#used for all hes worth and then thrown away once he cant work anymore

[oneday-yourside]

Harry's world/Bad end

Inspired by Christina's world by Andrew Wyeth

[low-budget-korra]

Lets talk about Korra (again)

i already made this analysis, and it was well received but i dont know, i wanna do it again. Why not right? My english is better now than was when i made that analysis so i think  this one will be better written

What a way to introduce a protagonist. This line and this scene tell us everything we need to know about Korra at that time and everything she knew about herself.

In book one Korra is a 17′s old teenager who have no idea how the world, how life is outside the training center she grew up in and had been locked up since ever. So she is not only naive but have lack of social skills

Oh, and not everyone who lack’s social skills will act like Zuko and Azula okay? Korra can be confident, expressive and outgoing and still have problems when it comes to social skills.One thing dont exclude the other.

“I’m the Avatar and you gotta deal with it” did you guys notice that only for that line we can see the entire opposite on how she treat her role as avatar in comparisson with Aang? And im not here to judge because is two very different contexts.

As far as we know, Korra grew up without friends or romantic partners. Of course, she had her training partners but i believe that they are just that. 

So her entarely perception of herself was around her duty as Avatar, she didnt have personal life, she barely was Korra...She was The avatar and thats that.

So she came to Republic City, it was a mess. 

Its funny to see that she have no touch when it comes to simply talk to people, i guess when you grew up away from society, this happens. And yes, she is cocky and had to learn that people arent there to somewhat please her, and she learned that quicky. 

Thats why the Pro Bending was important for her character, not only for training but also as means of socilization.

Now lets talk about the villains: Amon and Tarrlok

The two of them represents two differents threats to Korra. Amon represents a threat to her duty as Avatar while Tarrlok represents a threat to Korra as a person.

In episode 4 we have what i still thinks is the darker episode from TLOK. In this episode Amon ambushes Korra in the final moments... Even knowing that they did their best to make Amon’s power and control be non-sexualized as possible still...He have her down on her knews, totally helpless and he even invades Korra’s personal space by touching in her face forcing her to look at him. He didn't have to sexually touch her to violate her.

And right after, the fear in Tenzin voice when asking what happened after seeing her laying in the ground like that, and how Korra is sobing in his arms teeling him how powerless and helpless she felt. I mean...Oh, and she keeps terryfied by him until he takes her bending.

Tarrlok in the  other hand doesnt do much different from his brother and started to harass Korra because he cant take ‘no’ as a answer when Korra didnt wanted to join his task force.

Whats interesting is that if it wasnt for Tarrlok harassement and maniputation, Korra wouldnt have joined his task force and wouldnt have confronted Amon and wouldn't have gone through that terrible encounter.

The thing is that Korra is caught right in the middle of a politcal power dispute over the city, something that she for sure wasnt prepare for it. And both Amon and Tarrlok woud hurt or kill her without think twice about it if that means gain  power. And that was exacly what happened

Tarrlok tried to manipulate her and keep her on leash where he could, and when his tatics didnt worked anymore he alreay had a plan B. Yes that whole metal box in that cabin in the middle of nowhere was made especifically for her and maybe Tenzin if he also get in his way.

In the end Korra lost the physical battle against both but won the ethical battle also against both. She was the responsable for expose both of them as corrupted and hypocrites. But at what price? Amon was able to remove the bends of the Avatar. And without them, how could she be the Avatar?

Remember that her entirely conception of herself was built around her duty as Avatar, be the avatar. After all, everything she was, everything she'd trained so hard for, had been destroyed in minutes. Thats why i still strongly believe that she was thinking about killing herself at the end, nobodys goes all sad and crying to in front of a clifft without thinking about jumping from it. 

But she, i think given up the idea and just sit and started to crying when Aang appeared and help her, giving her bendings back in one of the best scenes of the show. So after have everything solve and still managed to get the boy she was in love with, things where great and she “move on”

In that first half, Korra is unbearable. Everything she learned in Book 1 how to be more mature, less spoiled and all, was thrown in the trash and she was the same "child" of the book one only worse.

Until I stopped and realized that I was also unbearable and childish like this when I had my bad phases of anxiety and depression, as defense mechanism and keep people away. Returning to Korra, and if this way of acting of her was nothing more than this defense mechanism?

Because guess what, i dont think she “move on” from all that happened in Book One that fast, and for add more drama she discovered that was her father idea of keeping her locked up training in that training center we saw in book one and not traveling like avatars before her. No wonder she felt betrayed. And for adding even more drama, people still keep treating her like child, so she was despered for some validation. Something that she found in her uncles arms but she was betrayed by him after.

In the end, Korra again goes through a traumatic experience when she has her connection with past lives destroyed. We see how it affected her when she apologizes to Tenzin, through tears. And Tenzin, as the excellent master he is, tries to motivate her to face Vaatu again (now merged with Unalaq, her uncle) and again she saves the day even after go throught a traumatic event

In the final moments, we see the innocent decision to reconnect the world of spirits and the world of men. And we also see Korra and Mako permanently end their turbulent relationship.

Book 3 begins in a more mature, we see all the characters being presented in a more mature way and it seems that Korra now has overcome everything that has passed. We have the relationship between Korra and Asami deepening as well

In Book 3, called "Change" we have a great sacrifice from Korra. Her life goes down a notch when she decides to save the new airbenders from Zaheer and the Red Lotus, the only villain until now that really threat her life since their sole goal was to kill the avatar.

Korra won again but this time victory costed way too much. Yes she save the day again but now she was  physically and psychologically defeated. It was too much, she broke.

Book 4 begins and we only saw Korra in the final minutes and she is unrecognizable. We see that, once proud and courageous avatar, in someone depressed and cowerd. We never have saw Korra like that, even when she was afraid of Amon she wasnt like that.

Korra is afraid of being the Avatar again and her fight against PTSD is still one of the most sensitive, responsable and honest representation of Mentall Issues that i saw, and it was before this subject gain more space on media. It was before people started to give attention to this

I also think that she was having flashs from her other fights and not only the one against Zaheer.

Another thing I think is worth mention is that Korra took 3 years to feel safer and re-embrace her duties as Avatar. It was not 3 weeks or 3 months, it was 3 years. And anyone who suffers from some mental illness knows very well the stigma that is, the fight that is, because everyone wants you to be well faster as possible  when the truth is that many times you spend years fighting against this.  And this is a pressure that falls on you.Imagine, seeing all your friends moving forward while you continue "stock in the same place"?

Only after Korra confronts Zaheer, I think that was a way to show her coping with the trauma, she improves to the point of returning to be the great Avatar we know. I personally still struggles with this scene because put the victim in front of her agressor may not be the best idea but i understand that she needed to see that he was just a man and not the invencible monster her mind was telling her

One of the lines that stuck with me the most was in the TLOK version of the ember island players, the one that made a recap of the show before the finale. When Korra said “I was so naive” just before we watch her narration of her journey, we can feel pain, sadness and strenght. Janet was amazing in the way the delivered this line.

And this fucking quote i saw here on tumblr still is the goat: “The Last Airbender is a story of a boy who becomes a god. The Legend of Korra is the story of a goddess who becomes a girl "

And I still get really pissed when someone comes to talk shit about  Korra because she is such an incredible heroine and her journey is also so incredible.

The story of how life can be hard and unfair, how it can hurt and paralyze, but there is always a reason to move on. We should always move on.

Korra is definitely not weak, quite the opposite, she is one of the if not the strongest heroine I have ever seen. Korra inspires overcoming 

[monchesi]

jim is back w another one...... same goes same goes fr this special liddol muse o mine here... like if u wld like to plot or simply msg me on discord (jimb#4863) n we will get it poppin (pinterest) also frgive me this is gna be more of a blurb type intro than anything i cnt focus atm bt im trying to get something out there in a timely manner

* amanda campana, nonbinary + she/they  |  you know monserrat marchesi, right? they’re twenty, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, six years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to underneath it all by no doubt like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole drunk walk home, low rise jeans, pounding headache that starts to feel good once you get used to it thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is december 11th, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

mon has been alone fr as far back as she can remember (bt thts questionable now considering her memory has been gnawed down to the marrow by extensive and continuous use of ecstasy)

(tw abuse) wht she can briefly recollect is tht shes been on the streets since she was 16 n life before tht was desolate n sad. other than tht vague recap.... shes wiped her mind of being physically n verbally abused by her stepdad in a teeny tiny apartment in florida fr several yrs (since she was an infant) n all throughout it was never defended by her mom. in fact in her preteens her mom decided to jump in on it out of a warped jealousy she developed over the years in which she felt her husband was paying more attention to treating her daughter like garbage instead of her so she jst.... began including herself in the mistreatment mon was getting n basically verbally harassing her every day after school....... it worked in terms of forming a bond between her parents in a sick n worrying way bt was so so so crippling n horrible to mon

so wht really matters is whts in the present. dont even think abt learning much of her backstory because she cant recall any of her childhood except for those small granules tht lead to nowhere / provide no better understanding of who she is today n just send her spiraling since none of it makes any sense anymore. i think the one moment she will never b able to erase frm her mind however is when he (stepdad) smashed his cigarette into her mac n cheese n told her to eat it. she just sat and stared at it and cried

