#this is also me coping with messi transfer news

[geooooooorge]

✨️overromanticising life✨️

ootd for the last final exam of the year and a quick trip to the beach cuz we deserved it😌💙

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— found family | inner demons prologue

pairings: leah williamson x teen reader

summary: reader discovers that family isn't always blood

This is a sort of prologue to inner demons, some background of readers' life in the early years when she transferred to the club.

Also, this is rewrite as I wasn't happy with the original that I posted.

There's always been tell-tail signs that you should've recognised, all throughout the past several years and yet you will still so obviously blind to it all.

It wasn't easy to come to terms with things, but the realisation of it all didn't sit right at all, and in turn you weren't exactly sure how to cope with it all.

It was clear as day for everyone else around to see, your mother was a complete narcissist, she was manipulative and gaslighting. It was something that she had been doing your whole entire life, always making you out to be the bad day in every situation and acting like she was the victim.

How were you so obliviously blind to see that?

You guess your niave self choice to always refuse to believe it, it was the easiest option to just do that.

Looking back to the last several years, your childhood was full of moments like it, but of course you had always thought that your upbringing was completely terrible, it could have been a worse situation.

Growing up, it was only ever the 2 of you, you and your mum. Your parents split up when you were little, the seperation was messy and ever since that day, you'd always been to blame for the reason that it never worked out.

You had always wondered how exactly could it be your fault? You were 3 years old when your dad walked out, so how could it be like that?

"You were always to much to handle, Y/N. He couldn't cope," Your mum would make the excuse, all of them long nights when you would have your tiny arms wrapped around her and sob your little heart out when you asked where he was.

"I'm here, you've got me. You've only ever got me," Her words were imbeded in your head from the day that you'd decided to try and have an open conversation about the possibility of finding your dad, "Why go and find him? Haven't I been good enough. I'm the one that's looked after you for all of these years, and yet this is the thanks that I get in return!?"

It was always something like that, a way to guilt trip you and you always ended up feeling for it.

Her manipulation was completely toxic, of course you didn't realise it until later on in life.

Eventually, you just choice to accept that for the reason that you had such an estranged relationship with your dad.

"Aren't you happy for me? I made it, mum!" You exclaim, you were so happy enough to share the news with her, but you were left so dumbfounded by her response which left you feeling shame and judgement for even wanting to tell her.

The harsh statement of this current conversation with the older women is leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and make you question every single thing in life.

"Yes, you have made it Y/N, but you know, you only have me to thank for that now, don't you?" Your mum once again found a wa to make it about herself, regardless of the situation.

It was always and only ever about herself, no matter what type of news you wanted to share with her. Why was so selfish to not care about you?

"I'm sure that you can find some way to thank me though," You listen to your mum continue to talk and you resist the urge to scoff, "After all of these years and the amount of money I have spent on football boots for you, you'd be nowhere if it wasn't for me and I think you owe me now, don't you?"

Her words stun you and there's a lot of emotions that are building up inside of you. Ultimately you feel confused, how can she manage to twist this to make it all about herself, but of course shes' quick enough to make an excuse to end the call when she grows bored of talking to you.

You should know better, every single phone call has the same pattern to end the same way and you always leave with a pang of guilt for making a life for yourself.

It turns out that this phone call was no different either.

You are so excited to spill the news of making it into the senior squad of the national team, however the excitement soon fades and now you're replaced by mixed feelings of confusion, anger and upset instead. You fight to hold back the tears during the initial phone call but now its' over, you feel on the verge of a breakdown.

You feel like your news is a big deal, you've only been a part of the arsenal women's first team for shy of a year but it feels like such a massive achievement to be selected to represent your country and straightaway, the first person you thought-- you wanted to call was your mum. You thought she was going to be so pleased for you, so excited about it but you can't be further away from the truth.

The conversation happened a week ago, yet you still couldn't let it escape your mind.

Ever since the phone call, you had tried to distance yourself from her but even that hurt to do. The women was the only blood related family member that you had, it had only ever been the two of you, sticking together through thick and thin.

"You seem quiet tonight," Your guardian and fellow team member, Leah, perches on the arm of the sofa as she looks at you in concern, "I'm about to start cookin' tea soon. How do you feel about chicken nuggets and smiley faces?" She wonders.

"That sounds good to me," You shrug your shoulders and glumly stare staight ahead at the wall in front of you, the TV is playing but you barely even pay attention to whatever it is that's playing.

Its' been a long day with training ahead of a crucial game in the season, but all you can think about right now is the conversation you had with your mum a week ago previously on a constant loop in your head.

You still can't help but think about the conversation; The bitterness, the manipulation, every single time you thought about it, it made you think of every single time that something else happened like this throughout the years.

Maybe your childhood wasn't as great as you really thought it was?

"Okay," Leah nods and smiles in agreement but she doesn't move away just yet, "Is there anything that you want to talk about at all, bubs?" You know she's only asking for a bit more insight on your current mood, after returning from her own rehab session to find you shut away in your bedroom, the entire shift in mood was concerning to her.

The usual car rides over the past week had been quiet instead of the raised music level and sarcastic comments that the blonde was used to, replaced instead by the quiet, dull mood with you slumped against the car door and staring out of the window.

Leah definitely knew there was something wrong with you.

"Nope, I'm fine," You stand firm on your reply, shaking your head and keeping your eyes glued on the TV screen, choosing to look anywhere other than at the blonde, who would be able to see right through you in seconds.

"Are you sure?" Leah questions, furrowing her eyebrows in concern as she could see the tears welling up in your eyes, "Bubs, what's the matter? You look like you're gonna cry," She notes, worriedly.

"I... I'm fine," You mumble, fighting to keep the tears at bay until you can escape to your bedroom and allow yourself to be vulnerable when you're alone.

You always feel complete shame to show any sort of vulnerability in front of anyone, let alone the blonde defender who has taken you under her wing ever since you joined during the transfer window of 2022.

Crying only shows signs of weakness, you refuse to be seen as weak.

"Okay," Leah exhales a sigh and taps your knee gently, deciding to drop the subject when she realises you aren't be open and talk about things, "Its' okay if you don't want to talk about it, but just remember that I'm always here to listen, alright? Anytime that you want to talk, I'm here,"

Unforuntately, you are too stubborn to not give in and blurt everything out there and then to her. You feel like you still need time to wrap your head around the idea and see things for how they really are now.

"Uh huh. Thanks," You murmer in repsonse, getting up from the sofa and shuffling away to the confined space where you can be alone.

Leah exhales another sigh and shakes her head, heading into the kitchen to make a head start on dinner but she can't help but still be worried about you. Of course the women knew better than to try and get you to talk if you didn't want to though.

The blonde has always been around to witness moments like this and the backlash of it, you hadn't told her outright what was going on but she already had an idea what it was about.

All of your upset stems down to the one person causing you to be like this and she hated it every time you were left upset when you spoke to her.

Every single time you and your mum spoke, you would always become quiet and be in a general bad mood, often resulting in lashing out at people around you as a coping mechanism.

You know that all the arsenal girls have their own opinions on your mother, but they would never voice them out loud to you, because you wouldn't agree with it, but you knew it. They know it wouldn't be fair on you as the youngest member in the squad, even after the countless times they had seen the girl upset by her own mums actions.

You were so grateful for every single of the girls on the team, Leah especially, she'd always been there for you since day one.

Ever since you moved in with Leah, there's been several nights where she would be the one to comfort you and pick up the pieces, waking up in the middle of the night to hear your heartbroken sobs and feel her own heart shatter every single time, wanting nothing more than to take away any sort of pain that you were experiencing.

It was heartbreaking for all of the team to witness and always sought out to comfort you, they knew no matter what they said, it still wouldn't stop you contacting our mum.

Ultimately, it was your own decision to make soon enough when you turn 18 and until then they would be there to pick up the broken pieces when your mum let you down.

It happened time and time again, unfortunately.

You have lashed out way too many times as a result of that.

None of the girls ever took it to heart of course, they were old and wise enough to realise that none of your anger was directly aimed towards them and there was much bigger issues to be dealt with.

They have always vowed to support you, regardless of what happens in the long-run.

"I... I should've realised sooner," You think to yourself as you lay crumpled up in your bed that following night, its' almost 4 am in the morning, but you were still wide awake with your thoughts spiraling.

You can't help but think about things, replaying every single conversation with your mum that you have had, the numerous times that you've started to talk to her and she's cut you off with her own problems.

Why was it always like this? It wasn't fair.

The first mistake was ignoring her gaslighting this whole time.

The second being that you believed her manipulation for years, always twisting things to make it seem like she was the victim in the different situations - first when you were a child and even now as your nearly an adult.

Why had it taken you so long to finally realise it after all of these years? Why couldn't you have just realised it sooner?

Without much realisation to the current moment, your sobbing aloud with a tight clutch of your pillow. The pent up anger is replaced by sadness and loss, your grieving the loss of a women who you have always seeked the approval off and now you realise you can never have it.

The phone call was the last chance, the reality of it all coming to light.

Every time you have now learned to understand that youwhen speak to her, it's nothing but a vicious cycle of emotional abuse, something you were so oblivious to believe.

As much as you didn't want to believe it, it's true. Its' clear as day of what it is but yet, you still find it hard to believe it.

It's your mum, your flesh and blood, so could she be like that?

The sound of your sobs were what woke Leah up, she's quick to pad out of her bedroom and push open your bedroom door to find you crumpled up in your bed, "Bubs?" The women stands in the doorway of your bedroom, her heart cracks to see you looking so distraught and vulnerable.

Without any hesistance, the blonde is quick move to be beside you on your bed and envelope you in a warm hug, "Its' okay, its' okay. I'm here now," She's quick to comfort you, she wouldn't ever stop doing that as long as you need her, "Let it all out, I'm right here," She adds.

Leah keeps you in her arms, gently rocking you as she runs her slender fingers through your messy bedhead, "Just let it all out, alright? I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," She reassures you.

As always, she's patient enough to wait for you to calm down before she gives you chance to speak, she won't ever push you to talk if you don't want too.

"L... Le," You cry aloud, clutching onto her tightly. Your breath becomes more shaky as sobs wrack your body, trying to find the words but nothing wants to come out of your mouth right now.

"I'm here, it's okay," Leah repeats in a calming voice, continuing to try and comfort you in the best way that she knows, but she already knows it's going to be a long night ahead of them, or day rather.

An emotional night that will leave you drained tomorrow for sure.

A vicious cycle on a loop, once more.

"Ready to tell me what's going on inside that head of yours now, hm?" The blonde quietly asks with caution, already having a feeling that she knows the answer to that question.

There's a brief pause of silence in the room and the blonde thinks that you wouldn't talk, but regardless of that, she still continues to comfort you and reassure you that she's here and not leaving at all.

To Leahs' surprise though, you do start open up this time though and the words spill out of your mouth without you even thinking about it.

"I... It's my mum," You mumble quietly, making the mistake to speak aloud than think it like you thought you have done, "I... I should've realised. I should have done,"

Leah furrows her eyebrows on confusion, "What should you have realised, bubs?" she questions about what you mean.

Snapping your head in the blondes' direction, you bite your bottom lip and debate whether to be open with your thoughts that you have been trying to buried.

"I should have realised about my mum, she's so... she's so toxic," You admit as you try to fight more tears from spilling, "Why does everything I tell her-- Why does it always get turned back around so its' about her?"

There it is. You've blurted it all out in the open, your feelings were laid out now and there's no more hiding how you feel.

Leah smiles sadly and continues to hold you in her arms, "I... I'm sorry bubs," she speaks honestly.

"So many people, so many people have told me-- They've warned me, you've warned me about her, but I... I never wanted to listen, did I?" You confess, the tears spilling again and you don't care a less if you look like a blubbering mess right now, but you still can't stop the emotions pouring out right now, "And now... now I finally realise how its' always been. Why is she like this, Le?" You question.

"I can't say I know the answer to that one, bubs. I wish I knew," Leah replies, exhaling a sigh as she can't fathem herself how your mother can be like to her you, her own child.

The blonde feels so much for you, your still so young and she always wished that she can make the situation better for you.

"Listen, I know its' hard but you've got us. All of us girls here at arsenal, we're all here for you and you're so loved by all of us," Leah continues to tell you gently, running her slending fingers through your hair.

"I... I just want her to love me, and she just... she doesn't even care about my feelings!" You state, roughly trying to wipe at your tear stained cheeks to the point where you made them red and angry, "Why does she always throw everything back in my face? Everything that I have ever done, she makes it about herself. Always!" You cry.

"I know, I know it hurts... I know that it does," You keep your head buried in the blondes' chest as you hiccup from the sudden breakdown in the middle of the night, "And I'm sorry that you have to go through this. I'm so sorry, because it's not fair on you, bubs," She adds, trying to comfort you in the best way that she can for you.

The whole wave of emotions leave you feeling entirely exhausted in the end, you are trying to fight to keep your eyes open as you lie slumped up against the blonde.

"Come on you, lets' get you back into bed, yeah? I mean you're almost falling asleep on me here, bubs," Leah notes your exhaustion and is concerned for your lack of sleep, trying to get you to crack a smile even as it feels impossible right now, before she gently moves you to lie back in bed.

"M' not tired," You mumble, trying to protest against the idea of sleep.

"I don't think thats' true now, is it?" Leah chuckles, tucking you into bed, "I'm so sorry that you have to deal with this now, bubs, but you know that you have a family here with us. We may not be blood, but we really do love you so much," Before you know it, your eyes are fluttering shut but you don't miss hearing the blondes' words before she presses a gentle kiss against your forehead.

You really had found your family here at arsenal.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[lemonluvgirl]

Writing ask. No 19 and 21.

Thank you, @curiousnonny

19. My writing journey, bumps along the way, where am I now and where am I going?

I've been creating imaginary worlds and making up stories since I was very young. I started reading at an extremely early age, around 3 years old. (No lie, my grandparents still have old VHS tapes of me sitting down and reading the newspaper to my grandpa when I was 3) So storytelling and reading have been central to my life from the very beginning.

Growing up I always wanted to be a writer. I filled up notebook after notebook of stories and plays over the years with fanfiction (before I even knew what fanfiction was) and also with original stories. Because I liked to hand write my stories it was hard for me to share my work easily, or make it accessible. I didn’t hear about FFN until I was a senior in high school or a freshman in college. (I can’t remember the exact year) I tried reading a few stories and made an account but quickly lost interest in trying to post (back then I was into a different fandom lol don’t hate me please I was young and very impressionable) and went back to my manuscripts and journals. I got used to writing on the computer as I got older, because most of my assignments in college had to be typed and turned in electronically. I still occasionally write down plot ideas by hand, and later transfer them to my computer when I get home, but now for the most part I’ve switched to using a laptop. 

Even though writing was my dream job, due to financial constraints when I was deciding which college to go to, I ended up accepting a scholarship to pursue education and become a teacher instead of following my dream to study creative writing. This career choice made it hard for me to continue my writing. Instead I spent most of my time dedicated to furthering my education and focusing on my family. My sophomore year of college and the years after that my writing went dormant. I stopped writing from the age of 25 to 29. But I still read books like crazy. 

Then the pandemic happened and my father passed away because of it.

That life altering experience led me to pick up writing again. At the time I got very emotionally attached to The Hunger Games and Katniss' character. So I decided to try and write fanfiction again. My very first work, Burning Bright & Blazing Free poured out of me in a span of two months. Its dramatic, emotional, and very raw at times, but I think it perfectly encapsulates many of the lingering emotions I was trying to work through after my father’s death. Namely, the idea of loss that comes about because of circumstances beyond our control and how the human heart tries to cope with that, and eventually turn the idea of loss around into something powerful, like hope and true love. 

Its a real messy doozy, but I will always love that story because it came from a very real place inside my heart, and I dedicated it in memory of my wonderful dad, who was my biggest supporter when it came to my love of books and writing. 

So as far as where I am now as a writer, you could say I’m still pretty new to everything. My first fic celebrated its one year anniversary back in July of this year so I’m still a rookie, but I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. 

21. Could You ever quit writing? Why/why not? Do you wish you could?

 Exaggerative office memes aside, I honestly don’t think I could. 

Its such a part of me, and after that stint I went through during college where I didn’t write for years I realized that I lost a part of myself during that time. Writing is something that makes me, me. 

I much prefer who I am when I am actively writing and engaging in storytelling of some kind. It feeds a deep need inside of myself to be creative and let that creativity flow outward to share with others. 

And its wonderful to be part of such a lovely and amazing community of fans and writers who share the same interests that I do! I love this Hunger Games fandom so much! It really helped me reconnect with the larger world after the pandemic and all the trauma I experienced. So President Snow would probably have to hijack me to get me to put my figurative author’s pen down and turn away from all this. 

[fruti2flutie]

pls do tell more about pacrim au, royalty au, volleyball au!! ( the way my brain defaulted to haikyuu bc that was my last obsession before kpop ( read: skz ) pulled me back ).

ALSO BC PACRIM AU WHEN CHAN WAS TALKING ABOUT watching edits in puppy interview about how synchronized they are my brain too was like pacrim… drift compatible…

welcome to the Likely Never Going to Write in Full Idea Bank (SKZ edition) by ao3 user fruti2flutie!!! here goes:

pacrim au (ot8, established minsung, past chanlix)

chan-centric!!! i was also inspired by those in-sync ot8 vids, and then more sadly by the daebak show ep where chan said he got real dark during his trainee years bc everyone was leaving him :( the background: chan gave up piloting bc he lost his closest companion during a mission, coupled with never properly coping while his friends dropping out of the training program as well. after the accident he wasn't drift compatible with anyone & his heart was heavier than every mech in the hangar. he returned to his hometown, quietly followed news of kaiju, prayed for every fallen pilot as he stayed in retirement. the story: he gets a visit from high school sweetheart felix who has enlisted in the pilot program & wants chan to accompany him to the training grounds. chan never stopped loving him but had bigger things to worry about: the kaiju, saving the world, etc. felix tells him he doesn't have to join the program again, but he knows chan loves humanity & can't stay away from a jaegar. chan, against his better judgment, follows felix & becomes a mechanic. some ppl remember him but most don't; it's been too long, almost a decade. so he goes about his things, meets other aspiring pilots in felix's program: seungmin, jeongin, and hyunjin; gets along well with changbin, another mechanic. but then the revered soulmate pilots have an incident, putting minho in an incapacited state while the next kaiju attack approaches. being the only person with experience in a jaegar it forces chan to attempt drifting with han jisung, someone he barely even knows. and when it works -- holy shit, what does that mean for chan? eventually this leads to skz finding out ot8 is drift compatible BUT YEAHHHHHhhhhhhh

royalty au (seungbin, minor hyunsung)

the princess & the pauper/secret identity inspired fic bc this is my DREAM!!!! MY DREAM AU I WILL NEVER WRITE!!! prince changbin just coasts along life cuz his first princess sister is going to take over the kingdom. he sneaks out of the castle one day avoiding punishment from minho, his guard, and encounters a bookstore owner's son. it's a meet-messy, where changbin ruins a shipment of books & seungmin wants to bring him to court for it. flustered, changbin lies & says he's a tradesman's son, but he can work off what he owes for however long seungmin needs. seungmin doesn't trust him, but the store could use help with manual labor; seungmin is a twig. they grow closer along the way, and eventually there's a ball hosted at the castle that seungmin shows interest in, which is where he ultimately discovers changbin's true identity. chan is seungmin's childhood friend who works as a royal guard & jisung is currently seungmin's bff who sells produce from his parents' farm. hyunjin is an artisan's apprentice, felix is in the king's kitchen, and jeongin is a maid's son & patters around breaking things in the castle. i've never written a long fic in this type of AU but seriously would love to some day :(

volleyball au (minchan, minor seungbin)

I LOVE VOLLEYBALL!! I LOVE HAIKYUU I LOVE!!! AHHHHHHHH this would be a high school au where chan's the vball team captain in his last year of high school. the team itself is extremely unpopular & only has seven players. he wants his team to win something before he graduates; these are his boys, and he wants them to remember him before he goes off to his Non-Volleyball future. enter: ambidextrous transfer student lee minho, who doesn't give a fuck about team competition but thinks chan's dream is kinda cute. the boys lack discipline, but they can put in the work to reach success. also, seungmin is the team's setter, changbin is the libero, and they're secretly dating bc they don't wanna mess up team dynamics even tho they mess them up anyway bc seungmin overly nitpicks on how changbin passes him the ball when they have lovers quarrels 😳 i've strayed away from hs au but the potential of an ambidextrous vball player........ lives in my brain.............

[dionysianrose]

TW! Self harm

Mental health advice #1

This will maybe become a series, I decided to share some more personal experiences, because I want to help people who struggle with the same thing as me. These are very personal and maybe not work for anyone.

#1 Self h*rm

If you feel overwhelmed by whatever emotion that it is unbearable and you feel like self h*rming, these are some coping mechanisms I developed to deal with the urge:

- if you wear nail polish, you can pull it off, many people find it to be satisfying and calming

- if you are not wearing anything on your nails, you can also paint them, because it can give you a) a feeling of control and b) an achievement to be proud of

- you can get yourself a (used) iPod or an old Phone, which doesn’t have modern music streaming platforms like Spotify and download some songs that come to your mind from YouTube via mp3 converter and transfer it to your device, this process can take a while but it keeps you busy, can clear your thoughts and new music may excite you

- if you have stickers or rhinestones, you can decorate your phone, tablet, pc, beats, iPod or what devices you own with stickers, this can be very calming

- even if you „can’t draw“, take a pencil and draw messy lines on a piece of paper, try to create shapes with these lines, eyes, mountains, people, whatever you feel like, but they don’t need to be perfect, this may help you to express the emotions inside of you

- take a voice recorder, real or app, an vent to it, talk about everything that burdens you, when you are finished, delete the recording

- turn on some music that fits the mood you are in, may it be angry, sad, etc. take a pillow or a stuffed animal and kick it, punch it, just let it out

- lastly, for the fans, research if your favourite actor/singer/writer ever did a campaign about mental health or similar topics (ex. for fandoms with this are MCR, Supernatural,...) and listen to these things, idols are people we trust and look up to, and this helps you realise that you are not alone and there are in fact people who care, also, would you want to disappoint your idol by giving up?

I hope these ideas maybe help someone.

If you feel like you could do anything dangerous, please talk to someone. There are people that love you and care about you and nothing is worth hurting yourself over or worse.

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 4

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Note:  When italics are in quotations (“”) then Marinette is speaking French. If the italics don't have quotations, that’s people’s thoughts.

---

After patrol, Dick made his way to bed, mulling over the announcement Bruce had made at dinner. When he had seen that picture, he had wanted to join Jason on his Paris killing spree. That girl-Marinette, was it?- seemed to be in need of a better place to stay, and he was happy they could provide it to her. At the same time, he had no idea how to treat a young teenage girl! What does she like? Sports? Dresses? Both? None? He had no idea! As he lay there having a breakdown in a slight panic, he couldn’t force the image of her broken, bloody body out of his head. He wondered what kind of person that sort of assault would turn her into. He had seen greater people snap after such emotional and physical wounds. 

Meanwhile, Jason, Tim and Damian were facing similar dilemmas over the girl in question. 

