years of teaching Alfred to use proper English like a proper Londoner bore no fruits and the young man still butchered up his beloved language. “So you gave him the nickname America?” “Yes.” “Oh, that’s nice.” Silence covered them both for a few while but then Francis was done cutting away all the thorns and he slipped the rose behind Arthur’s ear. “A beautiful rose for the rose thief.” He said, turning Arthur into a blushing mess. God, he was so embarrassed. “S-shut up, I’m sorry for trying to steal your rose, okay?” Francis really did not mind, well he did if it were anyone else. “The English rose suits you, Angleterre.” Arthur forced himself to not blush. “Angleterre.” “England.” Francis said by way of explanation. Arthur made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth, before turning his eyes on the roses again. “You have a lovely garden.” He complimented sincerely. “What can I say, roses are the most beautiful flower.” He cast a glance to his garden with a wistful smile. Arthur wondered why Francis had that expression when looking at such beautiful scenery. “You know, Arthur?” “No, I don’t.” Arthur snapped before Francis could continue, another person butchering up the beautiful language of proper English. Francis took no offense, he merely listed it as another adorable thing about Arthur. “While I commend that English rose suits you, I have a perfect rose in mind for you.” Darn it, Francis is a sly tosser. Arthur thought with a slight annoyance but he could not help but getting embarrassed again. It was nice to have someone flirting with him. “W-what is it?” “Wait there.” Francis said before taking off into the direction of the other side of his garden. Arthur pouted when the French disappeared from his view but at the same time his attention was required somewhere else when he heard his name being whispered close to his ear. “Arthur~” It was whispered in a sing-song tone and it sent deep shivers through the British. “Yes, Alfred?” Arthur said, swallowing down the tremor in his voice as he turned to face his lover, adapting a calm expression over his facial features. “What’re you doing out here?” The American asked softly, his eyes looking at the rose decorating the Brit’s hair. It suited him. How lovely. “Where’d you get the rose?” “Ah, the neighbour caught me trying to pluck one of his roses.” Arthur retold the story with slight embarrassment. “He cut it and cleaned the thorns before giving it to me.” There was an obvious fondness in those peridot eyes. Ugly. The rose looks ugly in Alfred’s eyes now. “Is that so?” Alfred hummed, caressing the soft cheek of his older lover until his fingers brushed against the rose petals and he grasped it in his hand. Arthur’s eyes widened when Alfred took the rose and admired it close before crushing the petals in the palm of his hands. He let the broken petals fall between his fingers; the once eye-catching rose was now deformed. Arthur was speechless. What, why? “Oops, that was careless of me.” Alfred said pretentiously, throwing the flower away without a care and slung the same arm around Arthur’s waist. “Let’s go back in, Artie. You’ll love the bedroom for sure and oh, you should see the kitchen.” He began rambling as he dragged the nervous lover inside the house. When Francis came back, Arthur was nowhere in sight, with a forlorn smile he turned back to his house, looking at the rose, he said. “Well, maybe some other time. I’ll show the magnifique of osiria roses, Angleterre.” He wonders where the British gentleman disappeared to. To say that Arthur fell in love with the kitchen would be an understatement. His eyes were practically shining as he toured the huge kitchen, Alfred chuckled. If only the Brit was as good at cooking as his excitement shows. Oh well, anything that Arthur makes, he can eat. “Oh, I should make scones for the neighbourhood and greet them.” Arthur said to himself, feeling brilliant. Alfred though, sense trouble coming his way if Arthur continues with the sudden ‘brilliant’ plan. “Um, I don’t think that’s smart, Artie.” Arthur scowled. “It’s Arthur and proper English please.” He did not address what Alfred meant though since he knows what the younger one meant. He was simply in denial that his cooking is just that bad. Alfred pouted. “But your English is so stuffy. American English is so much easier.” Sighing, Arthur ignored Alfred in favour of checking the contents of the cabinets and fridge and found them empty. As expected. The last time Alfred was in America was two months before then. “Alfred, where is the nearest supermarket? I need to go out and buy some food or else we’ll die of starvation.” “We’re going to die anyway if you’re the one cooking Artie.” Alfred teased. “Sod off.” Alfred