(tw homelessness) mon doesnt even remember running away. she mightve been dropped off fr all she knows.... cant pin any of her memories of going to school as a kid down even..... has kind of been an unidentifiable blip on the map since becoming homeless

tht being said... without a parent or guardian shes been fending fr herself n was a street rat fr such a long time. doesnt hav a drivers license or a ssn or even any form of ID. no credit card or debit card. knows her name n date of birth n buys flip phones frm the grocery store to keep in contact w people xx pays in all cash n coins xoxo

jump to now.... mon is technically homeless bt is content. lives on the beach n is more than happy with it. sometimes just sleeps on the sand bt has a trailer parked underneath a dock thts been getting threatened to be removed fr months now (she dsnt care). its decorated with all types of lights that shes found thrown out or at the thrift store n it glows so bright u can see the neon colors thru the boards of the dock above it. has lawn chairs in frnt of the door n a big cartoonish padlock on the door. she wears the key arnd her neck

(tw affair mention) personality wise shes vry naive n playful. part of this is the E bt a lot of it is wanting to feel like life is worth living even in the rough parts — shes found tht tht aspect of her can also be misconstrued as carefree n has gotten mingled with a handful (or three) of men tht take advantage of her untroubled nature to forget all of their responsibilities. at the moment she has an ongoing affair w a married man named hank who helps her stay on her feet by giving her money every month or two in an envelope with a big wax stamp on it. its nothing major bt it helps

(tw sexual content + drug use) mon kind of has a reputation bt i dont think shes aware of it. im sure a lot of locals bully her or pick on her fr it behind her back.... they kind of mistake her for a bit of a nymphomaniac bt she doesnt consider it tht way at all. things jst spun out of control the more n more she was using E (and other similar drugs) to get by n now being reliant on it she just gives in to urges n will sleep w just abt anyone. it turns out fine most of the time bt sometimes she just crashes on the way to their place n becomes this vacant girl tht doesnt speak or do much of anything. in one of these instances she n some dude were abt to hookup bt she crashed on the way to his apartment n he pulled ovr n pushed her out of the passengers seat onto the sidewalk. she jst laid there until the morning w her heels kicked off n scrapes all over her elbows n knees

so shes known fr many of these instances.... security guards finding her sprawled out on the asphalt of a parking lot or at the bottom of a staircase of a motel she doesnt know. its rly depressing

ANYWAY........ moving on from this sad sad sad stuff.... mon is notably a lovebug shes vry sweet n kind n she works shifts at fannies every two weeks or so / whenever ppl call out. she loves ppl she loves partying n dancing n she is fun. has no defined sexuality n questions gender a lot so considers herself nonbinary bt uses she/her/they/them. a bit odd and kind of unaware of wht is appropriate n what isnt (several instances of wearing bikinis n a pair of sneakers to shop for a loaf of bread n some lemonade) bt she means well

has a black kitten named shanks tht she litchrally considers her child. takes better care of him than she takes of herself n brings him places cradled in her arms like a baby

anywho..... i rly recommend checking out mons pinterest tht i linked up there i feel like mayb having visuals of the vibe will help piece together her personality xoxoxo

anyway..... give me ALL the plots ANY plot u cld ever want i will hand to u in a matter of seconds the writing will just manifest at my will..... i still have a lot of things to figure out with mon bt i love her n i hope u all will too

[thanidiel]

Prompt Four: “Clinch”

CW: Hanging, execution.

An education is a foundation.

And in that, she knew that in spite of the turns’ worth of learnings that she has consumed as much as they seared back, that true knowledge had not been gifted to her yet.

Everything, so far, was thrown about to flit around her mind unanchored. It provided the distinct sense of someone high and mighty tossing about koban or butcher scraps onto the earth, curious to distill men to their natures in one apathetic swoop.

There was no end goal professed, no purpose.

She shaped foreign languages from a deliberate mouth and under a controlled hand without exercise. The sprawl of hundreds of works of calligraphy were never seen again after she had produced them. Recitations were insisted again and again without analysis of the source at all. And when suns came in which they moved from beyond the tranquility of Geigu’s small room, she was made to dance to no narrative, sing to no audience. When she was challenged to recall the exact movements of a stranger from a sennight ago, or to report a muffled conversation that leaked just barely through dozens upon dozens of fulms of hallway, she was nodded to without commentary. Ceremonies were performed with no one to partake, over and over.

All lessons; landing vacantly and without meaning. Given to her to play with or use as she felt she needed.

And then one evening she was touched.

Often, another would manipulate her body. Ceaselessly, endlessly, infinitely. To dress or undress her, pull her to one room or another position, pin gold-encrusted jewels and stone to her form or neatly remove the headache-inducing weights.

She was a doll, afterall.

But in this a clause, that she did not know existed, found itself violated.

Of course, when a law is broken by the unknowing, enlightenment wraps itself against the breast of punishment.

The man was a kitchen-hire, she overheard at some point in all of the flurry and setup.

He had tried to push her against the walls of the corridors in her passing, to touch her hip underneath layers of silk. Dimly as she warded herself, she developed cognisance of the vexations of her Elder Sisters. Their lacking disinterests in even crossing paths with another who was not their own nor patron.

Okimoto had ripped him off of her in the space between instances.

And now they were here.

In the red room.

The bloodlight radiating nothing but its hue, the expanse of the room so barren and chilling that she always expects her breathes to puff out visible in front of her. Like it did in the mountains to the breath of a girl she didn’t know anymore, in the village of yellow dust and thick snows.

It never does.

She does her best to not shiver, to control herself with the exactness demanded of her. No twinge allowed of her muscles, no itch at her lip or the way a pin in her hair pricks at the head underneath. She must be as stony as the Lady Chinatsu, this she knew without instruction. To be stoic from where she sits upon folded knees below the old matron.

Most of all, she must not look at Lady Chinatsu nor possess the urge at any point.

To look was to doubt Judgement.

Instead, she fixes on the details of her partner in crime: his fore nearly one with the black wood below.

He had to be two decades older than her measly sixteen Heavensturns, from what she saw earlier in the bulbous shape of his bones beneath worn skin starting to stretch.

And, evidently, he is possibly as poor as she was when she crossed the Ruby Sea. Like he could not afford the layered attire of even everyday persons, as what he has is of the cheapest dyes, and looks used and tugged to its limits. Like it had passed owners of multiple shapes and sizes before coming to him.

She counts stitches as Chinatsu verdicts and enforces.

Two crimes were perpetuated and both would be resolved tonight, even as the Lady of the Teahouse only shares one aloud.

This man had committed the crime of rudely treating her property, and thus insulting her.

‘Chitora’ as she had named the youth, had committed the crime of not knowing better.

One will provide reparations and the other will amend their individual failure.

“...it will be left to my Daughter to determine the best way you can make up for your rudeness.”

Here is where Xiaohu ‘Chitora’ tunes back to it all, with the new clutch of the familial referral. In its aftermath, a reminder of the force that Chinatsu enjoyed concluding all of her lawmaking with - the pale flare of the raking scar underneath her hair.

It is this particular moment, and all that it inspires, that she feels what is solid and sound underneath her.

This is her lesson.

This is her education.

The subtext, the want, the expectation, the demand, does not escape her. She has been prepared for this. This is the foundation that carries the Heavens that had been shared with her, brought to her by the materialisation of a Black Mist in a golden room. She has her answers now.

Her Mandate is not only to serve, but to rule.

She is to serve Lady Chinatsu, serve Tsukumogami, serve the Black Mist. But she is to rule all those outside of this, and thus naturally below and lesser. To not permit these offenses, to not have needed Chinatsu to control this affair in her stead. 

She is to be cruel. Cruel as to obliterate not only the insult of someone daring to offend, but also end any, and all, future possibilities before they can even be born within the minds of a thousand others.

Something about this causes what she knows to be fear to coil and slither through her belly, as though it wishes to rupture free. Different, from the aching Destiny and desire that had allured, allures, her to Tsukumogami and all of Their machinations.

Perhaps it is because she both knows and doesn’t know at all, what is needed here.

A test, a trial; her lesson.

She is expected to punish.

And so she is silent, and thoughtful, and above all, she does not look back towards the ancient moon looming over her, casting radiance that burns into her spine and shoulders.

She does not doubt Judgement.

But she does doubt herself.

She doubts that someone so young as herself can accurately perform this affair. She doubts that she will be evenhanded enough as much as she doubts she will be harsh enough, soft enough. She doubts she can go through with the minimal result she needed to walk away with.

Her mouth is unmoving. No shift of her lips; no grind of her teeth; no drag of her tongue. Stagnant, and dryer than ever before. Dryer than she thinks it would feel like even if she orders the man thrown out to die in a desert faraway.

Fear whispers to her like a witch’s cant, inserting its imagery into her imagination/prophecy. If she refused, if she was too light, how long? How long until she is thrown away? Would they simply toss her away? Besmirched and tainted, unable to thrive anywhere else than their arms? Or would they end it more quickly than that? If she refused; if she were useless in spite of all of their wants and investment, into what they thought she could become?

In this way, it has all become a matter of survival.

That is the consequence of her failure.

Her silence is too long.

Indecision is also a weakness, unfitting of this new understanding.

So she acts now, with a grandiose sigh. A theatrical gesture that Geigu had passed to her; a way of showing casualness, filling another with the insignificance of their conversation. Lets it open and relax her ribs and her squirming insides, twist along with her tongue and give her words the power of breathlessness.

“If it is in his like to be unable to keep his hands to himself, then he should feel what it is like to be powerless to help himself with them.”

Here is where she intakes the smallest amount of air, to allow the last of her words to flick off of sharp wind - provide the feeling of dismissal, the shutting window.

“I want him hanged.”

The moon raises her hand; approval and assent all at once in the dark shadow cutting the crimson lanternlight.

“Have it be done.”

