#that man is stuck with me I’m trapping him here whether he likes it or not

[seravphs]

plss mid class I curiously clicked on twitter to scroll just to be flashed with pics of my topless [quite literally] babygirl 😭 your post gave me much needed comfort thank u 🫶🏻

I got you guys 💗 you can always count on me to be a source of comfort (grade a delusion)

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Stuck with the stranger

Note:so it's 2:40am I can't sleep and this fine man is in my mind, inspiration 'hating game' hope you have good day or night and don't forget to drink water ;3

part two | part three

Summary:When You get trapped in an elevator with a charming stranger named Carlos, what starts as a stressful ordeal turns into the beginning of a heartfelt friendship. As you two share stories and dreams, an unexpected bond forms.

Warning: Contains mild claustrophobia and brief moments of anxiety.

Carlos sainz x reader

You entered the elevator, you were accompanied by a stranger.

The doors of the elevator closed with a quiet thud, sealing you inside with a stranger. You barely spared him a glance, too preoccupied with your own thoughts. But when the elevator jolted to a sudden stop, the lights flickering out, you couldn’t ignore him any longer.

“Of course this happens today,” you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling up.

The stranger beside you was already frantically pressing buttons, his expression a mix of annoyance and desperation. When it became clear the buttons weren’t responding, he sighed heavily and slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit in the corner of the elevator.

You glanced over, finally taking a proper look at him. He was fiddling with the bracelets on his wrist, clearly trying to distract himself. His features were dimly lit by the emergency light, but you could see he was attractive in a rugged sort of way, with a familiar face you couldn't quite place. He looked up at you with a small, sheepish smile.

“Doesn’t seem like pressing those buttons is helping much,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” he replied, his accent a smooth blend of Spanish and something else. “I guess we’re stuck here for a while. I’m Carlos, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Carlos,” you said, settling down on the floor across from him. “I’m [Your Name].”

Carlos chuckled softly, a sound that surprisingly made you feel a bit better about the situation. “Not the best way to meet someone, huh?”

“Could be worse,” you said with a shrug. “At least we’re not alone. So, what brings you here?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to tell you. “I’m here for some work,” he said vaguely. “What about you?”

“Just visiting a friend. So, where are you from, Carlos?”

“Spain. And you?”

You chatted for a while, the initial awkwardness giving way to a more comfortable conversation. You learned that Carlos traveled a lot for his job, though he was still vague about the details. He had a love for adventure, often finding himself in unexpected situations,though getting stuck in an elevator wasn’t usually on his list.

“Do you always carry so many bracelets?” you asked, noticing how he seemed to calm himself by playing with them.

He laughed, holding up his wrist. “They’re kind of a good luck charm for me. Each one has a story.”

“Like what?”

He began to tell you the stories behind a few of them, and you found yourself genuinely intrigued. There was one from a charity event in Monaco, another from a small market in Brazil. Each bracelet had a memory attached, and you found yourself admiring the way he cherished these small tokens of his experiences.

Hours passed, and you both shared more than just surface-level stories. You talked about your dreams, fears, and the small moments that made life worthwhile. You were surprised at how easy it was to talk to him, a complete stranger. There was something comforting in the way he listened, the way he seemed to genuinely care about what you had to say.

Suddenly, the elevator jolted, and the lights flickered back on. You both looked up in surprise as the elevator started moving again. Carlos stood up and offered you a hand.

“Looks like we’re saved,” he said with a grin.

“Yeah, looks like it,” you replied, taking his hand and standing up.

As the elevator doors opened, you both hesitated, neither of you quite ready to step out. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a connection that had formed in the hours you spent together.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to get a coffee sometime?” Carlos asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that a lot.”

You exchanged numbers and stepped out of the elevator, going your separate ways. But as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something special. A friendship born out of a shared misadventure, with the potential for so much more.

It's short I know..if you want part 2 I will deliver it hope you liked it:3

[eunoiaastralwings]

Fragments of Blue

featuring Bucky x reader

fandom mcu- pre catcw

a/n based on my idea here - here part one (can be read alone too - I think LMAO).

warnings running away ? - idk if there was anything else tell me otherwise

You were simply lying on the on the couch bored when he came in again – with presuming a packet of bread in his hands.

You momentarily looked over the man that was once the deadly assassin – the one who had been assigned to bring you back to your father and his Hydra, every time you tried to escape or occasionally protect you.

He was always so anxious and nervous now – now you saw the real man being the Winter Soldier, trapped underneath Hydra’s torture who was finally free.

But the world didn’t see it like that however – the world still saw him as a murder and a true weapon of evil and you could almost see he saw himself like that too now.

Like he was signing the picture the outside world painted him as.

You always wondered why he came back for you – you were Alexander Pierce’s daughter after all. You were once even called as Hydra’s daughter by your father’s men.

But unlike your father you didn't want to be part of Hydra – but you were forced to know Hydra, including the Winter Soldier.

Little did you know, the blue-eyed man before you remembered as the Winter Soldier, he told to watch over you and made sure you didn't escape from Hydra like you tried countless times.

It was like you were something constant – something different than the usual assassinations he was tasked with.

You father was dead – yet you weren’t sure how to feel about that, he was your only family after all – though he did put Hydra above you.

Once the man was freed from the mind control and for whatever reason he had broken into your father’s house helped her escape and went on the run together.

You had known the moment he stepped in – he wasn’t Blue anymore.

He was the man behind those blue eyes again – still he seemed to be refusing to tell you his real name.

“So. . . you going to tell me your real name or do I keep calling you, Blue?” She asked – as he places the packet of bread on the small table in tiny rundown apartment you were sharing.

You had hated always calling him Soldat or the Winter Soldier, like your father and Hydra did - so you always stuck with calling him Blue, because of his blue eyes. He didn’t remember his own name - and no one would tell him or you either. . .and you wanted to make him feel just a little human. . .

He looked up giving you a once over – as if still debating inside him whether to trust you or not.

To be honest the only reason you were was because of him anyways.

You were almost certain he was going to brush you off again.

But then you heard a small mutter.

“Bucky. . .”

************************************************************************

You disguised yourself the best you could, wearing one of Bucky’s baseball caps – as you looked around the market stalls, trying to follow him.

You were always annoying him – that’s for sure. He had specifically instructed you to stay at the apartment but you clearly hadn't.

“Y/N you shouldn't be here. You’re not supposed to be out without my permission.”

He sounds annoyed.

“I deserve to at least see the sun, Bucky!”

You scowled at his behavior.

“I get it. . . But we can't let anyone find the either of us!”

He sighs.

“The only reason you’re not in the base is because it's me babysitting you.”

He mutters.

“You’re not babysi-“

You tripped over something because of your vintage heeled boots as you tried to follow – needing to hold onto Bucky in case you fell face flat on the ground.

You sighed – knowing he was gonna be mad.

“I told you not to wear those heels!”

He glared – now mad with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry – I didn’t exactly get to stop by at home to grab shoes before going on the run!”

You answered sarcastically.

“Don’t talk back to me. I’m only looking out for you. You really need to take more precautions!”

He warned.

You knew he was mad.

“I cannot go bare feet!”

You still stubbornly scowled –  knowing what he was picking at how you failed to escape multiple times during their time in Hydra and how he as the Winter Soldier always dragged her back kicking and screaming.

“Well, at the light’s still there, princess!

He grumbles and grabs you by the wrist. He pulls her along with a grumpy looking glare.

“We don’t have time for this. I have to keep you safe!”

He mutters, that was something he always said – but Bucky himself didn’t know why he was keeping you safe.

He didn’t know he came running to you – when he was freed from the mind control.

But here you were now.

You simply rolled your eyes and followed him to a farmers’ market.

He glances over at you.

“Why can’t you just listen to me for a change!”

Bucky sounded exhausted and anxious – he walks fast with you still holding your hand and you were trying to keep up with his pace.

Once again – stubborn as ever you didn't answer. The farmers’ market was large, with lots of stands and stalls, some selling fruit, spices/herbs, meat, or vegetables, others selling handmade crafts.

You easily got distracted with handmade crafts and toys.

Bucky looked – noticing how you got easily distracted, he just sighs an tries to not get annoyed.

He notices as your eyes were filled wonder, even glancing at your hair too.

You seem to have a soft, sweet face with the eyes of an angel.

“Why cant you just stay focused for once Y/N. . .”

He said – being a hypocrite as he found himself, getting distracted by you.

Before his eyes dart around nervously as they search for any threats. He seems on edge – always looking around as he looks for Hydra members or even agents.

He then went over to the fruit vendors – still keeping a close eye on you while spoke in Romanian trying buy a few plums for you and him.

You then picked up a little wooden carved wolf smiling at it as Bucky looks at the fruits.

Bucky glares at you – you smile and your beauty makes him stop and stare for a few moments.

“Y/N, put that down. We don't have time for that.”

He said – now coming back over to you.

“I told you we're on the run and we can’t risk letting the enemy find either of us.”

He whispers – now close enough only you could hear him.

You sighed, a small pout on your lips as you put back the carved wolf.

Then spots a grumpy unhappy looking plushie bear.

“Oh look! It's you!”

You said – picking up the blue grumpy looking plushie bear.

“Put that down you brat! We don’t have time for this!”

He looks at you – there was a look of annoyance and frustration.

Bucky was also nervous as he looks for any signs of a threat – and he glances at the plushie.

He thinks of it as a waste of time.

“I’m buying it!”

You said to Bucky.

“No, you aren't. Put it down. It’s a waste of good money!”

He tries to reach for the plushie to take it from you.

“It’s not wasting if I love it!”

You said – cradling it protectively close.

“It is also wasting since we’re on the run and it’s not the time for toys!”

He seems annoyed as he tries and snatch the plushie bear away from her.

 “Ooo, ok blue bear, I’m gonna call you Bucky!"

You hugged the plushie bear.

“Stop it you brat! You are so annoying!”

Bucky said annoyed – but he thinks you looked adorable.

Though it made him roll his eyes – when she insisted call a plushie by his name.

You just held it protectively close.

“Give it to me!”

Bucky tried to forcefully take it from you.

You held it protectively – “no!”

You scowled.

Bucky tried to take the plushie away, he grabs the plushie’s arm as he tries to force it away from you as you tried to protect it.

 “Give it here kid!”

“I’m 25, not a kid!”

You argued – though it seemed hilarious right now.

“You are acting like one.”

He glares at you – still holding onto the plushie’s arm as he refuses to give it to you.

“No!”

You said again.

It was then Bucky spots a few familiar looking agents up ahead behind her.

Bucky seems to pause – then glances again over at the agents, who are still unaware of their presence.

He looks back at you.

“We need to get out of here!”

He tries to move you in a direction, but you were still holding onto the stupid plushie.

You frowned looking behind yourself – your eyes widened and she froze seeing the familiar Hydra general blending in with the crowd in casual clothes as he and his men were seemingly looking for them.

Bucky grabs the plushie, tossing it aside – then grabs your hand and pulls you in a different direction.

He is now trying to act fast as he leads you away from the general and agents. He seems to be on edge as he eyes dart back and forth quickly trying to find a safe place.

"Just..."

You looked around then at Bucky – if the acted casual too blending in with the crowd, they wouldn’t be spotted.

"Blue, put your arm around me and pretend to laugh at something I said!"

You say seeing more agents – the former nickname you had for him slipping out in the mist of the situation.

Bucky has an annoyed look on his face – but he still decides to follow your plan for the moment – seeing how it made sense.

So he puts his arm around you and pretend to laugh at something you said.

“Heh. . .Heh, Heh heheh. . . Very funny. . .”

He said – and you almost had to stop from laughing out loudly yourself at how horrible that sounded.

So you simply rolled her eyes amused – seemingly their role-playing worked as the agents paid them no attention and walked past without noticing either of them.

“You need to work for on your acting skills though!”

You said – once they passed.

“I’m not an actor. I'm a super soldier, princess. . .”

He mutters – annoyed by your comment as he seems to be on edge – always looking around nervously.

“We’re still not safe. . .”

You rolled your eyes again at his former words – “anyways let’s go!”

Bucky was still seemingly on edge as he follows you.

He keeps looking behind him to see if they are still being followed.

His blue eyes were darting around nervously.

You had almost tripped onto the escalators – again because of your heeled boots.

Bucky scowling seeing almost trip again – but he still tries not to yell at you as he glares and sighs, shaking his head.

“You really need to get some new shoes, doll. . .”

He keeps his eyes darting around as he follows you.

You were going to answer – but her eyes widened as you saw a few agents taking the opposite side of the escalator – but you were crowded in you and couldn't move.

Bucky stops and freezes as he spots them too.

“Crap. . . We have to go.”

He tries pull you away in a different direction – his eyes dart around nervously as he looks for any escape routes.

The escalators were too close – you’d be spotted.

You looked around then suddenly said to Bucky – “kiss me!”

Bucky pauses and his eyes dart to you as he looks at you in disbelief.

He blinks in surprise.

 “What?”

He says confused – nervous, an unsure of what to do.

“Why?”

He says, seeming a bit skeptical of your plan.

“Physical displays of affection make people uncomfortable!”

You said blurt out – knowing the agents will look away seeing a couple kiss.

Bucky still seems unsure of it but he looks at you with the most serious expression.

He sighs and thinks about it for a second as he makes a hard decision.

“. . . Okay. . .”

He says as he slowly leans towards you to kiss you – he still has a annoyed look on his face but tries to relax.

He kisses you softly and he sighs.

He still feels annoyed about your plan – but he seems a bit relieved that they didn't get caught by the agents as he looks at you.

He’s still not sure if he likes you or not– j but he still seems to really enjoy the kiss.

You both then slowly pull away the moment the agents were out of sight.

But stops kissing you – the look of annoyance reappearing.

“You’re crazy.”

He sighs and rubs his face – “. . .I can’t believe I kissed you. . .”

“Oh please, it’s not I like just kissed Richard Madden or something!”

You grumbled sarcastically – as you reached the floor.

He looked at you with the same serious expression – but it quickly changes into a pissed off expression.

“. . .What? Richard, who?”

Bucky sounds agitated as he looks at you.

He’s not only annoyed by what you said – but the kiss. He tries to put the kiss out of his mind.

“Richard Madden. . .? The British actor. . .?” You said “You know the guy who played in Bodyguard or even prince charming in the live action Cinderella!”

“I don't care about no British actor we just kissed!”

He scoffs as he glances away angrily.

“. . .And?”

You ask – raising an eyebrow.

Bucky was shocked by your response as he looks at you in disbelief.

“You’re. . . You’re not embarrassed?”

He asks.

“Well. . . yes. . . but hey, it got us out of there!”

You said.

“. . .Right.”

He grumbles looks away as is pissed. He rubs his face in annoyance again and he just tries to forget about it.

“What?”

You ask – seeing the annoyed grumpy expression on his face.

“Nothing. . . Nothing at all. Just shut up and stop talking about Ricker Maddened.”

He grumbles – getting you both back out into streets again.

“Richard Madden.”

You corrected him.

“And – I don’t care.”

He grumbles under his breath.

You just rolled your eyes as he quickly pulled you back into the apartment – that kiss continuously replaying his mind. . .

He’d be lying if he said – the warmth of your lips against his didn’t feel good or made his heart race. . .

Perhaps, there was a reason why he came for you. . .

tagging everyone who was interested in the first part ( One more part then the story will be finished ):

@kiekiekiki @ijustneedpopcorn @geminigengar @batsyforyou </3

PART 1 | PART 2

And yes - I used references from catws xD

[seaofgoldensand]

can we meet again once more? she falls asleep unbeknownst that her dream-self is awaiting to meet with dawnbreaker, but this time dawnbreaker wishes to talk to her about something personal.

note: thanks to this quote i found on tumblr that made me immediately think of dawnbreaker and @zayne-snowman for being an awesome zayne roleplayer (gimmick blog is a new term that i actually genuinely like and will use it now), since reading their posts of people interacting with dawnbreaker, it made me adore zayne even more as a rafayel girlie aheh. anyway! to those that read this, i hope you enjoy!

warning: angst once more (this will be my stamp), slight hurt with comfort, he will do anything to ensure she is ok whether mentally or physically, hints of pieces from foreseer myth if you squint

another day of being a hunter has passed and the city is as peaceful as i can be. that was her duty and she loved to provide that help in not only protecting the city, but also protecting her fourteen year old self. 

now she can return home and settle herself in bed where unbeknownst to her, she would meet a man that she forgot in the waking life, but remembers very well in her dreams. as she falls asleep, a warmth surrounds her more than her blanket, there is a smile on her face that translates to the one in her dreams as she felt warm arms wrap around her body.

the man was silent, burying his face against her neck and inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume and letting it linger in his senses, allowing himself to engrave it into his mind for when he must let her go once more. she remained where she was, unsure of how she got here, but the man standing and hugging her from behind like she was the most delicate snowflake in a world full of snowstorms was no stranger to her. 