laughed, pulling Arthur closer towards him by the waist and pecked his cheek in an adoring manner. “I’m glad you agreed to move here with me.” “I miss London already.” Arthur retorted and slipped out of Alfred’s grasp, sticking his tongue out like a child. “Hey, wait. Let me come with.” Alfred followed suit, grabbing his car keys and house keys. Locking the door securely before jogging to where Arthur was standing next to his flashy car. “Cool ride, right?” “The wheels are at the wrong side.” Arthur rolled his eyes. It was adorable how Arthur acts so British. “Yo, Amerique.” And there comes his annoying neighbour. “I see you’re back.” “Francis, I thought you’re on vacation for half a year?” Alfred called back with a friendly attitude, casually shifting his body to stand protectively in front of Arthur. “Nah, I decided I rather waste the last month lounging at home and tending my garden. Maybe open a small cooking class or whatnot.” “Oh, really? Hey, Artie. You should join Francis’ cooking class. His cooking is really good.” Francis strained his neck a bit and noticed the British standing timidly behind Alfred. “Oh, Angleterre. So the friend you’ll be staying with is Amerique?” He said as a way to start a conversation, he already knows from their earlier conversation. “My name’s Arthur, twat.” Arthur replied automatically, an annoyed tick comically emerged on his head. “Sorry, Francis but we’ll be going first. Arthur wants to buy some food to stock up the fridge and then we need to unpack everything.” Something that Francis said nagged at the back of his head, and where did Francis knows Arthur? Did they met somewhere in London? Though Arthur rarely left the house without him along so that is impossible. “Oh, then maybe I can go with Arthur and you can start unpacking your things?” Francis offered, he wanted to talk with the Brit some more. “I can give Arthur some tips in cooking too.” He winked playfully. “No, thank you.” Alfred said, less polite this time and he was no longer smiling. “I want to introduce him to America myself, y’know. You can’t take that spotlight from me.” He said seriously before cracking a smile, appearing cheerful as can be, as if his dark mood a few seconds ago was merely an act. Francis sighed but he understood. “Of course, well,” He turned his eyes on to Arthur. “Anytime you want to come, you’re invited.” He offered with a friendly grin. “We’ll remember that.” Alfred started dragging Arthur inside the car and with one final wave, drove out of his property and the automatic gate closed by itself with a press of a button. Arthur was slightly dejected when he could not take on Francis’ offer though he had kind off expected this to happen. Alfred has always been possessive since he was a young child. He could remember the young Alfred hogging all his toys. Arthur chuckled to himself at the memory which gained Alfred’s interest. “What are you laughing about, Art?” Alfred inquired. Arthur shook his head, a fond smile on his face. “Just thinking that you haven’t changed much; you’re still so cute.” His words were not something that Alfred likes to hear. “Oh.” Was Alfred’s only response, no amusement in his voice. The market was not very far away from their place, especially not by car. Alfred easily slid into an empty parking spot and parked his car smoothly. Arthur waited until Alfred turned off the engine before pulling the handle to open the door when he felt his other arm was yanked to the other side and he turned in surprise. A pair of lips smashed against his own, accepting, he closed his eyes and responded. Alfred pulled back only when the need for air was unbearable any longer, looking at his lover panting and ears flushed brought satisfaction inside him. His, Arthur is his. “You should tell Francis, that we’re not just friends.” Alfred muttered, caressing the Brit’s cheek. “Correct that later.” He added, cerulean blue looked back into the peridot green with a certain hardness in them. The trip to the market went by without any incident. “What are you making?” Alfred asked as he walked down the stairs, smelling burnt food wafting through the house. Arthur looked up from the oven and smiled a guilty smile. “Ah, I was making some scones. I thought we could give it to Francis as a gesture of goodwill.” “Oh! That’s a brilliant idea, Arthur.” Alfred exclaimed happily. He really did not like the thought of Francis and Arthur getting close knowing his neighbour’s flirtatious personality and this might just bring the two apart. Francis will definitely not like the...er, coal and Arthur will definitely hate Francis after that depending on what the Frenchman say though the reaction to eating the coal, um, scones will probably be enough. “I need