Unnervingly, everything occurs shortly, smoothly. Like she had asked for something casual and everyday. The gravity of Chinatsu’s aether stealing all ability to scream and protest, as others used abilities beyond her to leap fulms up to the rafters and swing about rope that had to be half her weight in ponze… quiet. Normalised. As though they were all preparing a bowl of noodles from the streetside for her.

She feels so weightless that she might as well be the one destined to swing, if it were not for her concentration, her grounding. The repetitive and cyclical reminder that this is the foundation they had set out for her to learn all along. This is the foundation, and she had not gambled and guessed on this success like it felt. She was chosen for a reason, afterall.

So there is no fear, no need for fear with everything said and done.

There is only the feeling that she is adrift at ocean, holding on the sanctuary of debris beneath her belly, as the minutes tick by. An intimate, intensive, awareness of the wheezing filling the room, his fingers chipping nail and fleshsmears against rope fibers until they do not.

When it all stops, she raises her chin.

The body still sways from the force of a life that had wanted to be.

A detail catches her eye: the clinch of the rope butting snug, almost nuzzling, against the round jut of bone behind a bowed neck.

It is the most well-fitted thing the man has ever worn.

[diamondcamefromhell]

Jaskier x Fem!Reader

I need more Jaskier in my life and it's late and I cant find anything here so here you all go. Jaskier x Female Reader. My first ever imagine (how do you call these) to hit tumblr. It's like 1am and I wrote it real fast but I love Jaskier so it's worth it.

[ PART TWO ]

Summary: Y/N works at an inn, serving ale and cleaning barf and piss, when she meets Jaskier and Geralt and things change.

Warnings: Swearing, other than that, none.

Word count: 1,846

Needless to say, I tought if I heard ‘Toss a coin to your Witcher' one more time, I would break down. This song spread like wildfire and I don’t even know how it happened, I was minding my own buisiness – serving up ale and then a group of men came in singing it. Acording to them they heard it on the road. Now entire town sings it.

Even I catch myself humming it when I am cleaning spilled ale off the tables. However this time, when I was cleaning barf of the ground I heard a lute play the melody I could have recognized in my sleep.

That fucking song again.

I turn around, ready to cuss out whoever dares to play it, but I don’t recognize the man, if you can call him that, before me.

I can tell he's a bard, wearing pale blue matching set, hugging his lute. The top is unbuttoned just enough for chest hair to peep through. His hair is neatly brushed, his grey eyes scanning the crowd.

Until they meet mine and my heart stops as a bard smirks at me, continuening the song. I hear someone yell ‘the Witcher' and only then I notice a giant behind the singer.

White hair, yellow eyes. I could see his swords from here, who needs two of them anyways? He was dressed in all in black, weirdly contrasting the bard.

The song ends and men cheer, but the bard keeps his eyes on me, bravely approaching.

“Beaware of the barf.” I point out, as his eyes drop to the ground and he giggles.

“A lady like yourself, cleaning vomit of the floor? You should have knights lining up to bewed you.” He extends his arm, and I give mine, he gracefully places his lips on top. “I’m Jaskier, the great bard travelling with Geralt of Rivia himself.”

“Y/N. Just a woman serving up ale.” Jaskier smiles at my words.

“May I serve ale for Lady Y/N?” Not sure how to respond I rest the mop on the side of the table, allowing the bard guide me to a different one.

I have to admit, I was never treated so nicely. Many drunken men try to impress me, but then again, they go for anyone who looks like a woman. I sit down as bard rushes to the bar, I cant hear what he says to the Witcher but he looks annoyed.

Moments later Jaskier places ale in front of me, siting next to me, but not too close. I sip the drink, but Jaskier doesn’t take his eyes off me.

“You beauty is worth a song.” I blush, flattered by the compliment.

“Hopefully not as annoying as the Witcher one.” I tease him, looking at Geralt, seemingly annoyed at the world and chuging his ale.

“You do not like my song?” Bard sounds offended so I look at him, smiling.

“Not when I have to listen to it all the time. Drunken men don’t sound the best.” He frowns, glancing around the room. “You sounded great. What are you doing here, anyways?”

“Stopped for a break. Roach needs to rest too.” Now I am the one that frowns.

“Roach?” I ask and bard laughs. My heart skips a beat.

“Geralt's horse.” Jaskier winks at me. “I would advice not touching her. Or even looking at her.”

“Got it, Witcher likes his horse.” Bard smiles, gulping his ale. There is something behind his eyes I can't quite read.

“You seem sad.” I decide eventually and he looks surprised.

“What do you mean, Y/N?” he gives me his most genuine smile. Before I can speak, I hear someone shout.

“Aye, Y/N, care to bring us some ale? We working men don’t have all day so sit around and wait for you to finish flirting. We pay good coin, so do your fucking job.” My cheeks flush red.

I stutter something to Jaskier, standing up and rushing to the bar, where the bartender is already preparing the ale. I see Witcher staring at me, but I ignore that, bringing the ale to the angry men.

“Next time, you will get to work free of your coin.” One of them hisses at me. He's clearly drunk. “And clean that vomit, woman!”

I grit my teeth but feel tears prick my eyes. ‘Fuck this’, I think, still rushing to the mop. I don’t notice a shadow looming over me until Geralt lands his hand on the table near me. I see anxious bard behind him.

“I thought maybe Geralt could help.” I hear the bard say but my eyes stay on the vomit.

“Witchers kill monsters, not men.” I glance at Geralt who hmms at my words. “Besides they’re right. It’s a shitty job, but I get my coin. I get to eat and sleep because of it.”

“You are far to beautiful to be bound to a place like this.” Bard argues, but I cant look at him. I’m ashamed. “You need a garden, not a mud pit.”

“Beauty doesn’t pay for bread, I am afraid.” I hear men grunt behind me, getting annoyed again. “Thank you for the offer. I must continue working now.”

I can barely turn around to face the inn again before in keepers angry voice fills the room.

“You wont get coin for today, you lazy bitch.” I stop in my tracks. I hear Geralt grunt behind me, and bard uttering something.

“That's not fair." Jaskier then steps next to me, holding onto his lute as if it’s a shield. “Lady Y/N can have a little chat if she wishes to do so.”

“She's barely a lady, look at her.” Men scoff, and bar fills with laughter. I feel sick.

“I have looked at her and she strikes me as a Lady, true noblewoman.” The bar fills with laughter once again and I take a step back.

“Listen bard, if you want her, take her. She's useless as is, she can barely clean up shit, what else she’s good for?” My cheeks set ablaze as I take one more step back before I bump into, what I can only guess, is Geralt.

I manage to apolgize, rushing around him running out of the inn. Once outside, a horse neighs and I stop in my tracks, looking at what I guess is Roach. The horse I was strongly advised to ignore.

I still step closer to her. A brown beauty, looking healthy and well fed. I have my own horse, black as the night, the only other being I ever cared about. My only escape from piss and ale. I undersand why Geralt prefers if nobody touches his horse. I feel the same about Sky.

The horse neighs again, but before I can do much else the inn doors fly open. And I mean fly, the whole thing drops to the street. To my surprise, Roach doesn’t seem bothered, like she's used to it.

I see a drunk man on top of the door, realizing that he was probably thrown at it. I see pale blue figure approach me and a anxious bard grabs my hand.

“We need to go, Geralt will be fine.” I glance at Roach, but bard drags me away. “Horse will be fine too.”

“I need to get Sky! My horse.” Jaskier grunts but stops, I hang onto his palm tighter, rushing around the inn, where my black stallion is waiting for me. “Come here boy, let's go for a run.”

I climb on the horse, extending my arm to the bard, who lands behind me, wrapping his hands around my waist.

Adrenaline rushes through my body as I hurry Sky into the forest, out of town. Jaskier orders me to stop and I see an old campsite. I guess Geralt will find us here. I jump off the horse as does Jaskier. I look at him as he laughs.

“This will make a great song. A damsel in distress.” I roll my eyes at this, petting Sky. My heart feels like it’s about to burst. “I am so sorry you had to pull up with that, Y/N.”

“You rescued me.” I wink at the bard, making him blush. “My knight in shining armour.”

“How could I not.” He steps closer to me, extending his arms. I rush in for a hug, and a surprising relief of tears washes over me. I sob as the bard rubs my back.

I hear neighing and a thump, followed by an angry grunt. Geralt. I pull away from Jaskier, looking at the Witcher, who was staring at us.

“Thank you.” I say, wiping tears away. His expression softens a little, but when he looks at Jaskier, he seems to grow angry again.

“If it weren’t for this bard trying to be a bigger man, there would have been no fight, he was going to lose if I didn’t step in.” Jaskier protests but Geralt just turns away to pet Roach. I look at this duo, this weird bond between them.

As annoyed as Geralt acts, he did save his friend. And he approached me to help me, even if the bard annoyed him to do so.

I wish I could have a friend like that.

“Y/N?” Jaskier pulls me out of my mind and I look at the bard, who still seems sad.

“Jaskier.” I respond and he grabs my hand. I feel a chill of something rush down my spine. I don’t want him to let go.

“You could stay with us a little. Until you figure out what to do.” He speaks fast, clearly anxious. I can see Witcher is listening, even if he pretends he has no interest. “Free of your coin. Roach could have a friend too.”

“Hmm.” An annoyed one is all I get from Geralt who is now eyeing down Sky.

“I don’t want to trouble you anymore.” I say, praying he argues with me and asks me to stay again. And so he does.

“Oh such a lady traveling with us would never trouble us, right Geralt?” This time there’s only silence. Jaskier squeezes my hand tighter. “Please.”