“i’m sorry, dawnbreaker… did i make you wait for too long?” she asked softly, raising her hands to rest on his arms, squeezing them gently as she turned her head to brush her lips gently against his temple. 

he shook his head, holding her closer. “no, not at all. in fact, if you don’t know, i’ll remind you… i will wait for however long i need to just to see you and hold you like this again.”

she smiled, although it was a mix of sorrow and happiness, two emotions that could never coexist with one another, yet were easy to conceive. then, she turned around and cupped dawnbreaker’s face, her fingers gently drumming against his cheeks as she gazed up at him. 

“even if the certainty of me returning is little to none? you would risk that much if it meant you’d see me again? am i really worth that much?” 

it had been a question that was stuck in her mind like a fly in a venus fly trap, no matter how much she tried to remove the thought, the insecurity to ensure nothing came between her and dawnbreaker, that question became a plague and dawnbreaker must have sense the shift as he immediately drew her in closer.

“of course. in this world, i have nothing left. i want to be selfish. allow me to be selfish and i promise to take care of you as much as i possibly can here in this world. it’s—” 

“fleeting.” she finished his sentence with a tender smile. “everything around us and us in general is fleeting, yet if it’s all i can have, i could never wish for anything more. and you can be selfish, dawnbreaker. in a sense, this is your world and i’m becoming a permanent visitor, until you no longer want me to come back.” 

dawnbreaker eased back and stared at her with his piercing gaze before he grabbed her chin, gently tilting it up so their eyes met. “there will never be a day where i’m not looking forward to your return. there will never be a day where i wish for you not to return. and there will never be a day that i stop myself from feeling these emotions you give me. for once in this life of mine, i feel something and it’s all because of you.” 

she listened intently and nodded her head. insecurities plagued her mind, but dawnbreaker never once allowed those insecurities and self-sabotaging tendencies to remain in her head for too long. perhaps, that is why it was so easy for her to fall for him. how she felt so drawn to his presence, that she would do everything in her power to meet in the same world in her dreams. 

“then, when i fall asleep, i will do my best to make sure to meet you once more. over and over again until our worlds allow us to meet face to face outside of our dreams.”

“do you believe such a thing is possible?”

“i do. it’s all thanks to you, dawnbreaker.” 

dawnbreaker was quiet as he finally pulled away from her and held out his hand. “come, then, let’s have a walk. there is something i wanted to talk to you about. nothing horrible, i assure you… just something that has been on my mind.”

as the two walked and the snow gentle fell over the city, dawnbreaker stopped in front of a cafe. he gazed through the window and in there was a scene that did not belong to his world. in there was a version of him who was a doctor and she was there sitting in front of him, eating lunch it would seem. he could not help but feel bitter that this version of himself was allowed to be with her when she is awake.

“dawnbreaker?” she spoke out softly when she noticed him seemingly staring into the empty cafe. “what’s wrong?” 

he turned and looked at her before shaking his head. “it’s nothing…” he stated, and she did not pry any further. 

they walked a few steps more before they stumble onto a field of jasmine flowers. it was then that she let go of dawnbreaker’s hand and ran to the field of flowers, frowning.

“oh no! i knew i was forgetting something, have they not bloomed since?” 

“they are just resting, and do not worry about taking care of them, we can only do so much in this environment. ah, but come back here.”

he had gestured for her to return to his side, but instead he walked over to stand beside her, coaxing her to stand up before he held her hand. “are you curious as to what i wish to talk to you about?” 

“i am, but i don’t want to pry, so i would wait until you’re ready to talk about it.” 

“you’ve called me dawnbreaker since the day we met, but can you stop calling me that?” 

“oh—does it bother you?” 

“no, i am used to it, but i want you to call me by my real name.” 

she tilted her head, curiosity sparkled in her eyes as she met his gaze. 

“from now on, you can call me zayne.” 

the name tugged something in her chest, her hand then turning to interlace her fingers with his as she gave it a gentle and reassuring squeeze. 

“all right, then. thank you… zayne.” 

that odd muscle in dawnbreaker’s chest skipped a beat upon hearing her utter his name with such delicacy, it confused him for a bit before he regained his senses, stepped forward and held her in his arms. he cupped her chin once more and leaned down as he lifted her face up for their lips to meet in a sweet kiss. 

“no, darling, thank you.”

“but i haven’t done—” she whispered against his lips after their deep kiss. 

“you’ve done much more than you may ever know.”

her dream was spent on time with dawnbreaker, this time she managed to make him laugh and she could not help how happy it made her feel when he caught himself and tried to play it off, something about his image and how it could not be ruined.

but as the time approached for her to wake up again, she hugged dawnbreaker extra tight this time, placed a kiss onto his cheek and promised to see him once more when they both fall asleep.

but when she awakened from her slumber, she was left with an empty feeling. she sat up and touched her lips where she dreamed of someone kissing her goodbye. she furrowed her brows trying to recall the dream, but no memory came to mind. 

“as always…” she mumbled to herself as she got up to open the blinds of her window. she thought of the man in her dreams, she knew it was a man, but she could not recall a face, not even features. just thoughts and memories of his touches and words, nothing more, no face to place onto the unknown figure. 

“do you exist or have i made you up?”

[oldhalloweentape]

🐀Junkrat (OW I & II) x (FtM) Reader💣

(Trans Man Reader Edition!)

(Request here! Hi baby bats! I’m glad to write about Junkrat once again, he’s one of my favorites from Overwatch and I’m glad other people have this love for him as well!)

- Junkrat comes from a society that was the direct result of an apocalyptic event, leaving many to carve their lives from the ground up or die out in the radiated Outback, and the surviving groups whether they liked each other or not was necessary. In a way it brought people of different religions, races, identities, and etc, together. Forming the idea of what it means to be a junker.

- Keeping that in mind, it’s well established that Junkrat is proud of being of a Junker, living by the rules and lifestyle even though he got kicked out. He’s follows it like a lifeline and who can blame him?

- The idea of being apart of something that is bigger than himself alongside people of different backgrounds from his own is something he was brought up upon, and I can see him having no exception to this rule when it comes to you, his boyfriend.

- To him, there is no stigma based off of being trans, in general that kind of thing doesn’t matter— keeping in mind that the culture he comes from value one’s skill to fight, contribute, and survive.

- If you come out to him, pre or post transition, romantic relationship or not, he’s not going to bat an eye when he gives you an a smile and an enthusiastic thumbs up as he says “Thanks for telling me mate! I’ll keep that in mind!!”

- And that’s it, he’s naturally respectful (cause come on he’s a junker not a degenerate) and supportive in the oddest way possible.

- (Ex: stealing you things that help you be more confident in your gender identity, like snagging you a truck supply of testosterone and Roadie’s just standing there, processing the fact that he did something so ridiculous because of Jamison— He doesn’t know what to think.)

- If you’re ever feeling dysphoric about your body, trust it will be dealt with accordingly, he has no qualms with telling you what he feels. You’re handsome goddamnit and he’s not afraid to say it.

- If you EVER and I mean EVER say something like “I wish I was a boy,” without hesitation he’ll be like “But you are?”, like genuinely confused as to why you’d say something like that when you’ve told him you’re a boy only for you to try to invalidate it. He doesn’t go back on what he says when he tells you that you are a boy and you are his boyfriend.

- I mean, it’s Junkrat he’s not afraid to say anything that pops into his brain, even if it’s gross. The voice line of him talking about the fucking mantis arm stuck in between his molars tells us all we need to know.

- Says shit with his chest and he’ll be damned if you try to deny what he says as him just being something he says to make you feel better.

- If anyone says otherwise and aims to invalidate you and your life their ass is getting bear trapped or getting an upper cut from his prosthetic arm, sorry not sorry.

- There’s gold to be collected, money to get snagged, BOMBS TO BE MADE, and they choose to hate on other people for being themselves? Get the fuck outta here.

- Celebrates every step you take for your transition goals, like if you get top surgery when y’all are in a relationship he helps you out and gives you a handmade card with “GOOD RIDDANCE” sprawled in his messy ass handwriting that’s hard to decipher.

- If you’re already post op and he sees your top surgery scars, he’ll then promptly show off his own scars from missions off, in a “I THINK SCARS ARE SO COOL AND I LIKE THAT YOU HAVE SOME AS WELL” kind of way.

- He does his best and he does it better than everyone expects him too as the guy who can’t take many things seriously, even life or death situations or him and Roadie getting kicked out of Junkertown to fend for themselves in the unforgivable Outback.

- Get’s confused when someone asks him why he’s more serious about this than literally dying, cause to him it’s easy. He perceives you as both his boyfriend AND one of his very best friends (besides Roadhog ofc) so of course he makes the effort.

- Trans or not you have him wrapped around your finger and that’s not going to change as long as he is on this world with you at his side.

- Much like how he is with his lifestyle and with his community, he’s set on your relationship with him, no one can change his mind. You are who you are and he loves you very deeply, something he again doesn’t hesitate to say whenever you’re down.

- It’s as simple as that, no debate, conversation, discussion, or deep dive on how he feels. He adores you for all that you are, you’re his boyfriend after all.

(Soooo, um hiiii 😚✌️, this is a request from a friend, @horrific-angelz, that I met on Overwatch recently and I’m glad to have gotten it from him, love you man!!!)

[holylulusworld]

Jeannie in a bottle - Epilogue

Summary: The deal is broken. You are finally free.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Huntress!Reader

Warnings: former genie!reader, kinda social anxiety/anxiety/slight panic attack, caring Dean, mentions of aunt flo

Jeannie in a bottle masterlist

<< Part 4

The deal is broken. You are finally free. What now?

You’re not used to living your own life. Trapped in the bottle you could do nothing but wish for someone to find the bottle to free you.

“What are you up to?” Dean brings you out of your daydreams. You were standing in the garage for the better of half an hour, debating whether to go for a ride in a car or explore the bunker some more. 

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “I need clothes and toiletries.” You cringe. “Uh-you know…hygiene products for ladies.”

Dean chuckles nervously. He drops his eyes to your crotch and hums. “You got a visit from aunt flo?” 

“Figures. I get out of that bottle only to end up having my first period in ten years.” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Do you want me to go to town and get you some tampons or pads?” Dean grins when you look at him, surprised. “What? Can a man not buy ladies' toiletries? I’m a tough guy and brave enough to buy tampons.”

“You’re cute and cocky.” Dean’s grin widens at your words. “Would you drive me to town? I’m not sure I can still handle a car, or anything else. Everything feels surreal. Like a dream.”

“If this a dream, I hope we never wake.” Dean slings one arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get you some new clothes and toiletries. You look good in my clothes, but I think you deserve to go on a shopping spree.”

“Dean, I don’t have any money. I can’t go on a shopping spree.”

“Aw, sweetheart. Let me buy you all the things you will need,” he whispers in your ear. “You can pay me back in kind.”

This time, you chuckle. Dean is definitely a cocky guy. “We will see, Dean. Maybe I can give you a back scrub or wash your car.”

“Breathe, Y/N,” Dean softly says as you try to control your breathing. Being inside the bunker with Sam and Dean was no problem. But the moment you stepped inside the grocery store, your legs started to wobble. 

“I can’t…so many people,” you hate the panic in your voice. You never were so scared before. “Dean…please.”

“I’ll bring you back to the car. You just stay inside the Impala, and I’ll get you everything you need. Okay?” He worriedly looks down at you. “Y/N?”

“Okay.” You exhale sharply. “I-I got a list. Can you get the things for me?” You are close to tears, and you feel ashamed that Dean sees you like that. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey…it’s alright. We will go back to the car, and everything is going to be alright. It’s a bit too much, I get it. We should’ve taken things slow. You were stuck in that bottle for ten years.”

You choke out a sob when Dean wraps his arms around you. “Thank you.”

“Sometimes the world gets too much for everything. That’s no reason to be ashamed of.” He guides you back out of the grocery store. 

You take deep breaths, hoping to even your breathing and calm your nerves. “Can you…can you buy me some pie too? I’d die for a slice of good pie.”

“Sweetheart. I didn’t think I could like you more. But I do. I love me some pie too.”

“What?” Dean grunts as the clerk at the grocery store looks at the tampons and pads the hunter wants to buy. 

“Nothing.” The boy grins, glancing at the tampons again. “Do you need chocolate too?”

Dean shrugs. “I already got all I need. Including chocolate for the sexy woman waiting for me in my car. And yes, she’s on her period and I buy her the products she needs to feel better. Do we have a problem here?”

Dean glares at the young man, huffing now and then as the cashier hurriedly charges for the products.

“I got you everything you’ll need,” Dean proudly places three bags filled with all the things on your list on your bed. “I got you a pair of jeans, shirts, socks, and so on too. Nothing special but it will do for the time being. If you want to, you can order clothes online.”

You watch Dean unpack the bags. He smirks as you snatch the tampons out of his hands. “Please excuse me. I need to…”

“I got you pie too.” He calls after you. “I’ll make you some soul food tonight.”

“Awesome,” you poke your head back inside the room, grinning. “Can we watch nonsense on TV and eat junk food?”

“Sure, sweetheart!” Dean exclaims.

Smiling you look at Dean. “I think I like this new life.”

“Of course, you like it. I’m in your life now…”

[youwouldntlietopapa]

The Words That Were Never Spoken: Chapter One

His warm leather glove slides from your neck up into your hair, pulling you closer so he can claim your mouth. Deeply, passionately, a parched man who’s discovered an oasis. Hints of coffee still on his lips and the faint smell of tobacco lingering on his clothes. His other hand pressing into your lower back as if you ever needed to be encouraged to press yourself against him. As if it’s not exactly where you’ve wanted to be for what feels like a lifetime. Nose brushing against yours and his mismatched eyes staring into your soul, so close that his lips brush against yours when he whispers. “Sorella…”

“Sorella?” Copia says a little louder and you jump.

Shit. “Sorry! Sorry. Just… got a bit lost in this text.” You wave at the ancient tome in front of you. There is extremely little to get lost in considering the text is about as exciting as watching paint dry.

The Cardinal smirks and there’s that mischievous glint in his eye. “That would be a very impressive feat, Sorella, with your eyes closed.”

What might have been an endearing pink flush from being caught daydreaming immediately becomes a deep red that rushes up from the collar of your habit up into your hair. But he only laughs and brushes off your apology. His hand gently pats yours in a way you’re sure you won’t be thinking too hard about for the rest of the evening.

“It is late. Later than I should be keeping you. I already ask too much, trapping you in this dusty basement all afternoon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I offered to come help. It’s hardly a terrible chore to get a quiet afternoon with my friend.” Without thinking, your hand wraps around his, giving it a light squeeze not really letting go until your brain catches up with what you’re doing.

He makes that face, the one that breaks your heart every time. Like it’s something special or undeserved. That you’d be there because you want to be, not simply because you’re obligated. “Still, I keep you too long.” Copia smiles a little shyly. “It is late and I won’t keep you all hours. You need rest.”

“So do you.”

“I will, I will… in a while.” He pulls another heavy book toward himself you can already guess will have him stuck at that table until sunrise. “My word, cara.”

“Of all the sins, my dear Cardinal, lying might be the one you’re worst at.” You tease, standing up and starting to tidy things up for the night. “If I leave you here alone, you’re either going to fall asleep at this table or you’re going to pretend that five shots of espresso is a replacement for sleep. Neither will be good for you. Come on. Up. We’ll come back to this tomorrow.”

“But-”

“No buts! You need actual sleep! You deserve to rest, Cope. Whether you’ll admit it or not.” You walk around the table to his side and push the heavy book away from him. It takes every ounce of willpower not to cup his cheek with him looking up at you like that, so you settle for taking his hand once more. “You may not know this about me, but I’m actually quite protective of my friends. It’s a weird quirk I have, wanting them to be healthy, happy, and cared for.”

“Sorella…” He pouts, giving a very weak defence.