to go for awhile. I’ll allow you to go to Francis’ place and his place only.” He hugged his boyfriend’s smaller frame and kissed the temple before hurrying out. Arthur merely shook his head, the affectionate gestures from Alfred forever will he welcome it. He glanced at the clock they had just hung up the wall the previous night. “Just in time for tea.” He said to himself as he packed the scones. Arthur did not bother to lock the door on his way out since he was just visiting next door. He rang the bell of Francis home, standing in front of the gate; waiting patiently for the Frenchman to notice his presence there. “Arthur!” Francis called out, a surprised tone in his voice once he noticed whom it was. “Wait a bit, I’ll go open the gate.” It was an automatic. It did not take long for the gate to swing upon after Francis said that. “Thank you.” “What brings you here?” Francis opened the front door wide to welcome Arthur in. “Sorry to bother.” Arthur said softly as he stepped inside. He really would never actually bother to be polite but really it was the first time he was going to Francis place. “I made some scones, thought that we could eat them for tea time together.” He mumbled, shoving the box towards Francis. Francis opens the box and...before he could say anything, Arthur cuts him to it. “Don’t say anything. I know, it looks bad and it might even be harmful to your body even though it might taste fine to me. Alfred can eat it but I know he does not like it since it tastes bad he says. He did mention asking you to teach me cooking yesterday, remember?” He had long accepted it after watching so many of his friends during high school and college getting sick when he forced them to eat his cooking. Francis blinked, feeling stumped. Then he laughed, not the normal laugh but the omg-I-am-laughing-so-hard-my-stomach-is-going-to-burst laugh. Arthur pouted, thinking that Francis was laughing at him but he waited for the man to finish laughing. “Oh, Arthur, you. You are simply adorable.” Francis managed, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. Both of his hands held Arthur by the shoulder as he look straight to the Brit. “You came here, wearing an apron and mittens, bringing me scones and then you proceed with telling me not to eat it?” Arthur’s pout became more obvious and he rolled his eyes. “Well, I did not want to hate you if you insulted my cooking. They taste fine to me!” He said stubbornly. Francis chuckled. “Sure, they do.” He simply said and put the box carefully on the table closest to them. “Well, I have some éclairs if you’re interested. Fresh from the oven.” Arthur nodded. “Do you have tea?” “Of course.” Francis nodded a bit cautiously. Rolling his eyes, Arthur kicked Francis on the shin. “Tea is my specialty, how dare you doubt a Brit’s ability to brew the finest tea.” He harrumphed. Arthur follows Francis to the kitchen, feeling a bit miffed still even though Francis apologized cordially. “What kind of tea do you have? Evening tea is best at this time, though earl grey is not too bad. Cardamon or Ceylon tea would go nice for sweet treats too.” “Uh...I only have the English Breakfast.” Francis said, amused by how the Brit talked about tea and he was sure that if he does not say anything, he could go on and on. Arthur nodded. “Well nothing you could do about it.” He shrugged. “May I use the kitchen to boil water?” With permission, Arthur began locating for the things he needed, finding the kettle and tea set. A small smile graced him, just like any other time he was brewing tea. “Ah, you have tea infuser too.” He said more to himself. When the water was boiled, Arthur started to brew the tea with a soft finesse. In the way he poured the water, measuring the scoops of tea leaves to put in the infuser. The mitten was taken off once he poured the hot water into the kettle but the apron stays. Francis admits that it was a sight that would not be too bad to see every day. “So, if you did not actually intend to make me eat the scones, did you come here just to see me?” Francis asked with a flirtatious tone, making the Brit blush. “W-what d-don’t be ridiculous.” He scoffed thought the reddening of his ear validated Francis accusation. At a look from said man, Arthur huffed. “So what? If you don’t like me being here, I can just leave.” He set down the tea pot, done with pouring tea into two tea cups. He had intended to sit down on the opposite side of the small dining table Francis was sitting at but his pride made him want to walk out and so he did. Or at least attempted to. When he passed Francis, his wrist was caught in Francis’ hand and he was yanked towards the French. “Ah– you bloody git!” He cursed before realizing he was seated on Francis