“Only for a little while.” I give in, my heart fluttering in my chest, butterflies in my stomach. The sadness in bards eyes also seems to go away.

Then I get it. He was lonely. From his Witcher song, and I bet many other ballads I will hear, he truly cares for Geralt. They are best friends and companions. But this pale blue dressed boy needs constant love and appreciation to feel fully complete. For better or worse, Gerlant cant provide that.

I squeeze his hand back and he beams at me, until he lets go and pulls out a lute, strining a melody and already singing a song.

I see Geralt going to Sky, allowing him to sniff his hand. My horse neighs and I see Geralt smile a little.

I guess I now know the two people from the ballad I hated so much. And they are the best ones I have ever met.

PART TWO

PART THREE

[remmiesaloser]

13 Years | 4 Weeks

honestly, I dont know which of the two have been longer in my life. 

so recently I ended a 13 year long relationship with the guy I've been dating since my freshman year of high school. it took me this long to understand, acknowledge, and accept the relationship was emotionally (and borderline physically) abusive and thanks two my two best friends and a very nice therapist I asked him to move out.

I thought the overwhelming life style change would be the hardest. I haven't been alone since I was 14 and it took me a long time to build up the courage to end things because I am terrified of change and had little to no idea what to do without him. to my surprise I've adapted to being alone pretty well. the loneliness does get to me sometimes - I miss those moments we had where we could have a conversation without speaking. I miss over a decade’s worth of inside jokes, and it still hurts when I see something and instantly think of him cause it was our thing.

its a daily struggle to remind myself why I did this because its frighteningly easy to minimize the damage he did when he’s not here to do it every day. the gaslighting and emotional manipulation isn't something that just switches off or diminishes with distance. somehow, in some super shitty, unfair way, it gets worse. because im left alone with my thoughts that he’s managed to turn against me and they’re still working angles for him that catch me off-guard sometimes. I still battle with guilt for making him move out, because I feel terrible that now he’s stuck living with his mom and all his things are in boxes. and I hate that it’s gonna take a long time for that to go away. 

but I digress. because all of that isn’t the hardest part. the hardest part is getting him the fuck out of this apartment. we 'ended things’ April 5th. there are quotes around that because we haven’t officially broken up. like, I told him I needed a break till he gets his shit together, and he’s all but moved out, but I haven’t even changed our relationship status on Facebook (yay, guilt!) and we haven't really agreed that we’re broken up. Jesus, again I digress. ANYWAYS. I knew it was gonna be a process to move him out because our lives are so intertwined that we’ve had to go through rooms and drawers and boxes one by one separating our shit. and this process has been fucking agonizing because he is dragging his goddamn feet. 

Initially I thought we were gonna bang this out in a weekend, get all the shit out and be done. A month later, and there’s still a pile of his shit at the top of the stairs, a handful of things in the corner of the living room (including the giant china cabinet filled with his things) and his grandmother’s dishes in my cupboards. but that’s a post for another day. because right now im just gonna vent about him taking his sweet ass time, being insanely petty, and still somehow fucking manipulating me when he doesn’t even live here anymore. 

honestly the pettiness and inconsideration for my own time and requests is the biggest thing that’s getting to me, what’s driving me to write this. most of the time he’s been here for his shit, his mom’s been with him, and I was chalking up a lot of the pettiness to her. because he’d be here to get the things from the living room, and hours after they'd left I’d notice small things had been taken from other parts of the house. now some of the stuff he’s taken was his, just something I was using with him that I’d assumed he’d at least mention he was taking. im a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them and honestly unless it’s something from my family or something that I bought that was expensive, I don’t care. he can have it. It’s more the fact that, when I need something all of a sudden I cant find it and realize he took it. 

like, his nana’s pots and pans. They’re a really nice set his mom let us have and I fully expected them gone. my only request was that he give me a heads up so I could go out and get my own set when he planned to take them because with them gone, all I’d have left is a few frying pans. This is our conversation from that weekend:  

This was Saturday afternoon. He never told me he wasn’t going to come by Saturday, and gave me a 15 minute heads up he was on his way over on Sunday - which did me no good because I wasn’t even home. That meant I couldn’t clean out the dressers (I didnt want to do it until the day he was going to get them because I would have to leave my clothes on the bed until I could get my own dresser from my parent’s house once his were gone). When I got home, all of my clothes were thrown on my bed and the ground.I had to rewash a bunch of shit, refold everything, and then clean the entire room from the mess that was made. 

fucking on top of that, his mom decided to take the pots and pans. I’d specifically asked him Saturday because I was going to Walmart and could have bought a new set for myself while there. I didn't want to buy them until I needed to because I’m trying to save money and didn’t get paid that weekend, so I figured if he’s not taking them I don’t need to get things until I get paid next weekend. Wrong. I had to go out that night again and get a set because, as I said, all I had were 3 frying pans and a skillet thing. Oddly enough, she didn’t take the dishes. They were her mom’s, just like the pots and pans, and for some reason she didn’t want them... don’t worry, I already plan to pack them up this weekend and give them back because lord knows what’ll happen if I dont and she decides she wants them six years from now. 

honestly though the biggest level of petty was the Tylenol PM. I know, it’s not a big deal. But it’s just one of those little things that I stopped and was like, are you fucking kidding me. I noticed that, after taking his bed and dressers, the pack of tissues he’d got us from Sam’s was gone. Again, he bought them, whatever. would’ve been nice for him to tell me so I had a heads up to fucking get them when I was at Walmart but whatever. he also took a 6-pack of toilet paper he’d gotten literally the day we ended things (because he’d gone to king Soopers with his mother instead of talking to me about the fight we’d had) and he’d initially told me to keep it, it was for me anyways. I noticed just last weekend it was gone. 

but the fucking Tylenol PM. I'm not one to buy brand name medicine. if I can get store brand, I will. Almost all my medicine is store brand except that Tylenol PM because I was really sick one year and wanted the good stuff. Y’all know how expensive Tylenol is. I sprang for it, and I used it sparingly because I didnt want to have to buy more if I didn’t really need it. Well, two weekends ago I fell down a fucking mountain. I was running a trail down a mountain, tripped, flew through the air, and landed on my shoulder and kneecap. It still hurts, and that day I was in a lot of pain. The regular Tylenol and Ibuprofen that I’d been switching back and forth with all day just wasn’t doing the trick and I was like, okay. this is a Tylenol PM kind of pain. That night, right before bed, I went to grab it from the bathroom cabinet. 

it was gone. the rest of my medicines, the store brand acetaminophen and store brand ibuprofen, those were still there, but the Tylenol PM was gone. It has exclusively only lived either on the dresser/nightstand in the bedroom, or the bathroom cabinet. as he took the dresser and nightstand, and it wasn’t in the cabinet, it had been taken. I cannot tell you how livid I was. it still pisses me off. because of all the things to take he took that. Not the rest of his bathroom shit, not even all his shit from the bedroom. but he took the Tylenol PM. I even asked if he knew where it might be - thinking he’d come across it at some point. he told me “it’s always been in the linen closet” where the rest of our medicines are. It was never there, but I checked the entire closet just in case - nothing. Again, I know it’s small. it’s just a bottle of pills. but it’s the whole damn thought behind it. 

there’s more things too - the fact that no, he doesn’t take all his things from a certain room, and I have to then box the rest of his shit up, move it out of my way, and clean the room that he trashed. 

It’s the fact that 90% of the things on our walls were his (which helps show me how little say I had on my own things in the apartment I exclusively pay for) and now that he’s taken them, he’s left the walls, hooks, and nails behind. most of them are up way above my head - he needed a ladder to put them in - and now they’re littered all over the wall. today, as he worked to get the shit from our front bedroom (hopefully the last things he’ll need to get) I asked him if he could also get the nails and hooks out of the wall because I can’t reach them. he asked me, “did you try using the step-ladder?”. I answered no, and he simply said, “that should work then”. Like, no. you put those up, so you could display all the things of yours YOU wanted to display (3 out of 4 walls in the room were covered with his things) and now he can’t even take the tacks down even though he took the hangings down. 

and then of course, it’s the fact that he just leaves a mess in his wake. when he first moved things out of the living room it was a mess. I spent hours rearranging shit, packing up the rest of his shit that he left behind, and then cleaning up everything because I still have to live here. it was the same with the bedroom. and now it’s gonna be the same thing with the front room. I told him today that everything needs to be out by next weekend because I can’t do this every weekend. He asked what I meant by ‘this’ and explained that I was tired of having to clean up everything that got messed up. He told me simply “it’s not being destroyed. I’m just taking my things”. At the moment the entire room was in shambles, everything askew from him digging his things out and leaving my stuff lying in piles. It’s cleaned up now - save the pile of boxes and junk at the top of the stairs - but I told him I have to clean up the mess that’s left behind. He didn’t have an answer for that. 

Honestly there’s really not a point to this. I’m just pissed, I’m annoyed, and I’m angry, and I’m sad. I’m just tired. And I wanted to vent. So if you stuck with me through this, I wanna thank you for listening. I appreciate being heard, because I haven’t been for so long. your time means a lot to me. 

[rozewritingmyfeelings-blog]

He broke me part 1

Suddenly my world came crashing down……. The room started spinning and my knees began to tremble. I fell to the floor. Breathing became more and more difficult, it felt like…. Like the weight of his lies fell on me. “how can this be true” I whispered, but in my heart I knew, he never loved me. He just used me. My best friend. My high school sweetheart. The love of my life. Or so I thought.  The only things of value to him were my vagina, my breasts and my sweet little mouth. As I started sobbing, the messages started coming in, his best friend saying he was an asshole, the other girl wondering why I didn’t want to see her, and my new best friend, telling me I was worth so much more. It was too much. Even with the weight of months of lies on my chest, I started to hyper ventilate. How could he do this? Why didn’t he pick me? Why am I so worthless? Would he care if I died? Those thoughts were directly followed by the little voice in my head saying; You deserve this. This is your own fault. You brought this on yourself by living.