“Fine. If you’re staying, I’m staying.” You say firmly, letting go of his hand and marching back to your seat defiantly. “Either it’s acceptable to stay up all night, working yourself to death, or sleep is important and you need it as much as anyone.”

“You are being ridiculous.” Copia huffs, but you know the look he gets when he’s actually angry and that isn’t it.

“Only as ridiculous as you.” You smirk, sliding your foot under the table to nudge the toe of his shoe. “So? Do I put on another pot of coffee or are you going to finally admit that I’m the sensible one.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Sensible might be a stretch. Stubborn, more like. But I concede. You win. We work more tomorrow, si? You will join me again?”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Copia finally gets up with a groan, rubbing his backside while you definitely don’t watch too closely or think about how much you’d like to offer to take over for him. “These chairs will be the death of me before the need for sleep.”

“I promise to burn them all to avenge you.” Your arm slips through his, leading him back through the stacks and toward the stairs.

“I can always count on you, cara mia.”

Together you walk through the quiet Abbey halls. Everything feels different at night. More private and smaller. During the day it’s hard to find time to yourself, always Siblings and Ghouls here and there. But in the dim light and the silence, it’s just the two of you. Right up until the hall that leads to the Clergy wing, headed away from where your own quarters are with the rest of the Siblings. Not so different from any other hall in the Abbey, but just then, it seems to you, to be the ugliest, most loathsome hallway you’ve ever seen. Every step closer to it is reluctant and stopping next to it feels like leaning over the cliff’s edge, staring down into the pit.

But Copia seems blissfully unaware. Smiling softly and trading your arm in his for taking your hand. “Sleep. I promise.” He reassures, as if that were the only thing on your mind. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

His lips brush the back of your hand, moustache tickling just enough to get a smile. “I will see you then, Sorella.”

“Until tomorrow.” You turn and start toward your quarters, calling back over your shoulder before you lose your nerve. “Ti voglio bene.”

……………...

Copia stands in stunned silence as you disappear down the corridor, hand still hovering in the air, right where it had been when your fingers slipped free of his. Watching you leave is always a challenge, but this feels like some new level of hell. Or heaven. He can’t decide. Some realm of pain and pleasure in equal measure that makes him want to chase after you and pour out his heart and soul, while at the same time making him even more sure you have no idea what you do to him. And all he can settle on is to stand there, motionless, watching you go until you vanish from sight.

“Ti amo…” He whispers in the silence of the hall, cursing himself for a coward and dropping his hand to his side.

His quarters, when he finally manages to get his feet to cooperate enough to get back to them, seem especially dark and empty. Like a piece is missing. The piece he can still feel pressed against his side, holding his arm, making sure he takes care of himself and noticing all the little things most people overlook. He sighs deeply and shakes his head. Foolishness. Taking something good and comfortable and safe, and trying to make it something it’s not. Risking everything for his own selfishness.

And yet…

Copia’s practised fingers struggle with the buttons of his cassock, too distracted, lost in his thoughts. Finally managing to free himself. Trying to ignore the rush of shame as he brings the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply to catch the faint smell of your perfume still lingering there. He strips off the rest much faster as if making up for the time spent shaming himself will erase it all together. But, in the end, it just leaves him ashamed and naked.

Not a first time for that either, the spiteful voice in his head reminds him.

He snatches a make-up wipe and roughly cleans off the paint around his eyes. Well aware that the job he’s done will have him looking like Robert Smith in the morning, he simply can’t bring himself to care. Of all the hundreds of thoughts racing through his mind, not a single one is a concern over that. Copia, as if to demonstrate that very fact, flops down onto his bed and groans into his pillow.

He’d missed you at breakfast or, more accurately, he’d missed breakfast. An early morning meeting meant that he’d made do with a danish from the tray provided and a paper cup of whatever they were trying to pass off as coffee from the same urn they’d been using since the dawn of time. But, waiting on his desk, when the meeting was finally over, was an insulated travel mug still full of hot coffee just the way he liked it. He didn’t need a note to know who’d left it. No one else would have thought to do it or remembered his schedule at all.

Copia flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how in all the levels of hell he’s supposed to get to sleep. Alone. In his empty rooms. Wishing for things he should put out of his mind.

When he’d seen you, finally, and you’d smiled that easy, unguarded smile. Slipping your arm through his and teasing lightly. Agreeing without hesitation to join him in the basement archives, his personal work dungeon. Smelling like sunlight and flowers from the garden. His need to have you there conflicting with the crime of dragging you into the dark while the afternoon sun made a halo of fire and gold of your hair.

He can still feel your arm tucked into his, your hand softly squeezing his fingers, the familiar weight of you leaning against him just so when you walk by his side. Imagining it here, in his bed. The familiar weight of you pressed against his side, your arm draped around him, your hand softly squeezing… caressing… stroking. He closes his eyes and huffs, giving in and letting his hand drift along with his thoughts. Fingers tangled in your hair and the taste of your lips.

Each time you’d licked the tip of your finger, concentration unbroken from the dusty old scrolls and manuscripts, his heart had skipped a beat. His own concentration and resolve were far weaker than your own. Each time your foot brushed so casually against his, or your fingers rested on his arm to get his attention, or your voice was kept low in the stillness of the archives like you’d worried about anyone overhearing what was just for him, he found himself lost entirely.

He breathes out your name, not daring to voice his desires any more than that. Your words echoing in his head. “Ti voglio bene.” You must have been learning in secret, beyond the little bit you’d learned from him. Who else was there to learn for? And that phrase specifically… Maybe it was nothing. For a friend. A close friend. But maybe it was more. Maybe it was everything. “Ti voglio bene.” He can hear your voice so clearly, moaning at the thought of it joined with the touch of your hand. At the thought of it mingled with your scent and your warm skin pressed against his. The taste of you on his tongue. “Ti voglio bene… Ti amo… Copia.” His whole body shudders with a want and a need, an ache at his core.

The walk back up had been torture. The struggle to keep a calm smile on his face when he wanted to scream. Every step closer to that damned hallway where he’d have to let you go. Trying to focus on every little thing except that. All the details he wants, needs to remember. Closing his eyes and letting you guide him, even for a moment, just to focus entirely on the warmth of your hand, radiating through the sleeve of his cassock. Unable to simply let go, shifting his arm and moving his grip down to your hand. “Don’t go.” It had been on his lips. “Don’t leave.” He would beg if he had to. Beg and plead. “Stay with me. Stay tonight. Stay forever. Please.” Anything but that practised, placid smile and the same timid bullshit as the last time and the time before that and the time before. But his own voice betrayed him and the only thing left was to place a kiss on your hand. Play the gentleman again and smile like it wasn’t killing him.

His hand isn’t your hand, but the vision of you there, looking down at him in that way that leaves him stumbling over his words and struggling to form a thought. Like he’s worth something. More than something. That he’s worth the time and the energy. That you want to be there, with him. And maybe, just for a moment, he can pretend that you want to be with him. It’s enough. For a moment. Grabbing a pillow to muffle his cry as he spills his need and shame over his chest and stomach.

“Ti voglio bene.” Echoing in his head.

“Ti amo.” He whispers in the silence of his room, closing his eyes against the truth and dropping his hand to his side.

[abbatoirablaze]

Shameless, Chapter 9

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings:  minor angst, slight manipulation

“Hey…hey…quit your cryin, Fi!” you tried, pulling your sister to your chest once more while she sobbed against it, “come on, Fi.  Be strong.  B-“

“Fuck you,” she spat, snot coming out of her nose as she looked up at you, “you don’t get to tell me how to feel…Steve left.  He left me.  You have what you want.  I couldn’t even fucking leave to follow the man that I love…I’m stuck in this fucking house forever, taking care of all of them…”

“You could have gone with him!” you reminded her, “I didn’t force you to stay!”

“The fuck you didn’t!”

“What are you doing, Fi?”

“I’m going with him!” she said quickly as she packed her dusty suitcase.

“What?” you asked, “with who?”

“Steve!” she answered, throwing in clothes, not caring whether they were yours or hers, “he wants me to go with him to Brazil…I-I want that too!  I’m running away with Steve!”

“Do you though?” you asked, “is-is that what you really want to do, Fi?”

She stopped packing her back and looked up at you, “What?”

“Do you really want to go with him?”

“Well, you guys sure as shit don’t need me…” she scoffed, “you’ve made that perfectly clear, Fi Fi.  And now that you and Tony are together, you really don’t need me.  The two of you can have your little perfect family here in the yard, but I’m going to Brazil with Steve!”

“Fi-“

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m not upset about it, Fi Fi.  You trapped your dream guy.  Congrats.  But I-“

“I didn’t trap Tony!”

She scoffed, pointing at your nonexistent bump, “oh really?  What the fuck’s in your stomach then?  A bagel bite?  Because I’m pretty sure ‘having a baby’ is code for the condom breaking or the pill fucking up…and you didn’t exactly advertise the fact that you were going to go out and get an abortion, Fi Fi.  Shit, what you’re doing is plain stupid.  I mean, it’s smart because it helps for the time being, but  you’re trapping him.  I bet that’s the only reason he helped us get Lip and Ian out of jail.”

You stood, quietly, watching as your sister finished packing her bag, unsure of what else to say to her,“I-I didn’t trap him, Fiona…yeah, the baby wasn’t planned, bu-“

“Ain’t that what every hood rat girl says when they get knocked up?” she laughed spitefully, “I’ll give you that, you graduated high school before you did it, but come on, Fi Fi.  I get it.  You proved the point that Tony is yours.  Message received.  I mean, we had that one fuck, but I wasn’t into him.  I have Steve.  You didn’t have to go and get knocked up by him.  I wasn’t planning on going back for round two or anything!”

“Fuck you, Fiona.”

She stopped packing her bag and looked up at you, “What?”

“Fuck you…and fuck Steve…and whatever else you think you’re doing by packing up and leaving, while calling me a whore for loving the man I’ve had a crush on since I was three!”

“Sofia, wait!”

“No…run off with Steve in Brazil.  Til Tony and I find a place I’ll just move him in here and we’ll watch after the kids… you selfish, narcissistic bitch!”

“Selfish?” she scoffed, “I told you to stay in school when Monica left because the doctor’s said that you needed a routine to follow once they got you back on your meds or another fucking suicide attempt was likely.  I gave up my life so that you wouldn’t go ending yours because of your fucking psychosis!  I’m not the selfish one here.  YOU ARE!”

“I’m sorry bout what I said…about you and Tony…” she whined as she clutched your side, “and about making fun of your bipolar shit.  That was outta line, Fi Fi.  You took care of us until your shit started up…you held down the fort when we were growing up, I-“

“We don’t have to talk about it, Fiona…” you sighed, wanting your younger sister to stop talking, “we don’t have to rehash the past, Fi.”

“On the plus side, the two of you won’t be far…” she sniffled after a moment.

You gave her a sad look as she wiped away some of her tears, “at least it’s some cash coming into the house…Steve selling it to him on the cheap, and giving some cash to you guys…”

“The least the fucker could do!” she scoffed. 

“What do you say you help me finish packing?” you asked softly, “ever since I announced the pregnancy Tony won’t let me do anything…hell, he won’t even let me help move in today…told me to come get him and the guys when I’m done packing my clothes.” 

“Sounds like a plan, Sofia.”

“Emmet, Jake, Michael…what are you guys doing here?” you asked as the three off-duty officers got out of their cars and opened the moving truck that held all of Tony’s stuff from his mom’s place.

“Helping good ole’ Tony here while he moves into your guys’ first place together.” Michael smiled, nudging you lightly.  You reached into the van to try to get a box, but you felt a pair of arms looping around your waist.

“No, no.  You know what the doctor said…no heavy lifting or exerting yourself.  That includes moving!” Tony grinned as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m sure I can lift a box of your laundry!” you giggled, turning your face so that the next kiss caught the corner of your lips.

“Congrats by the way!”

“Tony told us about baby Markovich, Sofia!”

“He seems awfully proud of that,” you laughed as you turned in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck, “knocking up some girl from the South Side.”

“Made a baby with the love of my life!” he said softly, his lips grazing over yours, “why wouldn’t I be proud of that, Sof?”

Your heart swelled and you felt your cheeks light up as some of the guys cat called you and him.

“Hey, that’s my girlfriend your cat calling.”

“Who said we weren’t cat calling you?” Emmet joked.

“Let me help?” you tried.

He shook his head before resting it against yours, “go pack your clothes…I’ll make sure that by the time you’re ready I can come over and grab it…I’ll let you unpack the small stuff and set up the house how we want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise!” he replied, pressing his lips to yours once more.

“The house looks great,” you sighed dreamily as you looked around the main floor, “I mean…we definitely need to get some things like pots and pans, silverware, cups, plates…but nothing unmanageable…I have a few bucks saved up that we can-“

“Don’t worry about spending your money, baby,” Tony offered as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “mom actually wanted to chip in and help…she’s going to come by tomorrow and pick you up while I’m at work…take you out to get all that stuff.”

“Tony…”

He spun you around in your arms and gave you a soft smile, his hands reaching up to cup your face, “I know that look, Sofia Gallagher…mom’s helping because she wants to.  She had $1000 saved up for when I got my own place or had my first kid…and she wants to put half of it to helping finish furnish the house, and half of it towards the nursery.  Or a saving’s account for the baby…up to us.”

You gasped, “Tony-th-that’s-“

“I know,” he smiled, pulling you back into his chest, “I know…”

“We have to have her over for dinner…I mean that’s just-“

“Have to have things to make dinner in first, Sof…”

“Right…” you smiled, “I’m getting too ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

“Maybe you use that extra money…ask mom to go to the bookstore with you and pick up some baby books?  I’ll toss some money your way to pick up groceries…”

“Yea-yeah…that could work.”

“Great,” he grinned, “so…you ready to see the rest of the house, Miss. Gallagher?”

“I am, Mr. Markovich.”

He chuckled, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, before spinning you around once more, and leading you towards the stairs, “well…you’ve seen the main floor.  The living room.  Entryway.  Kitchen.  Powder room.  Upstairs however…that’s a whole new animal.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, “how so?  Because if I remember correctly, all of your furniture wasn’t a lot.  And I saw the TV and fold out that we made baby Markovich on in the living room along with the lazy boy lounger you love so much.”

“What makes you so sure it was the fold out and not my cruiser?”

“Touche salesman,” you smirked, “but what about the bedroom?  If your foldout is down here-“

“Well…I might have also ordered an actual bedroom set for our master…which was delivered today.”

“Is that why you didn’t let me go upstairs?” you teased. 

He smiled and nodded, pulling you to the top step, “as you can see, four bedrooms, moderately sized…and a bathroom and two linen closets.  I figure we get the master and the baby’s nursery is right next to our room…”

“Smart…” He smiled a little more and pushed the door open to the nursery.  You had expected a bare room, but you were surprised when you saw that it was already decorated.  You gasped, tears instantly filling your eyes as you looked at your boyfriend, “Tony…wh-what is this?”

“Been working on it all week,” he admitted through pursed lips, “between the hours at the station and all.  Few of the guys chipped in with the painting and their wives helped with decorating it.  Mom still had my crib and rocking chair, so we refinished them and put em in here…chief actually donated the changing table…built it himself…”

“Tony…this is-“

But you couldn’t finish the words that were in your throat.  He walked over to you and pressed another kiss to your lips as he wrapped his arms around you, “this is for us…our future, Sofia…”

You nodded, the littlest of squeaks leaving your lips as a few tears streamed down your cheeks, “this was so nice of everyone…”

“That’s not all…”

Your eyes shot to his, “Wh-what?”

“Let me show you our bedroom…”

You nodded dumbly as you took his hand and you let him lead you to the room right next to the nursery.  Your eyes glittered when he gently pushed open the door. 

It was a cozy enough space.  The walls had been repainted a soft, cool gray while the floors had been stained a deep reddish color, and the trim and crown molding was done in a glossy black.  The queen-sized bed had plush blankets on it, and a few decorative pillows that tied together with the colors of the red, black, and gray.   Black nightstands stood on either side, and two matching dressers lined both sides of the walls.  A small chair and matching ottoman sat in the corner next to the closet, which already had your clothes and his hanging in it. 

But that wasn’t what caught your attention. 

It was the numerous flower petals scattered on the floor and across the bed.

The way the room was lit only with candles. 