Jason had no idea how to handle teenagers, especially ones that had been assaulted. Suffering through fucked-up shit like that would definitely leave you with some trauma. He thought to himself. Maybe we should ask her about her boundaries. His coping method involved wearing a red helmet and gallivanting around the rooftops of Gotham, looking for excuses to shoot people. He didn’t exactly think that was the best way to help her out. Sure, he grumbled, I’ll just walk over to her, hand her some Kevlar and a grapple before pushing her off the top of fucking Wayne Enterprises in hopes that she’ll get it right. ‘Cause that’s totally fucking healthy!

Tim on the other hand, was completely and utterly paranoid. Sure, he was definitely worried about that girl, considering that it looked like she had lost a lot of blood; but at the same time, he was worried about exposing their identities to her. Just one slip up, and she would know exactly what the Wayne family did at night. Not to mention that if they ended up getting injured, they’d have to figure out how to hide it from her. As he hacked into her school records, he noticed that she had filed several bullying complaints that had never been acknowledged, as well as a request to transfer classrooms that had been dismissed. Just how corrupt is this school?! He thought to himself as he saw how the principal-Monsieur Damocles- had bent to one girl’s every whim, just because her father was the Mayor! Abuse of power, and ignoring bullying reports? He thought to himself. This is not going to end well for them. With that, he completely launched himself into digging up every bit of dirt he could find on that school and it’s staff; completely forgetting about his original panic over being discovered.

And as for Damian, he was completely furious that there would be another person living in the Manor with them! Not to mention she had to go to Gotham Academy as well! He hadn’t even met this Marinette, and she was already proving to be a pain. 

---

As the day of their Marinette’s arrival dawned bright and clear, four members of the family waited for the arrival of their last member and guest. Bruce was slightly nervous. He had never had a girl so young stay in the Manor before, and he didn’t know how to greet her. Did he shake her hand? Smile and wave? Shake her hand then smile? Wave then shake? 

Dick, however, was full of excitement that their new guest was arriving in a couple of hours. He wondered if she knew any gymnastics, and if she would be willing to do some flexibility-related stretches and workouts with him.

All his other children were scattered throughout the city, doing various different things. Jason was up in the Manor library, reading his latest novel. Tim was in his office at WE, finishing up some paperwork he had wanted to fill out before Marinette arrived. Damian, thankfully, was at school, and wouldn’t be returning until later in the evening.

His thoughts were cut short by Tim’s arrival. As he walked into the kitchen and came back with a large mug of coffee, Jason trudged downstairs, and they all sat around in the living room continuing to work and read as they waited for Marinette and Alfred.

Half an hour later, Bruce was alerted to the gates in front of the Manor opening. They all lined up outside the house and watched as the sleek, black limo pulled up in front of the house. 

They waited patiently as Alfred got out of the car and headed to the trunk before opening it and taking out a suitcase, and what looked like a foldable wheelchair. The four of them were confused. Why would she need a wheelchair? Surely her classmates hadn’t injured her that badly? Their thoughts were cut off by Alfred opening the back door on the opposite side of the car. He bent down and proceeded to open the wheelchair, before wheeling it around to face the family. When they caught their first glimpse of their guest, they were absolutely floored.

They had all seen many worse injuries during their nightly patrols, and several injured children years younger than her, but when they saw Marinette, they were shocked into silence at her battered appearance.

She was a decent height at around 5’ 4”, but compared to Bruce and Jason she was absolutely tiny. She had several dark purple-blue bruises that contrasted sharply with her pale skin as well as an angry gash covered in stitches on her forehead. She also sported a clunky cast and a thick brace on her leg and wrist. With her dark hair pulled into space buns, and blue eyes, as well as how small and bruised she looked, they all felt a rush of protectiveness flood through them when they saw her. 

Their silent shock was interrupted by Jason leaning over to Bruce and whispering angrily “You said her classmates did this to her?!” At his exclamation, the other three tensed in anger at the reminder that her old friends had been the ones to injure her so severely. They were snapped out of their thoughts by Marinette speaking.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Wayne! Thank you for letting me stay in your house with you! I promise I’ll do my best to not be a bother to you and your family.” Her voice was slightly rough from when she had been crying, but she spoke sweetly, and politely. At her statement, Jason jumped in “No problem Pixie Stick! The only nuisance here is the Demon Spawn, and he’s not home yet.” She blinked up at him, before her mouth twitched up into a half-smile. “Thank you, Monsieur. I’m sorry but I didn’t get your name…” she trailed off. 

“Sorry about that Sunshine, he’s Jason, I’m Dick, and the sleep deprived one is Tim.” Dick interjected. “And you don’t have to call us Monsieur, either. Just our names are fine.” 

“Oh okay. Thank you Mister Bruce, and thank you Dick! I’m Marinette, but I’m sure you knew that already. You can call me Mari if you’d like. I’m not very picky about nicknames!” She laughed. 

“Now if the young Masters are done with their introductions, I will gladly show Miss Marinette to her room.” Alfred cut in. “Thank you Monsieur Alfred, that would be wonderful.” The girl in question smiled up at him from her seat in the wheelchair before he wheeled her inside.

---

Marinette thanked Alfred as he wheeled her into her room. He mentioned that someone named “Damian” was at school, and that she would be attending school after she gets adjusted to the time difference. After he left, she opened her bag to let the Kwami out, and waited for their excited chattering to calm down. Once they had quieted, she spoke. “Hey Tikki? Do you think it was wrong to tell Alfred about the Miraculi being active in Paris?” she questioned as she fiddled with the straps on her bag. ”I was just so excited to meet another wielder that everything slipped out!” 

The Kwami was quick to reassure her. “Oh no Marinette, it's okay. SInce you are the Guardian now, you need all the help you can get. And besides, you already recognized each other’s auras, so there was no point in trying to hide it!” She flew up to her face and patted her unbruised cheek gently. 

“Oh no! I completely forgot to tell Alfred that I’m the Guardian!” She shrieked. “What if he gets mad at me for being too inexperienced?! He’ll kick me out and I’ll have to live on the streets! Then I’ll end up becoming part of the Crime Alley hierarchy, living alone in an abandoned building with a stray cat named Tommy! Tikki this is a disaster! A disaster!!” She would have continued to ramble in french, if it wasn't for the fact that Wayzz had flown up to her and reminded her that she needed to shower because she had been on an airplane and in the airport.

Several curses, near falls, and plastic cast coverings later, Marinette limped out of the shower, exhausted but clean. She quickly tied her hair onto a messy bun before changing into warm leggings (although she couldn’t fully pull one side down due to her cast) and a sweater. Gotham was cold! She let the Kwami roam around her giant room as she put her clothes into her closet. 

After settling in, she plugged in her phone and texted her friends. 

FashionableBug: Just got everything organized and took a shower. Turns out M. Wayne has four kids! I met Dick, Jason and Tim, and apparently Damian is at school. 

QueenofMean: Maribug! How dare u not text us as soon as you arrived! Ur plane landed over three hours ago! 

Snakey Boi: Chlo’s right, Mari. We were all worried bout u.

FahsionableBug: Sorry u guys. Everything was going so fast I completely 4got!

FashionableBug: Also I met a Peacock wielder!!!!!!!

You’reUnderAgreste: Really?! Buginette thats amazingggg

DragonGurl: Wonderful news indeed, Mari. They must have lots of advice for you.

QueenofMean: !!!!!! 

QueenofMean: Nettie thats awesome!!!!!!

SnakeyBoi: Thats totally great!

SnakeyBoi: Also who is it???

FashionableBug: lol Luka its Alfred their butler. Tho hes more like a grandfather

FashionableBug: Anyways, I’m going to go find the kitchen. I wanna make the Kwami some macarons!

FashionableBug: Bye!!!

DragonGurl: Bye Marinette.

You’reUnderAgreste: Bye Bugaboo!

QueenofMean: Bye Bug!

SnakeyBoi: Bye Mari!

Marinette smiled as she put her phone down. Glancing over at the Kwami flying around the room, she stretched before calling out “I’m going to see if I can bake in the kitchen. Do any of you want to join me?” Before she had even finished her sentence Tikki and Kaalki were flying over to her and nestling in her bun. Laughing at their antics, she maneuvered herself into the chair before wheeling herself down the hall. She hadn’t gone very far when she bumped into Alfred walking out of another door. "Salut, Monsieur Alfred! Would you mind showing me where the kitchen is? I was thinking of making some sweet treats for my...friends.” At her statement, Tikki and Kaalki poked their heads out of her bun to wave, before hiding again. Smiling, Alfred turned to her and spoke. “Of course Guardian. Right this way.”  Her eyes darted to meet his hesitantly. “You aren’t mad that I’m the Guardian?” Alfred paused and looked her directly in the eyes. “Miss Marinette, I am in no way questioning your capabilities as a Guardian. You are very powerful, and I have no doubt you will do an amazing job. I am simply upset over how you seem to have no Mentor or any form of Guidance to help you.” Sighing in relief, she smiled. “Well, my old Master lost his memories because he had to give up his memories after being compromised. I do have the Grimoire though, and I was also hoping you would help me as well?” She questioned, looking up at him hesitantly. As they walked into the kitchen, he bowed to her and stated “It would be my greatest honor to assist you, Great Guardian.” She laughed and thanked him before beginning to bake. 

She hummed a simple melody designed to bring about calm and peace, and soon she was happily working in her own tranquil little bubble. 

An hour later, as she was frosting the little pastries, Jason walked in, drawn by the smell of sugar and freshly baked goods. “Hey Alfred! What cooki-” he cut himself off. “Sorry Pixie Stick, I thought you were Alfred. Only he can make something worth eating in this house!” 

“Oh it’s no problem Jason, I was just making macarons. My parents own a bakery, so I’m kinda used to just baking whenever.” She laughed softly

“Damn Pixie, macarons?! You haven’t been here a day, and you’re already much nicer than all my asshole brothers!” 

“Yeah, well these are for after dinner, so no touching ‘till then!” She warned.

He sat at the counter and scrolled through his phone as she decorated the pastries. Soon enough, she had them all completed and proceeded to carefully take the tray and wheel over to the fridge. Before she could move an inch, Jason had leapt up and placed the tray in its designated spot. “Sorry Pix, but I’ll get that for ya. We don’t need you accidentally crashing or dropping these heavenly treats!” He laughed.

She crossed her arms and pouted up at him, before her mouth stretched into a wide grin. As she wheeled herself into the dining room, she swiftly turned her head and stuck her tongue out before disappearing through the door into the room beyond.

---

Dinner with the Wayne family was a rambunctious affair. Dick and Jason bantered good-naturedly over their meals as Bruce sighed tiredly in the background. Tim moved lethargically, downing giant gulps of coffee as he ate his meal. Damian apparently was studying with his friend Jon, and therefore wouldn't be eating with them. They all smiled and laughed as they talked through dinner. Marinette told them about her friends, before adding that they’d probably video call her tomorrow so they could meet the family. Bruce assured her that it was not a problem and added that he would be glad to speak with her parents. After eating, she headed up to her room to work on the outfit she had been sketching on the plane. 

She immersed herself in designing, and ended up finally going to sleep shortly after midnight. The Kwami flew over to their little nest of pillows and blankets, and she turned off the lights before drifting off to sleep. Her dreams were plagued by nightmares of looming shadows and ethereal dark butterflies destroying the world in fire. She watched in helpless terror, stuck in her Ladybug persona, unable help as the world burned. The horrific dreamscape was shattered by the sound of her phone blaring out an Akuma alarm. 

She leaped out of bed and shut off the shrill noise as she called for Tikki and Kaalki before leaping through the portal and into Paris.

She ended up in a ravaged, unrecognizable landscape covered in flames. Looks like her dream had been semi-accurate after all. The Eiffel Tower was partially melted, and fires were cropping up all over the city. The four simultaneous thuds behind her signified the arrival of her team. As one they looked upon their ravaged city and charged the Akuma.

[abbynx]

Sibling things (Kakyoin X Sibling reader)

Spoilers for part three! Please skip if you haven't watched/finished it yet!

Just an angsty fic to satisfy my needs for my lovely cherry boi~

Yesterday... It felt like yesterday when you and I played together within the enclosed walls of our residence. Despite being too young to remember such things, the memory was vivid in my memories. That dumb cherry licking, mother chasing bastard was a tolerable asshat who tend to tease me a lot. He'd mess my hair style whenever he gets the chance, call me an embarrassing nickname, just sibling things nothing much. With all the teasing, all the fight picking, all the kicks, the punch, scratching, biting, possibly knife pointing... We cared about each other, for we were told that it would be us against the world when we grew up. If we grew up... I can't get to grow up with him like we planned.

______________________________________

"Happy seventeenth birthday! Oh my sweet darling child!" Your mother embraced you, pressing a firm kiss on your cheek leaving the residue of her red lipstick after you blew the small flame that burned the red candle moulded to mimic a cherry.

You softly smiled at her statement, when your eyes flickered up and caught a glimpse on the mirror. For some goddamn reason, you didn't see yourself in it. In your place, you saw Noriaki, embracing your mother with that smile of his while he was wearing his form fitting uniform of his he always wear for some god forsaken reason. You saw yourself in the mirror as well, holding the cherry flavoured you bought with your allowance.

_____________________________________ Seventeen. It was his seventeenth and last birthday. I can vividly remember planning his birthday, saving funds, baking him the cherry flavoured cake since it was his favourite, saving my allowance to buy him the video game he had his eye on...

A bright future was ahead of him, welcoming him. Bright young man with grace, regality, intelligence, had myriads of talents. He was an intellectual, a painter, a gamer! He knew a thing about other cultures, literature, norms, morals. A boy with the heart of gold, brains rich with knowledge and wisdom... The bright young man wasn't bright at all, as darkness snuffed his light and he was gone. ______________________________________

"We are so proud of you sweetheart." Missus Kakyoin wholeheartedly smiled, she took your cheeks within her grasp, softly running her thumb on your cheek. Her eyes became glossy with tears pooling in her eyes that couldn't escape. "We love you Y/N. Please remember that no matter what."

"Your brother would be so happy and proud of you." The patriarch of the Kakyoin family puts a hand on the matriarch's shoulder, smiling alongside her as tears has already escaped his eyes.

"Thank you mom, dad." You gathered them into a warm embrace in an attempt to hide your watering eyes, not wanting them to see you cry. You glanced up, catching the family's framed photograph from two years ago. Noriaki sat beside you, whilst your parents stood behind you. That stupid jerk and his stupid smile, he was seventeen and had decades and decades more to live when he died, he could've been nineteen already.

Upset, you gripped your parents tightly within your grasp, tears making their way out of your eyes whilst your chest tightened with your denied sobs.

_____________________________________ Loneliness... All he wanted was a friend, someone who can understand him, who will be there for him as much as he is there for them... And that he found, I was proud of him for making friends... But he was only friends with them for fifty days. ______________________________________

"Oh! Happy belated birthday Y/N!" Your classmate leaned on your desk with a bright smile. "Gosh, you're seventeen now! Only four more years and we're legal to drink! I would TOTES love to hang out with you."

"Thank you, Ibara. I would also love that!" You responded, putting a humble hand on your chest with a close eyes smile.

"Wow! That necklace is pretty! Emerald really suits you a lot!" She compliments, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It accentuates your features and it's really pretty despite not being that bedazzled. Simplicity really is beauty."

You blinked at her in shock. "You really think so?" Your hand unconsciously lands on the circular shaped emerald pendant.

"Yeah! It's so very pretty! Its the first time I saw you wearing a necklace, so it must be new. Is it a birthday gift?" She gasps, covering her lips with her opened palms before smirking mischievously. "Is it from your boyfriend~?"

"Oh, more like my brother's boyfriend!" You rolled your eyes, playfully punching the girl's shoulder.

Jotaro Kujo, Noriaki's friend visited you yesterday. The big guy was a statue towering over your small stature but that didn't let you be afraid of him. Despite being practically strangers with each other, only seeing one another during random bumps in school, a friend of your brother's is a friend of yours. And besides, you found yourself being fond of his family after his grandfather and Jotaro came to your residence that day to share the tragic news. It was a complicated situation, very messy... But in the end, the tragedy was all the same, the death, the circumstance... Despair inducing.

Jotaro Kujo shared so many tales about your brother, how smart he was, how helpful, how brave... How dead he was.

___________________________________ "I honestly didn't know he'd be capable of that..."

"Same here. In all my years of knowing him, I never knew he'd pull that stunt... But undeniably, sounds like him," I smiled, looking over the normally silent behemoth. "And you're right about the cherry stuff. He regularly does that whenever he'd eat cherries."

"It's unnerving, to be frank." The hat wearing boy turned away, tipping his hat downward.

"It is! I remember when we'd buy milkshakes after school! He would often take my cherry and do that thing he always do....."

The storytelling went on, endless stories of Noriaki's childhood with me went on and on. I could never get tired of taking about him, his memory lives on with me, in my heart and in my soul. It hurts to admit he's gone in this certain young age of seventeen, but he still lives inside me... That came out wrong, but you get my point.

After our not-so brief talk about Nori, it was time for him to leave, when he turns back to me. In his hand, was a black velvet box wrapped with an emerald bow. He said it was my gift for my birthday and wouldn't you know it, the behemoth is a huge softie. He is like an older brother to me, but of course, I would never replace Nori.

Let me tell you this, it wasn't easy being friends with Jotaro. I'm a junior year while he's a senior. And for some god forsaken reason, they thought we were dating... Uh, I like him as a friend/brother. Nothing more, really.

The box... Inside it, was the necklace. The golden chain and the circular emerald pendant, a certain colour I often associated with my older brother as he named his stand's attack just that. Emerald splash... No one could deflect it, as he claims alright. That's what I thought at least, he never aimed the attack on me.

I gave Jotaro a hug before he parted ways with me. The green certainly reminded me of the stand and it's user... I honestly miss them. _____________________________________

"Say Y/N, I say we go get some boba tea after this class! My treat of course!" Your friend beams, posing with a peace sign at you. "It's the least I can do since I wasn't able to attend your birthday yesterday! And it really makes me feel guilty!"

"Oh Ibara you don't have to," you giggled. "But if you insist!"

As of cue, the bell rang to signal class was over. Ibara has always been a close friend of yours since you've transferred in this school. The girl with an obsession for boba milk teas and middle aged actors who were thrice her age. The comforting soul that stuck with you while you mourned for your brother's death and never left your side. After packing you bag, you glanced at the orange haired girl who was already waiting for you in the doorway with an encouraging smile. Giving your friend a smirk, looping your elbows through hers.

"Off we go, Ibara. A certain cherry boba milk tea is calling my name~" you giggled.

"Oh you always get that flavour. You're obsessed with cherries, aren't you? How come you don't try other flavours?" Ibara asks, casting a questioning glance at your direction. "And your pin is even cherry! And your earrings! Seriously! You and your cherry obsession!"

"I don't know why, but I think they taste good and they're oddly aesthetically pleasing." you lied. "I just like how cherries taste and how they look, that's all."

______________________________________

Heavenly... Every moment spent with you is the reason why I lived.

You may not realize it, big brother, but you were a great influence for me. I was hard on myself for not knowing how certain mathematics work, I knew not much about literature, culture, history, sociology and you taught me all about it. Stands, what the fuck were stands? I developed one and I was afraid and you helped me cope with it and now we're friends.

I knew nothing about friendship, but my relationship with you alone made me feel relevant, valid despite being bullied back in elementary. Your influence lurked within me every single time.

Thoughts like "What would big brother Nori do if...." Frequently crossed my mind whenever an inconvenience occured. You are, in a way, my role model. I love how you handle things, the way you think, negotiate, move after thinking... Such a quick witted guy you were. That's how much I look up at you despite I acted mean to you. You never knew how you influenced me to be a person I am today...

I miss you, truly. I wish you weren't dead.

But I have to ask... Why? Why do you always want to make me feel better about myself when you can't even do the same thing for yourself?

You did everything to make me smile, make me feel comfortable, make me feel loved, appreciated, you helped me feel valid while you suffered with your own pain. You bear your pain alone while I had the nerve to unload my personal baggage as if I was the most miserable person there is...

Hell, I don't even know how much you've suffered until you died. I'm such a useless younger sibling who can't even return the same gestures you've made for me... _____________________________________

"Ewww, what is that?" Fifteen year old Y/N Kakyoin pointed at the canvas in which the red haired male painted on.

"Why, it's my very own magnum opus, dearest youngest sibling," Noriaki jokingly stated with a mock posh accent. "It was time that I replace De Vinci, don't you think?" He moves away for you to get a perfect view of his painting.

It was a painting of your Stand that stood behind a street light. The rough painting was difficult to recognise, but the colour scheme was a dead give away for your Stand. You presumed it was still unfinished, considering there was a clear outline of another character that stood in front of your Stand.

"Why would you chose to draw trash like me?" You pointed at yourself, seating yourself on a stool whilst you watched him dip his paintbrush on a pile of mixed paint before making soft, precise stroke on the canvas.

"No don't say that, you're not trash. You're the whole dumpster." He retorts with a smirk. You couldn't see him as he had his back turned away from you, but you highly suspected he was smirking.

"Wow, that's toooootally original," you dragged the vowels, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. "Says the one with a trashy looking hair."

Noriaki chuckles, shaking his head, the dangling cherry earrings he has shook alongside him. "Okay, I take it back. You're not the whole dumpster, nor trash. You're just my cute little sibling." He has this smile that can light the whole damn town with fire, and girls would swoon and fall and dance around that fire like witches in a ritual to summon a demon... Ugh, it sounded too specific, but that's how you'd describe his smile. Irresistible, not easy to contained and it easily affected you as well because in no time, you were smiling just like him.

"Okay, what the fuck did you eat for you to say those things to me? Who are you and what have you done to my Noriaki?" You laughed, poking him by his tiny waist and immediately elicited a flinch and a laugh from him.

"Oh nothing, just feeling particularly thankful for the existence of my younger sibling who is totally relevant and beautiful in every way. They think that they're bad looking and is often feeling down, as they doubt themselves every time makes me feel like a bad brother." He puts the brush down alongside the others and turns to face you. Noriaki firmly places his hands atop your shoulders and shook you repeatedly. "You haven't been completely honest with yourself and your family. I know something's happening to you in your class. Tell me what's wrong."

His firm grip prevented you from escaping, prompting you to pout. Of course he'd know you were being bullied. He always knows something is up. You're starting to think he uses those good looks of his to pull gossips from gossiping school girls who knew of your circumstances. Nevertheless, you sighed, you spilled your problems as he listens intently.

"I just... I don't feel like expressing myself if people can't accept me. They're right though. I'm just an irrelevant trash and— ow!" You were able to barely flinch when his grip tightens around your shoulders.

"You. Are. Valid and beautiful! Don't forget that okay? You're a flame that doesn't deserve to be snuffed out." He reassures. "I know how you feel, but know that there will be people out there who will love you for who you are. You're not irrelevant, you're not trash. You're the best, unique and the only you they will ever meet and they will miss out for not meeting you. I will not stop saying these things if you do not know, scratch that, believe you are one of the most wonderful person everyone will meet."

"Tsk, stop being cheesy you dumb dork." You playfully punched him by his pectoral, trying to deny your glossy eyes to escape, prompting you to coil your arms around his waist to prevent him from seeing it. "Big dumb dork."

"See? There's my little sibling!" He strokes your hair with a soft smile. "So cute and small, growing too fast!"

"You're not mom, you don't have the right to say that." You glanced at him with a smirk, poking a finger on his waist earning a slight flinch from him, as he is ticklish there.

"Well I am your older brother and I am always in charged on watching you," he flicks you by the forehead in retaliation, prompting you to lightly smack his cheek with a toothy grin. "Have you finished packing yet?