I picked myself up from the floor and walked to my bed. I sat down and looked at my scars. Around a 100 scars are buried in my arm. I lost count. They are old. I got clean two years ago. But at this moment, with this amount of pain I wondered if I should listen to the little voice inside of my head. Was it all my fault? The lies, pain and betrayal. Should I grab a knife or a razor and follow trough this time? Or should I just make a small cut, just to see the flow again. I debated this for a few moments. Before I got a call. It was him. Suddenly everything was so clear. How dare he. He never said sorry in the call. He barely spoke above a whisper. “you are more than a sex object, you were a great friend. I was a bad friend……” he wanted to say more but I cut him off. “you never were a friend in the first place, you used me for sex. Go to hell and never contact me again” I said firmly. Even though it might have been my fault and even though I am useless, I didn’t want to see him ever again.

This all happened yesterday. Today I am trying to survive. To let his lies slip off me. I am in so much pain and conflict. I feel like I’m owed something. But at the same time I feel like I am at fault, I did trust him. I believed him, I wanted him. I let him. He was my one. I wasn’t his. I get up and grab my phone from my nightstand. There I see it. The rings he bought me. One when I was 16, a promise ring. And the other, a silver ring with a pink stone. A practice engagement ring. A sign that he loves, no loved me. If he ever did. I stand up quickly and try to hold back the tears. This whole situation reminds me of when we broke up as teenagers. I was damaged and he was fucked up. We didn’t work together anymore. I don’t remember how, but we became friends again. And he was my best friend even if I still loved him.

I shake that thought out of my head and start to exercise, maybe if I was skinny this wouldn’t have happened to me. I skip breakfast, cause who needs that. I don’t. after a quick shower I end up in bed again. Crying. He choose her. He loves her. While he was dating her, he was fucking me. I didn’t know, he told me they broke up. He told me he wanted me. I get up and exercise some more,  in the back of my head I know it is not healthy. But I don’t care. The little voice in my head pipes up again, she is skinny and he choose her.  

Next thing I do is go downstairs and eat lunch. Both my parents are downstairs, I cant tell them what happened. They love him. They didn’t even know we were dating again. So I fake a smile and make some small talk. Then I pretend I’m not weighing carefully what to eat and counting the calories. I don’t want to disappoint them. I am their only daughter. I am supposed to make good choices, not get my heart broken by a guy that didn’t even love me. I am their world, the first one of the family to go to college. Smart like my mum, social like my dad. I’m supposed to know better. If they knew, they would be angry and sad. I don’t want that. I care too much about them. This is my cross to bear.

Once I get back to my room I see it. His sweater. The one I ‘stole’. It was my comfort item for so long. Warm, soft, and full of memories. The playfighting about who was the rightful owner, where he would intentionally let me win. His laugh when I hit him with the long sleeves. Softly I might add. I feel like I am floating on a cloud, surrounded by a warm and comforting light……. I don’t feel like that for long. It hits me. He didn’t love me. I see his text again, I want to make it up to you, so I can win her trust back. The cloud breaks, I fall. The light becomes a cold darkness and I shiver. In the darkness I see words flying by. Some are his, complementing my large breasts, and telling me he used me for sex. Others are from his girl, saying that she could forgive him. That she wants me as a friend, cause I’m the only one she can talk to.  But the words she said earlier, that is was my fault, are floating around as well. I don’t know which to believe.

Then the little voice in my head pops up again, bleed it says. Grab a razorblade from the bathroom and make your white blouse stain red. Remember? It whispers… I do remember. How the blood would glow and shine a deep dark red. It stuck my clothes to my arm and when I moved, it would rip open the wounds again. I was in control. The pain of cutting fuelled me. I miss it. I realize it was self-destructive, and It didn’t fix my problems. But when I cut. All in the world was good. It was great even. For short periods of time I was happy. And I miss that.

Suddenly my dad whistles. It startled me. I was sitting on my bed in a trance for hours. He wants me to help with dinner. I always make the salad, mine are better then dads anyway. We talk, we laugh and I feel happy for a bit. I forget about him for a bit. But then they ask about him. In their eyes he still is my best friend. I mumble some bullshit reason why we are fighting for a bit and quickly excuse myself from the table. How will I tell them the truth? That I was a walking blow up doll. Used for sex, be held a fool for a boy. A boy with a silver tongue, twisting the truth so far it feels like I asked for it. That I asked to be used and thrown away when I wasn’t useful anymore. Maybe if I had tried harder to please him, he would have loved me……. I don’t know what to think anymore. Keeping my head afloat is hard. But I have too.

[spootiliousrps]

Suspicious Nature Part 7

[Beginning] // [Previous] // [Next]

“Practice.” Eve said softly. “Everyone starts off where you are now. So don’t worry, we’ll get there.” She said softly.

"By Sunday?" Cas asked, obviously doubtful.

“We’ll get there.” Eve encouraged. “If you can learn to fight, then you can learn to walk.” She smiled.

Cas squinted at her still not on the same page. "Doubtful. At least with fighting you have to have a strong stance... this is... this like walking a tightrope with strong wind." He huffed before chuckling. "I'll make you a deal... If I learn to walk in these by Sunday, you let me teach you how to fight." He offered playfully.

Eve’s eyes grew wide. “I’m too old, and too much of an Omega to ever contemplate it.” She whispered.

That made Cas give a snort of amusement. "I was born just as much of an Omega as you, Eve." He pointed out in amusement as he took a shaky step. "And as far as I am concern I've trained older people than you."

Eve smiled. “I just don’t feel comfortable around weapons. I feel better in heeled shoes and dresses.” She said as she held tightly onto Castiel. “You need to be in control. Don’t fear the shoes. Command them. Tell them what you want.”

Castiel glared down at his feet. "I demand you cease your wobbling!" He snapped at them before addressing Eve

"And I the opposite." He admitted. He took another step, this time keeping from tripping at least.

 Eve laughed. “Not like that. When you had to command your men, you changed your posture and the way you stood. “Don’t lead with your heel so much, as you walk, keep your toes on the floor, just for the moment.”

That made absolutely no sense to him as he attempted it. It felt like he was stomping. This was ridiculous and he was becoming annoyed very quickly. "I feel like a horse prancing about like this." He huffed as he kept his posture straight.

  “I know. You’ll get used to it. I promise. I looked awful when I learnt.” Eve promised. “Slide your toes along the floor and then place your heel down.”

The Omega gave an annoyed growl as he complied. He managed a few steps before wobbling and giving another curse. "Why cant I just were my boots. The dress is long enough no one will notice? What if someone decide to try their luck how am I suppose to fight in these?"

  “Hey, I’m just trying to help.” Eve said softly. “You can always take your shoes off, and apparently a kick hurts a lot. But no one will try it on.”

 "Sorry that wasnt directed at you." He sighed. "Just been a rough few days. My feet as dying... do you mind if we take a break?"

  “I understand. Let’s sit you down and take them off. We can talk cutlery and dinner manners.” Eve said, helping John to sit on the bed.

 "Thank you." Cas sighed in relief doing his best to try and reach his feet over the bulk of the dress and giving another growl of frustration when he failed.

 Eve smiles and knelt down, taking his shoes off gently. “Shall we take your dress off as well so we don’t crease it?” She offered, patiently.

 "Yes, please." Cas rushed in relief already beginning to try and get it off.

Eve chuckled and help Castiel to unfasten the dress. “It is very pretty, it suits you well.” She said softly as she hung it up in his wardrobe. “You’re lucky you have all these clothes made for you.”

Cas pursed his lips as he considered his reply. "Thank you." He mumbled far more softly as he moved to dress in his regular attire. "I only wish I had a say in any of it." He admitted as he tugged on his trousers.

“We generally don’t, Sire.” Eve said softly. “You were lucky to have the opportunity to get the Royal treatment. They are kinder and give you more options.” She said softly. “You could have worn anything within reason and they would have made it.”t

"You say that and yet I was stripped down and marched to my quarters. I wouldn't call that a kindness." He grumbled.

“No Alpha would punish us. Not someone like His Majesty.” Eve said, as he eyes glazed over for a moment before blinking. “He’s a good man, he’s trying his best to not only learn his job, but to care truly for Omegas. His father wasn’t a good man. You are in the unique position to help His Majesty in these areas, if you do this, he’ll break through heaven and hell if you asked.” Eve explained softly.

"All I've asked is for some respect and him to stop threatening my family and yet every time he hears something he remotely doesnt agree with it's always straight to torturing and punishing the only family I have. I would happy to assist it He wasnt such an assbut." He scoffed. "Trying or not he had a cruel streak that reminds me of his father at times. And yes I know just saying that could get me hanged." He sighed. "I just dont care anymore."

Eve sighed. “No Alpha is perfect. Get him somewhere open, not confined in his quarters. Somewhere he likes to be. And speak to him kindly and softly. Offers him something he would like, ply him into a good mood and then explain that you don’t like your family being threatened. If you’re lucky he’ll open up as to why he’s being an... assbut. And then offer to help him work on whatever reasons he gives.” Eve explained softly as she turned back around to face the Omega. “His Majesty is probably still in mourning as well and he’s not being able to process that.”