You had stepped past your boyfriend to notice that the petals on the bed spelled something out. 

You gasped and turned around to see him on one knee, holding an engagement ring.

“Tony…”

“Before you say anything, I just-just want to say something…is that okay?”

You nodded, “o-okay!”

“I knew from the first time that I saw you clinging to your sisters hand in head start, that you were the woman I wanted to marry,” he said nervously, “I-I mean, yeah, you were quiet, and hid behind Fiona for weeks until the day you agreed to put your mat next to mine instead of hers, but I knew…from day one…But I was always too afraid to tell you how I felt.  But every Valentine’s Day I always made your card by hand…and during your birthday, I only ever got you gifts that meant something because you always meant something to me…I remember in Kindergarten, I passed a note to you, asking if you’d marry me then…but Fiona got it…and-and I didn’t have the heart to correct her…not when you kissed Colin Milkovich and asked him to marry you…”

“I did it because I thought you liked Fi…”

“The only woman I’ve ever loved was you, Sofia Gallagher,” he reaffirmed, “you…always so kind to me…always my best friend.  Always the woman I loved…no matter what.  Every odd job I worked, shoveling snow in the winter, or cutting grass in the summer, was the money I’d use to buy you gifts…but I always saved up a little bit because of this…the day I turned eighteen, I went out and I bought this ring…and I kept it in my sock drawer…because I knew that no matter what, one day, I’d get the balls to ask you to be my girlfriend…and that I’d get the balls to ask you to be my wife…I love you so much, Sofia…we are planning our future…we’re going to have a baby together.  This is our first home together…and I just-I know that while you are the mother of my child, I want you to be my wife as well.”

A few more tears slipped down your cheeks as you tearfully nodded, “Yes!”                                            

“Yes?” He asked, repeating your answer.

“Yes….yes!  YES!  I’ll marry you, Tony Markovich!” you squealed excitedly as he jumped up from his position.  He was quick to pull you into his arms and press a firm kiss to your lips.

Chapter 10

[wizardofarles]

In light of ao3 being down for who knows how long, I’m posting chapters 1-5 of Lord, You Keep Me Crawling here on tumblr

If it’s still down by Sunday when chapter 6 is supposed to go up, I’ll post that here too

(Rating: Mature, tw: csa, implied/referenced suicide, graphic depictions of violence, catholicism, homophobia, panic attacks, ptsd)

Summary: a Catholic high school au wherein the Regent is a Bishop and headmaster of Laurent’s school

Chapter One: On My Knees

The office door opened with a click. Laurent didn’t turn to watch his uncle enter the room. He lounged in one of the high-backed upholstered chairs with the heels of his Doc Martens resting on the polished wood surface of the headmaster’s desk, scrolling through instagram on his phone without really seeing anything. The earbuds in his ears played no sound. They were for show; a performative nonchalance, when really, Laurent had been listening for that click. That didn’t stop his stomach from dropping when he heard it.

Dull footsteps muffled by the plush silk rug approached his chair at a casual pace. Laurent used the few seconds it took his uncle to reach him to scroll back up to a previous post—some pretty Akielon girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, lounging on a beach with three other girls, all in bikinis.

His earbuds flew out of his ears. Laurent turned to see his uncle holding the wire in his hand, earbuds dangling and dancing around each other in a spiral that was sure to tangle. The glance and subsequent grimace of distaste that his uncle directed at his carefully angled phone screen was brief. Laurent might have mistaken it for some trick of the imagination if he didn’t know the man’s face like the back of his own hand.

“Put it away, Laurent,” Uncle said. “School rules still apply in my office. Even for you.”

With a small burst of triumph in his belly, Laurent locked his phone and snatched the earbuds back. Uncle’s gaze lingered on his face, around his eyes. Laurent pretended not to notice, until Uncle grabbed his chin and tilted his face up to look more closely.

“Wash it off.” Uncle’s expression was unreadable, even to Laurent, but his voice was stern.

“You don’t like it?” Laurent put on an exaggerated pout.

“We’re in school, Laurent. Wash it off. I won’t ask again.”

“I don’t have makeup wipes or anything.”

Uncle’s mouth twitched, but his thick beard hid the finer details of the expression. Laurent couldn’t decipher whether the brief flash of emotion he’d seen had been a smile or a scowl. Then Uncle released his face from his grip and walked away without a word, passing through the door to his adjoining bathroom.

Laurent waited while his uncle grabbed a hand towel and ran it under the faucet. The fact that he was expending the effort to do it himself instead of ordering Laurent to do it made him uneasy. Was there a trap here somewhere?

He tried to push his worry away and distracted himself by letting his eyes wander around his uncle’s office. A wide sunbeam poked in through the East-facing window, filling the room with the young light of the morning. On the opposite wall, an ancient leather-bound Bible with gold lettering sat on a wooden hutch, a red ribbon sticking out from between the pages like the flicking tongue of a snake. A crucifix hung on the wall above it; a wooden cross with a little ceramic Jesus stuck on there, looking down solemnly over the room. He was bathed in sunlight from the window.

On the wall to Laurent’s back, beside the door, was a painting that Laurent purposefully didn’t look at—one of those renaissance paintings of little naked cherubs. It was an impressive piece of art in truth, but something about seeing it here in his uncle’s school office had always made Laurent’s skin crawl.

Instead, he found himself staring at the framed photographs on the wall behind his uncle’s desk. Uncle smiled with the Royal Veretian Academy for Boys choir over the years. The choir varied year by year, but his uncle looked the same in every photograph; his lush brown beard always trimmed and neat, his blue eyes twinkling, his left hand resting on the shoulder of the boy beside him.

In seven of those photos, that boy beside him was Laurent, growing slightly taller in each snapshot while his uncle never changed aside from a slight dusting of gray at his temples in recent years. His gaze drifted toward the photograph from three years ago, when Laurent was eleven-going-on-twelve. That was the last year that Aimeric Fortaine had stood smiling on the other side of Laurent, his eyes as green as a sunlit forest.

Uncle returned with the damp towel in hand and crossed in front of the window, fracturing the sunbeam with his silhouette as he came to stand by Laurent’s chair. “Close your eyes,” he said, and began to clean the eyeliner off Laurent’s eyes. He was gentle, and the water was comfortably warm.

“Sister Margaret thinks you are possessed by a demonic spirit, you know,” Uncle said as he worked. His voice was close and rumbled pleasantly in Laurent’s ear. “Stunts like this don’t help your case.”

Laurent grinned. “Are you going to exorcise me, Uncle?”

Uncle finished wiping the makeup away and pulled back. His tone slapped the grin off Laurent’s face. “Sister Margaret may seem like nothing more than a wrinkled old crone to you, but she holds a lot of sway in this community.” He paused to lock his icy blue eyes onto Laurent’s. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Laurent cleared his throat and sat up straight, affecting his voice like he was reading from a textbook. “You want me to clean up my act in front of Sister Margaret so she’ll think you saved me from the devil, and then she’ll tell everyone she holds sway over that you’d make a good Archbishop of Arles. Got it.”

Uncle raised an eyebrow. He still loomed over Laurent with the black-smudged towel in his hand. “Laurent.”

Laurent held his gaze. “I said, I got it.”

“Good,” Uncle said, his tone softening as he tucked a strand of Laurent’s hair behind his ear. The brush of his fingers against Laurent’s ear sent tingles down his spine.

“Will you be home for dinner?” Laurent asked.

Uncle hummed, and his fingers found the sapphire encrusted cross earring dangling from Laurent’s left ear. He had given it to Laurent as a Christmas gift two years ago. Technically, it was another dress code violation—like his combat boots—but some small liberties were granted to the headmaster’s favorite nephew. Apparently, as Laurent had discovered today, eyeliner was not one of them.

Uncle toyed with the earring as he spoke, “I will try my best. I suppose I must take advantage of all the time we have left. I won’t have you all to myself for much longer. Soon I’ll have to compete with your brother.” He sounded wistful, regretful.

The reminder of Auguste’s imminent return from Delfeur twisted Laurent’s stomach into knots. He was thrilled to get his big brother back now that the war was over, but so much had changed since he saw him last. Laurent had changed. And surely Auguste had too.

“Do you think Auguste has killed people?” Laurent asked quietly.

“Undoubtedly. He’s a soldier, Laurent. That’s part of his job.”

Laurent chewed the inside of his cheek as he mulled over the idea of his big brother killing people as though he was inspecting the flavor of a dish that was new to his palate. In order to make it fit with the Auguste in his head, he imagined his brother as a shining knight straight out of one of the fairy tales that his mother used to read to him when he was a child. The kind who only killed for honor and justice—a hero. He tasted blood in his mouth where he must have broken the skin inside his cheek. There are no heroes, he thought with a stab of bitterness that surprised him.

Uncle’s hand was warm on his shoulder, except for the cold band of his ring. “All right,” he said. “Back to class.” He gave Laurent’s shoulder a quick squeeze before letting him go and moving to sit behind his desk. He started sifting through the neat folders of paperwork and making small sounds of disapproval at the back of his throat.

Laurent hesitated for a moment, half hoping his uncle would say something more, but he went on with his work as though Laurent had already gone.

With a stab of disappointment, he stood and made for the door, his mind already slipping back into a brooding haze. His uncle’s voice stopped him with his hand on the doorknob.

“And, Laurent,” he said without looking up from his papers. “Next time you want my attention, think up a new trick. The dress code violations are getting stale.”

All throughout his morning classes and lunch, Laurent hadn’t been able to get his mind off of Auguste. He sat in the back of Sister Margaret’s classroom as she droned on about the significance of Mary’s immaculate conception. Laurent tried to pay attention, but his eyes were drawn like magnets to the ticking clock on the wall behind the Sister, and every time he looked at the clock his mind wandered back to Auguste.

“Only a body born free from sin would be a pure enough vessel to bring into the world our Lord Jesus Christ, who was himself born without sin also—as you all should know,” she said in her reedy voice. “Our Holy Father created Mary to be that perfect vessel, untainted by sins of the flesh—”

The hands of the clock ticked on. In Laurent’s mind, Auguste was running toward him with a grin on his face that outshone the sun in the sky above them. Then his arms were around Laurent, wrapping him in warmth, and Laurent was spinning.

Then he was falling. Auguste landed on top of him and pinned him to the ground, his face twisted in a rage that Laurent had never seen on him before. He tried to squirm, but Auguste’s hands closed around his throat.

“Liar,” Auguste snarled at him. Laurent could barely hear him over the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

“What?” he squeaked, gasping for breath. “You’re hurting me, Auguste!” He didn’t understand why Auguste was mad at him. But he knew in his bones that his brother was trying to kill him.

Auguste’s face was red and a vein pulsed in his forehead. “You’re a disgusting fucking liar!”

The sun moved behind his head, throwing both Auguste and Laurent into shadow. Then Auguste was not Auguste anymore. The eyes that glowered down on him were green as summer and full of hatred.

“You take that back!” Aimeric screeched.

“I won’t!” Laurent shouted, “You’re a disgusting fucking liar!” He spit at the angry green eyes.

Aimeric let out an animal cry of rage, and then Laurent’s world devolved into a flurry of fists and elbows, knuckles and fingernails, fury and pain.

He was spinning again, and then he was on top, raining his fists down on Aimeric’s stupid, lying face.

“Burn in hell!” Laurent screamed. His voice sounded like a ringing bell…

Laurent woke with a start. A bell was ringing. He peeled his face off his desk and tried to glimpse the clock through the swarm of his classmates funneling toward the door. 12:45. He had slept through most of religious studies.

He quickly gathered his notes and his backpack and joined the flow of students heading out into the corridor. He could feel Sister Margaret’s eyes boring holes into his back as he hurried away. All he could think was, Uncle is going to kill me.

Laurent let the crowd herd him through the halls. He spoke to no one, and no one spoke to him. Most of his peers avoided looking him in the eye. They saved their stares and whispers for when his back was turned and scurried when he got too close—as if grief was contagious.

It didn’t bother him, though. His classmates were all either overgrown toddlers or vapid social climbers and snakes who were so wrapped up in their own petty, juvenile bullshit that even looking at them for too long gave Laurent a headache. He didn’t need friends anyway. He had tried that once, and it ended in disaster.

A ceiling light flickered as he passed beneath it. He hadn’t yet fully shaken off the dream, and it left him with the sense of walking between worlds; like he was walking on a tideless beach with one foot on hot, dry sand and one in cold water. Usually his dreams dissipated like mist in the sun when he woke, but not this one. This one seemed intent on hanging around.

He tried to make sense of it as he walked. To lay it all out and look at it from a new angle. First, he had dreamt of Auguste. He shivered at the memory of his brother’s rage—the hands around his throat had felt so real. That part was an invention of his mind, though, Laurent was certain. But then, the scene had morphed into a memory as though that had been its destination from the start. As though everything would always lead back to that moment that Laurent wished desperately he could change. Yet, even in his memory, even in dreams, he was never able to change it. It always played out the same way. It always led to the same ending.

Laurent turned a corner, nearly arrived at his locker, and stopped short. The boy behind him barreled into his back, then brushed past him with a huff of annoyance, but Laurent paid him no mind. He was too busy staring at the great beast leaning against his locker.

Akielon, by the looks of him—dark curls above a nut-brown face and eyes like a rich whiskey. And he was a giant. The beast was standing around and laughing with a group of two other older jocks, and he dwarfed them both. Laurent was sure that he had never seen him before today. He would have remembered.

New to the school, then, and with no inkling of the mistake he was making. He was about to find out.

Laurent marched across the hall and planted himself directly beside the big Akielon.

“Move.” His voice cut through their laughter like a sword through flesh.

The beast turned slowly. His brown eyes traveled from Laurent’s face down his body, to his black combat boots and back up again in a move that brought to mind a lion assessing its prey. Laurent wondered if the Akielon beast was trying to appear intimidating or if he was just slow.

He saw the moment that the beast decided he was not a threat. Something like amusement glittered in his dark eyes.

“Ask me nicely, sweetheart,” he said in flawless, unaccented Veretian, “and maybe I will.”

Heat bloomed in Laurent’s cheeks. He ignored the swooping feeling of adrenaline rushing into his bloodstream and plastered on a sunny smile.

“Call me ‘sweetheart’ again,” he said, “and I’ll rip your balls out through your throat.” The beast’s companions shifted aggressively, but the beast remained still. Laurent continued, “Now, move your big, hairy Akielon ass off of my locker.”

One of the henchmen—another Akielon, black-haired, with a patchy five o’clock shadow—started forward with a grunt, but the beast held him back with one outstretched arm. He pushed off the locker without using his arms and squared off against Laurent. At his full height, the beast easily towered over him by a foot. Laurent felt his breath leave him, but he stood his ground and carefully did not flinch.

“I could snap you in half with one hand, kid.” There was still a hint of amusement in the beast’s voice, but there was a real warning there too, and more than a hint of disdain. Laurent was reasonably sure the threat was hyperbole, but the way that his RVAB blazer strained at the Akielon’s shoulders and biceps planted a little seed of doubt in his mind.

“You really shouldn’t threaten me,” Laurent said.

“You threatened me first.”

“You don’t know who I am.” Laurent took a step forward, craning his neck to maintain eye contact. He was close enough to reach out and grab the beast’s red tie now if he wanted to. Close enough to smell the garlic on his breath.

The beast’s grin was sharp. “I’ve got a general idea by now, sweetheart.”

Laurent drove his knee up into the Akielon’s balls with the full strength of his body.

Then Laurent was on his back, gasping for air. The black-haired henchman had shoved him to the ground hard and knocked the wind right out of him. Somewhere, a woman was screaming, possibly praying.

“Motherfucker!” the beast moaned in Akielon. He was doubled over and cradling his groin with his hands. A crowd was gathering around them in the hall, choking the flow of foot traffic like a blood clot blocking an artery.

The goon moved to grab Laurent, but he scrambled to his knees before he could reach him and dove at the beast’s legs. Laurent wrapped his arms around the beast’s knees and attempted to take him down in some kind of improvised bear hug. But the brute was just too strong.

He managed to loosen Laurent’s hold on him by thrashing his right leg in kicking arcs. One kick connected with Laurent’s ribs, hard enough to bruise. The next sent the beast’s shoe smashing into his stomach. That one was worse.

A wave of nausea surged through him, followed by dull pain. Laurent collapsed onto his hands and knees. He wrestled the nausea back down by sheer force of will.