lap. “W-what are you doing?” “Flirting with you.” Francis answered. If this was not reality and he was just another character in a book, his ears would have been shooting out steam by then. “Don’t joke around, frog.” “If I’m the frog then are you the princess?” Francis countered cheekily. Arthur blushed harder, groaning in annoyance though it was not so bad. “I am not some damsel in distress.” “Never said you are, mon cher. That would be very boring. I like your shy but strong attitude.” Francis chuckled, holding the Briton close felt rather nice. Just then, Arthur’s phone vibrated and said person fished it out of his pocket, looking at the colour ID, his eyes widened in a small burst of panic. He turned his head to the French, his forefinger on his lips as an urgent signal for the other keep shut. Then he answered. “Alfred?” “Artieeeeeeee, are you home?” Arthur felt his ear ring from the sudden ear shattering scream from the other side of the call. “I’m at Francis’ house.” “What? You’re still at his house?” The cheerful and loud voice from before took a 180 degree turn that Arthur almost thought that it was a totally different person on the phone.“Go back home Arthur, someone messed up at work and I need to attend to it. Might not be home until after dinner.” “Wai–” “Gotta go! See ya, Artie.” And the call was dropped. Arthur withheld the urge to face palm, opting to just sigh instead. “Proper English, you idiot.” He scolded to the phone, feeling as if some of his energy had just been seeped away. It was difficult to could not keep up with Alfred’s pace sometimes. He turned to Francis with an apologetic smile, “I think you heard most of it, I need to get back now.” He sighed and waited, expecting for Francis to let go of him. “Sounds like you’re gonna be lonely for dinner.” Arthur face palmed this time. “Going to be, not gonna be.” Really, American English annoys the hell out of him. “Right. Why not have dinner here? I’ll cook, we can lit some candles and I have great wines.” Francis persuaded. “The candles are overdoing it.” Arthur pointed out. “Though I never object to an offer to get tipsy.” He grinned, a plan formulating in his head to seduce the French. Well, not exactly a plan, just a thought. “Will this be counted as a dinner date?” Arthur arched an eyebrow. “If you want it to be.” “Then I better get everything started to be ready in time, yes?” Francis though did not loosen his hold around Arthur’s waist yet. “I suppose.” The Briton hummed, pulling away the French’s arms from his waist and jumped off said French’s lap. “I’ll head back I suppose, if it is a date then you should do it properly. Like a gentleman.” Francis stood up as well. “Then I’ll come pick you up. Nothing too fancy, something casual is good. I prefer if you came being underdressed though.” He tapped Arthur’s nose lightly with his forefinger, receiving the blushing face that he was seeking. It was funny to see the Briton frowning, especially with those thick eyebrows that oddly suit the smaller one. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you later.” Arthur mumbled and walked back to the front door with France sending him off to the door. Arthur wasted no time once he returned to his new place, taking a relaxing bath to calm his nerves. He was going to do it. Cheating. He likes Alfred, of course, he does not even sure why was he trying to remind himself of this fact. He loves Alfred, as a younger brother. Being the American’s lover for two years has not changed that in the slightest. Done with his bath, he proceeded to raid his closet. Everything was still neat and tidy as he had just unpacked the night before. “Bloody hell.” He sighed, pushing his bangs to the back of his head. Francis did say casual but it was only a dinner at the French’s house. He could deviate from that. Steeling himself, he pulled out his clothes that he has not worn since he got out of his punk phase. Smiling for himself as he looked into the full-length mirror. He wanted to tease but he does not want to go overboard either. He had chosen to wear his favourite t-shirt, a black shirt with painted pattern of his national flag on it, the words United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland printed under the flag. Arthur paired it with a midnight blue skinny jean, with tears over the knees and thighs purposely done; opting out on the accessories. Feeling rather bold, he hurried back to Francis’ home before he lost his daring nerve and rung the door bell. “Just in ti–” Whatever Francis wanted to say got lost in his throat. Arthur smirked and pushed Francis aside as he sashayed in. He decided the dumbfounded look on the flirty French. “I know you said casual but I figured dressing like this will help