Castiel hesitated, blinking at her in surprise. He... hadn't really thought about the fact the man might be mourning. Even if he didnt care for his father's actions it was still his father... perhaps he could manage that. "That was... very helpful and wise... thank you Eve."

Eve smiled, “I’m just old, my dear. I’ve been around a long time. Shall we get on with your dining etiquette? If you do well, I’ll listen to more of your thoughts and give you my thoughts.” Eve offered.

"I... would really like that." Cas admitted the tension in his shoulders fading more in that moment then that had since the whole thing began. Honestly... he missed his talks with Gabriel... it would be nice to have someone to talk to now that he was stuck in the kitchens.

Eve nodded as she brought out a set of pristine cutlery with ten sets of knives and forks. “There’s going to be ten course meals on Sundays, each one with their own cutlery.” She explained.

Castiel groaned at the information but he sat up listening carefully as he counter the utensils.

“So all you really need to know is that you use the knives and forks from the outside in. Apart from the soup course and you use the round spoon. Additionally, sometimes you use a second spoon for dessert, but it won’t be out of its not used.” Eve explained as she pointed to each spoon.

"Out in. Got it." He acknowledged. "So, what will I need to know about being an Omega in that situation?" He asked adjusting them slightly.

“So you’ll all arrive for a set time, as you do you’ll take your seat.” Eve started. “Your seat, this week will be at the head table on His Majesty’s right hand side. As you’re the newest Aide. There you’ll give a minute or two speech about your credentials and what you’re planning on achieving in the role. His Majesty May have already spoken to you about what he’s wanting from the military.” Eve explained. “Five minutes after the arrival time the King will enter. Everyone will rise, and salute him. Once he sits, the Alphas will, and then you as an Omega. I believe His Majesty is planning on overturning this rule so you’ll seat when the Alphas do. But as far as I’m aware he hasn’t done this yet.”

"Good to know. I suppose I will have to wait until he does." He acknowledged. "It will be upsetting to most of the Alphas that an Omega is becoming an Aide but I would like to keep it to a minimum." He sighed.

Eve nodded, “You’re the first in history, so there will be backlash. But you are paving a way for everyone other Omega. I will help you as much as you can, and so will His Majesty. The King wants you to succeed, that’s why he was giving you all that help at the beginning.” She explained. “Don’t throw the help away for the sake of vanity.”

Castiel scoffed at that. "Vanity? If only..." He sighed. "I had appreciated the help... it wasnt that... But tell me Eve... if he makes it a point to provide me with more than a typical Alpha, would that not be special treatment?" He asked. "If I gain these things when Alphas do not, it become more than just help it becomes priviledge and I become the favorite Omega who slept his way to the top even if it is untrue. By refusing the help I am nothing more than an equal. Yes it will be far more difficult... yes it will be dangerous but then no one can argue than an Omega /earned/ their place rather than being handed it.... That we are worth it. Thay we /can/ do it. This isnt just about me... or my vanity. It's about all of us. I dont want to be given anything that would make my job harder in the long run... including favoritism."

Eve sighed, “Sire, I cannot tell you what do to, but I would take the help. Everyone would believe I am the favourite anyway, because of the job I hold, the job proves favouritism enough, people will believe I slept my way to the position I hold, so I would take the help. It could be dangerous, like you said, so I would want anything that will make it easier, even just for one day.” Eve explained. “His Majesty wouldn’t want the reputation that every Omega he sleeps with to get a high level job, so he would dispel the rumours, anyway. I would take the help and at least go to sleep feeling safe.” Eve explained, placing the cutlery set to one side and gently taking his hand.

"Perhaps." Castiel sighed, considering it. Even if he didnt agree with the woman she did have some valid points. He gave her hand a small squeeze in return. "I could also kill any Alpha that tries anhthing." He offered. "Eventually they'd get the picture and leave me be." He shrugged knowing that's not really how that works.

Eve chuckled. “That’s if you don’t get thrown in prison first.” She smiled warmly.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I don't know Eve... there is a lot of ifs and maybes...  To be honest... I just miss home... not that there is a home to go back to after this." He sighed, glancing away, eyes sadder than they had been just a moment before.

“Why don’t you tell me about home?” Eve suggested. “We can try and make this room more homely if you wanted?”

Cas snorted at that, offering her a warm smile that made the still healing lip burn a bit. "That is very sweet but I doubt it would be manageable." He mused. "This room... it's too large and lavish. In the barracks all I had was a simple cot, the things I needed to care for my armor and a small wardrobe for my clothes. But honestly it's the people I miss... My men... the ones that were always there, always giving counsel or laughing in the next room." He gave a small sad sigh. "His Majesty has reassured me I can visit when I become Aide but... unless it's for business I dont believe that is a good idea. I have no doubt made most of them very angry and would not want to cause any more trouble than necessary. Still... it has only been a few days and I miss them terribly... And worst of all Gabriel isnt even here to help... His Majesty obviously despises him and after so many threats I wouldnt dare visit him... but I do worry about him."

“My sister works in the kitchens. She is as old as me. I’m sure she can swing it with the chef to let her look out for Gabriel, or many even train him.” Eve offered. “I’m sure His Majesty has a good reason for not liking Gabriel, he won’t despise someone for no reason.” She smiled. “Talk to His Majesty. Let him open up to you. He’s just as lonely and new to the job as you are. You two can help each other if you just try.”

"Oh... I wouldnt want her to bother herself.... Gabriel is quite a handful." He admitted softly. "Though it would put my mind at ease." He admitted softly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Obviously side stepping her words regarding the King. "You are very kind Eve... Thank you." He sighed. "It shouldnt be as rare as it is in the world but it is." He smiled at her.

“It shouldn’t, but if you work hard it won’t be rare ever again. Maybe even one day, your great great grandkids might see an Omega Queen in charge.” Eve said wistfully. “Come on, let have another try in your shoes and then I’ll leave you to rest.” She said softly.

Cas chuckled at that. “Yeah… Maybe.” He mused before his smile faded and he gave a childish groan before moving back towards the bed to put the torture devices back on his feet.

“Come on, I’m sure the last thing you want to do is walk into a room of stuffy old Alphas and look weak or even trip and fall.” Eve chuckled, as she helped Castiel to put the shoes back on.

“You’re right but I still don’t see why I can’t just wear my boots.” He huffed as he strapped them on and stood with a bit more confidence than before.  

“Because you need to prove that no matter what they do to you, you are better and will overcome it, and do their jobs ten times better.” Eve smiled, trying to instil confidence into Castiel.

The Omega shot her a side glare with no real heat, hiding a small smirk. “Must you always be right?” He teased lightly. “Its infuriating.” He chuckled as he tried to take a step forward. They really were painful.

“I’m old. When you’re my age, you’ll always be right too.” Eve smiled warmly. “Stop putting so much weight on your heels, try just walking on your tiptoes.”

Cas’ smile faded but he tried to comply, wobbling as he did so. He was certain he looked like an idiot but he did as he was told and slid his feet forward one at a time.

“That’s it. You’re doing so well. At least you’re doing this without me holding you.” Eve smiled. “No one is perfect straight away. It takes practice. I’m sure used to tell the new soliders that all the time.”

“Yes… though I feel a bit childish hearing it told to me at this age.” He mused as he waddled across the room, only almost falling twice.

“And you were trying to get to teach me to use a sword.” Eve smiled. “I’m proud of what you’ve done today. You’ve come so far is such a small amount of time. You’re a quick learning.”

“Well, I certainly try.” He offered, gaze still on his feet as he continued his treck. “I don’t think I’ll ever take for granted the Omegas who wear these.” He admitted softly.

“And here you were wanting to get away from your Omega side.” Eve smiled. “Is there anything you want to ask me about being an Omega? I don’t want you to be confused about anything.”

Cas paused considering it a moment. “I…” He began flushing deeply. “Apparently I am having a bit of issue hiding my scent. Is there something I can do?” He asked, as he moved to sink down with another sigh, feet already aching.

Eve sighed. “Share you heat. You’ve been so long without a heat, I believe your body may have... almost regressed back to a prepubescent stage. You’ve just come off the suppressants, so now your body is a teenager who has presented for the first time. It can’t control your scent or anything else related. Usually it settles down when an Omega shares a heat with an Alpha.” Eve explained softly. “That’s my best guess but I’ve never met anyone who has used suppressants before. “Your heat may be... strong as well. I know that whilst pregnant, an Omega doesn’t have heat, and after the nine months, it’s as if... the heats have built up, and is released all at once. At may be the same for you.” Eve explained. “So speak with an Alpha now, explain this and ask for their assistance. It will help ease the... desperation.”

Cas wrinkled his nose at that. “I think I rather be locked in a cage and forgotten.” He grumbled softly. “I don’t detest the idea of laying with an Alpha.” He clarified quickly, realizing how it sounded. “Its just… I don’t trust any of them in that aspect. Alphas are fine men in general outside of the bedroom but they’re aggressive sadistic beasts the moment the scent weakness.” He stated flatly as if he believed that that was the case without exception. “They want nothing more than to take what they desire by any means and leave their Omega as they please.” He gave another sigh, deflating a bit. “I suppose I’ll just have to figure out another way.” He mumbled already deep in thought, not realizing how serious his words had been.

“Castiel...” Eve said softly. “Make a deal with an Alpha. They can lay with you, but not knot you. Talk through what you want and don’t want. I promise if by the end of your heat, your scent will get worse and you’ll be in so much more pain. Don’t do that to yourself, just for unfounded stubbornness.” Eve said softly, taking his hands. “You’ll understand why I’m saying this if you trust me.”