Through the pounding blood in his ears, he heard the beast’s voice above him.

“Do you yield?” the beast said. Laurent pulled himself back up to his feet.

“Do I yield?” he asked, incredulous. “I knew Akielos was not as advanced as Vere, but I had no idea you were still stuck in the medieval period.” There was scattered snickering among the bystanders.

The Akielon beast’s expression turned sour, his jaw sliding forward. “I’m trying to offer you an out, kid.”

Laurent leveled a long assessing look at the Akielon. An old lesson of Uncle’s floated in the back of his mind. A man’s body will tell you what his tongue will not, if you know how to read him.

Hands in tight fists, shoulders squared, every bulging muscle tensing against his school uniform—the brute had a short fuse, and he wasn’t even attempting to conceal it. Rage glittered openly in his dark eyes.

Laurent laughed, a sharp and bitter sound even to his own ears. “No, Akielos. I do not yield.”

He shifted his weight and watched the beast shift with him.

“Damianos,” the beast said, startling Laurent out of his head.

“What?”

“My name is Damianos.”

“I don’t care what your name is, brute.” Laurent lunged on the last word.

Then suddenly his feet lifted off the ground. A huge meaty club of a hand clamped around his bicep. Laurent thrashed and tried to pry fingers as thick as sausages from around his arm with his other hand. He turned, expecting to see the Akielon or his friend hoisting him up, but the face above him was much older, uglier, and hairier.

Coach Govart’s face twisted into a mean approximation of a smile, and he set Laurent’s feet back down on the floor. To Laurent’s surprise, in his other hand he held the arm of the beast—Damianos. Though Laurent doubted even Govart had been able to lift Damianos off the ground with one hand. No, only Laurent had suffered that humiliation. He felt his cheeks burning again, and scowled.

“Start walking, boys,” Coach Govart growled as he dragged both Laurent and Damianos down the hall. The crowd of students had vanished—scattered at the sight of Govart like rabbits fleeing a bear.

They only passed Damianos’s Akielon henchman and one other figure. The sight of her sent Laurent’s stomach swooping with dread again.

Sister Margaret held her rosary up to her lips as she whispered a fervent prayer. Her knuckles were white around the cross, and her face was ashen. When Laurent met her eye as Govart hauled him past, she shuddered and made a shaky sign of the cross.

Laurent wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. Instead, he lifted his chin and marched along with Govart as though he were the one leading that mad dog and not the other way around. He marched right up to the door marked Headmaster in golden letters, and knocked three times without being told.

“Enter.” His uncle’s voice was muffled through the wood, but still clear enough to be heard without mistake.

Govart released both boys. Laurent straightened out his blazer before opening the door, then sauntered right over to the chair he had sat in earlier that morning and plopped himself down into it. His uncle’s office was darker in the afternoon, now that the sun had fled the eastern sky.

“Hello, Uncle,” he said lightly, kicking his feet up onto his uncle’s desk, though never actually looking at his uncle.

He kept his eyes on Damianos instead, watching for the moment when the depth of his situation dawned on him. When it hit him, Damianos seemed to shrink. He stood frozen in the doorway, staring at Laurent with an expression of horror that was not dissimilar to the way Sister Margaret had looked at him in the hallway. It was every bit as satisfying as Laurent had hoped.

“Twice in one day, Laurent?” Uncle matched Laurent’s light tone. “Feeling neglected?”

Laurent shrugged. “I thought you might be bored.”

“You certainly know how to keep my days interesting. So,” he spread his hands, “who’s going to fill me in.”

“They were fighting in the hall,” Coach Govart said gruffly from the doorway. “Sister Margaret fetched me to break it up.” Laurent cringed at the mention of the old nun’s name. Uncle was definitely going to kill him.

“Thank you, Govart,” Uncle said with a slight nod, and his mad dog was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and silence bloomed in the office. When Uncle spoke again, his voice was softer.

“Damianos. Please, sit.” Laurent dared then to look at his uncle and found him smiling at the Akielon boy like an old friend. Uncle was good like that. He always knew everyone’s names and could make anyone feel welcome anywhere. It was why everyone loved him.

Laurent didn’t have that gift—though Uncle would correct him and say it was a skill that anyone could learn. Laurent was inclined to disagree. People didn’t love him, and he didn’t imagine he would ever be able to make them the way Uncle did.

As Damianos shuffled over to the chair beside Laurent, Uncle frowned and tapped the toe of Laurent’s boot twice with his silver pen. With a scowl, Laurent lifted his feet off the desk and planted them flat on the floor.

“Good boy,” Uncle said, like it was a normal thing to say then. The fire returned to Laurent’s cheeks with a vengeance. He looked down at his hands in his lap, letting his hair fall like a golden curtain over his eyes. Soft rustles to his left told him that Damianos had sat down beside him. Laurent sent out a silent prayer that Damianos was not looking at him then.

“Damianos,” Uncle began again, “I hope you’re having a pleasant first day here at the Royal Veretian Academy for Boys. I see that you’ve already met my nephew, Laurent.”

Laurent heard Damianos’s throat click when he swallowed. “Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Please, there is no need for such formalities. Call me Father Laurent, or simply Father.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Tell me, what do you think of my nephew?”

The silence stretched on too long. That alone would have been answer enough, but Damianos apparently had a death wish. “Honestly, Father,” he said, “your nephew is very rude.”

To Laurent’s mortification, Uncle laughed. His rich, warm, genuine laugh. “He is, isn’t he?” He pointed a weighted glance at Laurent, then shifted his attention back to Damianos. “You are honest, aren’t you, Damianos?”

“I try to be, Father.”

Uncle spread his hands magnanimously. “Of course you do, my child. ‘And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth, which the world cannot accept, because it neither sees nor knows it. But you know it, because it remains with you, and will be in you.’ John, chapter fourteen.”

Laurent knew what was coming next, even if Damianos did not. His uncle’s smile was warm as a forest fire. “Damianos, tell me the truth of what happened between you and my nephew.”

Laurent turned his gaze back to Damianos and poured as much ice into his stare as he could muster. Damianos glanced at him and squirmed in his chair. He cleared his throat. Laurent narrowed his eyes.

“Well…” Damianos began, then flicked his eyes to Laurent again and stopped short.

“Go on,” Uncle prompted. “Give me the truth of it, son.”

“Yes, Father. Well, I was standing—I was leaning against his locker—well, I didn’t know it was his locker at the time, it’s right next to the one Father Herode gave to me this morning. Laurent came up to me and told me to move. I said—”

Damianos stopped again. Glanced at Laurent. “Go on,” Laurent coaxed sweetly.

“I, um. I said I would move if he asked me nicely—”

“This brute called me—”

“Is your name Damianos?” Uncle cut through. Laurent snapped his mouth shut. “Because I recall specifically asking Damianos to speak.”

Laurent bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from talking back. He held his uncle’s gaze as he pulled his left leg up and hugged it to his body, placing the sole of his boot directly on Uncle’s fancy upholstered chair cushion. Uncle’s face was a perfect statue. Laurent hoped there was dirt on the bottom of his boot. Maybe some gum or dog shit.

“Well, uh…” Damianos straightened his tie. “I don’t remember exactly what was said by either side, but some threats were exchanged, and then Laurent attacked me. I defended myself. I offered him the chance to walk away, but he refused.”

Laurent scoffed.

“I see,” Uncle said. “Thank you for your candor, Damianos.”

“Aren’t you going to ask for my side of the story?” Laurent interjected.

“We have established that Damianos is honest. You are not.”

“Luckily for you,” Laurent mumbled. Something dangerous flashed in Uncle’s blue eyes and it pushed Laurent’s head down like a physical force. He picked at a scab beside his thumbnail as though it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. Laurent had a sneaking suspicion that he would be eating dinner alone tonight after all.

“I apologize for my nephew’s behavior, Damianos,” Uncle said. “You have to understand, he has lost a great deal to Akielos. He lost his father, my brother, in Marlas two years ago. That was only three months after the loss of his mother. And his older brother has been on the front lines in Delfeur ever since. I believe Laurent has misdirected some of his grief and anger at you, an Akielon within reach.

“It’s no excuse for his behavior, of course, but I hope it may provide some context.”

Damianos was silent for a moment. Laurent tried to sink into his chair. He was oscillating between embarrassment and boiling rage at his uncle for telling those private things to a stranger. And this Akielon stranger, of all people.

When Damianos spoke, his voice was soft. “I’m very sorry for your losses, both of you.”

“Shove it up your ass, Akielos.”

The brute exhaled sharply, a little noise of contempt.

“Laurent.” Uncle’s voice was like a whip. He softened it again when he spoke to the other boy, “Thank you for your kind words, Damianos. You are free to go.”

That’s it? Laurent wanted to protest, but he didn’t dare interrupt his uncle again.

“Please don’t hesitate to come to me in the future,” Uncle was saying, “for anything you or your family might need to help you get settled in Arles.”

Uncle rose and Damianos followed. Laurent stayed seated, but saw them shake hands in his periphery. Then he made the mistake of glancing at the photographs on the wall. Aimeric seemed to grin at him even more brightly than he had this morning. Laurent’s stomach turned violently, and he wondered what his uncle would do if he vomited on his Patran rug.

“Welcome to the RVAB,” his uncle said with a smile that Laurent could hear. “You’re a senior, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I may be biased, but I believe there’s no better education in Vere than what you’ll receive here. Our students are among the top picks of the most prestigious universities in the country. I hope to see you thrive here, Damianos.”

“Thank you very much, Father Laurent.”

“God bless you, my child.”

“And you as well, Father.”

Uncle walked Damianos to the door, and once the brute was gone, Uncle locked it behind him. He turned to Laurent; his face completely devoid of emotion. The coldness in his eyes sent a shiver down Laurent’s spine.

“You have displayed a callous disregard for school rules regarding violence, decency, and foul language. You have spoken out of turn. You have disrespected me, and you have disrespected God. Your behavior is a stain upon this school, upon this holy order, and upon the name de Vere.”

Laurent looked at his shoes. He was expecting it when Uncle said, “Fetch me the paddle,” but the expectation did nothing to quiet his pulse.

With shaking hands, Laurent took the wooden paddle out of the bottom right drawer of Uncle’s desk and brought it to him. Like an obedient dog with a stick, his mind supplied, if the dog was about to be beaten with the stick.

“Bend over the desk,” Uncle commanded, and again Laurent obeyed. “You will count out loud to fifteen.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Laurent closed his eyes and steeled himself for the pain, willing himself not to cry.

By the time Laurent said, “Fifteen,” he was weeping. He heard Uncle put down the paddle, and then he was at Laurent’s side with an arm around his back, helping him stand up.

“Why do you put us through this, Laurent?” Uncle gently brushed Laurent’s cheeks with his thumbs, drying his tears. “You used to be such a sweet boy.”

Laurent sniffled. “I’m sorry, Uncle.”

Uncle stepped behind his desk and sat down in his chair with a sigh. He slid the white clerical tab collar free from the neck of his shirt and set it on the desk. “Come over here.”

Laurent obeyed. Ceramic Jesus watched him gravely from his place on the wall. Laurent thought he looked cold now that the sun was no longer on him.

“That’s a good boy. God offers forgiveness,” Uncle said, “to all His children who repent and devote themselves to His teachings.” The belt came off next, the silver buckle singing like a bell. “Kneel, child. Show your devotion, and rise, cleansed.”

Laurent knelt before his uncle as though he were about to receive the body and blood of Christ through Holy Communion. This ritual was just as sacred, Uncle said. After all, he couldn’t physically get much closer to God than through the touch of a Bishop. When he rose again from beneath his uncle’s desk, though, he did not feel cleansed. Maybe I’m broken inside, he thought. Maybe my soul is beyond reach.

He wondered if his uncle ever felt like this. If the sated smile on his face was anything to judge by, Uncle didn’t appear to be troubled by the same doubt. Doubt is a test of faith, someone had told him once. He couldn’t remember who. It may have been his mother, or even Uncle himself. Regardless, Laurent repeated it in his head like a mantra, and it managed to put his mind at ease a little.

The bad feeling faded as the day went on, until he nearly forgot about it entirely. Instead, the thrill of carrying around a secret won over, and Laurent spent the rest of the school day feeling special, and more than a little smug about it. But later that night, when Laurent stood alone at the kitchen counter pushing rice around on his plate rather than eating it, the doubt returned. In the dark, silent house full of ghosts and secrets, there was nothing to keep the whispers in his mind at bay.

Laurent tried to imagine how he would explain all this to Auguste, if he had to. How he could make him understand. It was pointless, he knew. Auguste would never understand. No one would. Uncle said that only God would ever understand. That was why they had to keep it a secret between the three of them. But what if Uncle was wrong? What if God wasn’t in on the joke?

Laurent gave up on eating and resigned himself to a sleepless night of staring at his bedroom ceiling, cringing from shadows on his walls. If this creeping unease really was a test, he felt like he was failing.

[thatboxylady]

Ok but

See, THIS is the thing that is so insidious about the Beast Machines episode In Darkest Knight. 

Towards the beginning of the episode, Blackarachnia walks in on Rattrap working on the DNA scanner prototype. Between that exact moment and going up to the surface to find Nightscream, there’s not much time between her thinking about grabbing it and actually doing so. Presumably, all the Maximals go up to the surface together after the fact... no one notices BA taking the scanner, obviously.

Under read more because this got a little long. :(

During the fight, she slaps the scanner on Jetstorm without him noticing. In all fairness, I would also be fairly distracted if I had a spider robot lady jumping me like that. 

After that, she lures him into underground and has this seemingly elaborate trap already set up. 

Based on the layout, her "plan” seemed to be this: 

Lure Jetstorm into the underground where he less maneuverability/fighting prowess. 

Lead Jetstorm to chamber with the transorganic sludge (more on this in a second).

Snare Jetstorm in the web at the end of the tunnel. 

Introduce Jetstorm to the compound while he’s trapped, allowing Silverbolt’s spark to come up to the surface and overwhelm his shell program.

HERE’S THE THING, THOUGH: we do not see her put up the web at the end of this chase scene. There’s been some continuity bullshit with this show plenty of times before, but never this waaay more blatant than that. Plus, as a spider, we know that Blackarachnia has always been predisposed to avoid being stuck in her own webbing...

So, what do we make of this? 

The web was set up before the episode even started. 

This whole plan with the spark extractor being added to the mix was coincidental. Blackarachnia found this chamber with the pool awhile ago and always intended to lead Jetstorm down there, regardless as to whether or not she had a means of getting Silverbolt a beast mode out of it. She likely found the sludge pool, remembered what happened when she used the activator agent on the Vehicon generals before, and thought “gee, this will be useful!” This scheme was in place for awhile. Having Rattrap’s invention was a happy accident and spurred her to put her pre-determined plan into motion immediately. 

Anyways... that’s horrific? Especially when you consider that Jetstorm could have gotten snared in the webbing and not gained enough momentum to land in the pool itself, there are so many fuckin’ variables that you need to take into consideration. If that was the case, and he landed elsewhere in the dirt without hitting the organic compound, she would have had to drag him over kicking and screaming. He already said no multiple times... and as ugly as this scene was, I’m almost glad it happened the way it did. We didn’t have to see Jetstorm start begging. 

(Sort of. I’m really, really not a fan of the screaming. Like props to the VA for the killer voice performance, but HOLY fucking shit. No.)

Anyways, TL;DR, this was never a spur-of-the-moment thing. Blackarachnia had this plan to trap and forcibly overwrite Jetstorm long before she got her hands on the DNA scanner, which makes her initial promise to not force him to be a Maximal even more hollow. It’s been 20+ years and I’m still goddamn angry about it. 

He didn’t have to die, man. He SAID “no.” Multiple times. Silverbolt could have been saved another way. They could have taken the TIME to find another way. 

This scene was sooooo ugly and BA was ugly for doing it and BM was ugly for not ever acknowledging how heinous it was after the fact and auRGHHHHHH. 

[visuallanguagerhianna]

On the left side I have compiled my projections, on the right are the slides before projections to provide a reference for how different the projection can be compared to the projection. These were projected onto a white wall in a dark room, using a carousel projector.

For these projections, I wanted to focus on the ‘trapped’ side of my theme, the items that have a lock on us, the mental strain it can put us under. I brought in various materials, such as; spiderweb lace, pens, tinsel, loofa material, acetate, and red pattern fabric.