with my mission better.” Arthur turned to face Francis, wearing a coy smile as he walked backwards. Francis gulped, he would not have thought, the easily flustered British man could turn into such a teasing cougar. “And what would the mission be, mon cher?” Walking closer to the Briton, he slid his arm around the smaller one’s waist. “Seducing you.” Arthur leaned up, his breath tickling Francis ear. Then he pulled away, his eyes landing on the well-prepared dinner table. Blinking twice, a soft flutter touched his heart, butterflies in his stomach. “Oh.” “And how about mine? My mission to capture your heart? Is it working well?” Francis grinned to himself. “You would know, won’t you?” Arthur retorted and sat down on one side of the table. Francis on the opposite side. They started with a simple chatter, playing twenty questions while eating, Arthur has to admit that Francis was a bloody great cook and a lovely wine collector. Not long after their dinners were finished, they started pouring more wine into their glass as they continued their conversation, getting to know simple little things about one another. Arthur could feel the alcohol affecting him and driven by his bravery from earlier, he got up from his seat and sauntered over towards Francis, unceremoniously plopping himself on to the man’s lap. He sneered at the stunned look on the Frenchman. “Any objections?” He tilted Francis’ slightly upwards to look at him. Receiving no response, Arthur smirked and he let their nose touch. “I take that as a no.” Because silence is yes trope is just bull. “You might regret seducing me in the morning, Angleterre.” Francis warned, feeling incredibly hot under the collar. Arthur hummed, his hands playing with the unbuttoned collar of Francis’ dress shirt. “Definitely not.” He decided and smashed their lips together, letting the alcohol take control of his actions as he kissed the French aggressively. “Francis...” He gasped when he felt his hair being tugged by the other. “What’s wrong Arthur?” The French teased. Pulling away from Francis, Arthur got off him and slid his hand over to the other’s own hand. “The chair is hardly comfortable.” He said as he pulled Francis towards the living room; lying down on the couch, shooting the other a coy smile when he climbed on top of the Briton. Francis grinned, they were both drunk but let it be said that they still have somewhat coherent minds. The alcohol were just helping them getting rid of the hesitations. Leaning down, he captured Arthur’s lips again, his hands mapping the Briton’s torso. Arthur forgot all about Alfred that night as he spent it in Francis’ arms. When Arthur woke, feeling sore, something nagged at the back of his mind but he dismissed it and rubbed his eyes sleepily. Trying to force himself to wake, opening his eyes and the sunlight blinded him for a few moments. Alfred. That single name jarred him to full consciousness and he instantly sat up. “Oh no, I’m dead. I’m dead.” He wriggled off from Francis and scrambled to fix his clothing, Francis waking up when he was pushed aside. “Mmm? What’s wrong Angleterre?” He yawned, not feeling like waking up just yet but he was already missing his warm companion. “I need to go home. Alfred.” Was his by way of explanation and bolted out of the house. He was undeniably panicking as he scrambled to unlock the front door to their house but before he could insert the right key into the key slot, the door was already opened by his truly. Arthur felt cold sweat all over but then Alfred broke into a wide smile. “Artieeee~” He enveloped the smaller one in a hug and pulled him inside; closing the door as he turned to bring his stunned lover into the house. He did not visit Francis, or even walk out of the front door. He was being cautious, it was strange. He thought that perhaps Alfred would have suspected something but the young blonde had simply chalked it up to Arthur and Francis drinking them to waste and fell asleep face first into their dinner plates. It was....reassuring; the thought that Alfred did not suspect anything. After that cautious one week, he returned to his game with Francis to the delight of the French. It went on and on, for months. He had told Francis about his relationship with Alfred, his feelings and whatnot. “I like you, I do but I’m...actually, I’m with Alfred.” He had confessed that one night. He had suspected for sometime so it was not really a shock to the French. “But you still want me.” It was not a question, it was a smug statement. The action was one that earned him a painful jab on his side courtesy of the British. “Don’t interrupt me.” Arthur huffed, crossing his arms. “Anyway, it’s actually complicated. I love him of course but not like how he