"Yep. I honestly can't wait for the trip in Egypt. I think this going to be the best vacation slash celebration of successfully moving to another house." After speaking, you let out a high pitched shriek when he ruffled your hair with his palms with a mischievous chuckle. As you were about to attempt to free yourself from his grip, he tightly held you to his body and resumed ruffling with your hair as you squirmed and moved. Once he had his fun, he released you with a playful chuckle, watching you rearrange your hair. "Ohhh, curse you!"

"Shut up, now go to bed. We still have a flight to catch tomorrow. If you need me I'll be in my room. Good night!" He waves, abandoning you in the living room as you tend to your hair.

"Whatever you cherry sucking idiot." You incoherently mumbled to yourself, straightening your hair into its former glory.

____________________________________

I love you Noriaki... I hope you believe that. Mom and dad are proud of you, they love and miss you so much. Your friends miss you and they are grateful for what you've done for them.

I hope you're doing well up there with the angels and the cherry gods or whatever.

Know that your little sibling is alive and well and living the best years of their life because of you. By this, I will fulfill everything you have never done.

I miss you big brother and you will always live in my heart. _____________________________________

[isadcrajade]

💀 * [ barbie ferreira + cis female + she/her ] —— have you met isadora oliveira ? they are a twenty-one year old sophomore currently studying fashion design & merchandising. they live on keating house, and word around campus is that this aries is loyal + warm, as well as self-objectifying + obsequious. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. chocolate covered strawberries, gothic platforms, lingerie under leather jackets.

hiii bbies it’s me (gabby) finally here again to post this finalized, messy version of isa’s intro! she’s a brand new never-been-played muse of mine so it’s def bound to be a bit more scattered & less developed than ezra’s, but also much shorter? so i mean there’s a bonus lmao alright here we go:

so isadora (also known by many nicknames such as isa, izzy, iz, & dora the explora if ur trying to piss her off vgbjhksjs) was definitely not brought up in a world of prestige and recognition like the one she’s become so accustomed to in attending holloway university

growing up in the small town of lisbon, maine the only reality isa knew during her childhood was that of living as the only child of a woman who was (TW) both a compulsive liar & and compulsive hoarder. their house was floor to ceiling with things her mom collected as well as garbage built up over time- her condition had already driven isa’s father out of the house when she was just three years old, and she never had a relationship with him as a result

she was still fairly young when she realized the true severity of her own situation, just how abnormal it was compared to that of her friends. she missed out on so many rights of passage during her upbringing like birthday parties, sleepovers, etc. for much of her life her own living space / bedroom were just as bad off as the rest of the house, given her mom’s inability to keep from passing her hoarding tendencies onto her daughter. isa simply didn’t know any better at the time. to her, that was normal.

not only was her mom a compulsive liar & hoarder but she was also extremely neglectful, often leaving isa to her own devices in the dangerous environment they called home. as a result of this she (TW ED) developed harmful coping mechanisms surrounding food, regularly overeating to combat negative feelings of loneliness, and this went on from the time she was just a little girl all the way until she was in high school

high school was rough in many ways- she suffered depression, anxiety, experienced bullying at the hands of the more popular kids for her weight & her mother’s financial situation, and was all around extremely isolated from her peers- the only person she really had to depend on was her cousin (WC) . she had so much respect and envy for her cousin, they had more of a sisterly dynamic than anything, she was just so gorgeous and everything she did just seemed so effortless, to the point isa couldn’t help but idolize her and consider her a best friend. 

like, remember when spongebob said he hoped that by being in squidward’s presence some of his artistic ability would rub off onto him? that was deadass isa & (WC) in high school jhbksnjs my girl was so sure if she just spent enough time with her she’d inherit some of her pretty & cool

high school was also where she reached a turning point when it came to her home environment, able to put a name to her mom’s condition after years of struggling with her strained and toxic relationship with her mom, and ultimately changed the rest of her life. she stayed the night at (WC’s) one night and after she fell asleep, isa stayed up watching TLC- it was there that she first discovered the TV show ‘hoarding: buried alive’ and realized there was a name for her mother’s infliction- but more importantly, learned that there was help available for her condition

when she went home to excitedly tell her mother that she’d basically discovered a cure, a means to change everything for them... she certainly hadn’t been expecting the reaction that came: her mom, who’d always been so indifferent toward her, so lethargic and uninterested in what she had to say, was suddenly listening very clearly- and she was not happy. isa had never heard her mom scream like that, had never really heard her express any heightened emotion, but it was in that moment at 17 years old, just a few weeks away from her 18th birthday, that she realized what she needed to do. she had no choice but to make plans to leave her mom behind.

the final weeks leading up to the big day she was counting on as a turning point consisted of her cleaning out her own space, little by little, enough that she had somewhere to set up her secondhand laptop and webcam. blowing out the candles on her 18th birthday cake came with wishing for a whole new life, and she was determined to make that for herself by any means necessary.

(TW SEX WORK) isa spent half her 18th year in her room working as a successful camgirl, showing everything but her face, & of course always being careful not to dox herself. she eventually earned enough money to start buying herself nicer clothes, but it didn’t take her long to realize she wanted more from life than just rotting away in her hometown. she bought herself a higher quality webcam to keep making money... and a nice sewing machine, something she’d always dreamed of owning. 

all her life she’d been drawing and sketching as a means of escapism, it’d always been therapeutic to her to be creative and conjure up unique designs for outfits in her mind, drawing models in all shapes and sizes to represent her fantasy outfits. but she never felt like a visionary, even though anyone with an eye for fashion who got a look at her work could see that she had the natural talent and potential to be. 

isa had been an a straight-A student her whole life despite having almost no support at home from her mother growing up, and with plenty of encouragement from (cousin WC), she plucked up the courage and applied for holloway university, with ivory falls being far enough from her hometown of lisbon, but still in the same state so that she could go and see her mother from time to time (bc although their relationship is quite strained now, she still loves and worries about her)

the next summer she received her acceptance letter at holloway u for the coming fall semester, and the fact that she’d been able to make it into such a prestigious school made her feel so proud of herself that she completely underwent a massive arc of character development; evolving into someone so much more confident. realizing that plenty of people found her desirable as she continued to earn money through cam shows had been part of that transformation, but realizing she was talented enough to get accepted into the fashion design and merchandising program at her dream school had a completely different effect on her. 

( TW BODY IMAGE ISSUES ) isa decided that as she entered college, she was no longer going to be the meek, insecure girl constantly playing the role of the doting, loyal fat best friend to the ‘prettier main characters’ she’d always been sidekick to- she told herself that she was the main fucking character in her life from here on, and has spent her entire college experience up to this point just,, navigating as she figures out what that really means to her

still has a terrible underlying tendency to be overly-loyal and a bit obsessive with girls she closely befriends, if she has any kind of jealousy towards them. but ! is a lot more confident than she used to be, and it shows in the way she dresses and carries herself, as well as in her long-term goals (to transfer to FIDM for her final years of university)

( TW ED MENTION ) as a young adult, she’s mostly she’s replaced the compulsion to deal with her body image issues by using food to cope that she had as a teenager... by using sex to cope instead, so she’s definitely a bit promiscuous but does her best to keep that Her Own business 

personality-wise she has a massive heart & is loyal to a fault but is also wild AF & loves a good time! never rly dabbled in drugs until she got to college but since then has acquired an interest in trying everything under the sun, even if it’s just one and done. mostly though she just likes to get really drunk & stupid. used to feel like she was constantly living in her cousin’s shadow, & in some ways she still does, but she’s trying hard to make herself believe that she’s reached a place where she won’t be playing second fiddle to anyone, ever again

i’m gonna shut the hell up now & stop pretending i know this character better than i do bc i deadass do not jbhnjss like she’s literally brand new so lemme go head & leave plenty of room for development!

same story as ezra i’ll have a full connections page posted for her soon but in the meantime some ideas i have are: friends, frienemies, ex friends, high school bullies, classmates, old high school friends, people she gets fuckt up with on the reg, people she hooks up with on the reg (any gender, she’s bisexual / biromantic), someone she had a crush on in high school / has pined for from afar maybe?? someone who used to watch her cam shows?? someone she almost kinda dated but Not? someone who she hooked up with while they were dating someone else?? idk that’s what i have for now but there’ll be more where that came from <3 xoxo like this or hmu !

[channelmono]

I dunno if I have a lot to say, but I figured that give how many people follow me, I wanna share some tips on preserving mental health during these chaotic times

If you follow me on Instagram, you might have noticed my last story QA, which was a bit of a survey just to see how some of you lovely monitors are feeling, because I know the world in general has been stressed lately for obvious reasons. The elephant in the room is that we as individuals are all walking a tightrope of staying up-to-date about the future and how to maintain our physical health while also trying to preserve a sense of productivity and activity to sustain our mental health, the latter of which I’m noticing being especially strenuous for many of you, likely because this prolonged period of uncertainty and anxiety is highly unfamiliar. I want to disclaim right away: I am not a doctor, I am not a psychologist trained in extensive therapy who knows how to guide each and every one of you to your healthiest behaviors. However, I still wish to still help you with some advice. I do wish to see you as my friends, and as my friends, I want to ensure that you are happy and healthy. I already have a history of self-isolation, and without getting too in-depth of the exact details, this involuntarily hermit-like lifestyle we’re all being encouraged to ascribe to has been my way of living for the past several years (the involuntary-ness included). I’ve become much more acclimated to not just being alone, but stuck in a place of residence with little directive or seeming control of my own future, with a long history of trying to discern of not just what to do with my life in general, but just getting through the day-to-day. I want to discuss that day-to-day, because the month(s) away we have from returning to a normal world again is still comprised of many, many days, and if I can’t come up with a surefire long-term plan for how to deal with a future we are all in unfamiliar territory of dealing with, I can at least suggest a few low-cost stepping stones to helping you take in each day a lot easier, and hopefully help lift a bit of the collective burden over however long we may be like this. 1) DON'T LET YOURSELF GIVE UP. I feel like this is a bit of an obvious tip that might come across as “are you feeling sad? Just be happy!”, but hear me out. One of the biggest sources of human (or human-equivalent) stress is the feeling that one has no control over their life. The period where I fussed incredibly hard about the fate of my future as I was first condemned was one of the darkest, most exhausting parts of my life, as were all the times I had done before. It wasn’t merely that I was so ashamed of my failures, but it was the fact that I’d constantly and semi-consciously associate it with my entire being, to the point where I couldn’t make a casual joke in a non-depressed context that didn’t end with a side remark of how I wanted to die (now that I explained it without context… yikes.) Eventually, there was a eureka moment for me where I had enough of being tired. I’m not sure exactly what triggered it -- perhaps it was just dealing with the banality of the isolation, perhaps it was just me thinking more about how I mentally hurt myself and what I could do to stop, perhaps it was me simply deciding to find professional psychological help for it -- but whatever the case, I realized that even if the world could do bad things to me, I wanted to stop doing things that would hurt myself, as not only was being good to myself the least that I could do, but it also helped me forge a modicum of very real power for my self-esteem, giving that first boost to kickstart my life again (in part by starting this channel and making new online friends!) This wasn’t a solution to get rid of all my outside problems, but rather a means to help accept that things would be tough, but I could still live with them. Challenges will need to be faced, and there will be failures because that’s how life can be sometimes, but it also helped me better comprehend that there will also be victories, because that’s ALSO how life can be sometimes! I can’t say for sure how each and every one of you will be able to help yourself realize that negativity, hopelessness, and cynicism are not the only means to approach an uncertain and stressful future. Perhaps you already realized it! Perhaps you were in the process of realizing it but the articulation of my journey may give some guidance. Perhaps you still need some more time and thought to think about it. But whichever way, I implore you to consider that this future is not solely one to be defeated by, but one which you can fight to be happy in… and win. 2) GIVE YOURSELF A DAILY RHYTHM. One of the biggest things I see people complaining about is how without their usual daily schedule with work or school, their mental acuity is going haywire and it’s difficult to get things done. There are many reasons for why our brains are reacting to the situation the way they do: a bunch of collective trauma surrounding the pandemic putting our brains on edge for what to expect next, stress making us unable to register complex tasks, our inner survival instinct diverting away our ability to think about personal minutiae, etc. The human brain is a fickle thing doing its best to cope with the trauma it’s presented with, and first and foremost, it’s important to be patient with yourself. Going back to the “how to take on the day-to-day”, let’s talk about schedules. The truth is that many of us crave at least a mild semblance of structure and compartmentalization, and a big factor for why our minds are getting sloggy is because we’ve lost the ones we followed, mostly ones imposed onto us by our professions, and were wholly unprepared to figure out a compensation plan (as many of you students learning via Zoom conferences are aware). The practical trick I have to help remedy this is a pretty basic-on-paper one: seek out your own schedule. Speaking from my own experience, the daily grind into this miasma of a future becomes less cumbersome once you intuit what you actually define as “the daily grind”. This is not to say you need to become a rigid, Clock King-esque fanatic who plans every action by the minute, as simply understanding what you do and what you WANT to do will be of help. For me, I schedule my alarm clock to go off at 8:30. Every day I get up and make coffee or tea along with breakfast for myself and The Master. My current daily priorities are messy janitorial duties and Animal Crossing, while my personal hobbies that I’d reserve to my free time include filming content, playing video games, watching movies or Youtube, cooking, or going outside to jog. Every week or so, I go out for groceries. I do my best to go to bed and sleep before midnight. Of course, this is just MY schedule, but this is how rudimentary it can get while still giving me a sense of fulfillment when I do pass the time as I do accomplish my tasks. There are many ways to go about it, but really, one of the simplest ways to recognize them in your life is just write it out. Actually articulate it into just a really simple list that you have to transfer from mind onto paper/digital text. This is especially recommended if additional tasks or changes to your life occurs: write it down so you can remember everything! And allow yourself to do it! This is not to say you should be worrying constantly about how productive you are, as the goal is not to define yourself by how much you accomplish per day, but rather a way to give yourself that sorely needed daily rhythm we all miss, while allowing you to reward yourself when you hit your goals. And like every plan, it doesn’t need to be flawless -- there will be times where we need to relax and take a break. There might be emergencies to deal with. There may be times where things are so overwhelming where it’s like “Yknow what? I don’t wanna do anything today.” And that’s okay. On a related note: Something I’d like to place importance on with my schedule is my sleep. As someone who has experienced long periods of miserable exhaustion in my life, I cannot overstate just how important and cathartic a good, consistent sleep schedule is. I’m not joking: the night when I stopped being “insomniac” by going to bed tired but staying on my phone up until 2 AM, and instead actually went to bed at 11-ish, I woke up feeling the best I had in years. Exhaustion no longer felt like a necessary, expected burden. I felt legitimately well-rested, and discovering that I could freely feel things that weren’t depression was almost epiphanic (if that’s a word lol). I know that going to sleep and waking up on a consistent time of day might sound chore-like to many of you night owls, and there may be other concerns at play like actual insomnia, but I implore you to at least consider giving yourself a consistent nightly rhythm as well as your daily one. Being exhausted is an easy way to get stuck in your own head, and if you’re thinking dark thoughts and lack the energy to force yourself out, you can be in trouble. Don’t underdo or overdo it that you still feel like crap when you wake up. Be honest to yourself. Good sleep can be incredibly rewarding in ways that you might not even believe until you experience it for yourself.

[hellreads]

Any good yandere stalker recommendations? Doesn’t matter the member really.

an ask that will expose my yandere/stalker (insert killer too because some yanderes are just willing to go the extra mile) BTS loving ass let’s do this! and btw this list is in no particular order, I just went to my ficshelf and pulled all the good stuff I read (though I admit I have favorites *zips her mouth*) and I hope you’ll love them too, ooooh and another thing we all know that;

A yandere is a character, who becomes violently possessive of a love interest.

so please consider all warnings in every story listed here before you read, AGAIN PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read every single warning/triggers, that’s all I ask of you.

or alternatively: this is me posting all the fics I read in one go! hsajdfghjdsfga enjoy this my fellow yandere loving readers! | 🍒

❥ Let the Villain Win by @lemonjoonah➴ Author!AU | Namjoon x Reader | One-Shot➴ Kim Namjoon, famous author and your childhood friend has been keeping a secret from you. His new book treads on such dark themes that he’s finding it difficult to write. Excited by the prospect of a sinister plot you offer him a piece of advice, “Let the villain win…” 

❥ Scopophilic Affection by @bibbykins➴ Rich Kid/Yandere!AU | Seokjin x Reader | One-Shot➴ Scopophilia is a more dignified way to define voyeurism, something Seokjin had no intention of partaking in until he came across your live stream. Seokjin is a dignified man, but never in his life had he felt so depraved watching you smile and work like it was his profession, unable to reach through the screen and make you his. Unable to tell you how much he loves to watch you because you have no idea you’re live stream even exists. He can’t tell you how hypnotizing you are without the glaring controversy of him watching your hacked-into webcam, both as a human and director in the computer science division of the company he is a board member of. Nevertheless, you were his very guilty utmost pleasure.

❥ Dual Fixation by peachedsoda➴ Yandere!AU | Yoongi x Named OC x Taehyung | Series ➴ DICHOTOMOUS : Not being loved by the one you love is like torture. But in a way, being loved by someone you don’t want to be with, and being forced to love that person back, could be bigger torture. How much of it can be called love? How much of it becomes an obsession? Kim Taehyung—the one consumed by passion for the unexpected love he feels for a certain girl.Min Yoongi—the one clinging to the only girl able to accept his dichotomous personality. And Lee Eunhye—the girl trapped in the minds of both men.➴ INFATUATION : The threat of Kim Taehyung hangs heavy in the air, bringing with it the ever-present paranoia that has thus become a constant in Yoongi’s life. Determined to protect the brittle relationship he has built with Eunhye, and fearful of what Taehyung might do, Yoongi finds himself focused solely on finding ways to rid them of unwanted interferences. Desperation drives Yoongi to make questionable decisions in the name of protecting Eunhye, fully unaware of the amount of danger he’d be putting her in. Yoongi is willing to go to hopeless lengths to keep her by his side, failing to realize it was not Taehyung who would drive her away, but his own actions and resolves. Peace and a respite from danger seem to be an impossibility, especially with Yoongi’s intended involvement with Taehyung’s notorious family who happens to be one of the most fearsome gangs in the south side.

❥ The Uncanny by sinsirella➴ Arranged Marriage!AU | Jimin x Reader x Jungkook x Jin | Series➴ “The uncanny is the psychological experience of something as strangely familiar, rather than simply mysterious.” An everyday object or occurrence can be experienced as something unsettling and alienated. This is accompanied by a discomforting effect and—most of the time—leads to an outright rejection of said subject. Or Someone.

(Y/N) is a young girl whose life turns upside down. One day her mother surprises her with news of her arranged husband, forcing her into her new chaotic lifestyle. Join her journey and experience her new life through her eyes. Will she get along with her husband? Or someone else? What are they hiding?

❥ Neighbors by @jkeuphoriadreamland➴ Neighbors!AU | Jimin x Reader | Series➴ Finally achieving your successes in life you never expected the distraction that came with your new hot neighbor. He however, had been trying to get your attention for a much different reason. 

❥ Mythomania by @chimchimsauce ➴ Idol!AU | Jimin x Reader | Series➴ She’s the love of his life, the object of his affection. Too bad she doesn’t know it yet. 

❥ Beastly Gods by @lemonjoonah ➴ Hybrid!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ ‘Don’t leave the forest,’ a rule that you’ve been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. Out of desperation, you cut a deal with Taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape. 

❥ KTH Reaction from @yandere-society ➴ Yandere!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Reaction➴ Taehyung finds out you’re pregnant.  ➴ NOTE: Hands down sent shivers down my spine, felt like someone was breathing down my neck the whole time I was reading this reaction T_T

❥ You Were Mine by joonscandy (ao3) / @jiminatrix➴ Stalker!AU | Jungkook x Reader x Jin x Hoseok | Series➴ “I have to go, Kook,” you tell him but he still doesn’t let go, “I have work and Your brother will be back any minu—“ “I don’t care!” Jungkook growls, “You broke up with him… What does it matter?”***You’ve avoided Jin because you were over your messy breakup. Enters Jungkook, someone you’d grown to love and care for. But, with the shift in feelings– you make it a point to avoid everyone associated with the two brothers. Well, at least, tried to but with how Jungkook felt about you that was a little easier said than done. Jungkook had always had a soft spot for you, everyone knew it. Jin knew it and he hated it but, what happens when that soft spot turns into something else?-or-Jungkook has been in love with you since the first day Jin introduced the two of you so much in love that it becomes an obsession.

❥ Lust by @umitae ➴ Stalker!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ Everybody has a lust for something. but his lust was beyond the ordinary one. his lust for you was out of this world. he only wanted you and in order to make you his, everything had to go his way. 

❥ Pen Pal by @chinkbihh ➴ Prison!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ As a lonely person, the idea of talking to someone removed from society was actually quite appealing to you. In an act of charity and loneliness, you sign up for a Pen Pal program and get paired up with an inmate named Jungkook. Your letters were meant to help him cope with prison life, but little did anyone know they were actually driving him more mad.

❥ Toxic by shanubi➴ Stalker!AU | Jungkook x Reader x Jimin | Series➴ His mind is twisted and his love for you is toxic. 

❥ Only You by @sweetbunnykook ➴ Stalker!AU | Jungkook x Reader x Jin x Namjoon | Series➴ Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much. 

❥ Making of a Lover by @smileyoongle ➴ Yandere!AU | Jungkook x Reader x Jimin | One-Shot / Drabble➴ //

❥ Fatal Attraction by @jungcock ➴ Serial Killer!AU | Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung | Series➴ Your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one.

❥ VITA by saylilirose➴ Psych!AU | OT7 x Reader | Series➴ Being the top psychiatrist at National Mental Institution of Esor, you’re assigned with the newly transferred patients from another institution.They’re patients that have been unable to be helped. So far.Your friend Daniel is also assigned his own patients but he worries for your safety now.You both hope to let these patients, live as best as they can as they suffer through these silent diseases.

❥ Extreme Obsession by saylilirose➴ Yandere!AU | OT7 x Reader | Series➴ In life, you meet one person that you live and grow old with. You? You meet seven. But your love? Non-existent. But theirs? Real…and obsessive.Which turns deadly and dangerous. Without hesitation.

❥ Recrudescence by @chimchimsauce➴ Yandere!AU | OT7 x Reader | Series➴ It’s nearly easy as breathing (for six of them, at least) for BTS to pretend to be just like everyone else - humans with big dreams and aspirations. But one person brings the façade crashing to the ground and for some reason, they just can’t let her go.

❥ and I’m recommending all the good yandere stuff from @yandere-society 🖤🖤🖤

[loverlache]

Dracula 2020 BBC Netflix - can they retain the balancing act into Season 2?

So I finished watching the BBC Netflix adaptation of Dracula recently, having been too busy around New Year to watch it on its original timeframe. I’ve now watched the whole series twice, partly because I was so gripped by episode 1 & 2 and especially their incredible casting. Episode 3 did slip for me, but this is because I think the writers spent too much time trying to shoehorn Lucy W in rather than work with the main story foundations that were working so well in their adaptation. 

So why did episodes 1 & 2 mainly work so well? 

First of all, I think one of the main reasons that the first 2 eps felt familiar but also fresh was that they fully allowed Dracula to be a real character walking the perfect tightrope between horror and delight, while being absolutely fine about that. 