1) The first one, the pair of socks, I used a green pen and tinsel. I was curious to see how the shiny, silver tinsel would react when projected. The green pen came out a little less opaque than I was hoping for but it is still visible so I’m still happy. There is less contrast in the projection than the slide piece but that was to be expected. The tinsel came out really bold which is great, as I used it to resemble the messy, tied up nature of significance. The green circles are a symbol of scent, “smelly socks”, typical of old socks being hung onto despite their use being over. Sometimes we hang onto things for personal reasons such as favourites, or we don’t want to spend the money, and therefore put pressure on the significance of the socks being the only ones to have.

2) I found this slide of some sort of pottery maker (possibly), and felt it had a somber look to him. The slouch, the lines under their eyes, the lack of colour yet high contrast in the tone is what leads me to believe this. So, using my red fabric I laid it over him to resemble that he is perhaps stuck, maybe to his craft, or possibly this is his getaway to wind down after being stuck somewhere else. I would have liked the red to come through, however I think it’s still effective in conveying my ideas. These look really nice back to back, two sides to a coin vibe.

3) Something we don’t notice how our homes can trap us. We are tied to this place of rest, whether that be money, status, family, disability, contract etc, this builds significance. This is where we can often feel protective, or even resentful towards the house. Humans often have the primal urge to explore and wander, although our home can prevent this as we have to come back to it. This sense of responsibility holding us back from new experiences. Pulling us back to continue it’s maintenance and protections. Seeing this slide, of the man flying away with the bird, which are often seen as a symbol for freedom, is how I interpreted it. Trying to get away, while the black arms reach out in desperation to bring them back. I used black spiderweb patterned lace, layered it over the slide, to create this projection. I really like how it came out, I think it represents my theme nicely, and the photo and fabric flow well together.

4) I waned to take this slide of someone happily sitting in their busy room, and contrast it with something a little more sinister. I drew over the persons face with a black marker, then added the red lines around them using a red marker. I wanted to create a scenario where even though the picture has warm, happy tones with smiling characters, something is wrong. The red lines are to signify danger, as red is a universal colour for danger. As though the surroundings were not a safe as they look. The room is busy and cluttered, in a hoarding situation this can be dangerous, in case a fire breaks out, items fall over, trip hazards and more. The face is to look horrified, almost in anguish at their situation. I’m glad the pen here is less opaque, so the background behind the red lines and the smile behind the black features can still be seen. I think this make it feel even more sinister, as sometimes we mask out feelings too well, that no one notices the pain behind the smile. Maybe we hide it from ourselves too.

5) This one is a little more subtle, at least with contrast and business. The lines represent how we can be connected to what’s around us, being busy with out work making tied down, slouching into it, losing our individuality and becoming one with the inanimate object. Depersonalising us, striping us down to the bare minimum like a basic machine. I like how rustic this piece came out when projected, the colours washed out to make it look more old timey, as though this charade has gone on for a long time.

(Continued on next post)

[suna-reversed]

Jujutsu Kaisen hcs- “please don’t leave”

alt. title- needy late night moments

Characters- Yuji, Gojo, Sukuna, Megumi

Tags- angst if you squint but mainly fluff

Yuji- 

- You fell asleep on him while watching a horror movie late night. 

- His one hand clutched the popcorn bowl, the other coming around to cradle your head subconsciously as your body slumped over into his side. 

- His main task for the next hour was to not move a single muscle in fear you’d wake up and go inside the bedroom to sleep.

- He’s just been a little touch starved and liked the warmth you were radiating.

- His task proves to be quite difficult considering he was watching a horror movie with jump-scares every two minutes. 

- It takes 5 failed attempts at Yuji trying not to jolt up whenever something pops up for you to finally stir awake, and you find your eyes meeting with the absolutely terror filled ones of your lover.

- “Please don’t leave” he whispers in a voice that makes your heart break. You end up taking that as him being scared of the movie

- Still in a sleepy daze, you crawl over into his lap, affectionately nosing at his neck while his strong arms come around to hold you tightly, 

- “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here mmkay?” A smile of pure tenderness forms across Yuji’s face, soon enough turning into choking laughter as you sleepily mumble, “I’m ready to throw hands with them dead people”

- “Zombies, babe. They’re zombies.”

- “The only thing they’ll be once I’m done with them is...dead” You slur out that last part, falling back into slumber with a small smile on your face as you feel Yuji shake with silent laughter, his hand coming up to gently pat the back of your head,

- “Thank you baby, I’d throw hands with zombies for you any-day too.”

Gojo Satoru 

- You rolled over in the empty bed for the thousandth time that night. You had learned long before that on most nights you’ll be sleeping without your Satoru.

- So what was different today? Maybe it was the fact that he had informed you of his return. But it had been 2 days since then, and Gojo had never not shown up the same day that he’d told you he was coming back.

- Despite knowing the man you loved was practically undefeatable by most, your mind had considered every single possibility, from him getting captured by a curse to him tripping over and falling into an abandoned sewage line.

- Your stomach churned with anxiety as you considered whether calling Nanami this late to check on Gojo would be a good idea.

- You were halfway into typing his number when you heard the familiar click of the door unlocking, your feet carrying you to the front door faster than your mind could process it.

- And there he was. The bag of sweets he gets you each time in his left hand as he apprehended you with a raised brow and cocky look, 

- “Couldn’t sleep without me sweetheart?”

- He was met with eerie silence as you continued to stare at him. Your sleep deprived mind still processing that he was home. He was safe. 

- Gojo immediately sensed that something was wrong, but before he could react, you were walking towards him, crashing into his arms as he brought his hands around you when-

Thump! 

- Did you just...punch his chest? 

- “I was- I was so scared” you sniffed into his chest. “...you idiot.”

- Gojo’s heart twisted in pain as he heard a sob escape you, his arms tightening around you as he rested his chin on your head. He let you cry it out, gently picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom in midst of you murmuring various swear words at him 

- He finally felt you beginning to calm down as he tucked you in the on your side of the bed. But, as he pulled away, he felt a hand clutch onto his wrist, 

- “Please don’t leave” you said, your voice quivering. 

- “Baby...” he said with a gentle voice, “I’m just going to go change, okay? I’m not going anywhere”

- Even as Gojo changed, he felt your eyes digging into his back like he’d disappear if you let him out of sight for even a moment. 

- He quickly pulled on a pair of sweats, opting to not wear a shirt as he moved into bed with you, your limbs immediately coming to wrap around him. 

- You laid in silence for a while 

- “y/n?” You hummed in acknowledgement, face still buried in his chest

- “I’m always going to come back home to you my love. That’s a promise okay?” 

- You nodded in response, eyes turning glassy once more as Gojo leaned forward to pepper kisses all over your forehead, cheeks, and nose. 

- Gojo lifted his blindfold as he felt your breathing slow down, his ocean eyes filled with utmost adoration as he simply let himself admire your sleeping form. 

Sukuna

- The curse found itself being stuck in its vessel at the most useless of times. - 

- After a late night mission when the brat crashed at your surveillanced apartment, while you completed the formalities and paperwork to submit to Nanami the next morning. 

- Walking out of the guest room, Sukuna found himself amused by your ability to fall asleep in the weirdest of places

- Currently, you sat hunched over the kitchen table, head resting sideways in your arms, tiny snores leaving your mouth as your eyes remained shut. 

- The curse looked back to a few days ago when it had found itself in it’s vessel’s body unwillingly again, a strange warmth curled in his left side. Looking down, he had realised that the strange warmth came from your huddled up body. 

- You had immediately snapped open your eyes and moved away as soon as he had let out a low chuckle. 

- So this time, he approached you carefully. But even then, he had expected you to sense someone’s presence so close next to you. 

- But there was no reaction from you, even as he pulled the chair right next to you and sat down on it.

- ��Oi brat”

- Still no response.

- Oh, had you finally let your guard down?

- A dozen different malicious ideas filled Sukuna’s mind, but he found himself simply sitting there, awaiting for a reaction from you. 

- He wondered how you could sleep so comfortably on what was practically a wooden slab. And he found his answer questioned as he curiously leaned down on his own arms, facing you, your noses merely an inch away as he regarded your calm face with a raised brow. 

- He had imagined you to be snarky and biting at him even in your sleep. 

- Why had he imagined you sleeping at all?

- He found himself avoiding the question.

- He stilled as your eyes fluttered open, a cocky smile making it’s way on his lips as he awaited your fear filled eyes. 

- Instead, he found you simply staring back at him, the most of a reaction being you furrowing your brows slightly 

- He didn’t know whether he was a little offended by your lack of response or highly unsettled by your piercing gaze. Nonetheless, he found himself turning his head away, almost in a petty childlike manner. 

- Why did he not get up and leave?

- He felt a hand come to the back of his head, and his senses instantly got ready to go into offensive mode. 

- But this was something much much worse than an attack.

- He found your fingers gently brush over his hair, almost like you were absorbing it’s softness into your fingertips. The breaking point was you gently scratching his head with your nails. He almost purred. 

- But he also found his own hand coming up to grip your wrist, stilling your hand in place.

- “What-are-you-doing?” He emphasised each word as he turned his towards you again, hand still holding yours above his head.

- You continued to stare at him with a look he didn’t quite understand,

- “Your hair is...soft” You slurred your words a little, wiggling your fingers that were trapped in his hand. He let go, only to find you entangling your hand back into his hair, quite shamelessly this time as you closed your eyes once again.

- He didn’t know whether it was the tiredness of that night or simply your sleepiness, but you didn’t acknowledge it the next day. He chose not to either even though he had spent all night thinking of how he’d get to tease you with this.

- But, the king of curses did find himself leaning more towards you whenever you were in his presence. Your hand brushing with his every now and then. Him gently tugging on a strand of hair before tucking it behind your ear and you letting him. Staying right there if he woke up with you on his shoulder while on the train back from a mission. 

- Eventually, you show up to Yuji’s room on a day much similar to the night where you first touched the curse, eyes sunken and shoulders slumped, desperate for any sort of comfort and almost relieved at the fact that he was there. 

- He was taken back as you climbed into the bed, arms wrapping around him, hands going straight to tangle themselves in his hair as you buried your face in his chest.

- “Please don’t leave” 

- He found his own arms pulling you further into him because who was he to deny you when your touch felt so divine? 

Megumi

- Getting a call from Megumi at 2 am after you had just returned from a mission was the last thing you had expected

- Megumi had grown considerably close to you for a boy who didn’t always wear his emotions on his sleeve.

- However, perhaps it was the fact that you had ended up giving him a tiny huge scare by going missing for a few hours on the mission

- It wasn’t anything major, you had gotten injured and accidentally strayed off the path you were ordered to follow

- Nonetheless, the news had reached the school, particularly Megumi, who was halfway out, ready to go and save you from whatever had taken you when the message had come that they had found you unconscious in some corner of the forest. He had only left the infirmary after being assured countless times that you were fine and being pulled away by Yuji.

- Still, he found his mind running and all he wanted was to hear your voice to make sure you were okay.

- He honestly hadn’t expected you to pick up, but he hadn’t known that the nurse had allowed you to go back to your dorm once you woke up.

- So he found himself speechless as he heard your voice

- “...Megumi? Is everything okay?”

- “Yes” he murmured.

- “The nurse told me you were there with me for quite a while…”

- There was a beat of silence before he said,

- “You scared me”

- He immediately hung up after that.

- You knew that it was difficult for him to express such emotions and so you found your feet carrying you to the front of his door

- You weren’t exactly sure of what you were going to do, but you didn’t have to figure that out as the door opened in your face, Megumi gesturing for you to come in.

- As soon as you shut the door, you felt your body being pulled into his warm embrace. You sighed, taking in his familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

- You eventually ended up on his bed, limbs tangled with each other under the sheets as he traced random patterns onto your arm to convey the words he couldn’t say, till he fell asleep.

- You found yourself noticing the time, sighing as you got ready to go back to your dorm, but Megumi noticed the slight movement,

- “Angel...” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling his head into your neck, “Please don’t leave.”

- Your heart melted at his words and the consequences of sleeping in another student’s room seemed to fade from your mind as you tightened your grip on him,

- “Never”

[randomfandomimagine]

Can I please request a headcanon of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III from How to train your dragon x mermaid! Reader? Like the reader is the same type of mermaids from H20? When Hiccup was rescuing some dragons from the dragon trappers and they saw a cage that was covered with a large cloth and thought it was another dragon in the cage, they pulled the large cloth, and instead, they were greeted by a large aquarium revealing the mermaid reader who was trapped inside. Thank you 🙏

Cool idea! I’m excited because this is actually my first Hiccup/HTTYD request, so thank you! Enjoy!

Want to send a request? Read my rules first, please!

HICCUP MEETING AND SAVING MERMAID READER

You had lost track of time, of how long you had been there

Away from your home, stuck in an small aquarium that was like a cage

Hidden from the world with a cloth that kept you blind to everything

You knew you were in a boat because of the sensations arround you

The crew’s loud conversations, the noise of the seat and the swaying

You had resigned to your fate, knowing whatever it was, it was bad

However, something interrupted your pessimistic thoughts

A ruckus had broken out with the sound of fighting

You restlessly twirled in your small aquarium, waiting for something

Anything to happen, to let you know what was going on out there

And suddenly, your heard a gentle voice growing closer

“Don’t worry, friend, we’ll get you out of here in no time, you’ll-”

The cloth was removed, nearly blinding you with the sudden light

Before you was a young man, staring at you in awe, his mouth agape

He staggered back, shocked by what he had unexpectedly come across

“You’re... you’re not a dragon” He muttered. “You’re a mermaid!!”

You seemed to take everything in all of a sudden, the situation

There were many people behind him, an entire other crew

They were also accompanied by dragons, which was a shock for you

You had never seen dragons, mostly staying under the surface

The dragons roared, the people fought to control the ship

The young man stepped closer, and you realized he had a metallic foot

Frightened by him approaching you, you swam backwards

Your back and tail pressed against the cold glass behind you

“No, don’t be afraid! We’re not gonna hurt you, I promise!”

“My name’s Hiccup. We were here to rescue dragons from the trappers”

You observed him, noticing his hesitance and timidness

“Um... we’re gonna help you, of course, even if you’re not a dragon”

He kept nervously talking, so you watched him in curiosity now

“We weren’t really expecting to come across a mermaid, but it’s great!”

“Thank you” You finally spoke up. “Nice to meet you, my name is Y/N“

He gawked at you, smiling when you first spoke, and nodded

“No need to thank me, Y/N. We’ll get you to safety in no time”

After that, Hiccup took you to Berk with them for the time being

They were going there to give the dragons a home in any case

You stayed until you thought of a way to return home

During that time, Hiccup often came to visit you in the water

He was very kind and friendly, even if very curious as well

He was fascinated by your mere existence and had lots of questions

You told him about your home, your people, your traditions

And in return, Hiccup told you all about Berk and its story

He told you about himself and about Astrid and Toothless

In fact, he took them with him one day to introduce you

“Y/N, I’m back! I brought some friends, do you want to meet them?”

He was always very respectful, never wanting to overwhelm you

He knew Berk was very different from your home after all

But whether you decided to stay or to return home, you never forgot

About Berk, about Astrid, Toothless and all the other people and dragons

Especially, you would never forget about that young man, Hiccup

Not only had he saved your life, he had become a dear friend too

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!! // Masterlist

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @wonderlandfandomkingdom / @fandomxreaders​ /  @welcome-here-in-my-world / @unstable-puffin-writing / @lxncelot // Send an ask if you want to be added to the tag list for this fandom!

[glamrockerfredbear]

Hi! If possible could I have Freddy, Monty and Sun/Moon with an s/o who wears their merchandise all the time?

Love your work!! 💙💙💙💙

this reminds me of the song paparazzi also I made this monty themed bc why not lol

Merch maniacs w/ 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐠𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 ☆ 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲, and ☼ 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 ☼

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　🐊　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐠𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫

“Yooooooo.” You pressed your whole cheek against the glass window.

“Yoooooo.” Bonnie also pressed his cheek against the window, looking ridiculous for someone his size.

The thing you two were amazed at? Well it was none other than the giant limited edition gigantic Monty plush. It wasn’t cheaply made and that you could just tell from looking at it; all different part were made from different fabrics, the pants being a shiny fabric, the belt being another, even his shoulder pads seemed to have so much detail on them with such shiny silk fabrics!