wants. I see him as a younger brother and I don’t suppose that will ever change.” His green eyes glanced at Francis before averting. “B-because I love you.” He added in a whisper but loud enough for the French to hear him. “That’s good.” Francis smiled softly, for once not teasing the blushing Briton. Francis raised his hand, his fingers caressing the smaller blonde’s cheek, before tucking a few stray strands of hair behind the ear. “I feel the same about you, Angleterre.” Arthur was truly happy. They shared a kiss; their sweetest, softest kiss. There was a knock on the front door, marking the end of their sweet fantasy for the day. “There’s Alfred. I need to go.” Francis nodded but not without pecking his new found boyfriend on the temple. As Arthur walked out of the door, Alfred caught Francis’ eyes and there was a glint of insanity but it disappeared in less than a second. Francis if he had just imagined that. “Thanks for accompanying Arthur everyday Francis.” Alfred waved and pulled Arthur close to him in a possessive manner. Then the door was closed. Strange. Alfred would usually mention about seeing him again on the next day to drop off Arthur again. Perhaps he was over-thinking it. Back to Alfred, he had pinned Arthur down on their bed, their lips locked in a messy kiss. Pulling away slightly, he stared into Arthur’s clouded green eyes. His own blue ones clear with affection and love for the Briton. “Hey, Arthur. Do you trust me?” It was an out of place question especially because they were just making out. “Of course.” Arthur answered anyway. Why would he not? He knows Alfred better than he knows anyone else. He took care of the younger American since he was merely a child. “More than anyone.” He whispered, if he truly had feelings for Alfred romantically, he perhaps would have pulled him in for another kiss. “Will you play a game with me?” Now it was turning peculiar. “You want to play games?” Arthur stared at Alfred incredulously but being shot with the pleading puppy-eyed face really was not helping him say ‘no’. “Fine.” He sighed, before shooting the other a fond look. “What do you want to play?” Alfred smiled cheekily and kissed Arthur’s forehead. “I love you so much.” He seemed so giddy and Arthur grinned, feeling affected by Alfred’s giddiness. “I know, so what do you have in mind, Alfred?” Arthur reworded his earlier question. Alfred nodded, laughing lightly as he sat up and forced Arthur to follow his example. “Hey, Arthur.” He began in a serious note. “Let me take care of you.” Alfred propped his head on Arthur’s shoulder, his arms circling the other’s waist and pulling him close. “I’ll be home for the next two months, so please, let me have this fantasy.” “If that is it, I don’t think you need my permission ya twit.” Arthur shook his head, chuckling but Alfred only tightened his hold around the Briton. Alfred looked up but did not let go. “Promise you will play with me, you will follow my every word for the next two months. If you break it...if you break it...” It was a silent threat but Arthur received the message and Arthur gulped. “Okay, okay. Do calm down, Alfred. You’re worrying me.” Arthur had this odd sensation of feeling trapped and he tried to ease away the feeling. “Promise.” Sighing, Arthur made a cross gesture on his heart. “I cross my heart.” “Thank you.” Arthur smiled to himself and hugged the young American back, both of them falling fast asleep. Alfred woke first and he smiled to himself, the first sight he sees when opening his eyes was of his lover. Arthur was sleeping in a truly undignified manner, drooling and his blonde hair sticking out more than usual. “Good morning.” He hushed when Arthur showed the telltale signs of waking up. “I’ll make breakfast, sleep some more. I’ll bring it to bed.” With that, the British man easily went back to his sleep. Alfred yawned and stretched, working out his kinks as he climbed out the bed and headed to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Yawning once more after he was done with his morning ritual, walking down the stairs towards the kitchen. “What should I make for him?” He wondered and inspected the fridge and the food cabinet. “Pancakes sound yummy, and there’s that delicious maple syrup.” He said to himself and began to find the needed materials. Returning back to the bedroom, with a tray containing both of their breakfasts, Alfred almost dropped the tray when he skidded forward. “Arthur! What do you think you are doing?” He scowled, slamming down the tray on the bedside table. Not giving any chance for the Briton to reply, he strode over towards the closed window and swept Arthur off his feet. Alfred carried him back to bed with an angry glare as if the other had just committed