It’s really hard to make Dracula more relatable without undermining his horror. Most shows don’t bother. This one however tried, and tried spectacularly. They did this by making him delightful - not just by making him gorgeous, but by making him funny. Purists may not agree, but for someone who has for years wanted to actually see Dracula become a real boy, the particular balance between his dark humour and the horrid things he did moments later made him so much more compelling. This Dracula had a fabulous mixture of boyish, impish delight, incredible charisma, and hideous evil. You were never sure if he would just be funny/evil, hot/evil, funny/hot, or just evil, and in all cases, one aspect seemed to accentuate the other.

What’s more, you knew that Dracula was really okay with himself, as well. Sure, he’s looking for a bride. He’s lonely. He’s also got some fears and insecurities, but overall you know he’s at peace with his diabolical nature, while still being able to find delight in still existing in the world. After 500 years this is no mean feat. He asks for no apologies, and we offer none. This is no emo Dracula, which is refreshing when they could have gone the route of ‘misunderstood angel’.

Secondly, they created a second character that further emphasised all of these elements of the new Dracula, while also coming into her own. The wonderful central ‘dyad’ created between Dracula and Agatha made him even more delightful, hot and evil, while also making Van Helsing a better character overall.

Dracula, you get the impression, hasn’t met quite so many people as interesting and compelling as Agatha in his lifetime. He’s done his best to stay engaged, learning how to find, enjoy -  and then eat -  interesting people, but meeting Agatha gives him the biggest kick he’s had in some time. You could say he’s never been happier to be undead to meet someone who really wants to understand him. To know him. To challenge him - no, not to make him a better person - but to make him think. 

Meanwhile, Agatha is rather lost before she meets him, but when she does - he’s fascinating, clever, a mystery, a challenge - but she also reignites her purpose, which is to find meaning through God.  Van Helsing’s character has never seemed so vital. I’ve watched so many turgid versions of the bland good guy, fighting for the good of humanity. This Van Helsing literally comes alive in Dracula’s presence, not because she hates herself, but because through him she does see a dark compass to the light. 

Yes, there is a sexual undertone there that is fully realised in episode 3. But the chemistry they have for most of the show is not about turning Drac into a romantic hero - rather more telling the story of two people who sense true purpose in each other, two magnets finally finding their opposite that promises something beyond their own self-destruction. 

Yes, you’re never sure if Drac may at some point humanise, or whether she may darken - but this adds to it further. How long can their dance continue and how might it end?

So how could they make this work in season 2? Agatha is dead! Dracula is dead! And wasn’t he humanised? Didn’t they make out? And didn’t Dracula in modern times suck? 

First of all, let’s check out what this season seemed to establish or at least suggested to me. 

1. Dracula is now a fully freed character. He is not just a monster who can’t walk in the light, or touch garlic, or look at a cross. He can wreak havoc anywhere at any time. This sounds incredibly interesting to me and worth exploring further.

2. Dracula can adapt to any time. I know the 2020 setting didn’t work for everyone, but I think it wasn’t the time setting but rather the messy storyline that was the issue in episode 3. I would be happy to see him mainly living in 2020, but with his whole lifetime played out in various stories, with lots of amazing flashbacks to many points throughout time. 2020 does not need to tie Drac, it can free him. Crucially, if Agatha is in his blood, it might also free her...

3. Dracula can still be bloody scary in the modern world. Yes its harder when he’s not dressed in a cape and the Transylvanian sets certainly help. But the creepy child and listening into the sounds of the undead trying to claw their way out of their tombs were truly horrifying - and I would like to have seen more of that. It would require more thought about how Dracula’s brand of horror transfers to the modern-day, more use of super scary- contortionists, but the true horror of this Dracula was surely his full acceptance of his delight in being with, playing with, and then casually killing people. Let’s focus on that.

4. Dracula changed the game in his relationship with Agatha - but we cannot be sure that he was asking for redemption or showed real love for her. I think what we really saw was that Dracula realised finally he had found his real perfect bride in Agatha - which he had been trying to create for years - and reacted accordingly. I think we saw a flash of something new in his realisation he no longer wanted to be undead without her - but that is all, at least for now. 

5. We are not totally sure that Agatha is dead, or Dracula is either. Dracula can be brought back to life easily, it's his superpower. And as for Agatha - have we not just seen that she can now live through time? Why could then they not create something feasible enough that she can also effectively take over her ancestors - as well as her descendants?

Taking all of the above, there are the threads of some amazing stories that could be created in all kinds of times and also, with both Dracula and Agatha moving together through those times on a long, bloody fight to a final, mysterious end. 

I have a few caveats:

1. They would need to keep Dracula fully fanged. I do not want to see Drac's horror played out in a meta way, eg Drac is the new evil face of Facebook stealing our data. He is at heart a bloodthirsty monster and we need to always be reminded of it. 

2. Drac needs to not be in love with Agatha in a way we would recognise it. They still need to keep the will-they-won’t-they dyad between Agatha and Dracula but they need to take it into a new direction now that we think we know he would rather not be undead without her. He may think he is in love with her, he may stalk her, or he may want to get rid of his own need for her, all of which I would love to see Drac cope with while still being terribly evil, handsome, funny and charming.  

3. Agatha still needs to need the light and her God. With this in mind, she cannot be dark Agatha (for any long periods at least) or be realistically in love with Dracula. Again I would like to see moments of weakness, as she wishes and dreams of his redemption before God through her influence, but she needs to rarely if ever believe it will happen. 

That’s it! Really hoping season 2 happens though....

[shortmania]

If Olga had children, what do you imagine they would be like?

Oh, I created a batch of those years ago. This pic’s from 2014:

To create OC kids, there’s a lot of junk you have to consider. Mother, father, family, parenting styles, income, environment, and all the ways these things might come together to form a person. And thinking about Olga as a mother has always been… fucking hysterical, honestly. Like can you imagine? Can you stand it? I’ve only ever been able to think about it in short bursts because it’s too much for me. It’s too much. 

There’s also The Patakis to think about, and the ways Olga is likely to change as she gets older. Lucky for my sanity, I see her developing into a calmer, wiser, less chaotic sort of person. Less luckily, I don’t see this being a particularly significant development. It doesn’t matter if she’s 20 or 50, she’ll always be Olga Pataki and Olga Pataki is ridiculous. I don’t want to say she’d be a bad mom, but… she wouldn’t be a very good mom, either? She’d do some things right and other things very wrong. I’ll get into that, but lemme just do a quick rundown of the other basic considerations here: dad, income, and environment. 

I created a husband for Olga around the same time I made these kids, but I never developed him very far past a few basic traits and a general backstory. So he’s very basic, but he works. Charles was a good friend from Wellington College (in England) who shared most of her English classes, was the only one to maintain contact with her after she transferred to Bennington, came from money, raised by nannies, bit of a nervous wreck but hides it well because that’s how he was taught–to be pent up and twitchy. His fam wanted him to be a lawyer or business man but he quietly rebelled by becoming an English major instead, knowing full well how useless a degree it is and not caring at all. He eventually goes on to be a successful playwright, though, and Olga performs in all his plays. So, income would be decent verging on very decent, and their kids would grow up somewhere teeming with theatrical opportunities. Probably somewhere really crowded and loud and pretentious.  

Getting right into it then, from left to right, we have Angelique, Helena, and Genevieve, because Olga’s That Bitch. They attend(ed) a fancy private school because Olga’s That Bitch. They’re all very well-read, well-traveled and “well-behaved” because Olga’s That Bitch. But since Olga is, as specified, That Bitch, her kids didn’t escape her influence unscathed. 

Tbh, I do think any kids Olga would have would be Pretty Good Kids™– barring her having any with an absolute scumbag like she so easily could, but that’s another question entirely (I write fluff and comedy, so these kids reflect that) – but. Hmm. I see Mom!Olga being extremely affectionate, extremely emotional, and frequently selfish; generally hella overbearing; definitely stifling. And she wouldn’t want to, but I can’t see her not on some level perceiving her children as extensions of herself, and thus incapable of coping with anything less than Excellence on their parts. Not to say that I think she’d be a monster. I don’t think she’d force them into things or demand they win awards or anything like what Bob or Miriam did to her, but being in the same room as her with a less than impressive report card would be… uncomfortable. And that’d be on top of her always being in their business, looking over their shoulders, and constantly trying to spend quality time with them. Even when they don’t want to spend time with her, and so help any of them that say as much, because Olga’s incredibly sensitive. So layers upon layers of bad, there.

Some rebellion would be expected, then, so Genevieve gets into the goth punk scene. She’s more casual about it as an adult, but Olga doesn’t understand her. Helena uses comedy and misdirection as a defense and smiles very big and very nervous when her mom’s lip wobbles at her a little too expressively. Angelique straight up hides from her. She used to be sweeter, used to gently comfort her mom whenever she inadvertently did anything that upset her, but it took a toll on her and she can’t handle crying, or disappointment, or criticism, and she hates explaining herself so she avoids ever needing to. She’s a little emotionally underdeveloped, as a result. Not good for anyone to avoid conflict.

I also see Olga babying the hell out of her kids, so that would be another reason for Genevieve to rebel and Angelique to be Babey. In some ways, it’d be good, like they’d be generally very sweet kids, but I’m not sure how emotionally stable they’d be. Better than Olga, at least. Their methods of coping with heartbreak and life’s little every day tragedies would be… interesting, though. I sense a lot of Beethoven’s 5689574th and other general dramatics. Dancing, ice cream, black mourning veils being broken out over the smallest things. Either that or just complete repression.

Since you asked specifically how I imagined the kids, I’ll go ahead and give a messy little bio on each.

Genevieve: I wanted to play with the dichotomy of the Posh Gifted Nerd archetype and the Cold Badass Rebel archetype. Bob has an influence on her in that he’s something of a military enthusiast (I guess?), and I see Genevieve being lowkey into that as a kid, until she gets older and learns more about what goes on overseas and how much carbon emission hummers give off. Incorporates a lot of her old camouflage into her goth punk looks as a mocking salute to that now. Proudly rides on the outskirts of society in her down time, but she’s the most academically-driven out of her sisters and was absolutely Valedictorian. Reads a lot of books, a lot of Smart Person magazines, and listens to a wide range of music (classical, alternative, showtunes, punk, jazz). Creative. Loves history, but especially the Georgian, Victorian and Edwardian periods of Europe. Super into black pearls and lace. Bit nihilistic, but cares a lot about everything. Always gets into very interesting conversations with Helga, but Olga has no clue how to talk to her.

Angelique: I already kinda rambled about her, but she’s my All Natural Girl. No makeup, no piercings, had to be talked into using conditioner, almost gave up shampoo once (bad month for everyone). Shy, sweet, sensitive. Concerned with the world at large. She tries to be an academic like her family but she’s really not. She dresses and behaves like a perfect little nerd, but school doesn’t interest her, and she feels hella guilty and self-loathing about it. All she ever really wants to do is watch trashy made-for-TV dramas, cook/bake and moon hopelessly over guys. DIY af, buys nothing new. Is Babey. Soft clothes, soft eyes, a little messy and chaotic. Constant low-level thrum of anxiety. Rumpled button-ups and over-worn sweaters energy, forever jeans, rarely in skirts because skirts are stressful. That character you forget and underestimate but shocks you with insight from time to time. Will probably end up a baker or smthn. The oldest of the kids, actually, though she rarely acts like it.

Helena: That girl who raids your fridge, chews twelve sticks of gum and paints your nails whether you want her to or not. No sense of personal space, very touchy-feely, always wants to braid hair and thinks makeup on dudes is the greatest invention ever. Goes against the dress code at her school very brazenly but gets away with it because her work is excellent and the teachers adore her. Attitude in spades but she’s a sweetheart. Lots of friends. Loves her mom to death but tends to avoid her without quite meaning to. More Daddy’s girl, though she avoids him, too. Parents are no fun. Thinks her Aunt Helga and Uncle Arnold are the absolute shit, because why would we want to live in a world where she didn’t?

And that’s my take. There are lots different ways Olga With Kids could go down, but Intense and Stifling are pretty much the two things I see as being universal variables in the equation. So, yeah. Maybe a little less fluffy than originally intended, but Idk. These are old designs. Other drawings and further information on these kids here and here. Shown pic here. I hope this was helpful anyway. Have a good.

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

Rip Week Day 3: Transference

(Or how Rip Hunter brought Gary to the Bureau. Inspired by Humans and Agents of SHIELD)

AO3

“Is everything ready to go?”

The lead scientist nodded in response to Rip’s question. “Director Hunter, please remember this is entirely experimental. This might not be successful.”

“I am well aware of that,” Rip sighed as he stared at the sheet covering the body on the slab. “The body will be able to sustain the consciousness?”

“Again, this is experimental. We are wading right into uncharted territory.”

Rip nodded. “You’re correct. Let’s get this started.”

He set the containment box on the table and opened it. Looking at the core reminded him of how far he had come from being a cadet for the Time Masters to the director of the Time Bureau. It had been a long and painful journey, but he had survived so far. Gary had been a good AI and it was fortunate that some of the remaining Time Masters had rescued him for Bureau use. Still, there was a sliver of guilt knowing he was using Gary as a test subject to see if this process was viable.

“Gary?” he asked, activating the AI. “Are you awake?”

“Hello, Captain Hunter,” the AI replied. “Updating systems…Director Rip Hunter of the Time Bureau. It has been a long time.”

A smile crept across Rip’s face. “Indeed, it has. Listen, we’re going to try something with you. Think of it as being uploaded to a new ship…except not quite that. It could hurt a bit.”

“Artificial Intelligence cannot feel pain.”

Rip’s smile fell as he set the core in the uploader. “That’s the spirit.”

              He and the other scientists retreated out of the room and into the observation chamber. The machine connecting Gary to the new human body fired up. Everyone leaned a little closer to the glass, curious to see what would happen. Sparks flew and the body jerked twice before it stopped. Rip opened the door despite the head scientist’s protests to see if it had worked. As he approached the table, the body on it sat upright and the sheet covering it slipped down.

“Gary?” Rip asked cautiously, studying the curly-haired man staring around the room with large brown eyes. “Can you hear me?”

“Director Hunter,” the AI nodded, bringing his hands up and studying them. “I felt pain. I feel cold. What’s happened?”

“You’re human, Gary. Welcome to the Time Bureau.”

~~~

“Perfect marksmanship,” Rip complemented as the target was brought in. “Gary, that’s incredible.”

“I am artificial intelligence,” Gary replied. “I know the mechanics of the weapons and the way in which they are used. Then I can calculate trajectory, distance, and any opposing factors acting on the bullet and-”

“I know, Gary,” Rip patted his shoulder. “You’ll be field ready soon, although we need to find you a last name.”

“Are you going to make other AIs human?”

Rip hadn’t expected that question. “I would like to. We still have some that were saved from the Vanishing Point.”

“Did you save Gideon?” Gary asked, reloading the clip. “You were always partial to her.”

“She’s still aboard the Waverider, but is deactivated,” Rip told him honestly. “You’re the first of something new, Gary. We want to make sure everything is okay before we upload other artificial intelligences into human bodies. If things go well with you, and I hope they will, then the others will also get human bodies, Gideon included.”

Truth be told, he had deactivated Gideon partially because he knew she wouldn’t approve of him using Gary as an experiment. She would have been too eager to volunteer, but he was too selfish to let that happen. If something went wrong, he would rather it happen to another AI first.

“I hope that I’m successful,” Gary told him. “I don’t want to be the only one of my kind like this.”

“Don’t worry, Gary,” Rip assured her. “You won’t be alone.”

~~~

“Gary?”

Gary looked up quickly. “Hello, Director Hunter. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Just wanted to check in,” Rip took a seat across from Gary’s desk. “I heard there was a problem during the training exercise today.”

“There was. It was already addressed in the debrief.”

“Gary,” Rip leaned forward on the desk. “In the exercise, you caused what’s equivalent to cabin depressurization. The drop was so extreme that had it been real, Time Agents would have died instantly.”

“I know, and I’m-I’m sorry,” Gary stammered. He’d never done that before.

“Are you feeling alright, Gary?” Rip asked, knitting his brows as he took in the messy space on the desk. “You can tell me.”

The human AI’s smile was shaky. “I feel fine.”

Rip pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. However, the messy state of Gary’s desk was telling him things were otherwise. A week ago, everything was filed neatly and properly. Now, papers were askew across the desk, disorganized even by human standards. Even more so, the writing on them was not always English consistently. One sentence would be, but then next was in something completely different. German, Japanese, Russian, Swahili, even something that looked like the language of the Speed Force.

Something wasn’t right.

~~~

              It took another week and a half before things got out of hand. Gary started talking and rambling to himself, going off about things related and unrelated to the Bureau. After they discovered him writing timeline events along the bathroom walls, something had to be done. So Rip and the team of scientists working on the AI integration project had to pull him from active duty and keep him in containment for observation. Things had not improved much since then. He was still writing in different languages and babbling in them, although his vision was starting to show decline.

“We thought the integration worked fine, but we underestimated the informational capacity of artificial intelligence residing in a human brain,” the lead scientist told Rip as they watching Gary writing in French about a unicorn massacring people at Woodstock, which aside from being preposterous, had never occurred. “There’s too much information in his head. He can’t cope with all his knowledge acquired from when he was just a core. Coupled with the experience of adjusting to a human body, it’s creating a traumatic environment for him. If we keep him like this and the rate of decline remains the same, he will eventually die.”

“So what do we do to help?”

“We have to terminate the project, which unfortunately means terminating Gary.”

“No,” Rip snarled, whirling away from where he was watching Gary. “We aren’t killing him. He’s not an AI anymore. He is a human being who can feel pain and is suffering because of my idea. There has to be another way.”

The scientist sighed. “We still have to terminate the project, but there might be a way to save him.”

“Tell me.”

“There’s experimental technology that targets brainwaves. It can be used to rewrite memories, specifically traumatic ones. In theory, if we develop a treatment procedure for Gary, we stop the decline by making him forget about this ordeal. He’ll believe he was always human.”

“But what about his memories from when he was an AI?” Rip questioned, looking back to Gary, who had changed over to Korean. “Will he have those?”

“It was a traumatic procedure and adjustment period,” the scientist sounded apologetic. “Director, he’s going to have to forget everything about being an AI. We basically tried to upload a file that was too big for submission. We have to compress and trim information away to fit within the constraints of the human brain. Should this work, he will be very intelligent by human standards, but he will not retain AI memories. Instead, we need to manufacture memories of childhood and adulthood in his brainwaves, so he doesn’t become suspicious.”

Rip’s heart sank. In order to save Gary, they were going to have to take away what made him so unique. He and Gary would no longer have that shared connection of the Time Masters, of Miranda. But was that connection worth it if it was driving Gary insane? He hated making calls like these when no option was the ideal pick.

“How long will it take for you to rewrite his memories?” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Not to mention get all the necessary equipment you need?”

“If my team works around the clock, probably a week.”

“Then do it,” Rip ordered. “After we rewrite his memories, the project is to be terminated. No more AI uploads, no more bodies. It’s too much for them. I already took their home away from them. I shouldn’t be taking anything else.”

~~~

“Gary, I need to tell you something.”

Gary put down the marker he’d been writing with and turned to stare at Rip. The glasses they’d given him to help with his vision made him look somewhat owlish. While the memory rewrite was going to help him, it couldn’t fix his vision even if it did stop the degradation. But Rip had to admit they did suit him.

“It’s about what’s wrong with me, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Rip nodded. “I shouldn’t have forced you into a human body. Gideon’s wanted one, but I didn’t know if it would work or not. So I used you first to see if it would work, and if I could replicate the process with her and other AIs. But I bit off more than I could chew, and you got hurt.”

“There’s too much in here,” Gary said in Swedish, pointing to his head, making Rip glad he still had a universal translator.

“Yeah. AI brains aren’t meant for human bodies. That’s why you started making mistakes and writing about the timeline.”

“You need to be careful of Zambesi.”

“I’ll try to remember that. We’re going to stop the writing, Gary. There’s a machine that’s going to lock onto your brainwaves and give you your life back. You can live as a human and be okay. Unfortunately, there are going to be side effects.”

“It makes me forget I’m an AI,” Gary finished. “I have to forget if I want to live.”

“You do want to live, right?” Rip asked softly, mentally kicking himself for not even thinking to ask for Gary’s input sooner. “I don’t want to force you into something that makes you miserable.”

“I want to be human,” Gary answered. “I liked being human before this happened. I’m not ready to die.”

Rip smiled, remembering how Gideon had told him something similar long ago. “That’s good, Gary. I’m happy to hear that.”

“I like the Time Bureau. You’re a good leader here. You’re much better than the Time Masters, Captain Hunter.”

“I haven’t been captain for a long time, Gary.”

“Gideon still thinks so,” Gary told him. “AIs were linked. She always saw you as her captain, no matter what. Even while she’s sleeping, she still thinks you as the captain.”

He chuckled. “Of course she does. We’ve known each other too long.”

“Don’t make her human,” Gary warned him. “Not unless you can perfect this process. No more uploads.”

“We’re not going to,” Rip promised. “I’m sorry, Gary. I know I promised you wouldn’t be alone, but you’re going to be one of a kind after all. Although there is one last thing we can do for you.”

“Tell me.”

“When you’re human, you’ll need a last name. We didn’t quite get to that stage yet before this happened, but we’ll need one for the construction of your human memories.”

Gary was silent for a moment. “Green.”

“Green?”

“Time Master Yasmin Green was my first operator. She was like you; driven, resilient, kind. It’d be a fitting tribute to her.”

“Gary Green,” Rip murmured. “That’s a good name. Suits you.”

“Thank you,” Gary grinned slowly. “This is the last time I’m going to see you while I remember, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so. They’re going to start putting you through the procedure within the hour. After that, we’ll be like strangers…meeting for the first time. At least, that’s what it’ll be like for you.”

“But I’ll be alive. I might lose most of my knowledge, but I’ll be sane again with my mind back. Don’t worry. Just do one thing for me.”

“Tell me.”

“Look after Gideon and the others.”

“She’s very capable of watching herself,” Rip reminded him. “Her language, not so much.”

“I’m aware that my sister isn’t helpless. Still, make sure she’s okay.”

“I will,” the former Time Master promised, standing up from the chair he’d been in. “Goodbye, Gary.”

“Goodbye, Captain Hunter.”

Rip couldn’t help but give him one quick hug before turning his back and walking out the door. As soon as he was in the clear, he ducked into the bathroom and closed a stall door behind him. He inhaled, exhaled, then wound up his arm and punched the metal door. The AI who had brought Miranda and him together was going to be gone soon. He’d still be there, but it would be a different Gary to get to know and it wouldn’t be the same. Yet again, Rip had lost someone from his life.

He couldn’t face Gideon with this. She could never know what he’d done to Gary. He was too ashamed of what he’d done.