You had to have him in your room. You turned to Bonnie who was still awestruck at the giant plush, “When will your plush get released?”

Bonnie hummed, before forcibly taking his eyes off of the plush and met yours, “Uh, management said not until next month. Y’know, like a surprise for fans or something.”

“So, Monty’s plush is the only one available right now?”

“Pretty much.”

You turn your attention back onto the plush and stare at the plush’s eyes. You really, really, really needed it. You collected pretty much everything Monty merch as a way to support your gator, and this was no different.

Everyday, you’d come in with something different to show your support for him. Whether it be a Monty hat, a cute little Monty sticker on your shirt, a Monty pin, a Monty pen placed on your chest pocket, you even had a scratch n’ sniff stickers of him you brought with you one time. Most of all Monty merch was somewhere in your house, and this plush wasn’t going to be any different. You were your boyfriends biggest fan and you were here to prove it!

Speaking of your boyfriend, Monty had traveled from whatever ticket booth station to the Fazbear merch store near the lobby of the PizzaPlex. When he had spotted you and Bonnie near the store, he smirked to himself. Monty’s pride was always seeing you carrying or wearing something of his, he’d even gone as far as to ask management to sew a little inside joke at the butt of the Monty plush because he just knew you would buy it.

Monty’s loud voice rang in the empty lobby, since it was after hours,

“Hey babe! Y’like mini me?!” He questioned, already sounding like an egotistical man. You and Bonnie both turned to face the gator on the stairs, with Bonnie returning Monty’s sly smirk,

“Don’t think everyone here is a fan, Montgomery. I’m just looking at the competition.” Bonnie teased as Monty neared. The two lifted their star shaped glasses at one another to share playful glares before Monty moved quickly to trap you in his big, strong arms.

“So…where are ya gonna place mini me, hmm?” He questioned, the silly gator teeth poking from his mouth. God, you just loved how he looked so dumb sometimes.

“Hmmm, not sure. Maybe outside?” You giggled. Monty gasped with a dramatic voice and began to pinch both your cheeks, going on and on about how he was gonna eat you and how much he would enjoy it. In your little Monty world, you had forgotten your rabbit friend watching this all unfold…

“Ew, guys, I’m right here hello?” Bonnie scoffed, his dark purple tail wiggling. Monty stuck his tongue out at him, making you yank it.

“Argh, I can taste the nasty tickets on yer hands!”

“Maybe be nicer to Bonnie next time and you won’t taste them anymore!”

Monty huffed before letting you place a kiss on his nose, his small smile forming despite his desperate attempts to seem upset with you.

“Y’know, you’re real lucky I love ya so much.”

𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 ☆ 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲

Freddy had returned from his long and annoyingly frustrating trip to Parts and Service. Monty had explained it was some yearly exception to make sure his gears were turning the right ways since last time he malfunctioned, he ended up scaring a few kids in the crowds…

The tall bear returned with a big grin and an even bigger present in his arms. You practically snatched the gift from his hands and threw yourself in his arms, letting him shift his arms in a certain position where his studded bracelets wouldn’t poke and prod at your back. The soft sounds of his machinery and joints clinking reassured you of his well being.

“Oh Superstar, I missed you so much.” He hummed, letting you press kisses onto his neck and cheek, enjoying all the new attention.

“I missed you too, big guy, I was so worried…” you trailed off, not wanting to mention malfunctions or worries in front of Freddy. You knew how much he had on his plate right now with management breathing down his neck to perform perfectly. The very last thing you wanted to do is add more to his already full plate.

“Nonsense my beloved,” Freddy scoffed, gently pressing his own ‘kisses’ onto your cheek, “Management has double checked—no—triple checked my systems. They say nothing is bad in my person. So you do not need to worry about me.”

You sighed and gave him a reassuring smile that he returned with his own toothy smile. Sharing another—or a few—kisses, Freddy lead your smaller body to the couch where you two continued to share kisses. Although, it seemed more like you distracting Freddy with your kissing.

“Superstar—“ his sentence ended quickly when he returned a passionate kiss from you, “L-Let me show you my present—“ another smooch from you, “Please!” He giggled.

You sighed dramatically but got off of his lap to allow him to open his present, which he seemed extremely for. He practically tore it open and pulled out…A custom statue of you and him.

“Freddy…”

Freddy placed the statue in your hands, his big loving smile having nothing but amorous intent behind it,

“For you, my love. Happy anniversary.”

☼ 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 ☼

Hooo boy was Sun in a tricky situation. He was trying all he could to keep you from reaching the gift he had neatly tied for you and hid. But unfortunately for him, a sneaky little toddler had been the bringer of doom when he had whispered little curious words into your ear.

Now, your boyfriend was stuck pretending he didn’t hear you and he absolutely hated doing that. He didn’t want you to think he was mad at you! But he just couldn’t soil the so meticulously plot out plan. Why did the creator love putting him in such dire situations?

He sighed as he stood at the top of the Daycare in his little room, looking down at the children screaming and rushing to you. You, with your stupid little Sunny pin on your work badge made him feel a certain way. How dare you be so adorable?!

And today, you looked even more adorable. You had decided to wear a pretty golden Sun themed hoodie, one he knew you picked out so you could show off your relationship with him. He groaned into his hand as he fell back into his room, his many colorings of you and him flying around him like snowflakes. Sun never thought he would fall so hard for an employee—but here he was, with his silly sun rays popping brightly to look as polished as he could for you.

He got up and picked the gift. He believed you had done enough waiting for one day. He gracefully traveled down to your general direction, his steps being light like a ballerina’s. He watched from afar as you ushered a few children into a little corner to watch an educational video of shapes, colors, and anything else he was busy ignoring as he watched you smile and giggle with your coworker.

“Sunshine?” He nervously called out, his bright sun rays retracting into his face. Your smile became a shocked expression before it had returned when you jogged over to him,

“Sun hey! Are you ready to show me the gift?!” You asked excitedly, cupping your hands together nervously.

He chuckled timidly, not saying anything in return. He then shoved the gift into your hands.

“H-Here…Tell me if you like it sunshine.”

You unwrapped the gold and red wrapping papers and ribbons, letting the box top fall off to find yourself face to face with a heavily decorated scrapbook of you and Sun’s many adventures. The glitter glue shined under the bright lights of the Daycare as you flipped through memories you had long sheltered. You gave him a surprised giggle and the brightest smile you could humanly muster,

“Sun this is—“

“Don’t say anything, Sunshine. I- Uh, well, I’m just glad you like it so much.” (it took him 2 days to make it.)

[hamliet]

I Am My Own Nightmare

Rereading Qiang Jin Jiu and getting so. much. more. out of it the second time around caused me to notice a recurring motif throughout the story. Actually, several motifs, like that it is way more based in alchemy than I first thought--

But anyways. The motif I want to talk about is that of Xiao Chiye and Shen Zechuan rescuing each other (and themselves) from their worst nightmares. 

Chapter 96: Leaving Qudu

Xiao Chiye flipping over a city wall to rescue Shen Zechuan, who is trapped inside and probably about to get himself killed in a futile attempt to save his Teacher Qi Huilian is literally Xiao Chiye facing his own nightmare of being stuck forever in Qudu. At this point, Xiao Chiye’s been trapped in Qudu for years as a glorified hostage to keep his own father and brother in line, and it was all futile anyways. In the end, Xiao Jiming still got poisoned and defeated and injured, and Xiao Fangxu still had to return to the battlefield. Li Jianheng got killed too. 

(art by Jianyachi on Twitter, who has given permission for use)

So, Xiao Chiye rescues Shen Zechuan from Xiao Chiye’s nightmare... only to symbolically see that Xiao Chiye is not facing just his own trauma, but the trauma Xiao Chiye inflicted. Everything about the confrontation between Shen Zechuan and Han Cheng is a callback to the start of the novel, from Qi Huilian being dragged before the city gate in chains just like Shen Zechuan was to Han Cheng’s demand that Shen Zechuan humiliate himself to save his Teacher. 

A disheveled Qi Huilian was dragged out. He fell into the rainwater and cursed, “Treacherous traitor!”

Yanking at the chain, Han Cheng spurred the horse forward and dragged Qi Huilian through the streets. He pointed at Qi Huilian and said to Shen Zechuan, “Haven’t you been looking for him for a long time? He’s here! Shen Zechuan, come and get him!”

“Traitor, traitor!” Qi Huilian was boiling with fury as the dragging smeared his face with muddy water.

Han Cheng looked at Shen Zechuan’s pale face, then at the dark expression in his eyes. He said, “Your eldest brother is the Hereditary Prince of Jianxing, I remember that the Biansha Cavalry dragged him to his death alive. But there is no love lost between you both, so you weren’t hurt by it at all. Are you hurting now that it’s your teacher’s turn today?”

Han Cheng mistakes whom it is he’s symbolically giving a “turn” to. It’s not reminding Shen Zechuan of Shen Zhouji, whom he didn’t even know, but Shen Zechuan’s own being dragged before the city gate to be kicked to death by Xiao Chiye that he’s alluding to. Learn to read, Han Cheng! (this is a joke, but also shows how Han Cheng misunderstands whom Shen Zechuan is loyal to; his filial piety has nothing to do with his blood family, nor should it).

Han Cheng then asks Shen Zechuan to do this:

“...If you still want him to live, then kowtow to me and admit your mistakes! Kneel and call me ‘father’ loudly three times, and I’ll spare him, and you as well!”

Shen Zechuan strode a big step forward and said, “Deal!”

Which of course calls to mind Xiao Chiye’s request in front of the temple years ago:

Xiao Chiye retracted the whip and said, “You can say anything, but who knows whether or not they are true. How about this? Bark a few times like a dog. Once I’m satisfied, I’ll let you off tonight.”

Shen Zechuan said nothing.

The Squad Commander was scared witless by Xiao Chiye’s eyes and shoved Shen Zechuan a few times.  

The color drained from Shen Zechuan’s face as he said timidly, “… At least let me do it before you alone.”

Xiao Chiye then flips back over the wall, descending into his own nightmare to pluck Shen Zechuan out, and has to face his previous self: selfishly making cruel demands of a boy he knew nothing about, willing to kick a battered and beaten man while he’s already chained. He sends Meng, a symbol of Xiao Chiye’s free nature, to claw Han Cheng’s eye out. To leave Qudu, Xiao Chiye’s nightmare, and find freedom, Xiao Chiye has to first face the worst parts of himself--face the fact that his cruelty and aggressiveness can imprison not only others, but the best parts of Xiao Chiye. It’s pretty telling that after this rescue, Xiao Chiye promises Shen Zechuan that he should never have to be in pain again, and tells Shen Zechuan he loves him. 

Chapter 174: Burning Tower

Of course, we have to talk about the chapter where Shen Zechuan declares that he is his own nightmare. 

“Regardless of who my parents are,” Shen Zechuan turned his head to the side and whispered into his ear, “I am Shen Zechuan. Whether your word is the truth or a lie is of no significance to me at all. I am my own nightmare.”

...

Shen Wei, Bai Cha.  

He did not care for them at all.

Is this true? Well, ish. I’ll write more about this another time. Shen Zechuan is not exactly a reliable narrator. It may be somewhat true in how he regards himself, for sure, but it isn’t true at all in how the world regards him, and how the world regards him does affect him whether he wants it to or not. 

The symbolism of this scene is that Shen Wei’s legacy is a burning tower trapping Shen Zechuan with seemingly no escape. Lei Jingzhe then tells Shen Zechuan something that should make him look twice at himself:

“You’re really the world’s most pitiful child. Do you know how Bai Cha died? Shen Wei found out her real identity, then strangled her to death with his very own hands. You were born of abhorrence. Why did Shen Wei raise you? Did you think you were regaining lost grounds when you crawled your way out of the Chashi Sinkhole and returned to Zhongbo after experiencing all that hatred and sorrows?” He let out a dreary laugh and said cruelly, “You made it all out to be so incredibly touching, but you didn’t expect it, did you? No one will accept you for how you are. If Libei were to find out who Bai Cha is, Xiao Chiye’s blade would turn on you.” 

He challenges Shen Zechuan’s identity at its core, asking if he really is Shen Wei’s son, asking if he really is born of love or of assault, asking if he is part Biansha, the army that traumatized Shen Zechuan at the Chashi Sinkhole and took away Ji Mu and Hua Pingting. He tells him that no matter, once Xiao Chiye finds out, he will turn against Shen Zechuan. The truth is muddled here, some parts honest and some parts lies, all cruel: symbolic of Shen Zechuan’s relationship with the Shen legacy.

But here’s where Lei Jingzhe is wrong: even if he had been telling the truth about Bai Cha (and he wasn’t), Xiao Chiye would not have turned against Shen Zechuan. Their loyalty to one another is not born out of some sense of filial piety or tradition or even bloodline: it’s out of love. If Shen Zechuan were to find out everything he thought he knew about his family was a lie that went up in flames, if he fell from that pyre, Xiao Chiye would still catch him. Which is exactly what Xiao Chiye does. 

(art also by Jianyachi on Twitter; please support them!) 

This scene also challenges Shen Zechuan, though, to face what his parents might be and to actually consider what he wants and why. If he wants to reunite and lead Zhongbo, he can’t do it just because he’s Shen Wei’s blood, and he can’t do it without facing Shen Wei’s legacy. Lei Jingzhe calls out Shen Zechuan’s own hypocrisy here: he needs to face his legacy and the worst possibilities of who he is and what he could become in order to move forward. If he wants to move forward, he has to look back and ask himself to what extent these legacies matter. With Xiao Chiye to catch him, he’s able to leap off the worst possibilities of what his past might be and to let it burn.

There’s another similarity with Shen Wei that Shen Zechuan has to face during this confrontation with Lei Jingzhe. Shen Zechuan had considered himself a weapon rather than a person for so long (which infuriates Xiao Chiye off to no end; hence why he was so angry after Shen Zechuan risked his safety atop the burning tower). He uses his own body as a weapon, and risks himself carelessly. And this is directly compared what Shen Wei did:

When Shen Wei was once again faced with the choices presented to him as he stood before the fork in the road in front of him, he hesitated for only a moment before ending her.    

He was a blade.

Who eventually stabbed himself bloody.

It of course also calls back to Xiao Chiye’s own mentor, Zuo Qianqiu’s, decision to shoot an arrow through his wife to defeat his enemy. Zuo Qianqiu considers himself to have died when he shot that arrow, after all, and the message is clear: fear and love do not coexist, and if you live in a place where the worst parts of yourself remove what you love, then... you might know yourself, but you also might be afraid of yourself. 

Choosing duty over loved ones is not always the best answer (Shen Wei, Zuo Qianqiu--Shen Zechuan’s father; Xiao Chiye’s mentor, though of course Zuo Qianqiu is able to then learn to love his students and come back to the effort for them). Choosing love over duty is also not always the right answer (see, Mu Ru and Li Jianheng). Yet, sometimes love is the right choice (Xiao Fangxu, Ji Gang; Xiao Chiye’s father and Shen Zechuan’s mentor) especially when tempered with wisdom. It’s a complex theme that is more question than answer, and this scene forces Shen Zechuan to ask who he is, but the fear can be soothed by love. The nightmares might not cease, but you can walk through them with others.

And that’s precisely what Shen Zechuan does, and finds himself in Xiao Chiye. The parts of him that are a blade, a weapon, are tempered by Xiao Chiye, and the parts of Xiao Chiye that want to imprison others as he himself was once imprisoned are challenged and tempered by Shen Zechuan. These traits of theirs are both flaws and strengths, and they compliment each other perfectly. 

With the case of the Zhongbo troops’ defeat unraveled, the primary issue Shen Zechuan faced was not only the threat of the cavalry from the east, but also how he should naturally progress to stand on his own feet under the stain of Shen Wei’s name...

“During my time in Duanzhou, I thought that if there ever came a day when I grew up, I would change my family name and take on shifu’s family name to become a Ji. Then I’d be a squad commander in Duanzhou, just like my big brother.” Shen Zechuan glided his fingers along gently; he was like the imprisoned moonlight as he lay here in Xiao Chiye’s arms. “But then, while at Zhao Zui Temple, I came to the realization that I would still be Shen Wei’s son even if I were to change my family name.”

With a face that bore a striking resemblance to Bai Cha, all traces of Shen Wei seemed to have been erased by his mother. But those traces lay concealed deep within him, manifesting into a different kind of insanity... 