a crime. “H-hey, calm down.” Arthur was too surprised to feel any annoyance at being carried like a damsel. “No! You were not supposed to leave the bed.” Alfred growled, throwing Arthur down on the soft mattress. “You promised that you would let me take care of you so listen to me.” It was not the ramblings of a spoiled child instead it was the anger of a full grown adult having caught a crime offender red-handed. It scares Arthur but as soon as the fear was forming, Alfred showed him a vulnerability that squashed it easily. “You promise to play...” The anger was gone from his voice. Arthur could not see his face as the boy was hugging him tight like a lost child. “Play nice.” A tired smile formed on Arthur’s lips as he hugged his pseudo younger brother back. “Sorry, I should have asked the rules of this game.” He rubbed Alfred’s back in a soothing circle, the boy was sniffling and he sighed fondly before humming a song he used to sing Alfred to sleep. When Alfred calmed down, Arthur pulled away and pinched both his cheeks. “Feeling better?” Alfred nodded. “Good, I’m peckish. We should eat.” Alfred nodded again silently and took the tray, though he did not hand Arthur his plate. He cut a small piece, pierced it with a fork and held it up for Arthur to bite. Raising an eyebrow, the Briton shrugged and let himself pampered. It was not so bad. Until evening came and a new rule reared its ugly head. “What do you mean I am not allowed to walk anywhere? I let you run around as a child.” “Well you’re not a child! You’re an old man! Old people should not walk around so much.” “Bollocks! I’m thirty-three ya’ sodding git!” Arthur argued, not liking the rule that was just imposed on him. “I don’t care! You agreed to play with me! You never had much time to play with me when I was younger so this is your punishment.” Alfred retorted childishly, even pouting for effect. “Damn it, that’s not fair.” He muttered, hanging his head low. Alfred knows that Arthur won’t protest anymore, happily he scooped Arthur off the bed and carried him to the bathroom. The tub already filled and Alfred slowly lowered Arthur in, helping him take off the wet clothes. “Call out when you’re done.” Alfred said with a smile before closing the curtains to the tub. Arthur was a tad spooked but Alfred’s dodgy behaviour but he simply brushed it off. It would only be for two months. Besides, being spoiled like this was not so bad. He could certainly get use to it. Get use to it he did. The days went on and all Alfred ever did was pamper him and shower him with affection. It gnawed on him, he felt guilty. Alfred should shower the affection to someone that deserved it, to someone that could love him back as much and not simply as a brother. He can’t see Alfred as something more. He misses Francis. He misses the way the Frenchman flirted with him, bicker with him and teases him about his cooking. Yet, he could not even move out of the bed without Alfred’s explicit permission and even then Alfred would be the one to carry him anywhere he wanted to go. It was endearing really how the American did not want to be apart from him. Although three months was too long, in this room with no one else but them both. Cut off from the world. He wants to go out, breath the fresh air, feel the rain against his skin and the damp earth beneath his feet. “Hey, Alfred?” Arthur called out softly. The one spoken was only lying next to him. Receiving a hum, he knew that he had caught the other’s attention. “Why haven’t you opened the window?” Alfred suddenly became tense, Arthur could feel it. “There’s no need.” There was irritation in his tone, less annoyance and more ire. Ire towards Arthur for asking such a question and so Arthur kept quiet. He pulled away and Arthur felt no desire to search for the warmth again. “Good morning, Arthur.” Alfred kissed Arthur’s temple before climbing out of the bed stark. “Morning.” He replied without much enthusiasm. Alfred did not seem to mind. “I have to go out for a bit today. Don’t do anything and stay in bed. Call me if you’re hungry or if you want get out of the bed for anything.” He swooped down for a quick kiss before turning out the door with a cheerful wave. Silence. Heavy silence. Arthur looked up at the clock ticking on the wall, it was almost noon but no sunlight entered his room. It was strange. He frowned to himself, never did he notice that. The light was always turned on, with Alfred there distracting him; there was no need for him to pay attention to the little things. A soft roar fading in the distance indicated that Alfred was no longer around. Plopping back down on the bed, he opted to sleep the day away and wait for Alfred to come back. He closed his eyes, his last thought