Gritting his teeth, he continued to punch the door until his knuckles bled. He deserved the pain.

~~~

Two weeks later

“Agent Green, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Me?” Gary Green frowned as the agent left as quickly as they’d come. No one ever wanted to see him. If the FBI needed analytics consult, they went to Hudson or McKenna. Never him.

“You must be Agent Green,” the clean-shaven man who had been brought in was smiling at him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Uh, yeah, Gary Green,” he held out his hand, forgetting that he had been using it to balance his coffee mug on the files and nearly dousing himself in hot coffee. “Sorry, I’m a little clumsy. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, but not here.”

Gary frowned. “I thought you were here for a case? We have everything on the computer.”

“No, not quite that,” the man shook his head. “My name’s Rip Hunter. I’m here to offer you a job within my agency.”

“You’re not FBI?”

Rip Hunter chuckled, but there was something sad in it. “We operate much broader than the FBI. Trust me, I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say about the Time Bureau.”

“Time Bureau?” Gary raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of it.”

“You will soon. A man of your talents would be a much better asset to the world instead of being stuck in the FBI’s basement.”

Gary looked around the room before nodding. “Okay. But…why me?”

“I have a good feeling about you. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

“Um, yeah,” Gary pushed his glasses up. “The break room’s empty right now. And I know this is weird, but did you use to work here? Because there’s something familiar about you. Are you getting that too?”

Rip Hunter paused for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m afraid we’ve never met before, Agent Green.”

[letsdiscoverkitty]

Assessment Update (Trigger warning)

Firstly, I am sorry for only just getting around to writing and posting this, I have had another very busy/long day with (haircut plus bloods/ecg and then staying in town to run some errands etc).

Anyway, as you know, yesterday was my pre-admission assessment at the Priory with my consultant (12th June). I am not going to lie, it was very hard to go onto the ward and to be there in general/have the discussions, however I think it was a good thing overall/went a little better than I initially anticipated (?)

The journey there was anything but smooth. We ended up being nearly an hour late due to sink holes and diversions (thank god for dad and a mini mindfulness/breathing book I had with me!!)

Once I had arrived, I had a 20ish minute meeting with my consultant (who is also one of the consultants on the ward) - the EDP I see was meant to be there but she didn’t come in the end *rolls eyes*

She believes that I need a short admission to help push me in the right direction/get me going, and that overall the best place for me to be is in the community

She said that yes she could keep me in for 9 months, get me up to a healthy weight etc etc, but that she does not think it would be beneficial (which is refreshing to hear something that isn’t just focused on weight/numbers)

She agreed that I need to have autonomy. It needs to come from me, not just have things “done” to me. I have proven that I have been able to make some changes in the community in the past and get to better places, so I need to pull from that.

We are initially looking at a 6-8 week admission

With the main focus being on the second ward that they have where patients are in either “progression” or “transition”

Sadly due to my current physical health, I will have to spend a bit of time on the acute ward (if the admission happens), but she did say that we would try to keep it to as short a time as possible due to the environment on there and needing me to get more practical support which happens on the other ward. Although we have to be careful not to slip into old grooves of trying to do too much too soon/expecting too much of myself and putting on a front.

In terms of when there might be a bed, this is an issue, especially as EDU beds are so short at the moment…

She said that the next bed under her is likely not for another MONTH.

Yes, a month.

She said that she was quite worried about my current “frail” state and that there is really no wiggle room at all and that if I want to have an admission there then I need to be holding my own in the community in terms of my weight and bloods not dropping anymore.  

I didn’t post about this before but on Friday afternoon I had a phone call offering me a bed at a unit in London for Monday….I was given 20 minutes to decide whether to take it or not. As you can tell I turned down it down (after talking to a few people) and my parents agreed with my decision, especially with the meeting at the priory only a few days away.

My consultant obviously brought this up and we talked about it for a little bit but yeah it is what it is *shrugs*

After about 20 minutes she took me onto the acute ward and we met with the charge nurse who was able to talk to me a bit more about the ward, what things would be involved in an admission and what would be expected, as well as answering my many questions that I had noted down.

It made me feel quite sad when my consultant described me as having a “severe and enduring eating disorder (SEED)”. idk. reality checks like this really suck.

The admission on the acute side, like I mentioned, would be kept to a minimum, however it all depends on how I am coping and what the staff think is best for me.

She gave me a handout with the timetable on and we talked a bit about how things work on the ward, social outings, the groups etc. which there are a few of, not a huge amount/not very much OT but there are at least some trips out each week and visitors are allowed.

I also had a chance to talk about a number of my worries, including that I tend to put on a front and act the good girl/perfect patient and shut off from staff and not want to make a fuss. She couldn’t answer any questions about meal plans or increasing or stuff like that as it is apparently all done on an individual basis after an initial assessment with the dietitian on admission.

In general though the food is pretty similar to what it was when I was there 6 years ago; you do your menu/have to make choices every morning for the day ahead - one light meal and one main meal - you can choose to have your main at lunch or dinner, depending on what the choices are for the day (it is the same food for the rest of the hospital). You start eating in the upstairs kitchen on acute but then you move downstairs to the restaurant when you are on the full meal plan and managing well enough.

I’m not going to lie, it was very hard being on the ward. very hard. There were a lot of very unwell patients, a number with NG tubes…and, idk, I suppose it brought it home a little more how real it all is?? although at the same time I still feel incredibly numb/emotionless.

After speaking with the nurse for a while, I went over to the progression/transition ward where I was able to speak to someone who is being discharged soon, which was really helpful.

She was so lovely and showed me around the kitchen, talked about how the ward works, her bedroom, the rules, how her time has been etc.

It is similar to when I was there 6 years ago but with quite a lot more in terms of therapy/OT input as well self catering snacks and having your own cupboards for food, having the opportunity to bake with the OT, be more independent etc. (although kind of annoyed that apparently the internet is still terrible there and the lack of signal too - boo)

I am still waiting for the unit to send over the patient handbook they said that they would get to me, which is a bit annoying but I am still suffering from information overload tbh so it is probably a good thing.

It was A LOT to try to take in over a short space of time.

I am still trying to process the whole experience: being on the ward (which I did find quite triggering even for just that short period of time), the other patients, the programme, the opportunities, as well as the potential reality of me actually being admitted.

My consultant was honest with me and said that although I am ear marked for the bed in a month’s time, she cannot promise anything as you never know what happens.

In all honesty, if I was offered a bed there for next week I think I would take it…

However we are talking a month at the very least…

which is quite a long way away and it is really messing with my head and causing me quite a lot of mixed/messy thoughts

The programme itself looks/sounds A LOT better than what I experienced at the Bethlem last year, especially with the acute, progression and transition elements fully “up and running” (when I was there it was quite new) so in that sense is much better.

They also seem a lot more supportive in general/have made changes from when I was there last for the better (?)

To be totally honest I don’t know where this leaves me now. L (EDP) wasn’t there so I won’t see her/talk to her about where this leaves everything until next Monday.

However from our session this week i do know that this does not mean that I can sit and allow anorexia to dictate everything and keep me stuck. As L keeps reiterating to me, I have to be making changes.

It is not that I don’t want to get better, I have just gotten so bloody stuck and feel so trapped and alone.

That is one thing that would be helpful in terms of a short admission - it would hopefully be a push in the right direction that I could then maybe continue from at home in the community. and not to mention that it would also give my parents a bit of a break from everything.

In terms of therapy I dont think there would be any 1:1 due to the short period of time I would be there. Although she did say that the length of admission is always up for discussion and it would all depend on how my OP workers want to work and how I am managing on the ward/if I can transfer it home on leave.

idrk how to feel right now. Or how I do feel. It is all so overwhelming and a lot to try to take in

I don’t want to have an admission but evidence is piling up that staying in the community really isn’t working and every person in my team (as well as my parents) are convinced I will be going in :(

And I suppose that is all there is to say really. I am left feeling a little clearer in some ways but at the same time not so much? it’s messy

and I am beyond tired after two very long and exhausting/tiring days. I know I can’t sit around and wait to try to process everything that is happening but I feel like I really need to press a pause button for a while in order to catch up with myself (which I know is never going to happen)

as we all know, there will always be another excuse or reason to put things off. Another reason why we are ‘different’ to others or why there are other people who deserve support more.

But it is all noise from anorexia to try to keep us trapped and stuck for even longer.

I am so tired of this existence. the thought of another admission terrifies me but not as much as a life time spent trapped here.

I wish that I had a positive revelation to end this on but alas, I have nothing. All I want is my bed and a good night’s sleep right now and some magic answer to whisk this all away (if only eh?). Thank you for all your messages of support and kindness over the past few days, it has meant more than I can express to know that I have not been alone in this x

[misterghostface]

.Tapes

When Stan starts his second year of college, he instantly hates his new roommate. But will Richie be able to win him over with his cassette tape obsession? Secret Santa for @sadlysaraofthelosers ! Sorry its late honey, merry christmas! @itfandomprompts

Also a massive thank you to @midnightmillie for helping me to edit!

Read on AO3 here!  ///  Fanfic playlist here!

When Stan had collected his key from the front desk, he’d been prepared for having an unbearable roommate. He didn’t expect them to be friends, necessarily, but in the worst-case scenario he thought that maybe they’d be able to ignore each other. At least long enough to get through the year in one piece. But later, standing in the doorway of what should have been his dorm room, Stan realised how naïve he’d been.

He dropped his bags into the only patch of clear floor space he could see and sighed, wading through the piles of debris to what he thought could be his bed. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was mess. Stan could already imagine how terrible the next year would be if he stayed here. In fact, he didn’t know why he hadn’t applied for a transfer already – surely, he should phone the accommodation liaison while his mysterious roommate was out somewhere else.

He looked across to the messiest side of the room. He wouldn’t be able to transfer without a good reason, he knew from experience, but maybe there was something here that he could use as evidence that they didn’t get along – maybe an anti-gay poster, or a political t-shirt – just something that would prove a ‘clash in values.’

Stan snorted. As though a lack of basic cleanliness wasn’t a big enough thing to clash over.

After making his way to his roommate’s desk, he bent down, to have a look, hand on his knees. When there was nothing incriminating on the top – just a collection of candy wrappers and packets – he pulled out one of the boxes that had been stashed away underneath and opened the lid.

Inside were rows of cassette tapes, some of them of bands Stan didn’t even know you could get on cassette; The Cure, Led Zeppelin, The Ramones, even one called Wolf Alice, a group that Stan was pretty sure had started making music long after tapes had become obsolete. In the next box he found more of the same.

One thing was for sure, his roommate was not only messy but also a complete weirdo. Who would take the effort to transfer music from a CD onto a cassette tape, if they’re not weird?

Suddenly, he felt guilty. His mind was taken back to his school days, when he used to be called a freak for wearing a kippah or for getting stressed out when there was an uneven number of pens in his pocket. Maybe he was being a bit too harsh. It was unlikely, but maybe Stan just had the wrong end of the stick. He hadn’t even seen the guy yet, after all, and what if he was actually alright to talk to?

Stan sighed, swiping his arm across his mattress to brush piles of his roommate’s underwear, comics and pencils to the floor, and began the process of moving in. He’d give it a week. Just a week, he told himself, and if it was absolutely insufferable, he would see about changing rooms.

But it was going to be a long week.

***

“Who the fuck does work on the first day of college?”

Stan rolled his eyes and didn’t reply, focusing on the blinking cursor on his laptop screen. He was quite glad that he already had an assignment, actually, because it gave him a brilliant excuse to ignore his boisterous roommate.

Their first meeting had been awkward at best, his roommate – who had later introduced himself as Richie – barging in to find Stan meticulously dusting his side of the room. He had beamed and ran over, sticking a hand out to be shaken and babbling at decibel levels that could only be described as inhuman. Stan had just ignored him until he went away.

Obviously, Richie was unperturbed, as he was still trying to start a conversation, looking over Stan’s shoulder and asking endless questions (“What does ‘demographic’ mean?”) about his work for Introduction to Business.

He tuned him out, instead focussing on the music coming from the cassette player – ‘Simple Season’ by Hippo Campus – which was actually just calm enough to help him relax.

Richie leaned once more over his shoulder, pointing at the screen. “Wait... there. You’ve written ‘scold’ instead of ‘sold’. Spellcheck won’t pick up on that since it’s a real word.”

“Oh yeah, thanks.” Stan cursed internally as he looked up to where his roommate was pointing. “Don’t you have any work to do?”

Richie smiled infuriatingly and reclined back onto his own bed. “Nope!” He popped the ‘p’. “I don’t have to do anything but relax my fingers, babe.”

“Your fingers?” Stan turned away from his laptop, fighting the blush that threatened to come upon hearing the pet name.

“Oh yeah, I play guitar, didn’t you know?”

Stan shook his head.

“Damn! Well, if you’re a good boy I’ll play for you sometime, I guess.”

“I’ll pass,” he sighed, but Richie ignored him in favour of whistling to the music. After a minute, Stan realised he’d been tapping his own fingers to the beat.

***

Richie was already gone when Stan had woken up on Tuesday, and for some reason he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. That was stupid, of course – seeing Richie was the last thing he wanted. Or at least that’s what he told himself. He got dressed and left with minimal fuss, which last year he would have loved, but now felt was profoundly wrong.

He was sitting in the back row of a lecture theatre, eyes drooping with fatigue and the collar of his shirt digging into his neck, wanting nothing more than to go back to his room and sleep. He had spent most of the night awake, stressing about the paper he had to finish, and about how little he actually wanted to write it. He was confident that he could get a good grade – but God it was so boring.

He slouched down in his seat, far enough that Mr. Sampson couldn’t see him, and laid his head back on the wooden chair back. He closed his eyes and blocked the lecturer’s voice out. He just hoped he didn’t start snoring.

Shoulders loosening, he started to relax as the voices around him became a low monotonous buzz. Perfect bliss. He sighed happily, feeling himself begin to drift off.

The door banged open, shocking him awake and back into an upright position. “Oh sorry!” yelled a very familiar voice over the blasting of a handheld speaker. “Wrong room!”

Everyone turned to stare at Richie, who had begun to leave the room again, exiting to the very apt tune of ‘Talk too Much’ by COIN. Mr Sampson sighed.

“Alright, class dismissed. Go home and get on with your essays while I go and track down Mr. Tozier.”

Stan closed his eyes again in victory, then reached down and hurriedly stuffed his books back into his bag. For once, thank fuck for Richie!

With a newfound spurt of energy, he pulled himself to his feet and forced himself through the crowd that was congregating on the stairs. He pushed the door open with both of his hands – free at last! – and forced himself out into the bright sunlight, taking in a gulp of fresh air and taking off in the direction of the dormitories.

When he hurried past the place where Mr. Sampson was laying into an innocent-faced Richie, he could’ve sworn he saw his roommate wink.

***

With Wednesday came heavy snowfall, and with snowfall came news of lesson cancellations after lesson cancellations. Stan laid on his bed, chin resting on his hand and legs in the air, crossed at the ankle. Richie was sitting cross legged on top of his own duvet. They both stared out the window.

“Do you ever feel sorry for the animals, when it’s like this?” Richie asked.

“I don’t really like to think about it.”

“Well nobody likes to, but I can’t seem to help it sometimes.”

Stan tore his eyes away from the snowy scene in front of him and turned his head to look at Richie. Their eyes met. “Yeah, I get that. I wonder where all of the campus rabbits go when it’s this cold. And how the birds cope with their nests being frozen over.”

“I suppose they’re probably fine,” he replied, shrugging and scratching his face absentmindedly. “I mean, they’ve lived through winters before, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right. What’s got you so concerned about animals all of a sudden?”

“Why, am I not allowed?”

Stan frowned, then shrugged. “Sure, you are, I just didn’t recon you would.”

“We’ve only known each other a few days,” Richie pouted, “I think it's fair to say you don’t know everything about me. I love animals, dude.”

Stan smiled, thinking back to the previous winter spent on his ex-boyfriend Mike’s family farm. “I love them too. Have you ever had to brush snow out of a sheep’s wool? It’s so weird, because on the top it's so cold and wet, but at the same time it’s warm and soft underneath.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah! Not that they’re probably supposed to play outside in it anyway, but it seems impossible to keep them all inside for the whole winter.”

“I can imagine. I used to have a friend that lived on a sheep farm. Haven’t talked to him in a while, actually – maybe I should ask him if I can go and feel some moist wool.” Richie stuck out his tongue. “I wonder what he’d say to that.”

Stan laughed. “Probably nothing good if you phrased it like that. Perhaps I should give Mike a ring, see if we can go visit?”

“Wait,” Richie said, now giving Stan his full attention, “do you mean Mike Hanlon? THE Mike Hanlon? Who I used to go to school with?”

“Well if you went to Derry North, yeah, I suppose you must’ve done." His brow furrowed slightly. “That’s so weird, what a coincidence! I didn’t ever expect to find someone from Derry all the way out here.”

“Why didn’t I see you around school too, then?”

Stan shook his head. “I didn’t go there, I met Mike when we were little, at Boy Scouts.”

“Wait, I remember now – didn’t you two date for a while? He talked about you quite a bit.”

“Yeah, and what about it?” Stan bristled. “You have a problem with that?”

Richie’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, of course not! I was just saying.”

“Oh. Well, good. My past roommates usually tried to switch rooms when they found out I was gay, as if I was going to start spying on them in the shower or something. Which I don’t, by the way.” Stan began to relax again, and laid back down to look at the snow out of the window.

“Shame that. I’ve got a cracking bod. You’d be falling over yourself to ask me out.”

“Richie!”

***

Stan’s breath misted in front of him, yellowed slightly by the artificial light coming through the window. One earbud rested in his ear. He was sat on the low wall just outside of the dormitories, red nose poking out over his tightly wound green scarf.

“What are you doing out here, stranger?”

He turned to see Richie standing in the doorway, hands jammed in his pockets and coat unzipped.

Stan smiled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Coming to sit down next to him, Richie’s teeth began to chatter.

“Yeah, me neither,” Stan admitted, then tutted; “you’re going to catch your death out here like that.” He reached over and grabbed the zipper on Richie’s jacket, pulling it up to his chin and then pulling up his hood, trying to cover his ears despite his unruly hair getting in the way.

Richie laughed quietly and leaned forward until his forehead was resting on Stan’s shoulder. “You’re like my little husband.”

“Yeah right, I hated you at the start of the week,” Stan protested. Nevertheless, a hand snaked around under Richie’s hood to play with his hair. “You’re a menace.”

Richie nodded. “That I am. But I’m irresistible. Don’t feel too bad about it, everyone gets sucked in eventually. It’s just my miasma.”

“Your miasma?” Stan raised an unseen eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up, you know what I mean,” Richie replied with a smile that was lost in Stan’s shoulder. “Anyway, what are you listening to?” He reached around to grab the earbud that was dangling on Stan’s chest and put it into his ear, then sat up and laughed.

“What! It’s my favourite song!” Stan playfully slapped the back of Richie’s head.

Richie looked at him incredulously. “This? This is your favourite song? Are you being serious?”

“Hey, what’s wrong with Mr Brightside?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s a good song! I just didn’t expect anyone to call it their favourite. It’s like Bohemian Rhapsody, everyone loves it when it comes on but no one calls it their favourite.”

“It’s my mom’s favourite.”

Richie sighed good-naturedly. “Of course, it is. Someone needs to introduce you people to some new music.”

Richie sat up further, and Stan’s hand fell from his hair. His hand immediately felt the loss, and it took a great deal of willpower not to reach up and pull Richie’s head down onto his chest. He stuffed it into his pocket instead, as though the weird feeling he was getting was lack of warmth and not something else.

Richie patted his pockets until he found the one that he was looking for, then pulled out a cassette player. “Listen to this one instead.”

Rolling his eyes, Stan paused his music and pulled out his earbud, replacing it with the one that Richie was offering him. “Oh wait, I think I know this one. It’s by Rex Orange County, right? Mike used to listen to this all the time.”

“I know,” he laughed, “who do you think got him into it to start with?”

“Well maybe you should get me into some new music, since you’re the expert.”

“You know what? Maybe I should. Perhaps I’ll make you a tape.”

Stan hummed. “Why do you like cassette tapes so much anyway? Why not just put all your music on an iPod, or use CDs?”

“My dad used to buy me tapes when I was a kid, and it just went from there I guess,” Richie shrugged. “You were probably expecting it to be a long story, but that’s all there is to it. I’ve just always associated them with happy times.”

Stan smiled and absentmindedly grabbed Richie’s hand. “Nah, I completely understand. It’s like how I’ve kept the cars I used to play with as a kid.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Richie laced their fingers tighter and squeezed, looking off into the distance. “You don’t really hate me, do you?”

“What? Hate you? No, of course not.” Stan’s brow furrowed. “I was wary to start with but certainly not now. I quite like you actually.”

“Oh good. I quite like you too.” Richie leaned over to rest on Stan’s shoulder, but at the last moment turned his head to brush a feather-light kiss on the hinge of his jaw.

“Richie?”

He stood. “It’s getting late. Come on inside before you catch a cold.” He pulled Stan to his feet by the hand. “We should talk more in the morning.”

“You’re a funny one, Tozier.”

“Just how you like it.”

As Stan watched Richie’s retreating back, he couldn’t help but agree.

***

The accommodation office – a place in which Stan found himself far more often than any other student – was small, cramped, and deeply weaved with the smells of lavender and biscuits. He looked across the desk at Mrs Flint, a motherly woman with crinkled skin and a kind smile, as she pushed back a grey hair with one of her delicate fingers.

“How are you holding up this year, Stan? I was surprised to have not heard from you yet.” She brought up his file on the computer and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. “If you feel like you and your roommate don’t quite fit, there’s a few other people requesting room changes. I’m sure I can arrange something again.”

Stan smiled and wrapped his fingers around the new cassette tape in his pocket. Richie had given it to him that morning, along with a kiss on the lips and an invitation to dinner. “Not this time, ma’am. I think we’ve finally found a winner. There’s nobody else I’d rather spend my time with at the moment.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but are you sure? Last year you barely lasted a month before asking to be swapped around. What’s different this time?”

“There’s something special about this one. I just know it.” He looked behind Mrs Flint at his new boyfriend, who was pulling faces at him through the glass panel of the door. “He’s absolutely perfect, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