Cas glanced at her evenly. “Unfounded?” He scoffed. “I might not have lain with an Alpha in some time but I’ve been with enough to know that nothing about it is ‘Unfounded’. And I would still need to find one that I could trust their word which at the moment is zero.” He sighed. “Maybe Surges…” He contemplated.

“He has a job that will take up too much time. You need someone who is their own boss.” Eve explained. “You are going to be in heat for the majority of the day and night.”

“Well, if he is assigned to me again then his only job would be to be with me.” He contemplated. “But that would imply I’d actually spend a heat with an Alpha.” He pointed out. “I have a lot to consider but I’m not sure of any of it.”

“Well you have my opinion, and...” Eve thought for a moment, “even if it’s not true, you can phrase it as it being you giving the Alpha your heat, and as such you can ask for something in return from them. Just... don’t throw the ideas away.” She hummed softly.

“Honestly Eve, I value your opinion to much to throw any of them away. Even if I don’t like them.” He teased lightly. “Can I take these off now?” He asked perhaps a bit too quickly.

Eve nodded, “but I want you to try walking around the room a few times today. I’ll be back tomorrow and I want to see you do it without help and without falling.” She smiled.

“I will do my best.” He offered returning her smile, very thankful for her presence suddenly.

Eve smiled and tentatively opened her arms. “I know you will. You’re a good man.” She said softly.

He hesitated before moving into her embrace which only made him miss his brother, the only other person he really hugged.

“You’ll do well. Just don’t try to do it alone. People want to help, allow them.” Eve said, before pulling back.

“I will do my best but if the cost is too great then I have to refuse.” He sighed, straightening as well.

“I know but you have to try. For all of us, you have to succeed or it will only get worse for us.” Eve said softly. “I’ve seen too much progress to watch it regress.”

“I can only promise to do my best.” He reassured. “I am just a man, though it seems like there are a lot of people who think otherwise.”

“We are all so desperate to show we can be equals. And you have the opportunity. Our dreams are to have the opportunity you have. But I will help any way I can.” Eve promised.

“I know… I hope to make the dream a reality.” He acknowledged. “But I am will still make some mistakes. I hope you can forgive me when I do.”

“We will. And I hope you’ll call on me if you need any advice.” Eve said softly. “I want to help you through this.”

“Speaking of which…” He mumbled softly. “How attached are you to your position?” He asked. “When I become Aide its my understanding that I can choose a number of advisors to assist in a great number of things. From what I’ve gathered most Aides choose military advisors but I feel as if I can manage that bit.” He admitted with a small chuckle. “Its etiquette I’m pretty worried about.”

“I’m too old to keep up with the young ones, but I don’t want to retire. It would be my honor to be your assistant, Sire.” Eve said bowing as low as she could with a fist over her heart.

Castiel’s grin broadened as he returned the salute with a shallow bow. “I hope you know what you’re getting into… It’s not going to be easy being an Omega assistant with the first Omega Aide.” He pointed out. “Could be dangerous… You sure you don’t want those sword lessons?” He teased playfully.

“I trust you’ll protect me, Sire.” Eve smiled. “Plus who would want to try it on with me? I’m old and saggy.”

The words caught Castiel of guard and it took a moment for him to realize what she had said before he burst into laughter.

Eve smiled and chuckled softly. “I’ll meet with you tomorrow at the same time. I want you walking around the room on your own.” She smiled, “and talk to a handsome, free Alpha about your heat. As your assistant, this is what I’m telling you to do.”

Cas shot her another glare still without any heat behind it. “Pushing me already I see.” He teased but nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“It’s for the best.” Eve smiled before leaving the room and Castiel in silence.

Castiel watched her go, feeling a bit better with the world around him. She was right… about so many things but perhaps he should address one thing at a time… He glanced at the shoes, toss haphazardly to the side… One thing at a time… just not /that/. He ignored them before turning to his desk and beginning to try and find the words to address the King.

To his Most Excellent Majesty Dean Winchester, King of Shurley

May it please your Majesty,

 To permit an unworthy, but loyal subject to approach your Majesty's throne in this manner, as tradition will not let me do it in any other.

I would like to humbly, formally request and audience with his Majesty, The King. It has come to my attention that there are a few subjects which may need to be discussed. While this is not a formal matter, which is a bit unorthodox, I feel that there is many misunderstandings that could be clarified with a simple civilized discussion; outside the confines of the castle and its inhabitants.

Perhaps if the King could find it in his good graces to spare a bit of time, an inspection of the new Knight Commander could be arranged with his Aide to be? I am certain the time it takes to stroll from the Castle to the barracks could be plenty enough for such discussion.

I request this and nothing more, I assure His Majesty. I am settling quite well into my position and feel as if everything that has been provided is more than adequate to meet the needs of a new Royal Aide.

May your most gracious Majesty take these matters into due consideration, and may you be inspir'd by the King of Kings to do that which is right in his sight. I wish long life and happiness to your Majesty, and am,

 Your Majesty's most Faithful and obedient Castiel Novak, Former Knight Commander.

 Dean read the letter a few time, digesting and dissecting the words slowly. It was never something he would have expected to read, especially from Castiel of all people. He picked up his quill and a clean piece of parchment: Dearest Aide Novak, Nothing would please me more than to dispel the air between us. I fear that the future will is close together, professionally. If you are able, please meet myself by the main entrance after supper, today. I am positive that the cool air will aide in our civilised discussion. Your ever faithful King, King Dean Winchester. Dean wrote in his elegant cursive handwriting he was forced to learn when he was a child.

Castiel was on his way to the library when the messenger presented him with the letter. He mumbled a quick thank you before breaking the seal and beginning to read the words carefully. He sighed a breath of relief when the words seemed to be accepting rather than patronizing and aggressive. Now all he needed to figure out is what he would wear to inspect the newly promoted men.

That evening, Dean headed out of his chambers, ordering the guard to stay behind. He had a short dagger strapped to his waist and a sword hanging on the other side. He waited by the double front doors, looking around for Castiel.

It didn’t take long for Castiel to appear, dressed in his social formal Alpha clothing from his previous rank. He would have preferred something more fitting but he wasn’t quite comfortable dressing as an Aide without the title, quite yet and the clothing Celeste had made for him was long gone. Regardless he approached the King, giving a low sweeping bow per usual. Though he hid it well enough his own weapons could be made out against the line of his waist and his boots if one looked close enough.

“Your Majesty.” He greeted. “Thank you for the quick response and the opportunity for counsel.”

“Of course.” Dean said softly, as he counted the numerous weapons on his person. “It read that you had something particular to speak about. Is there anything particular on your mind.”

 "Well... Yes. I suppose there is." Cas acknowledged before motioning towards the hall. "Shall we walk?"

Dean nodded and held his arm open, to allow Castiel to go first. “Is there anything I can do to ease your transition? I’ve heard that you’ve enjoyed your session with your elocutionist, so much that you’ve appointed her as your assistant.” Dean hummed softly.

 Castiel nodded and began to walk, keeping his eyes ahaed as he listened. "Yes, in the short amount of time I spoke to her she showed quite a bit of wisdom. I am also not so vain to ignore my weaknesses, the largest being etiquette as you have seen first hand." He admitted. "She actually advised I speak with you about matters at hand."

 Dean opened his arms, “I am all ears, Novak.” He said as he watched Castiel closely. “This is something causing you some distress. Wouldn’t you prefer to do this somewhere, away from any prying eyes and ears?” He offered, wanting Castiel to be comfortable for whatever matter he is about to raise.

 "If I may speak freely, Sire?" He asked carefully, finally glancing at him, looking a bit worried.

 “Of course Novak, this is clearly eating you up inside.” Dean said softly, wanting to reach out and take Castiel’s hand to calm the Omega but knew better than to try it.

 "To be honest, Sire... I was hesitant to be alone with you. Our... record for such things is not very pleasant." He pointed out. "But I hope to rectify that. I believe it is a simple case of misunderstanding. Perhaps we are not seeing things from each other's sides."

 Dean nodded. “May I just say that, what I was giving you, I didn’t see as help to make you more than equals to your Aide counterparts. I can only imagine how hard all this is for you, I merely wanted to help you onto the same footing as the other Aides.” Dean explained. “A lot of them had been training for the position for years, I thought I was helping by giving you the education and privileges that they had acquired over the years.” He explained, his eyes soft and gentle as he looked over to Castiel. “Please forgive my ignorance, Novak.”

 Castiel seemed to soften a bit at that, shoulders seeming slightly less tense than before. “I… Know.” He acknowledged softly. “There is no reason to apologize for that. I realize that you were only trying to help, Dean. I meant no disrespect when I refused everything you were trying to give. I only ask that you see it from my point of view as well… Having these things would help tremendously but at what cost. As an Omega next to the King; you could be accused of favoritism and I would be given privilege. Neither of which we can really afford if we are to accomplish what we are attempting. Every Omega Aide that comes after me would expect the same treatments while the Alpha’s are not receiving it. That cannot be allowed.” He offered as they continued on. “I must learn on my own unfortunately. Though I do want to express my gratitude for your willingness to assist. It is appreciated.” He acknowledged, forcing a small smile towards the man.  

Dean smiled and nodded. “As you wish, though I do hope you’d come to me if you need anything. Anything at all. Especially with something such as Singer. I know you may have thought my actions childish, but when there is a man who has been set in the rules and etiquette and procedures for as long as him, sometimes the only possible way to make him listen is to shout and be loud and break etiquette.” Dean explained, softly. He gave Castiel a soft smile, “how about... a deal, I won’t threaten your family, if you come to me when you need a King’s input?” He offered gently, guessing that Castiel would turn down the offer.