registering Alfred’s scent enveloping him. He missed Francis. Waking up again, his eyes immediately landed on the time. It was tea time. Arthur sighed. It had almost been how many months since he had tea with Francis, a time usually reserved for their political debate. Comparing French and British cuisine and the like. It was the little things that made him fall more for the flirty Frenchman. The type of teas suitable for drinking at tea time during different seasons. Come to think of it, what season was it? What day? What month? Arthur shot back up at the epiphany, seating on the bed as his mind processed his line of thought. He had forgotten to count the days and the times of him falling asleep are messed up, how many days had past? How long has it been since he last saw sunlight? His eyes gazed back towards the clock. It told him the time, but he did not know, is it day or is it night? What day of the week was it? Arthur turned back to the window. “Just a small peak, he won’t know. He’s not here.” He whispered to himself, unsure why he was trying reassure himself. All this thinking was making him feeling woozy. He had not even had to think much for the past few...for however long since the first day their little game started. Arthur tried to climb off the bed. Instead, there was a loud thud as he fell off. Stunned, Arthur tried to stand up but when his legs would not obey him. “W-what...” His eyes widened, obviously disturbed. He should call for help, the window, he could still reach to open it. Rather than his stupid pager on the other side of the bed. He scooted slowly on the floor, his legs feeling like a burden. Straining, he managed to force them open but there was no sunlight shining through nor was there any moonlight or streetlight. Nothing, he could see nothing outside the window but bricks; covering the window to each corner. “No...” His green irises was more evident than ever, his voice quivering. He did not know what else to think but he needed out, out of the house, before Alfred returns to find him. He does not know when the American will be home but he prayed, oh he prayed. He can’t use his legs any longer after so long of disuse and Arthur was afraid, was this what Alfred was aiming for? He stumbled down the stairs but he ignored the pain, his mind urging him, telling him to get out and away. The door, the front door. It was slightly ajar but Alfred’s shoes were not there, perhaps he had forgotten to close shut it properly. Whatever, better for him. Arthur crawled his hardest, his arms to pull his body forward, doing so clumsily. Quickly, quickly before Alfred comes back. It was raining, heavily. Any other day he would have appreciated the rain, it reminds him of home but not that day. It merely adds weight to his clothes and the damp earth makes his progress slower and more evident. Alfred will know and that only hardens his resolve to go faster. Out. Out and away. Away. “Artie?” Never in his life have he felt fear gripped his heart in such a swift, firm grasp. He slowly lifted his heart and a lump stuck on his throat. It was the normal Alfred, but there was something unsettling, the disappointed frown, the disapproval in his tone. “Were you trying to leave me? Huh?” Alfred crouched down, lifting Arthur’s chin up to look at him better. “Look at you, crawling all over the mud and getting dirt all over you.” He let of Arthur and took a step back, seeming to be in deep thought. Arthur said nothing, feeling only trepidation. “Where were you going?” Alfred asked, his face mocking. “Francis?” He smirked, Arthur whimpered, Alfred looks breath taking but it only scares him more. “You think I didn’t know?” Alfred’s voice was not scolding instead it was as if a parent was soothing a misbehaving child. “I...” “I won’t let you. You’re mine, Arthur. You promised you will stay with me!” Alfred was crying, there was desperation. Arthur blocked his ears with his hands. “Look at you! You can’t even walk anymore but you’re still trying to get back to him! Why?” “BECAUSE I DON’T LOVE YOU THAT WAY!” Arthur shouted, finally, finally confessing. Alfred stared, both their breathings heavy. “You think I don’t know that either? I know, within the first month we were together but I don’t care.” Arthur did not know for sure where Alfred pulled it out from but he started to scramble backwards though it was harder than crawling forward. “Stop moving Artie,” “P-put that axe away.” Arthur pleaded, his vision blurry from all the tears falling from sheer fear. “No.” Alfred growled, he raised the axe high above his head. “I allowed you privilege to still use your arms and you misused it. You don’t need them anymore.” And swung.

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