[jonahwhalesw1]

Personal Connection- Ch. 8 (Bonus-Basset Hound)

Here’s my submission for the eight prompt, the bonus prompt, for the Spring @tpthvegebulsmutfest .  “Personal Connection” is up and running on Ao3 as well.  So if you need to recap, please do so.  The smut in this was inspired by @vegetapsycho​ ‘s phenomenal fanart “Point of No Return”.

Bulma and Vegeta are expecting a little bundle of joy, but what will that mean with the Androids still coming?  How will they cope?  Vegeta decides to enact drastic measures to protect his new family that send Bulma reeling.  Don’t hate me too much!  This story will continue in the Fall Smutfest.

The woman was a Gods damn basset hound!  Finally, finally, he’d managed to evade her.  Ever since announcing that Bulma was bearing his child, the Mother had not rested a single moment and constantly showed up everywhere. Anywhere.  He couldn’t get away from her.  They couldn’t get away from her.  Two weeks, it had been two weeks already and there hadn’t been a single moment except for at night in bed together where he and Bulma were alone.  Even then, all they did was sleep.  He was usually exhausted from training and tending to her needs, and Bulma was just trying to cope with how her body was reacting to being pregnant.  She was still sick every morning and every evening. Still, he smirked to himself, he’d visited her once when he sensed that her stomach was calm at her office.  He’d told her that he owed her, she hadn’t understood at first, not until he’d pressed her up against the wall by her windows and pressed his throbbing manhood against her pelvis.  Immediately she’d hiked up her skirt and demanded he get down on the ground.  He’d obeyed, pulling his pants down, and exposing himself before lying down and she was on him instantly, slipping him inside of her, and riding him.  Grinding her perfect little hips.  Both of the biting back screams and groans.  He’d grabbed her hips, she’d palmed his chest, and her hips worked the shit out of him.

Vegeta felt himself getting thicker, straining the confines of his pants.  He had gotten used to bedding her every day, multiple times a day, but now that she was so ill, he hadn’t touched her since she rode him in her office.  Granted she took him for orgasm after orgasm until he couldn’t breathe and her hips couldn’t move anymore.  It had been glorious.  And he was hoping for more glory with his beautiful Wife.  Except for her stupid Mother always popping up everywhere! Honestly, he was beginning to think she knew how to sense ki.  It was… disturbing to him how often and quickly she found him.  He tried to tell himself that it was simply because this was her home and she knew her daughter well and she’d learned his routines as any good hostess would.  But there were limits.  In the morning when Bulma was feeling well enough to shower… and well enough for him to join her… the Mother would barge into the room, thankfully not the bathroom, muttering about inane details about something called a Lactation Coach.  What the Fuck was a Lactation Coach?!  And if anyone was going to be coaching Bulma on anything, it was going to be him!

Still, after that rude interruption that totally killed anything that he and Bulma might have be getting into (Gods, had it killed it!), it got him thinking.  He didn’t know a Gods damn thing about how Earth women had children. So he went about finding out.  He was absolutely refusing to go to her Mother for anything about this; he wasn’t letting the Mother in any further than she had already forced herself into the matter.  So the Father had given him some research materials.  Things he quickly read, and utterly confused the shit out of him, when Bulma was busy throwing up every morning and evening.  Each page, every word… it was all so, so…  Why the Hell was it so damn complicated for Earth women to have children?!  On Vegetasei, from what he could remember about his brother’s birth, gestation and childbirth was so effortless… and clean.  A woman carried the child inside her till she reached the third trimester. Then the child was transferred over to a gestation tank where computers and Saiyan medical science ensured the child grew strong so as to achieve a successful analysis of it’s power levels at maturation.  It was all for the sake of the child becoming the absolute best warrior it had the potential of being.  Once it was to term, the child was removed, ‘birthed’, from the gestation tank and transferred to an analysis pod where the child’s power levels would be assessed.  From there, depending on the child’s level, the child would be assigned a class and continue to grow in the pod and later raised and trained by it’s parents to be the warrior it was meant to be or continued to grow and later be sealed into the pod and the pod would be sent out to another weaker planet for the weak offspring to establish a Saiyan foothold. But no, of course, humans had to make the whole thing so much more complicated and messy than it had to be. All this drivel about bleeding—Well, actually that scared the Hell out of him.  Light bleeding was okay, but if Bulma started cramping or bleeding a lot or felt any pain, it could mean that she’d lost the baby or the pregnancy was this thing called ectopic, which meant that the pregnancy had gone horrible wrong. Then there was breast tenderness—Actually he didn’t have a probably with her breasts’ milk ducts expanding her already exceptional breasts up another bra size, but the book the Father gave him to read said that his Wife’s breasts would also be very sore so Bulma would most likely not wanting him touching or licking them… then again his tongue’s gentle and lusty administrations might help her.  Okay, so breast tenderness wasn’t that complicated or messy.  But constipation!  What the Hell?!  And fluctuance?!  Disgusting. Then there was vaginal discharge that wasn’t the type he enjoyed from her, fatigue, food cravings and aversions, apparently she was going to have to pee a lot, she’d get heartburn, mood swings (which terrified the fucking shit out of him if it meant her already formidable temper was going to rage out of control, Dear Gods of Vegetasei!), and of course her sickness was going to continue and she was going to gain weight as their child grew.  And all of that was just in the first three months!!!

But that really wasn’t the bad things.  Oh no. There were these things called Red Flag Symptoms.  Severe pain in her abdomen.  Heavy bleeding.  Debilitating dizziness.  Too much weight gain too fast or too little weight gain.  Any one of those things and he’d need to get her to the doctors in the main building fast.  Because of his many, many incidents involving his training, there were already at least two major trauma physicians on staff day and night.  They could help until more specialized care could arrive.  But still.  Vegeta didn’t like having to monitor her constantly for any of those signs. As it was, he was already severely distracted by keeping track of her ki every second of her life.  And it was costing him.  He looked down at his left hand as though he could see through the white glove to the bandages underneath.  He glanced up further at his left bicep, where more bandages were hidden underneath his royal blue suit sleeve, then his right shoulder, for the same.

He kept walking down the hallway to her personal lab where she was working on new drones for him and another surprise which he wasn’t so sure he wanted her working on in her condition, but considering that her Father was apparently working on it with her, he trusted the old man to protect his child and future grandchild admirably.  Still, when he got hurt the first time he’d been too distracted by worrying about her to notice the blast coming from a drone, she’d chalked it up to him still getting used to the news about becoming a father and being distracted.  True, and she let it slide.  The second time, she let it slide again, again chalking it up to new fatherhood jitters.  The third and fourth times, no, that had worried her.  All the other times following and he was now hiding his injuries from her so she wouldn’t get scared and snap at him.  Again, he understood from that book that one of the most dangerous things for her right now was stress.  It was toxic and he’d be damned if she or their child was going to be in danger because of him!

He turned a corner. She’d fucking kill him if she found out that he’d suffered three more injuries… she’d kill him and kill herself and/or the baby as well…  He clenched his fists despite the burning pain in his one hand and both arms.  He wasn’t going to lose them.  Never.

*                      *                      *

The man was a Kami damn basset hound!  He just popped up everywhere.  She couldn’t even go to the bathroom anymore without opening the door and finding him waiting for her, asking about her, asking about the baby.  Asking about all these Red Flag symptoms things!  Kami damn it!  She wished her Dad had never given him that stupid ass book to read!  He was obsessed with it, he was obsessed with her!

Bulma threw a wrench down on her desk top.  It clanged loudly.  Her elbows followed suit, hitting the surface of her work area with twin loud thuds. She sighed heavily as she landed her face in her waiting palms.  She was stressed.  More than usual.  And it was because she was pregnant, she knew that.  Everything seemed to get to her quicker than usual, her fuse had shrunk a lot already and, according to the book (Kami, why the fuck did I read that damn thing too?!), her fuse was going to shrink by a hell of a lot more over the next couple of months.  And that wasn’t all.  She knew her Husband was lying to her.  Keeping secrets from her.  That pissed her off even more.  Her shoulders were tight, she could feel it.  She’d sigh, try to rest and relax like she should, but the muscles in her neck would never let up even the tiniest bit.

She sighed heavily again and rubbed just above her eyebrows at the growing headache that usually, nowadays, morphed into a migraine that had her wanting to kill every fucking person on the planet or at least the stupid assholes that were in her immediate vicinity.  Starting with the one that shared her bed and finishing with the ones that raised her. It was all so, so… it was all too much! An irritated groan left her mouth as she rubbed her tired eyes.  And that was another thing, she couldn’t work anymore.  She had the attention span of a gnat and every part of her seemed too exhausted to do anything other than inane crap that couldn’t hold her interest even before she was pregnant.

“Do you want me to rub your shoulders?”  The gravelly voice asked right beside her.

She jumped.  A startled scream echoing off her lab’s walls and throbbing in her head to splitting level. She winced then glared at Vegeta. But by the look of concern on his face, her anger lessened to just plain irritation.  She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose hard.

“What the Hell do you want now?”  She grumbled.

“Are the new drones ready yet?”

“No, I’m not working on them anymore.”

Vegeta balked, shocked.  “Bulma!” He shouted at her.  “What the Hell are you thinking?!  How am I supposed to become a Super Saiyan without the proper training?!”

“Because you’re not becoming a Super Saiyan.”

Vegeta stared, that one cut deep.  Too deep. He bristled.  Fuck her being pregnant!  “HOW DARE YOU—”

“HOW DARE YOU!”  She screamed suddenly turning on him.

SMACK!

She slapped him.  He stared at her.  Now noticing the tears streaming down her cheeks.  “How dare you!”  She wept bitterly.  She raised another hand… that he caught by the wrist.  She raised her other, he caught that one by the wrist as well. She struggled in his firm grasp, “How dare you!  How dare you lie to me!  How dare you hide it from me!  How dare you get distracted!!!”

Terror gripped his chest as she began wailing.  Vegeta let her wrists go and crushed her to him.  Cradling her, hushing her.

“Easy, Bulma, easy.  Calm down. Please calm down.”  He pleaded desperately.  He could feel her emotions going haywire, felt her body trembling, felt her losing control in a dangerous way that sent every part of his mind and soul panicking!

“NO!!!!”  She roared against his chest.  Tiny fists pounding against his body.  Still he held her to him.  Letting her let it all out, fearing beyond words what would happen if she kept it bottled up instead.  “You can’t do this to us!  You can’t think about us, Vegeta!  You can’t!  We can’t be anywhere near you!!  You have to train!  You have to win!!  If you don’t… If you don’t…”

Her sobs overwhelmed her.  She clenched the shoulder straps of the armor she’d made him.  Her tiny shoulders heaving, her body shaking with each crushing wail.  He held her tighter and tighter as though he could will her hurt and fear away.  He bowed his head, burying his face in her hair.

“Please,” her voice was so small, “If you don’t become a Super Saiyan, the Androids will kill you.  Then they’ll come after me and the baby…  And I can’t… I can’t do this alone, Vegeta.  I don’t want to do this alone.”

She broke down again.  Vegeta sniffed, softly pressing his lips to the top of her head, kissing her gently. Then he looked away from her, blinking back tears, sniffing again.

*                      *                      *

They never fought like that before.  Never left each other’s presence without some sense of connection.  This time, when her tears were done, when his tears were done, she’d wiped them away herself with another deep sigh that seemed to rattle every fiber of her being before turning away from him and going back to her work. With silence hanging between them, Vegeta turned and left her lab.  He’d gone back out to the Gravity Chamber and trained harder than he had in a long time. For a moment he’d honestly considered leaving and training in the desert again.  But no.  He wasn’t going to run away from her and their child again.  He wasn’t giving in to his own fear again.  Yet, they both felt the gap that was suddenly between them. And never more so than lying in bed right now.

Vegeta stared at the door, listening to her vomiting again and fighting the urge to go hold her hair back for her and comfort her while her body wracked with everything their child was doing to it.  He scowled at the dark.  She had closed the door again.  Shutting him out again.  He felt his own dinner churn in his stomach.  He winced but kept glaring.  Bile was threatening to vacate.  He gripped his pillow from underneath, his knuckles whitening over the hem of the blanket covering up to his waist.  She wretched violently again.  He seethed at the dark.

This was bad.  It felt bad…  It felt the worst.  He loves her. More than words.  More than himself.  He loves their child, the whisper of a smile tugged at the corner of his grim-set mouth, and all the children still yet to come…  She wanted more children than just this one.  She wanted more of his children and he wanted more of hers.  In order for that to happen, the Androids had to be destroyed. To make sure nothing bad ever happened, he’d have to destroy the Androids.  To protect his family, to ensure a larger family, he’d have to destroy the Androids.  And to do that, he’ll have to become the Legend.  And in order to do that… Vegeta squeezed his eyes shut, keeping the wet and all the horrible feelings it brought with it at bay.  He knew he had to do it, but… but that… he gritted his teeth, it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.  Suddenly the toilet flushed.  His eyes flew open.  A few more minutes and the door opened, temporarily semi-illuminating the room, before the flick of the light switch plunged everything back into darkness. He leveled out his breathing and relaxed his body as he listened to her making her way across the pig sty floor to her side of the bed.

She didn’t say anything, her breathing was quick from the effort of nausea, but she didn’t say anything as he felt the covers lift behind him and the mattress dip with her weight and the covers lower again.  She shifted this way and that, trying to find a comfortable position again.  Eventually she settled.  Still she didn’t say anything to him—

“Vegeta?” Her voice was so weak.  His chest tightened and his heart clenched, he hated how weak she sounded; he hated how weak she was and he couldn’t do anything to alleviate that.

“What?” He grumbled.

There was a pause.  Silence filling it again.  “Hold me.”

Immediately he turned under the sheets and snuggled up to her as close as he could get. She needed him!  She needed him again!  He laid his arm over her waist and drew her in even closer to his chest… Then he nuzzled the back of her head, taking in a deep smell of her.  She sighed contentedly and it melted him.

“I love you,” he whispered by her ear.

He heard her sniff, “You have to leave.”

“I know,” he agreed and felt so much pain at finally having to say it out loud, “I’ll have your Father prepare the ship—”

Suddenly she bolted upright, turning to look at him.  Even in the dim light of the waning moon outside, he could see the shock on her face.

“The ship?!”

“Yes,” he frowned and looked away from her, staring into the pink of her pillow, “I can’t stay on this planet to train.  You and I both know that the Gravity Chamber gives me the greatest assistance let alone that I… I… I can sense you anywhere on this planet.” His dark eyes met hers, “I won’t be able to help myself not to monitor your ki and the baby’s ki.  I’d be attuned to it no matter what.”  Vegeta sat up.  “The only way to prevent you from being a distraction, to prevent myself from monitoring you, is I leave the planet.”

There he’d said it.  He watched her.  Watched it sink in.  Her eyes lowered from his, analyzing his words in the air between them.  Hurt slowly dawning on her, slackening her mouth in dismay and furrowing her brows with something akin to anguish.  And realization dawning on her, the realization that no matter how she felt, no matter how he felt, it was true.  It was all true.

Then her face contorted into heartbreak.  Just as the tears started to come, Vegeta reached over and drew her into his embrace. This time he didn’t bother hushing her, he didn’t bother to try and calm her down.  He just held her and let her weep.  Let her tears leave grief-stricken trails down his chest.  Let her nose drip snot on his scar-covered skin.  He bowed his head and buried his nose in the top of her head.  He inhaled deeply again, breathing her in; it was going to be one of the few chances he would have before he left the planet to commit her scent to his memory.

Eventually she couldn’t cry anymore.  She pulled her head back from his chest, wiping at her eyes and nose.  He reached behind her to her nightstand and retrieved the small box of tissues she kept there.  He held them out to her.  She cleaned herself up under his watchful gaze.  Then she took the box and put it back on her nightstand.  She turned back to face him and laid down, keeping her eyes locked with his.  He took the cue he read in them and settled back down facing her as well.  She wrapped her arms around him and held him tighter than he ever remembered her doing.  He did the same, as if holding her tighter than he ever had before could magically imprint her body on his; he’d settle for imprinting the feel of her body in his arms, the feel of her body against his, instead.

“I love you,” she whispered wetly.

He turned his head to bury his tears in his pillow.

*                      *                      *

It had been an awkward talk with Doctor Briefs.  It wasn’t that the elderly man didn’t understand why it had to be this way, but that the elderly man knew what it was taking out of both his daughter and his Saiyan son-in-law to do this and everything that went with it.  The stress, the hurt, the distance, the strain. Everything.

“Are you sure about this, son?”  The old man had asked.

Vegeta couldn’t meet his eyes, “Yes.  I have to become a Super Saiyan if I’m to protect them.  And that isn’t happening here.  Not now.”

With that, Doctor Briefs nodded and got to work on getting everything ready, “I’ll prep the ship for a year’s journey—”

“Three months,” Vegeta snapped.

“Three months, eh?  Gonna do this in hops instead of one big leap.”

“I won’t abandon her.”  Vegeta gritted his teeth, clenched his fists by his side.  His dark vision burning holes into the floor.

“Alrighty then, three days and then you’ll be off.  That sound good?”

It was a shock to Vegeta that it would only take three days before he could leave.  “So soon?”  It pained him.

“If you’re going to jump, boy, jump.”

Vegeta nodded.  And it was done.  Her Father started drawing up a supply list and Vegeta set off for training in the desert just outside of the city; he wouldn’t be able to use the Gravity Chamber while it was being prepped for his impending departure.

He trained hard.  He trained constantly.  Although he always kept his senses locked in on hers and their unborn child’s ki, it was as though he had reverted to old habits.  He didn’t talk to anyone.  Kept his own hours.  He trained until he couldn’t take it anymore and then trained some more.

He rarely saw her except when he returned to their bed after having showered, changed for bed, and eaten dinner.  He’d find her already asleep.  In the safety of the night, he’d watch her.  The gentle rise and fall of her shoulder or chest depending on what position gave her comfort for the night.  The moon always casting an ethereal glow to her that stole his breath away.  His Namekian Goddess.  He climbed into bed next to her and get settled by taking her in his arms again and holding her tight, always taking in the opportunity to imprint her in his mind. She’d always sigh like a cat with a full stomach of warm milk.  He’d smirk, close his eyes, and drift off to sleep with her.  In the mornings, he’d wake up before her, gingerly slip out of bed and out of their room, and return to his old room where he’d shower and dress for another day of training.  Again alone in the kitchen, he’d eat whatever the Mother had left for him to eat and then he was off to the desert again.

The days passed quickly.  He hadn’t meant for them to pass that fast, but he hadn’t prevented it either.  If you’re going to jump, boy, jump.  It was sage advice, painfully sage advice, from someone he had a strong suspicion knew it from personal experience.  Her Father had built this company from the ground up with his revolutionary invention.  How many times had his work called him away from his wife and child?  The man knew what all of this meant and he knew that if Vegeta hesitated or even thought of prolonging it, he would never leave.  It would all be for nothing.  So the days passed and it was the evening before he was to leave.

He landed on his old balcony so as not to disturb…  His brows furrowed, What is she still doing up?

Vegeta abandoned his towel and water bottle and headed for his door.  Once he opened it, he didn’t hear anything except for the soft steps of bare feet.  They were unhurried but traveling away from him.  He stepped out into the softly lit hallway.  She shouldn’t be up this late, not in her condition.  She needed to rest and take advantage of her nausea passing for the moment so she could sleep deeply and recover…  She was standing in front of their door wearing her pink bathrobe. It wasn’t tied at her waist and it was coming off her shapely shoulders.  Her hair was a mess of fantastic curls again.  She had her hand on the door handle.  An elegant vignette.

She looked over her shoulder at him.  Those enchanting curls framing her beautiful face.  Her eyes bright and angelic with the soft lighting practically glowing in their sapphire depths.  He spotted the slightest blush to the apples of her cheeks.  He tried to convince himself that it was residual from her sickness, but her demeanor was all wrong.  Then he detected something in the air.  Slight but becoming more and more pronounced with every passing moment. Her scent.  Her cheeks were blushed because she wanted him in a way she hadn’t wanted him for weeks now.  His heart thundered in his ears.

She looked away from him.  Was that… he swore he saw the hint of a smile just starting to touch the corner of her mouth as she opened the door and went inside.  He stared.  She’d left the door open for him to follow.  Her scent still lingering in the air as the most enticing, seductive lure he could possibly imagine.  His whole body burned.  His jaw set. Every dirty, lusty thought he could ever have about her played out in his dark, smoldering, swarthy gaze.  He followed.

*                      *                      *

The full moon lit their room like a temple lantern.  Soft, holy silvery light casting the unusual shadows that seemed to ordain the room as hallowed sanctuary.  A world all their own… for the night.

He stood in the opened doorway and watched, completely awed and enamored with the sight.  Bulma’s delicate fingers were slipping the pink silk garment from her bare shoulders… pulling… pulling then releasing.  It fell around her feet.  Her hands by her side.  He admired the sight of her naked body from behind.  Her luscious curls hiding the lovebite scar that he’d given her when he took her on their Wedding Night… the perfect lines of her shoulders and delicate outcroppings of her shoulder blades… the slender, sleek slope of her back… the voluptuous curvature of her hips that refined the perfect heart shape of her incredible ass… long legs that gave her the perfect proportions…  She was perfect.

She half-turned, giving him a clear view of her profile.  Her strawberries stood out from the cream of her full breasts. His body electrified.  His hands fisted at his sides.  He was set.

She looked over at him…  He startled, there was a question in her eyes… doubt?... fear?... concern?...  Suddenly seeing so many layers of uncertainty on her face, inhabiting the slump of her shoulders, it unnerved him.  Why did she need to even see if he had followed her?  Why would she even doubt that he would follow her?

Her feet were carrying her to him.  Bringing her face to face with him.  But she couldn’t meet his eyes.  She was looking at his chest… or his Adam’s apple… or maybe his chin… anywhere but his eyes or his face.  Why?  Why won’t she look at me?  He eyed her, stunned even more at what he was seeing so clearly so up close and personal now. Her brows were pinched ever so slightly in that way that they did when she actually felt the fear of embarrassment, normally she was so confident and unwavering in how carefree she was in whatever she did; other people’s judgements be damned.  It was doubt he was seeing in those sapphire orbs.  The flush of potentially dire embarrassment pinking her cheeks.  Her pink lips parted to show white teeth clenched together in nervousness.  She looked so… so…  He didn’t know what to say, what to do, what to think.  He was shocked.  His own lips falling apart in his own uncertainty in the face of what to do. It was clear she was offering herself to him and absolutely terrified that he wouldn’t accept her.  Why?  It made no—He was leaving.  Leaving the planet for who knew how long and she was… scared that he wouldn’t come back to her.  Gods…

Vegeta scooped her up in his arms.  Taking them inside the room and kicking the door shut behind them.  His lips mashing against hers.  He felt his manhood grow for her.  Reach for her despite the confines of his skintight pants.  He wanted her.  He would never stop wanting her.  He kicked off his gold-tipped, white boots.  He let go of her before she could react and began yanking down on his pants.  Desperate to get the stupid things off and claim her in a way that would let her know to never doubt that she was his and he was hers ever again no matter the circumstances.  No matter the distance, they are mates for life.