Xiao Chiye could succeed in keeping Shen Zechuan under lock and become Shen Zechuan’s sheath.

... 

“They all say that I resemble my old man.” Xiao Chiye looked at Shen Zechuan, “When I was sent to Qudu, I thought it was a punishment, because I had once been complacent over it. There in Qudu, I wanted to strip off the part of me that belonged to Libei...”

That was a sort of restless torture. Xiao Chiye did not even know who he should hate during that period of time. He knew that his father and brother were not at fault—he could only hate himself...

“You may be Shen Wei’s son,” Xiao Chiye whispered, “but you’re mine.”

Through this encounter, Shen Zechuan has to face his hypocrisy: like Lei Jingzhe, he can betray and manipulate and use others, and he is Shen Wei’s son. But, Xiao Chiye protects him from himself (as a sheath protects a blade’s owner from stabbing themselves).

Chapter 208: Chashi Round 2 

In one of the latest released chapters, Xiao Chiye tricks the Biansha troops to arriving at the Chashi Sinkhole and defeats them there. Ish. (For a moment the novel scared me and made me think something happened to Lang Tao Xue Jin, which is utterly unacceptable, but fortunately the horse is fine.)

Of course, throughout the novel Shen Zechuan has been having actual nightmares of the massacre at the Chashi Sinkhole. Waking to find Xiao Chiye with him is of course symbolic itself (especially because they first have sex after Shen Zechuan wakes up from just such a nightmare). 

Just as the scene in Qudu to end volume 1 puts Shen Zechuan in Xiao Chiye’s waking nightmare, this scene puts Xiao Chiye in Shen Zechuan’s nightmare. Now Xiao Chiye is the one trapped in the Chashi Sinkhole, the place Shen Zechuan lost his older brother, his freedom, his name, and where Biansha then slaughtered so many in Zhongbo. 

...the moment he entered the vicinity of Chashi Sinkhole, that nightmare came surging to the surface like a tidal wave, and the familiar stench of blood choked his nose and throat. Shen Zechuan gasped for air, unable to see Xiao Chiye in the bloodshed.

Shen Zechuan shouted in a grim voice. “Xiao Ce’an—!”

Fei Sheng... jumped up and down, waving his blade as he shouted. “The sinkhole, in the sinkhole, Second Master is in the sinkhole!”

In that instant, Shen Zechuan’s face turned a shade of ghastly white. With icy-cold limbs, he rolled off the horse; even his hands that were holding onto Yang Shan Xue were trembling. Blood seeped through his white robe, wetting it as he stepped over the corpses. All he could see was the sinkhole that appeared in his nightmares millions of times...

Nightmare and reality overlapped. Shen Zechuan had seen his own body strewn among the corpses here before, but he had never imagined that Xiao Chiye would be among those lying here.  

But, some things are different. This time, Biansha is the one who ended up there by mistake, which shows Xiao Chiye and Shen Zechuan have grown from their traumas and defeats and can reverse their worst nightmares into nightmares  for their enemies--which is exactly what they need to do: face the worst parts of themselves and overcome them, together. Xiao Chiye gets to be the one enacting a trap. Shen Zechuan can pull him out of it, even if Xiao Chiye ends up trapped by his own traps. 

And the worst part of Shen Zechuan’s nightmares he gets to reenact:

Over the course of seven years in which he was plagued by nightmares, Ji Mu turned into a grotesque skeleton. Shen Zechuan forgot what his elder brother looked like; he could not even remember their last conversation.

Why didn’t he pull Ji Mu up?

Shen Zechuan crawled his way out, then fell back in again. In the first few years, he would still lie within and cry inconsolably. And so, “Shen Zechuan” was left behind here.

This time, he is able to pull Xiao Chiye up and out of the sinkhole, and to see his face: 

He dug up the body before Lang Tao Xue Jin among the bloodied mountain of corpses, raking so hard with his hands that they both turned slick with blood. The ‘corpse’ suddenly raised a hand, and grabbed hold of Shen Zechuan’s wrist with speed and accuracy.

“Lanzhou,” Xiao Chiye felt suffocated under the helmet. “Lan…”

Shen Zechuan had already pushed off Xiao Chiye’s helmet. In that whirling snow, he got a clear look at Xiao Chiye’s face, and with no regard for the bloodstains, he hugged Xiao Chiye’s head tightly in his embrace.  

Here, Xiao Chiye is not only a symbolic reflection of Ji Mu, but also of Shen Zechuan himself. He’s pulling Xiao Chiye out of the nightmare, just as Xiao Chiye is pulling him away from his worst self. Xiao Chiye is experiencing what Shen Zechuan experienced before he gave Shen Zechuan that kick years ago. The bloodstains are also symbolic: it doesn’t matter if Xiao Chiye stains him, if Shen Zechuan stains Xiao Chiye. They’ll bear it, together. 

Who Xiao Chiye and Shen Zechuan have to defeat are not Hasen and the Biansha Calvary, nor are they the Empress Dowager, Xue Xuizhou, and/or the rotten Dazhou Empire. They have to defeat themselves, first, and learn to turn these losses into victory. 

Future Chapter ? Hasen

Just a theory: there’s one nightmare that Xiao Chiye is noted to have that Shen Zechuan is depicting comforting him from within the story that hasn’t been reenacted yet: 

He heard Hasen, Hasen—this name being shouted everywhere.

This word was a shadow haunting him relentlessly.

At night, Shen Zechuan could not sleep well. He had to wake up every now and then to make sure Xiao Chiye was still there, but when he awoke this night, Xiao Chiye was not inside....

Shen Zechuan watched Xiao Chiye’s tears slide down slowly. He understood everything; to this day, Xiao Chiye was still lost in his memory of that blizzard. The wolf pup that had run alone for dozens of li had not returned at all.    

Shen Zechuan embraced Xiao Chiye hard and stood on tiptoe to cover the back of Xiao Chiye’s head, as if he was a barrier, taking the physically and emotionally battered Xiao Chiye completely into the protective shelter of his arms.

Xiao Chiye rescued his father’s head from Hasen, but it was just a head. It wasn’t really his father. Considering the ongoing motif of nightmares and reenactments, one metaphorical and one literal for Shen Zechuan and one metaphorical for Xiao Chiye, and here we have one literal one for Xiao Chiye that hasn’t been addressed yet... I’d bet anything Hasen is going to get his hands on Shen Zechuan at some point, but this time Xiao Chiye will save Shen Zechuan’s life. 

[youwouldntlietopapa]

The Words That Were Never Spoken (OC Re-Edit) - Chapter One

His warm leather glove slides from her neck up into her hair, pulling her closer so he can claim her mouth. Deeply, passionately, a parched man who’s discovered an oasis. Hints of coffee still on his lips and the faint smell of tobacco lingering on his clothes. His other hand pressing into her lower back as if she ever needed to be encouraged to press herself against him. As if it’s not exactly where she’s wanted to be for what feels like a lifetime. Nose brushing against hers and his mismatched eyes staring into her soul, so close that his lips brush against hers when he whispers. “Isobel…”

“Isobel?” Copia says a little louder and she jumps.

Shit. “Sorry! Sorry. Just… got a bit lost in this text.” She waves at the ancient tome in front of her. There is extremely little to get lost in considering the text is about as exciting as watching paint dry.

The Cardinal smirks and there’s that mischievous glint in his eye. “That would be a very impressive feat, Sorella, with your eyes closed.”

What might have been an endearing pink flush from being caught daydreaming immediately becomes a deep red that rushes up from the collar of her habit up into her hair. But he only laughs and brushes off her apology. His hand gently pats hers in a way she’s sure she won’t be thinking too hard about for the rest of the evening.

“It is late. Later than I should be keeping you. I already ask too much, trapping you in this dusty basement all afternoon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I offered to come help. It’s hardly a terrible chore to get a quiet afternoon with my friend.” Without thinking, her hand wraps around his, giving it a light squeeze not really letting go until her brain catches up with what she’s doing.

He makes that face, the one that breaks her heart every time. Like it’s something special or undeserved. That she’d be there because she wants to be, not simply because she’s obligated. “Still, I keep you too long.” Copia smiles a little shyly. “It is late and I won’t keep you all hours. You need rest.”

“So do you.”

“I will, I will… in a while.” He pulls another heavy book toward himself she can already guess will have him stuck at that table until sunrise. “My word, cara.”

“Of all the sins, my dear Cardinal, lying might be the one you’re worst at.” Isobel teases, standing up and starting to tidy things up for the night. “If I leave you here alone, you’re either going to fall asleep at this table or you’re going to pretend that five shots of espresso is a replacement for sleep. Neither will be good for you. Come on. Up. We’ll come back to this tomorrow.”

“But-”

“No buts! You need actual sleep! You deserve to rest, Cope. Whether you’ll admit it or not.” She walks around the table to his side and pushes the heavy book away from him. It takes every ounce of willpower not to cup his cheek with him looking up at her like that, so she settles for taking his hand once more. “You may not know this about me, but I’m actually quite protective of my friends. It’s a weird quirk I have, wanting them to be healthy, happy, and cared for.”

“Izzy…” He pouts, giving a very weak defense.

“Fine. If you’re staying, I’m staying.” She says firmly, letting go of his hand and marching back to her seat defiantly. “Either it’s acceptable to stay up all night, working yourself to death, or sleep is important and you need it as much as anyone.”

“You are being ridiculous.” Copia huffs, but she knows the look he gets when he’s actually angry and that isn’t it.

“Only as ridiculous as you.” Isobel smirks, sliding her foot under the table to nudge the toe of his shoe. “So? Do I put on another pot of coffee or are you going to finally admit that I’m the sensible one.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Sensible might be a stretch. Stubborn, more like. But I concede. You win. We work more tomorrow, si? You will join me again?”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Copia finally gets up with a groan, rubbing his backside while she definitely doesn't watch too closely or think about how much she’d like to offer to take over for him. “These chairs will be the death of me before the need for sleep.”

“I promise to burn them all to avenge you.” Her arm slips through his, leading him back through the stacks and toward the stairs.

“I can always count on you, cara mia.”

Together they walk through the quiet Abbey halls. Everything feels different at night. More private and smaller. During the day it’s hard to find time to herself, always Siblings and Ghouls here and there. But in the dim light and the silence, it’s just the two of them. Right up until the hall that leads to the Clergy wing, headed away from where her own quarters are with the rest of the Siblings. Not so different from any other hall in the Abbey, but just then, it seems to her, to be the ugliest, most loathsome hallway she’s ever seen. Every step closer to it is reluctant and stopping next to it feels like leaning over the cliff’s edge, staring down into the pit.

But Copia seems blissfully unaware. Smiling softly and trading her arm in his for taking your hand. “Sleep. I promise.” He reassures, as if that were the only thing on your mind. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

His lips brush the back of her hand, mustache tickling just enough to get a smile. “I will see you then, Isobel.”

“Until tomorrow.” She turns and starts toward her quarters, calling back over her shoulder before she loses her nerve. “Ti voglio bene.”

……………...

Copia stands in stunned silence as she disappears down the corridor, hand still hovering in the air where it had been when her fingers slipped free of his. Watching her leave is always a challenge, but this feels like some new level of hell. Or heaven. He can’t decide. Some realm of pain and pleasure in equal measure that makes him want to chase after her and pour out his heart and soul, while at the same time making him even more sure she  has no idea what she does to him. And all he can settle on is to stand there, motionless, watching her go until she vanishes from sight.

“Ti amo…Isobel…” He whispers in the silence of the hall, cursing himself for a coward and dropping his hand to his side.

His quarters, when he finally manages to get his feet to cooperate enough to get back to them, seem especially dark and empty. Like a piece is missing. The piece he can still feel pressed against his side, holding his arm, making sure he takes care of himself and noticing all the little things most people overlook. He sighs deeply and shakes his head. Foolishness. Taking something good and comfortable and safe, and trying to make it something it’s not. Risking everything for his own selfishness.

And yet…

Copia’s practiced fingers struggle with the buttons of his cassock, too distracted, lost in his thoughts. Finally managing to free himself. Trying to ignore the rush of shame as he brings the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply to catch the faint smell of her perfume still lingering there. He strips off the rest much faster as if making up for the time spent shaming himself will erase it all together. But, in the end, it just leaves him ashamed and naked.

Not a first time for that either, the spiteful voice in his head reminds him.

He snatches a make-up wipe and roughly cleans off the paint around his eyes. Well aware that the job he’s done will have him looking like Robert Smith in the morning, he simply can’t bring himself to care. Of all the hundreds of thoughts racing through his mind, not a single one is a concern over that. Copia, as if to demonstrate that very fact, flops down onto his bed and groans into his pillow.

He’d missed her at breakfast or, more accurately, he’d missed breakfast. An early morning meeting meant that he’d made do with a Danish from the tray provided and a paper cup of whatever they were trying to pass off as coffee from the same urn they’d been using since the dawn of time. But, waiting on his desk, when the meeting was finally over, was an insulated travel mug still full of hot coffee just the way he liked it. He didn’t need a note to know who’d left it. No one else would have thought to do it or remembered his schedule at all.

Copia flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how in all the levels of hell he’s supposed to get to sleep. Alone. In his empty rooms. Wishing for things he should put out of his mind.

When he’d seen her, finally, and she’d smiled that easy, unguarded smile. Slipping her arm through his and teasing lightly. Agreeing without hesitation to join him in the basement archives, his personal work dungeon. Smelling like sunlight and flowers from the garden. His need to have her there conflicting with the crime of dragging her into the dark while the afternoon sun made a halo of fire and gold of her hair.

He can still feel her arm tucked into his, her hand softly squeezing his fingers, the familiar weight of her leaning against him just so when she walked by his side. Imagining it here, in his bed. The familiar weight of her pressed against his side, her arm draped around him, her hand softly squeezing… caressing… stroking. He closes his eyes and huffs, giving in and letting his hand drift along with his thoughts. Fingers tangled in her hair and the taste of her lips.

Each time she’d licked the tip of your finger, concentration unbroken from the dusty old scrolls and manuscripts, his heart had skipped a beat. His own concentration and resolve far weaker than her own. Each time her foot brushed so casually against his, or her fingers rested on his arm to get his attention, or her voice was kept low in the stillness of the archives like she’d worried about anyone overhearing what was just for him, he found himself lost entirely.

He breathes out her name, not daring to voice his desires any more than that. Her words echoing in his head. “Ti voglio bene.” She must have been learning in secret, beyond the little bit she’d learned from him. Who else was there to learn for? And that phrase specifically… Maybe it was nothing. For a friend. A close friend. But maybe it was more. Maybe it was everything. “Ti voglio bene.” He can hear her voice so clearly, moaning at the thought of it joined with the touch of her hand. At the thought of it mingled with her scent and her warm skin pressed against his. The taste of her on his tongue. “Ti voglio bene… Ti amo… Copia.” His whole body shudders with a want and a need, an ache at his core.

The walk back up had been torture. The struggle to keep a calm smile on his face when he wanted to scream. Every step closer to that damned hallway where he’d have to left go. Trying to focus on every little thing except that. All the details he wants, needs to remember. Closing his eyes and letting Izzy guide him, even for a moment, just to focus entirely on the warmth of her hand, radiating through the sleeve of his cassock. Unable to simply let go, shifting his arm and moving his grip down to her hand. “Don’t go.” It had been on his lips. “Don’t leave.” He would beg if he had to. Beg and plead. “Stay with me. Stay tonight. Stay forever. Please.” Anything but that practised, placid smile and the same timid bullshit as the last time and the time before that and the time before. But his own voice betrayed him and the only thing left was to place a kiss on her hand. Play the gentleman again and smile like it wasn’t killing him.

His hand isn’t Isobel’s hand, but the vision of her there, looking down at him in that way that leaves him stumbling over his words and struggling to form a thought. Like he’s worth something. More than something. That he’s worth the time and the energy. That she wants to be there, with him. And maybe, just for a moment, he can pretend that she wants to be with him. It’s enough. For a moment. Grabbing a pillow to muffle his cry as he spills his need and shame over his chest and stomach.

“Ti voglio bene.” Echoing in his head.“Ti amo.” He whispers in the silence of his room, closing his eyes against the truth and dropping his hand to his side.

_____________________________________________________________

Sorella - Sister

cara/cara mia - dear/my dear

Ti voglio bene. - I love you (informal)

Ti amo - I love you (formal)