Her lips found his again.  Her hands his neck.  She had missed his kiss. She had missed him.  Gods damn it!  These things!  He yanked on his pants.  Finally!  They cleared his cut hips.  Setting his hard cock free.  He yanked them off his legs and flung them Gods’ knew where, he didn’t care.  He gathered her up in his arms again.  This time her arms wrapped around his neck as they devoured each other.  Her legs wrapping around his waist as he headed straight for their waiting bed.

He crawled onto it with her, lowering her onto it’s cushy surface.  Her fingers cupped one of his shoulder blades, her nails digging into the flesh of his back.  Her legs hiked above the cut of his hips.  Her heels keeping bouncing, spurring time against his taut ass as he slipped inside of her.  Thrusting over and over.  Setting a relentless pace that had her very nearly drawing blood.  They didn’t speak.  Just let their moans and groans, whimpers and gasps, hisses be all the sounds they needed to hear from each other.  He kept thrusting and thrusting.  His thick, hard cock filling her warm, tight pussy.  His tongue tasted every part of her mouth.  Entwined with her tongue as she tasted him.  She moaned.  He groaned, feeling the precum weep into her welcoming depths.  It had been so long since he felt her like this.  Heard her moan from the pleasure his body gave hers. Fuck, this feels so good!  So fucking good!  He ground his hips into her tight pussy.  Driving himself into her.  Fucking her good.  Just as a starter.

He reared up and sat back on his heels.  Teetering on the edge of the bed.  Holding her on his lap.  She straddled him.  One hand holding her delicate lower back, keeping her safe.  His other hand grabbing a healthy chunk of her delicious ass cheek to hold her down so he could still fill her as deeply as he possibly could.  His hips still thrusting.  Her hips bouncing now.  She opened her mouth wider so they could plunge their tongues deeper into each other’s mouths.  He took the opportunity to finally nip at her lower lip the way he’d been dying to for a long while now before licking as deep into her mouth as he could.  Her bounces, his thrusts sending her round, pillowy breasts to fit perfectly with the outstretched curve of his throat. Her hands cupping the base of his skull. Her nails digging into his scalp. Zinging his skin with the contact. Thrilling his cock with it.  They gasped moaned, growled as they fed upon each other.  She bounced and bounced.  Her cunt feeling tighter and tighter to his engorged penis.  She rode his thrusts harder and harder.  His thrusts forcing him deeper and deeper.  He felt his balls pinching.  The feel of them both heading for climax drove them desperate.  She whimpered, grinding her hips back and forth over his lap.  He held her down and thrusted into her without a care for the screams filling his mouth as his won roars filled hers.  Fuck.  Fuck!  FUCK!!!!! She came.  Her walls gripping him and releasing and gripping over and over. His hot semen shooting jets deep into her core.  And she rode him.  She kept fucking him.  Not wanting it to end so soon.  Wanting him to tremble between her thighs.  And he wanted to.  Gods, did he want to tremble between her legs again.  His breathing rasped as he strained to give her all he could.  He felt himself release more into her.  Jet after jet.  She could feel it, his hot seed inside her.  Her legs starting to shake as her own orgasm ebbed into needy moans. She wanted more.  Had to have more.  

Her body stopped moving.  She clawed at him.  Their orgasm gone too soon.  Hoping their kiss would last.  But he wanted more too.

Vegeta sat up on his knees and dumped her off his lap.  Temporarily vacating her tight body.  She gasped as she bounced on the mattress before he flipped her over.  He was on her in a second.  She yelped when he yanked one of her knees up the soft linens. He was back inside her with a single, powerful thrust.  She screamed as he took her from behind.  Sweat beading on her skin.  Sweat dripping of his.  He reached around and cupped her delicate throat.  Turning her face to look at him even though he shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and pounded into her relentlessly.

“Ha! Ha!  Ha!  Ha!” She screamed.

His free hand gripped the sheets.  “Hn! Hn!  Hn!  Hn!”  He grunted. Pounding her.  Jarring her tiny body beneath his.

“Hahnngh,” she growled.

“Hnngh,” he growled back, rolling them both onto their sides.

He grabbed the lifted knee and held it up.  Thrusting in her with abandon.  He angled her face up to his again and devoured her lips.  She shoved the pillow away and grabbed a huge chunk of sheets. Her breasts bounced.  Her back arched.  He was fucking her gloriously.  Her legs shook as her body began bracing again.  Holy fuck! Holy Fuck!  His thick fingers dug into the tender flesh under her thigh as she felt—She yanked on the sheets, hearing them rip, as her scream filled his body.  She felt herself squirt her juices over her inner thigh, slicking his thrusting dick. He slipped in and out of her so much easier now.  Rubbing that rough spot inside her perfectly.  Furiously.  He growled again.  Deeper. Darker.  He kissed her so hard she thought her lips would bruise.  Oh fuck this feels so good!

Suddenly he pulled away from her.  She fell back on her back.  He was on top of her.  His iron body pinning her down to the bed.  Pinned her wrists down by their hips.  He thrust and she saw stars behind her eyelids.  He fucked her hard.  Deep. She never thought he could be this deep or this rough with her.  And she loved it!

Her breasts squished against his chest.  His mouth falling open as he, “Hng!  Hng!  Hng! Hng!,” into her drenched cunt. He’d make her wetter.  He’d fill her with his seed so much that it would seep out between his shaft and her nether lips again.  He slammed his cock into her over and over.  More, he had to have more!  Had to give her more!  She would never want!  She would never be in doubt!

“Hng! Hng!  Hng!  Hng! Hng!”

“Ha!  Ha! Ha!  Ha!  Ha!”

She struggled beneath him.  Writhed. But he was steel.  He wouldn’t budge except for his hips giving her pleasure beyond words but not beyond sound…

Suddenly her head snapped back with a primal scream filling her room and spilling into the crisp might air beyond her balcony.  Sweat dripped down his forehead and cheek onto her prone throat.

“Hnngh!!” He roared as he released in her again. Filling her more.  His hips slamming into her again… again… again… Her walls thundering around his pulsating dick.  He gave it to her over and over.  Fresh hot jets of his seed streaming into her hot depths.  Gods, she feels good!

Suddenly he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him.  She took control immediately.  Her hips rode with abandon.  Her nails finding the chiseled edges of his pectorals and digging into their curves.

“HA! HA!  HA!  HA! HNGH!”  She roared.  Squeezing her eyes shut and riding her Husband’s fantastic stiff cock.  He felt so fucking amazing!  And the way he made her feel, she was dripping with sweat. Soaked in it and cum and she didn’t care!  She was in Heaven!  His head was flung back, “HA!  HN! HN!”  He groaned, wallowing in the pleasure she gave him.  His body just as drenched as hers.

She rode him.  Rode him. He gripped her hips.  His fingers digging into her soft flesh.  She bowed her head as she felt her body tense and suddenly release again.  She squirted all over his crotch.  Her body shaking.  Her strawberries as pert as lighthouses.  It was bliss! Pure bliss!  She kept riding, kept feeling her whole body tingle with her cumming until he joined her.

His hips bucked up into her hard and she felt more thick spurts of his cream slather her inside.  It was so hot!  It felt so good!  She kept riding and riding until he was having trouble breathing.  Vegeta, the Prince of All Saiyans, was straining under the power of the orgasm she could pull from him.  Tearing him down.  Breaking him apart the same way he did to her.  It made her feel glorious!  It made her feel powerful!  It made her feel like a Queen!

They panted for awhile before she managed to lift her head from his chest and place a gentle press of her lips to his.  It was all the kiss she could manage.  His lips reacted, pucker for hers.  She kissed again, he puckered back again.  Then again.  And again. Until their kisses were longer… deeper… involving their tongues searching each other’s mouths.  He was succulent.  With such a scarred body and such rough hands, Vegeta’s lips were surprisingly soft and pillowy.  His tongue curious and attentive.  For him, he’d never felt anything so soft in his life as her pillowy lips.  They seemed perpetually moist and plump and just waiting for him to suck and nip and feast.  Her tongue was agile and catlike and inquisitive.  Every part of her was an explorer and begged to be explored. Vegeta never thought of himself as an adventurer, but for her, he was.  He would always be an avid explorer just for her.

He began to push up, pushing her back up.  She slipped off his lap the further he sat up.  He got up on his knees.  The bustling breaking their kiss.  But she stayed close to him, her lips always near, and ready to be back on his the moment there was an opportunity to.  He straightened up on his knees and reached for her hips as her hands reached for his neck. They drew each other in for another round of oral exploration.  He indulged in her, pressed her hips to his.  Commiting it all to memory.  He plunged his tongue deeper.  Slicking and snaking it over hers.  Feeling the sharp edges of her perfect teeth.  The warmth of her mouth.  He pressed her hips closer.  Felt the searing heat of her incredible body.  Felt the press and slight parting of her nether lips against the aching hardness of his rock hard cock.  She was drenched and he felt the peak of her engorged pearl.  He groaned.  He needed more.  Had to have more.  Had to give her more as though the ghost o his body presence could stay with her forever like a talisman that warded off any who would dare to get near her while he was away.

Then he nudged and pulled one side of her hip.  Silently asking her to turn around.  She held their kiss as long as she could as she began to turn her body around for him. When their lips broke, they both sucked in air.  She turned fully around and leaned over onto all fours.  He enveloped her tiny frame with his own muscular one.  She gripped the sheets as he nuzzled the lovebite he’d given her through her hair. She closed her eyes and moaned long and low.  Relishing in the feel of his Saiyan love for her.  The puff of his hot breath through his nose permeating her hair and skin. Making the lovebite scar tingle. And moistening between her legs even more.  Reflexively her core clenched even though he wasn’t inside her to feel it.  Vegeta reached between them and took hold of himself. He pulled away from his mate just enough to line himself up then closed the distance between them again as he slipped inside of her.  He made sure to enter her nice and slow since she was so wet and he wanted her to feel every bit of him.  For her wanton pussy to memorize the smooth roundness and cleft of his head, every vein along his shaft, and every ridge leading down to his base.  He filled her.  And she moaned an ‘Ahhhhh’ that was music to his ears.

Inside of her, he reached his hands and cupped her full breasts. Her pussy clenched his penis as he rolled his palm over her stiff nipples.  Strawberries, he hummed.  She gasped.  He squeezed her breasts, feeling how soft they were.  Pliable.  Luscious orbs of the softest cream.  He reared back slowly, bringing her with him, and making sure that he didn’t slip out of her.

He sat back on his heels.  Bulma leaned her head back and he wiggled his nose over her lovebite.  He closed his eyes, wallowing in the cozy warmth that was her.  Her slipped his hands to hook behind her knees.  And lifted.

She trusted him completely.  Her tight ass nestled into his lap even more as he raised her bent legs over his bent knees.  He balanced her perfectly.  She closed her eyes and reached around his neck and placed her fingers over the scar of the lovebite she’d given him.  He purred at her touch.  His hips moved.  Leisurely. Up then down…  Up then down…  Her fingers rubbed circles over his lovebite.  Sweat dripped down his temples.  Down his etched shoulders and biceps.  It poured off of her like she was goddess of water.  He grinned, My Namekian Goddess.  He buried his face in her bobbing teal curls, breathing in her scent like she was a cup of morning coffee, contented wafts of steam that melted every tense muscle better than any massage.  Being inside her was his solace.  His sanctuary.  He let go of her right knee.  She kept it balanced on her own, liking the way this position made him feel inside her. He slipped his hand over her slick stomach… down… down… running his fingers through her sticky patch of teal hairs, rolling his digits through it… moving down to her saturated lips and parting them with his honey-dipped fingers.  Her back arched the moment a warm fingertip caressed her hot bead.

“Aha,” she cried out.

He made small, tender circles over her stimulated clit.  Her breathing shallowed, rasped.  He purred into her hair again.  Enjoying in the gentle, bobbing thrusts, the squish of their sticky sweet juices over his fingers and palm and her nether lips, and her achingly arousing whimpers of pleasure.  She responded by turning her face to his, mashing the side of her face to the left side of his so hard her right eye squeezed shut.  His nose nestled over the flushed apple of her cheek.  His lips finding her jawline and kissing it over and over.  Her hand slipped from his lovebite to his ear and cheek. He kept moving his hips.  Rubbing her glorious pearl.  Her free hand gripped his wrist still holding up her left knee.  Her mouth hanging open in constant cries and moans.  It was tempting to stay here forever.  Experience nights like this forever.  Be inside her forever.  More than she could possibly know.  But it couldn’t be, not until he had defeated the Androids.  And to do that he had to leave in the morning, well, mere hours from now actually.  In the meantime, he could be tempted by her, experience her, be inside her all night long until the alarm sounded and their fairytale night together would end.

“Uhhnngh,” she growled.  The sound vibrating through his body.

He growled, low, deep, and luscious.  She melted, gasping.  He bucked a little for good measure.  Her breathing seized in her chest.  His tongue joined his kisses to her jaw.  Licking the salty dew from her flushed jaw.  Drinking her in literally.  His brows pinched when he felt the pressure begin to build in his balls right at the base of his extended cock.  Her breathing became ragged.  Her cheeks burning with sexual exertion.  He felt her tightening around his weeping head.  He strained to keep his pace measured.  All he wanted to do was fuck her with total, reckless abandon.  Grind into her tender pussy all of his cock she could take. His breathing changed.  Picked up.  Rasped.  She clenched tighter.  His balls pinched tighter.

“Uh!  Uh! Uh!”

He rubbed her inside and out.  Licked and kissed.

Her grip on his wrist went white-knuckle.

The sweat sheened their skins in the moonlight as though they had bathed under it’s heavenly glow.  And they had, bathed in each other’s affections.

“Ha!  Ha! Ha!”

Fuck.  Fuck. Fuck!  Fuck!!!!!  Vegeta suddenly grabbed her clit as his cock pulsed, cumming inside her.  Twitching and bobbing with each jet of his hot semen he filled pussy with.  His hand squeezing the tender flesh behind her knee.  Bulma’s head fell back, voiceless, as she gasped and whimpered, trying to breathe.  Her walls quaking.  The fluttering milking him.  Her nails biting into his wrist.  Her other hand desperately holding onto his meaty trapezius for dear life.  Legs shaking.  Toes curling tight.

They pitched forward.  Collapsing. Panting hard against the bedsheets. But he wasn’t done yet.  Not by a long shot.  It started with a soft growl… then another as he parted his lips and nipped at her shoulder… then another growl lasting longer as his nips became playful.  The Saiyan way of asking her if she was ready yet.  Keeping her enticed for him.  Eventually she started purring, rubbing her body against his.  Marking him as her territory.  His growl became huskier, her purr needier.  He rubbed his body with hers.  Oh, they could feel how ready they were again.

He reared back, slipping out of her.  He grabbed her arm and flipped her over roughly.  She let out an excited squeal, bouncing on the comfy mattress that had already proven its buoyancy more than up to the sensuous task of keeping up with them.  So there she was.  Radiant in the glory of her perfect body and the wet glow it received from hot, steamy, sex with her Husband and the aura of the moonlight outside their room.  Her legs spread, her knees bent up just waiting from the perfect fit of his hips to hers.  Her voluptuous pillows of cream waiting for his touch, waiting for his lips and tongue to snack on her delectable strawberries.  Her sapphire blue eyes watched his.  She got a kick all over again at how the Prince liked to survey his territory.  She turned her hands over so that the back of her hands felt the warmth that their insane body heats had lent the sheets then dragged them up the bed in wide swings of her arms to dangle her hands over the edge of the mattress above her head. Surrendering to him and his dark desires, desires she wanted him to fulfill with her.  His smoldering gaze followed the path of her hands upward and found her eyes waiting for his.  She licked her lips before biting her lip in that way that drives him wild… her toe reached out to his slippery thigh and dragged the tip of its nail up to the temptation of the start of his plunging ‘V’.  He smirked, that smirk that told her he was going to fuck her senseless, enjoy every moment of it and make sure she did too, and he knew that he really was that incredible in her bed.  She loves that smirk.  Without preamble, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her leg straight up on a long, elegant line.  He kept eye contact with her as he ran his hand down her calve… down the back of her knee… he grabbed the back of her thigh roughly.

“Uhngh,” she gasped, backing arching a little.  Breasts bouncing and those curls…

Vegeta shoved her knee against her chest.  Bulma gasped. He licked his own lips as he took hold of his dick once more and lined up his eager head with her waiting entrance. He pressed his tip to her and her moan came out more as a desperate whimper.  He knew that sound, that was the sound of her desperate for him to fill her and fuck her into the mattress.  He gave a smoldering growl deep in his chest like a barrel roll of Saiyan thunder and shoved his hips forward, thrusting into her.  Her back snapped back fiercely.  A scream ripped from her throat.  He leaned over her, balanced on his other hand he placed beside her hip, and eased his hips back from her, slipping out a little.  Then he slipped back in.  Then out.  Her back eased back into the comfort of the mattress.  She looked at him with blushed cheeks and pleading eyes.  Gods! She looks stunning!  He thrusted back in.  Hard.  Bearing down on her with his cock.  Pounding her pussy.  Hard and fast.  The bed bounced and creaked with his power.

Her shoulder lifted.  Her eyes squeezed tight at the mercy of the fucking onslaught.  She gritted her teeth.  Taking it.  Taking him.  Her hand gripped his forearm muscles.  Her nails dug in deep.  He looked down and watched her delicate nails drag burning, long, red lines down his flesh. Then he looked further down at the sticky mess their crotches and inner thighs were and watched his cock ramming in and out of her spread folds.  Fuck!!!  He seared it into his mind.  He watched himself fuck the shit out of his wife.  Her stifled screams morphing into snarls that turned him on even more. Calling to his primal side.  He went at her harder and faster.  She writhed.  Her head snapped back.  She growled like he’d never heard her before.

He leaned back, not slowing his pace or easing his power for a moment.  He yanked her leg up from mashing her perfect breast and lifted it to his chest.  Holding her calve over his shoulder.  Sweat dripped down his cheek.  Down his trapezius.  Down his perfect pectorals.  He watched her writhe, snarl, growl.  Her nails biting into his flesh, searing.  Sweat matting her soaked curls to her hairline.  Matting her hair to her neck.  To her shoulder.  It beaded on her breasts and stomach.  Dripped off her shoulders and biceps.  She kept her leg spread for him.  She was truly a sight to behold!  His cheeks blushed deep red as he watched her take him.  He gritted his teeth, feeling what seeing it was doing to him.  He pounded harder and harder.  Faster and faster.  The bed sounded like it was about to give.  She sounded like she was about to be ripped apart and wanted nothing but more of him.  Gods!!  She’s perfect!!  She’s fucking perfect!!!!!  He wanted to lick the moonlight off her body…

He flung himself down onto her.  Still pounding her poor, defenseless, wanton pussy into the mattress.  Hammering brutal, blissful screams from her tiny lungs. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging savagely into her plump, round ass.  He didn’t care if he bruised her.  She didn’t care if he bruised her ass as long as he kept fucking her like this! She wrapped her arms around his neck. One of her hands grabbing a fat chunk of his flame and holding on as he plowed into her pussy.  Her growls gave way to the most sinful moans of pure ecstasy. You are!  You are so fucking GOOD TO ME!!!!  He buried his face in her neck.  Licking her pulse line clean of sweat.  Clean of moonlight.  Her legs wrapped around his waist and squeezed.  More!  More!

The pressure was building.  Building. Building.  He felt like his whole body was going to explode.  Every muscle, every sinew drew as tight as an overstretched band.  Vibrating under the stress.  About to snap gloriously.  He didn’t stop.  He didn’t dare stop.  She clung to him for dear life.  She didn’t want him to stop.  Not until…  Oh Kami! Until…  Oh Kami!!  Unti—She screamed the most powerful orgasm of her fucking life! Brutal.  Primal.  He dug vicious bruises into her hot ass, slamming into her quivering pussy over and over and over.  Roaring like a fiend!  Feeling himself shoot hot streams of cum deep inside her.  So fucking deep! He kept going until he fucking hurt to keep fucking her like this.  She kept up with him though.  Lasting just as long.

But he couldn’t stop now.  If he did, the night would end before the alarm.  If he did, it wouldn’t last forever!

He moved his hips, slipping out of her.  He hissed at the pain it sent through his tip and shaft, searing him on the way out.  He lifted himself up just enough to flip her over onto her stomach.  She lay there.  Exhausted and spent.  Vegeta may be exhausted, but he was far from spent.  He pounced on her prone form.  He hands gripped the sheets on either side of her as he smashed his mouth onto her lower back.  Kissing and licking the base of her spine.  She cooed, barely able to writhe under the tingling feeling of his tongue on her skin.  His mouth traveled up her spine.  Tasting and sampling each vertebra.  She moaned and shivered beneath him.  Heat pooling in her core again.  All at once she felt as if she couldn’t take anymore and she couldn’t get enough.  The further he went up the middle of her back the more aroused she became.  She wasn’t the only one.  Fresh scent filled his nostrils, mixing with their old juices, and each whimper and shudder made his mouth water.  Making him harder.  He couldn’t get enough of her.  He lapped up her sweat.  Lapped up the salt from her skin.  He gave her a kiss between her shoulder blades then nipped at her lovebite, she moaned, before kissing it lustily then sitting up on his knees.  Her grabbed her round rump sitting so enticingly right in front of him.  Like she was offering herself up to him.  And who was he to reject or deny himself such an offering.  From his Wife.

Vegeta massaged Bulma’s buttocks before sliding his hands along her wet skin to take hold of her ample hips.  He lifted, she whined a little, but he got her hips up over her knees. He kept one hand on her hip to keep her steady and slipped the other to his stiff member.  He slicked some of his precum over his weeping head.  Gritting his teeth and hissing at it’s hypersensitivity. He held his tip out and rubbed it against her splayed entrance.  Her hips bucked, her voice moaning, begging him to enter her.  Her rubbed at her entrance a few more times then pressed himself in.  She welcomed him gratefully, easily.  Slowly, Vegeta pushed his hips forward until he was fully inside her.  He felt her walls grip all around him, holding him deep inside her.  Gods, she feels so good.  He gripped her hips tightly and began fucking her again. Setting another hard and fast pace. She rose up on her hands, “Ha! Ha!  Ha!”

He was mesmerized by the frantic bouncing of her teal-colored locks.  Flashing him quick glimpses of the scar of her lovebite.  He could almost envision by the slump of her shoulders the bouncing of her breasts.  Suddenly he didn’t want to imagine anything.  That time was coming sooner than he’d like, but for now he wanted the real thing.

Vegeta reached down and yanked back on her left elbow. She’d nearly slipped, but he yanked again on her forearm then wrist.  She was reared up as he rode her hard.  He gripped her wrist tightly and pinned it to the small of her back between them.  She looked back at him, struggling to keep her self up.  His eyes looked down over her trapped shoulder.  Down at her flushed bouncing breasts…  He licked his lips like a starving man shown a steak. Or rather a starving Saiyan Prince shown a single, ripe Strawberry.  He growled deep and low in his chest.  He kept her left arm pinned as he reached around her right arm.  Pinning it as well.  His fingertips caressed over the wet dome of her right breast.  He massaged it.  She yelled in his face, “Uhhnngh!”

Oh fuck, he cupped her breast… then fingered her strawberry.  It was soft and stiff at the probing of his fingertip.  He felt her pussy clench.  He rolled his finger over her strawberry’s luscious tip.

“Uhhhnnngh!”

He rubbed his thumb over the curve of her pillow… rubbed it once, twice over her strawberry tip… then took it between his thumb and his forefinger and pinched.

“HA!!!” She screamed.

He rubbed and rolled her pert nipple between his fingers. Her hips bucked into him.  He kept thrusting.  Watching himself manipulate her tender nipple.  Her body trembled.  Legs weakening.  But he kept her held up.  Kept her body bouncing faster and faster off his thrusting pelvis.  He listened to her body.  The way she was screaming.  The way her pussy had a death grip on his manhood even as he slipped in and out of her. From this angle he rubbed that special part inside of her perfectly.  Relentlessly.  Her nose nuzzled his cheek.  He nearly came.  She nuzzled it again.  Kept nuzzling.  He felt his balls clench again.

“Hn!  Hn! Hn!”  He groaned through clenched teeth.

“Ha!  Ha! Ha!”  The tip of her nose rubbed into his cheek—

“HHHNNNNNGH!!!!”  He came. Filling her pussy.  His seed squirting from her wet folds.  Dripping down his pulsating shaft.  Oozing down her thighs.  His hips slammed into her again and again.  Prolonging his bliss.  He buried his face in her curls.  His cheeks burning with exertion.  His whole body trembled.  Suddenly she grabbed his thigh with her free hand…  He felt her walls quake.  He stopped his hips.  Leant his forehead against the back of her shoulder.  Grateful that her orgasm was milking him of the rest of his orgasm. She stopped moving.  Panting.  Flushed as her pussy quaked and his cock slowly stopped pulsing as it squirted more semen into her…

She basked in the warmth of his body.  It always amazed her how much stamina he had, how much stamina he gave her just by being the only man she’d ever met that treated her like the only woman in the world.  He always seemed to push himself to breaking for her, with her…  He loves her and she loves him.  They found adventure and excitement in each other on Namek.  Then they found comfort in each other when her heart had been broken by someone else.  Now she was his wife and they found solace in each other forever.

He released her wrist and slumped back on his heels.  His arms hung by his sides, his hands palms up beside his shivering thighs, and his head bowed.  He gasped for air, panting still.  She collapsed forward and barely caught herself on her hands.  Her sweat dripped off her onto the bedsheets.  Temporarily darkening the bright pink color.  She looked back over her shoulder at him.  He hadn’t budged.  Just sat there looking like a spent and broken man… but she knew he was far from it.  She turned around to face him.  He lifted his head to look at her; his cheeks deep red and his eyes nearly shut.  Bulma crawled up to him… up onto his lap…  Vegeta looked up into her blue eyes, still bright and beautiful and the most enchanting things he’d ever seen in the entire universe.  She reached up and he felt the angel soft touch that he’d never experienced in entire tortured life until he’d met her.  Her fingers warmed his cheeks as she leaned her forehead against his and breathed in his smell.  Musk… sweat… spice that made her stomach tingle and butterfly…  She slipped one hand into his hair… and took a handful of his unique flame at the back of his head.  Enjoying the feel of his hair between her fingers.  Coarse and soft at the same time… like him.  She leaned in further and touched the tip of her nose to his then nuzzled him.  Somehow he found it in himself to raise his hands to rest on her waist… then wrapped his arms around her.  Holding her. Bulma tilted her head… and pressed her lips to Vegeta’s.  The kiss was simple.  No lusty fire… just a glow, like the halo of moonlight they found themselves and their bed bathed in.  Like it had the night they conceived their child, the night they bonded together forever. Their kiss lasted as long as a breath. She kissed him again… then again. Slowly he leaned forward, making sure to keep his arms around her tiny waist.  He laid them back on the warm sheets with control that he didn’t think he still had.

It was their respite without having to lose any time to something as frivolous as sleep.  Spending all the time they could with each other before…  He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply; he didn’t want to think about that, all he wanted to do right now was lay here in his bed and kiss his Wife.  Relish in the softness of her lips… in the softness of her whole body in his arms… He kissed her back.  Soft, sweet, and gentle.  He was only ever this way with her.  She was magic to him, for him. He loves her.  He’s never loved anything except his homeworld, but she, his Bulma, she is his homeworld now.

His hands travelled along her sides… her hips… up her sides again… his fingers and palms mapping every curve of her body.  The flex of every muscle just beneath that smooth porcelain skin.  Her fingers threaded over and over through his thick, black, flame of hair… each caress sending thrills to his spine.  He etched the feeling in his mind, never forgetting the way she made him feel.  Her fingers left his hair… travelled down the back of his neck, fingered the lines of the scar she’d given him… his breathing shallowed, picked up; it was amazing… her delicate touch caressed along the lines of his shoulder blades… down his back.  Nimble digits tracing the line of every scar that he’d rather forget about but life and anatomy refused to let him ever forget. Now he had something new to attribute to those scars, not the horrors of their stories but the bliss of her touch. He felt himself throb and ache between their bodies, growing with each caress.  He tilted his head this way… and that… kissing her in every way possible and she did the same.  Her hands cupped the middle of his back… sliding down… down…  His hands slipped over her arms… sliding up… up…  He cupped her shapely shoulders.  Her fingers settled on his lower back… began moving inward. He knew to where.  His penis knew where.  Her breathing quickened, she knew where and what it would mean.

Silently, she began spreading her legs for him.  She took her time with the motion.  Knowing to let him commit to memory every touch… every sensation…   Her fresh scent, their juices, tingling his nose.  Making his mouth water in primal ways that he was sure went beyond what it meant to be a Saiyan but not beyond what it meant to be a man.  His hands moved from her shoulders up into the fluffy curls that haloed her angelic face.  He drove his fingers up through them… feeling the soft caress of every teal tendril… His thick fingertips found her scalp.  He cupped her head, feeling thick locks matte between his palms and her head.  Felt soft fingers trace scars angle down from the small of his back.  Okay, so maybe he hadn’t known where her hands were going.  Fingers traced the lines of his buttocks, riling him up, before cupping his buttocks. She moved his hips forward… his fingers curled and curled the closer his hips got to her heat…  When he felt himself press at her entrance, he gripped handfuls of teal.  He met no resistance as she guided him inside her.  Gripping his cheeks tighter and tighter the further she brought him into her. He closed his eyes and just felt. Every succulent millimeter of her… her grip… his girth… his grip… the touch of the sheets beneath them.  He was all the way in her, a perfect fit.  He knew what to do.  He eased his hips back, slipping out of her a little, then slipped back inside her.  His movements were slow, testing, timid at first.  He continued to absorb every sensation every moment.  Felt each bead of sweat bloom on his skin and hers… each bead slink, stream, and trickle along rippling sinews and soft-moving porcelain… breathing patterns aligning with every gentle push.  He bowed his head, the tip of his nose touching her chin. He inhaled deeply.  Taking in everything.  He picked up his movements.  Bobbing their bodies up and down the mattress.  Her plump breasts rose to press into his hard chest as her back arched with their slightly faster pace.

“Aaaaahhhhhh,” she moaned, her jaw slackening.  Her own eyes closing slowly.  She held him tight inside her.  He absorbed new familiar sensations.  He felt his tip weep crystal clear droplets inside her.  “Aaaahhhh… Mmmmm…  Hmmmmm…”

“Hhhnnnggghhhh,” he groaned, “Hhhhnnnnnggggghhhhh…  Mmmmmmmm…”  She was bliss, pure bliss.  “Hhhhaaaaaaa…  Aaaaahhhhhh…”

He moved faster in her.  Making physical heat from the carnal heat.  Manicured nails drew across his buttocks to his burning thighs over her own bobbing thighs to his knees nestled into rumpled folds of pink bed linens and fluffy mattress.

He shifted his knees a little bit farther apart, dropping himself down lower, and made one long circle with his hips.  Her breath seized in her chest.  Her back arched sharply.  Nails digging into his knees.  “Hah,” she gasped.  She clamped down on him.  “Ha,” he gasped.  He couldn’t breathe.  He made a circle again… felt her nipples pierce his chest, his cheeks flushed…  Another circle… “Hhhhaaaaa!”  She begged.  “Hhhhaaaa.”  He answered. Another circle.  Another.  He picked up speed again.  The bed shifted with their movements.  Rocking back and forth as well.

“Ha!  Ha! Ha!  Ha!”

“Ah!  Ah! Ah!  Ah!”  Her fingers hooked around his knees.  Holding on. He picked up his pace.

Their bed creaked and rocked and thudded loudly against the wall.  Circle after circle.  He picked up his pace.  Circle. Circle.  Circle.

His balls tingled.  Tensed. THUD.  THUD. THUD.  Circle.  Circle. Circle.

“HA!  HA! HA!  HA!”

“AH!  AH! AH!  AH!”

His whole body felt more alive than he ever remembered.  Only with her.  He was only ever this alive when he was with her.  He could feel, could tell that she was only ever satiated when she was with him. Only with him.

Circle. Circle.  Circle.  THUD.  THUD. THUD.

“HA!  HA! HA!”

“AH!  AH! AH!”

They knew how to fulfill one another.  Give each other everything they never had before.

His body burned with pleasure.  Going white hot, almost numb.  The base of his cock pinching tighter and tighter with every circular thrust.  He was going to explode inside her.  He wanted to explode inside her.  Fill her with his cum so thoroughly that the excess squirted out around his shaft from the confines of her folds.  He wanted to stain the sheets with cum.  Circle.  Circle. Circle.  THUD.  THUD.  THUD.

“HAAAAA!!  HAAAAA!! HAAAAA!!”  Gods, Bulma!!!  Oh Gods, BULMA!!!!

“AAHHHNNNN!!  MMMMNNNNN!!”  Vegeta!!  Oh Fucking KAMI!!!  VEGETA!!!!

Tighter. Tighter.  Circle.  Circle. THUD.  THUD. THUD.

The tension was unbearable.  He wanted to break.  To shatter inside her.  He wanted her to come apart at the seams.  Shatter into a million little pieces underneath him.  His cock twitched.  Twitched. I’m gonna…  “HNN!! HNN!!  HNN!!”  Her thighs quivered against his.  “AH!!!  AH!!! AH!!!”  I’m gonna… Tighter.  Tighter.  Circle. Circle.  THUD.  THUD. Quiver.  Quiver.

“HN!!!  HN!!! HN!!!”

“AH!!!  AH!!! AH!!!”

His fists in her hair shook…

Her hips moved.  Writhing in the incredible pleasure.  She was on the brink.  Teetering on that edge.  The more she moved the more excited he got.  The more the tightness at the base of his manhood was nearly bringing him to tears.  He wanted to cum.  He wanted to cum so bad inside her.  He wanted her to cum so fucking hard all over him!

Tighter.  Tighter. Circle.  Circle.  THUD. THUD.  Quiver.  Quiver.

Suddenly her hands shot to his lower back.  Her fingers dug into his tail nub.

“HNNNGH!!!!!”  He rammed into her.  The bed giving an almighty CRACK! Against the wall!  Thick spurts of semen squirted into her pussy.  Her fingers rubbed deep and hard into his sensitive tail nub.  He rammed again!  “HNN!!!!”  Again!  “HNN!!!!!”

She gasped.  Desperate as though she were taking more than she could handle.  Overwhelmed.  Her walls fluttered and fluttered.  Ram!  “HNGH!”  Her fingers dug deeply into him.  He strained to squirt all he could into her.  Strained until she milked him dry.  Strained until the quake of her pussy subsided.  He bobbed his hips a few times.  Giving her aftershocks.  He worked his hips through pants until even those subsided.

They opened their eyes.  He drank in the sight of her desperate sapphire eyes glowing in the moonlight. The apples of her cheeks flushed bright pink.  Her curls matted to her hairline like a teal crown he’d bestowed upon her.  Beads of sweat dotting her forehead and chin.  He felt a drop of sweat slip along his jaw, build up on the tip of his chin, and drop down on her chin and snake down her delicate, bobbing throat.  She’d never seen his cheeks so red.  Never saw him look so rested, so at peace with what they’d done.  Sweat made a sheen of water and moonlight over his face; highlighting the right side of his face so brightly.  He wasn’t glaring at her or scowling at all.  He looked like he was… in love with her.  She held him tighter, pressing his lower back into her, not wanting to let him out of her.  Not wanting to let him go.

BEEP!  BEEP! BEEP!

It was over.  The spell was broken.  It wasn’t just moonlight lighting their bodies.  It was dawn.  The sky was lightening outside her balcony.  Taking away the moonlit night that had been their own private world. Taking their sanctuary away with the growing light.  It was time.

He had to go.

*                      *                      *

Silence.

It was so unusually silent while they were getting dressed.  His Woman was unusually quiet and he’d noticed that she wasn’t meeting his eyes either.  He, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at her; committing every gloomy line to memory. He’d didn’t want to forget her or a single part of her… he…

“I love you,” he said quietly.

She froze with the shirt clearing her head and part of her shoulders.  He watched her for a moment.  The elegant line of her back… the smoothness of her skin… the—

She sniffed.  Then sniffed again.  Then her shoulders started shaking.

Silently Vegeta gave his glove a last tug then walked around the bed and stepped up right in front of her.  She kept her head down, the fall of her hair hiding her eyes from him, but how tight her lips were pursed together was a dead giveaway.  Vegeta reached out and slipped her other arm through the arm of her shirt then pulled it down over her torso.  She kept holding back her sobs even as he felt her tears falling onto his gloved hands.  He slipped the side of his finger underneath her chin, hooked, and gently drew her face up so he could see it.

Her eyes were closed.  Squeezed tight, tears staining her cheeks with their trails, her lips quivering under the strain she was putting them under.

He tilted his head, leaned in, and kissed her.  Suddenly her arms were around his neck.  She kissed him hungrily.  Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist.  He devoured her right back.  Their breathes meshed loudly in their ears.  She rolled her head.  Kissing him deeper and deeper.  He plunged his tongue into her depths.  When they’d stolen the oxygen from each other’s lungs, their kiss broke with a gasp for air.

“I love you,” she breathed, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”  She repeated over and over, breaking a little bit more each utterance… until she finally sobbed out loud in his arms.

Vegeta held her close.  Cupping her head into the crook of his strong neck.  He pressed his lips into her hair, kissing her head.  He breathed in the scent of strawberry, sweat, sex, and himself. It was also the reason why he hadn’t bathed before putting on the Saiyan-like new armor and body suit, gloves and boots she’d given him as a parting gift.  He smirked into her hair, along with a promise of more suits of armor to come so long as he kept coming back.  Appealing to his warrior self and sense of Saiyan Pride to get him back here with her again and again no matter the distance away from her he went.  She didn’t have to do that, he’d always return to her.  But he knew why she did it.  The pathetic weakling had abandoned her more than once.  Promised to return to her only to end up laving her over and over. She was afraid that Vegeta would do the same.  That he would get back out in the rest of the galaxy, rest of the universe, and not want to come back to her.  He understood her fear.  How many times had he talked about blowing up her planet before returning to the cosmos to dominate them as King?  Now… now, it was different.  He couldn’t care less about the cosmos.  He didn’t want to be out in the cosmos…  He wanted to be here with her.  He wasn’t just coming back to fight the Androids.  He was coming back to his Wife and their future child.

KNOCK.  KNOCK.

Judging by the timidness, it was, “Bulma, Vegeta, the ship’s ready whenever you are,” the Father.

The old man new it had to be him to come and get them.  He was the only one, Vegeta was fairly certain now, that knew what it meant to leave his family for important work for an unknown amount of time. There was only one guarantee:  he would come home to them.  But that didn’t make leaving them in the first place any less painful.

Bulma sniffed as she pulled away from him, wiping her tears from her eyelashes.

“I’m sor-sorry.  I-I messed up-up your new s-suit.”  She kept sniffing.

“I want to smell like you for as long as possible.”

She finally looked up at him.  Her eyes wide with shock.  He took in those sapphire jewels the absolutely beguiled him every time he saw them. Then she smiled and began to laugh. His heart skipped beats at the beautiful sound, one of his private joys in life… that and her outrageous vulgarity during their lovemaking.

“So do I,” she giggled.

He smiled and took her hand in his.  He brought it to his heart and held it there.  Her smile died as she stared at their joined hands.

“I’m coming back. But first… I must go.”

She nodded.  Turned. And led him by the hand to the door. He admired her bravery… she had more courage in this moment than he.

*                      *                      *

He wanted to curse the dawn.  Stepping closer and closer to the ship, he wanted to curse the brightening skylight behind it.  Every step carried him farther away from her even though he held her hand as she walked beside him.

He glared at the ship.  He didn’t want to leave her, but… but… she… he scowled, she was right.  If he stayed, he would be too distracted by his mate bearing his child to continue his training properly even more than it already was.  He had to leave her.  But not for long!  He had no idea how he was going to handle the next three months.  He’d… he’d be alone again.  He looked at the ship, but wasn’t seeing it.  All he could see was a small space pod.  Himself reflected in it’s bulbous glass.  Sitting there with his arms crossed over his chest.  A scouter on his ear.  The calm and easy look of knowing he was moving on to the next planet to be ‘cleared’ for resale.  Yes, always Nappa and usually Radditz were in similar pods traveling beside his own, but still, he had been completely alone.  His stomach clenched viciously.  He gritted his teeth and forced the bile back down.  Was he prepared to go back into that again?

As if she could read his mind, Bulma gave their joined hands a little squeeze.  He felt the gentle low burn of her ki… and the bright spark of ki inside her that was their child.  Yes, his jaw set as he stared down the ship, yes, he would go back to Hell for them.

He led past her unusually quiet parents to the bottom of the ship’s ramp.  He turned to her, his Wife.  But before he could even say a thing, her arms were around his neck again.  Her body was trembling against his.  Bulma squeezed her eyes shut as if that would somehow stop him from leaving as if doing that over and over would prevent any of all these bad things from happening. She just wanted some moment of peace where he would stay and they could be a happy little family and maybe an Earth wedding to go with their Saiyan one…  And maybe another child.  They had said that they both wanted more.  But… the Androids.  The Androids had to be dealt with first although, she’d never tell him, but what if they killed him?  That Earth wedding would never happen.  That second child would never happen.  No, he needed this.  He needed this to become a Super Saiyan.  He needed this so that they could have all that.  She hugged him tighter.  She felt strong masculine arms, the same arms that had wrapped around her morning, noon, and night for weeks wrap around her once more…  He’s shaking?!  Why is he shaking?  Is he—

“Bulma,” his voice was stern like she was used to, but shaky, which she wasn’t; it scared her, “If… If that stupid boy from the future screwed everything up and the Androids show up early, if they… if they show up before I’m back,” his voice cracked and he paused, taking the moment to compose himself.  In the silence, she realized he was voicing his worst fear in all this.  That he was making a huge mistake with disastrous consequences.  Screwing up, losing everything he ever loved, that was the greatest things to ever grace his pathetic, fucked up life.  That the Androids would show up.  That she and the baby would… would…  “If those stupid, fucking tin cans show up before I’m back,” he gritted, “your Father has a second ship.  I want you to get your parents and that stupid cat and all your friends into that ship and go to New Namek.  Do you understand me?  You get everyone and go to New Namek.”

“Vegeta…”

He grabbed her arms and yanked her back so he could get a good look at her face. “Bulma, promise me.”

“Vegeta…”

“Promise me!”  He screamed in her face.

She gaped. Terrified.  She’d never seen him look so terrified.  Not even when he sensed Frieza coming to Earth.  This was… so important…  “Yes, Vegeta.  I promise.”

“All of them.  Especially Dende and Popo.  Without them, there’s no hope of getting the dragon balls back.”

She nodded.  He’d said their names, their actual names.  Oh Kami, he is fucking terrified to leave. She nodded more emphatically, “I will, Vegeta, I will.”

“When I enter the system, I will search for your ki.  If I don’t sense it, I will meet you on New Namek.”

She nodded again.  He had a plan.  When did he come up with a plan?

Suddenly he cupped her cheek.  He was so gentle.  She reached out and cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb softly over his skin.  He wanted to kiss, she wanted him to kiss her, but he knew if he did…  He leaned in… then tilted his chin up… and pressed his lips to her forehead.  She closed her eyes and took the feel on his lips on her skin, memorizing it, committing it to memory.  He pulled away.  Turned. And began walking up the ramp into the ship.  As soon as the first bootstep, Bulma turned and began walking back to the house.

Vegeta surprised himself by reaching the top of the ramp.  And surprised himself again by entering the ship.  He didn’t surprise himself when he refused to look back and blindly shut the ships door behind him before he ever thought of turning around to face it.  She, she and their child, were on the other side of this door.  He held onto it’s locking mechanism for a long moment, numb to the hum of the ship waiting for his commands, numb to everything except the pain of realizing that he was leaving her, leaving them behind.  He concentrated on her ki and found her just entering the house.  Good, good Woman.  She knew if he caught even a glimpse of her distress other than just sensing it through her ki that he would disembark this stupid vessel and return to her in an instant.  She had to hide herself, had to.  He locked the door.  Sealing himself inside.  He turned again and headed for the pilot’s seat and the vessel’s command controls.

He remembered the first time he’d seen this part of the ship.  After she’d brought him to Earth as her houseguest. He smiled to himself, Vulgar woman.  His smile shifted into a grin as he sat down.  Oh, at first he’d promised not to do anything naughty to her, but now… he chuckled, naughty was all he did to her.  Vegeta reached out and began plotting in destination coordinates, seeing as how the Father had already had the ship warming up.  Vegeta frowned as his gloved fingers pressed buttons.  He still wasn’t entirely sure where the Hell he was going. All he knew was that it wasn’t here. Well, he would at least begin by plotting a course that would get him out of the solar system.  That would be a good start.  Then…  Then… His frowned deepened.  Well, he’d get to the next step after completing the first.  The coordinates were laid in.  He sensed her in their room now.  She was avoiding her balcony, avoiding that whole side of the room.  Good Woman.  He began the launch sequence.  

“Launch sequence initiated.”  Somehow, this time, he didn’t find the computer’s feminine voice comforting. “Launch in ten.  Nine.  Eight…”

Vegeta sat back in his chair.  His whole boy was tense.  It was unusual for him to be traveling without having to be in stasis.  The first time he’d done this, trying to find Kakkarot after the fool survived but didn’t return to Earth, the going-without-stasis thing hadn’t bothered him at all.  He found the whole situation freeing.  It showed him that he really was free of Freiza.  This time, he’d rather be in stasis.

“Four. Three.  Two.  One.”

The ship lifted up.  Smoothly. Flawlessly.  He smiled bitterly.  That was her handiwork.  She and her Father had made absolutely sure that everything about this vessel would be in perfect working condition for him. Better than working condition. She wouldn’t let him go unless it met her meticulous standards.

He watched her parents grow smaller…  He watched the yard of Capsule Corp grow smaller… Capsule Corp grow smaller… the city grow smaller… the region… landmass… planet.  He was away.  Away from her for the first time since they had become mates.  In minutes, the ship was approaching the system’s asteroid belt. The ship’s own defense protocols activated and it dodged and wove it’s way through easily.  Again, another gift from her to him.  The ship could travel and he could train.  My Woman, he wished she were here with him but he’d never dare bring their child out into space unless he had to.  If anyone, anyone, found out that he had an offspring and a mate, neither would be safe; he’d done too much under Freiza’s orders and just as much not under the lizard’s orders.  He approached another planet.  He kept silent.  Then another. Then another.  Another.  And finally the last.  He had done it.  He was clear of the solar system.  So what now?...  Well, when he’d been searching for Kakkarot, he’d began by going to the nearest trading planet and asked questions at the landing areas about if any one had seen another Saiyan or had heard of one.  Vegeta laid in the new coordinates.  This time he wouldn’t be asking about another Saiyan.  This time he’d be asking around for a good place to train.  A good place to fight.  To push him to the limits.  Shouldn’t be too hard.  There plenty of people who wanted to kill him.  The more difficult matter would be finding the few who didn’t…  And making them regret that decision—No, no, if he was to succeed in becoming the Legendary Super Saiyan, he couldn’t make enemies everywhere he went.  He’d have to… He has to go beyond what he would normally do, how he would normally act.  He had a mate now and a child on the way, picking a fight all the time would satisfy his own wants and needs but not theirs.  No, no extra enemies.  Extra informants.  That was what he needed!  Extra informants.  Vegeta pushed a button and his ship sped away from his Wife’s system.  He swallowed down yet another acidic threat of bile, What am I going to do tonight?  How will I sleep without her?

*         ��            *                      *

She’d waited.  Bulma’d waited.  She returned to their room, broke out her laptop, brought up the program that tracked his ship as long as it was within range, and waited.  The engines had roared, but nowhere near as loud as her heart in her own ears.  He was leaving.  The ground shook and for a moment she feared that it would give out beneath her; she certainly felt like her legs were going to.  Bulma stared at the monitor, watching the tiny blip that was his ship reach all the necessary landmarks on its way out of the solar system.  Each one twisting her heart a little then a little bit more.  He was getting farther and farther away from her.  Her eyes started to sting.  She sniffed and still smelled their lovemaking filling the air.  She grabbed her heart.  He’d just past Neptune…  No.  Her eyes burned.  Uranus. No.  Pluto. No.  No. The blip stalled for a moment… Her vision watered.  Then it was gone.  He was gone.

“NNNOOOOOOO!!!!!”  Bulma dropped to her knees.  Pitched forward.  Her forehead hit her soft carpet and she sobbed.  Wailing with grief.  He was gone.