The Omega consider it for a moment, considering his options. “To be honest, Sire. After the night previously… I didn’t expect you would believe me, or care for that matter.” He admitted. “Your reaction was quite the surprise.” He sighed. “I couldn’t exactly run to you and plead when my brother could be harmed for it.” He added before giving another tension draining sigh. “I suppose I can ignore my doubts and approach you when necessary.” He acknowledged. “Someone had suggested that you may be handling your new role… not quite as easily as you let on as well.” He added, turning to eye the man. “Perhaps we should discuss you’re ascension as well? Is there anything I can aide you with? That is why you brought me here afterall, isn’t it?”

Dean smiled softly, as he looked over to Castiel. “All I could ever ask of you is to grow into your role quickly, which I know you’ll do.” He said softly. “But if you are offering, my role is... quite lonely, if you know of anyone that could lead a supportive ear, one who is cleared to hear about aspects of my role, that normal men cannot hear, then I would be grateful if you gave me their names.” Dean said, his voice growing quieter, as he looked around

Cas paused taking a moment to appreciate the evening air as they entered the courtyard just outside the palace. He was thankful that most of the servants were tending to either their families or the supper clean up duties. He turned to face the King. “Your Majesty, I realize that I have come off a bit… aggressively during our first few meetings. I had no intentions of such things. I’ve asked your forgiveness once, though perhaps a bit superficially, so I will ask it again. Please, forgive me. I suppose it is a defense mechanism after posing as an Alpha for so long. I hope to change it though it may take time. That being said, I would be honored to listen to your problems, concerns… opinions as a man, rather than a King. I assure, this time I will not address them so poorly.”

Dean nodded, he tried to keep a calm expression but the relief in his eyes and the tension lifting from his shoulders gave him away. “Thank you Novak, I... it means a lot that you would offered your services.” He said with a genuine smile, aimed at the Omega. “Though, to ask you of this task and not give you something of equal enormity and as personal seems... unfair. I understand you don’t want to be seen as a favourite, but I do hope to return the favour.” Dean explained.

“I am no so sure, Sire.” Castiel countered. “Last time I attempted it my brother was threaten. If I do so again, I suppose I should be so lucky not have a pet or he would be as well.” He added, the only indication that the words were meant as a joke was the small upturn of his mouth and the amusement that shown in his gaze.

“Your brother shall never come into harms away, again. Unless he puts himself there.” Dean said with a small smile. “If you would like a pet to make your room more homely, all I ask is that you don’t get a dog, I fear they don’t like me to well.” Dean explained.

Cas gave a small chuckle at that. “A pet is a lot of responsibility. I think I have my hands full enough with Gabriel.” He replied as they started walking once more; the Omega grateful for the small breeze that allowed the relieved scent he was no doubt exuding to dissipate. His smile faded slightly as he considered the last few weeks, however. “If we are discussing these issues freely, Sire. I hope it is not too much to ask how you are handling your Father’s passing? I know your relationship may not have been the greatest but a father is still a father.”

 It was Dean’s turn to stop walking and looked down to the floor. “This is still too public for me to speak ill of the dead.” He said, his voice small and weak. “Many liked him, and if someone overhears me speaking disrespectfully, I fear it won’t help my reputation much.” Dean sighed. “But thank you for the concern.” He looked up at Castiel, sadness filled his eyes.

 Castiel's brows furrowed, his own gaze saddened as he saw Dean for what he truly was for perhaps the first time: A man who was both confused and saddened by the loss of his father. Castiel wanted to reach for him, to comfort him... which was an odd feeling. "Of course... My apologies, I should have realized the inappropriate location." He acknowledged, feeling guilty while also a but relieved of Dean's subtle reaction. "Perhaps if the inspection goes well, we may have a bit of time to discuss matters more privately?" He offered.

 Dean nodded and looked to the sky to calm him emotions before looking back to Castiel. “Only if you wish to spend the time with me. I do not wish to force you.” He said softly, continuing their walk.

 "I suppose, to find out if you are good to your word... I would have to." He offered. "Since you assured me no more threats on my family." He added. "Eventually, perhaps we will earn one another's trust." He shrugged. "I'd say that's a good start at least."

 Dean nodded. “I do trust you, I just don’t appreciate some of the ways you speak to me.” He explained. “I trust your consul or I wouldn’t have made you an Aide.”

 Castiel chuckled at that. "I suppose you have a great number of reasons to feel that way. I suppose I am not very... charismatic in tone." He admitted with a sigh. "It had gotten me in quite a few arguement with King John, may he rest in peace." He admitted.

 “He can rest.” Dean mumbled. “We’ll work on it together.” He offered. “I’ll learn to understand what you’re trying to say and not become so defensive so easily.” He suggested. “Was there anything else you’d like to speak about? How are you settling into your room?” He asked.

 "Fairly well, all things considered." He admitted, thankful for the change in subject. "Its a bit too lavish for my tastes but I suppose I will get use to it. I would like, with your permission to have some of the furniture removed. I lived a fairly simplistic life until now and I am not quite sure what half of the pieces are meant to do." He admitted a bit embarrassed but the fact.

 “I’m sure your elocutionist can explain and show you. Or if you’d prefer, I can.” Dean offered. “Then you can choose whether you want to keep it or not.”

 "I am certain Eve will be most pleased to give me the full history of each." He mused. "I would not want to take up too much of your time, Sire." He offered. "It is just furniture."

 Dean hummed, “is there anything else you’d like to speak to me about? Anything personal or professional, I don’t mind.” He offered softly. “If you are to listen to my troubles then I’m happy to listen to yours.”

 "Well, perhaps... professional." He admitted. "Eve mentioned it is customary that Omegas sit last at meals such as the one Sunday. She had mentioned you were planning to change this but that it has not happened. I simply wanted to make sure this was the case and it would change?"

 “It is, it’s in motion.” Dean promised. “But my work is backdated four years, and at the moment, I need to deal with the older work first, as well as anything pertaining to my security in the job.” Dean sighed. “I’ll nudge it up the order, so it’ll be passed for the following Sunday.” Dean promised.

 "Of course, Sire. There is no rush. I cannot pretend to know what Omegas have gone through, sitting last for one meal is nothing to complain about comparatively." He offered with a small bow. "Though perhaps, if you allow me to examine some of the precautions you are taking for your own security I can assist in that area? I realize I may not be an Aide yet but my experience allows me some insight in the subject."

 Dean shook his head. “It is the legal side of it all. So no one can claim I ascended illegally. So Sammy can’t force me to abdicate. But thank you for offering Novak, it means a lot that you want to help.” Dean explained. “Plus, I need to find new Aides. My father made them all swear an oath to him rather than the chair. The ones that haven’t retired, are still in the job out of the kindness of their hearts.” Dean sighed. “And the longer I make them wait to retire, the more restless they grow.” He sighed, forgetting himself and his surroundings

 Castiel nodded as he listened, knowing the way to the barracks by heart. “I see.” He mumbled softly. “How many would you prefer to have, Sire?” He asked curiously. “Have you given much thought to your brother?” He added remembering the mention of the younger Winchester when they had first interacted with one another. “If I may, Your Majesty, I still feel as if he would make a wonderful Advisor or Aide. It may not be traditional but… neither is an Omega. Perhaps he would be interested in the position... Though I do realize he has a different profession currently.”

[Beginning] // [Previous] // [Next]

[shauds-archived]

Hi, I absolutely love your writing! Your fics on AO3 are amazing, Simplicity is one of my all time favorites. For the request prompts, would you do JaySteph+ tactile? Thank you so much ❤️ have a great day!

Thank you so much! I tried to write you something in the Simplicity verse, but it wasn’t working, so I just tried to match the tone instead.

Stephanie’s a pretty tactile person, and she’s decided that a certain ex-Robin could use some tactileness in his life. Which works out great, because she could use a certain ex-Robin in hers.

They’ve met before, of course, but that was always just fun comm chatter. The first time Jason meets her in person is that week Riddler decided to do a throwback to being an actual threat and set up a dozen or so deathtraps around the city. He’d agreed to give them a hand because deathtraps trumps pissing contest with Bruce, and it was nice for once to be handed intell instead of either beating it out of thugs or stealing it.

It’s not that she appears out of nowhere or anything, he sees her coming, it’s just that she doesn’t look either pissed or any more nervous than he’s used to having people around him. He just assumes she’s going to keep going to meet with one of the Bats huddled together on the far side of the cave and ignores her. Which is… well he thinks is a mistake when her arms wrap around his torso and he jumps like a cat facing off against a very large dog and drops the helmet he had tucked under his arm. A dog that’s warm and smells like vanilla and is squeezing him arm enough to feel through his body armor.

”You’re Jason huh?” She pulls back with a grin on her face before he can react further, squints up at him for a couple moments, studying him with her hands clasped in front of her, not reaching for any weapons. It takes her little over a second for her shoulders to hitch it a shrug he cant’s quite decipher, then hold out a hand. “I’m Steph.”

”Uh.” Jason blinks at the hand hovering between them, then turns to where the Bats are watching the exchange, and then back to her almost hopeful expression. She smiles at him and Jason works against the sudden heaviness in his arm to clap her hand in his own and give it one firm shake.

The smile morphs to a full on grin then and Jason almost wants to close his eyes for how bright it is. “Nice to meet ya.” He gently punches his shoulder when she walks by him and vanishes in the direction of the showers.

”Did she just hug me?” He asks no one in particular and indeterminable amount of time later. A couple of them erupt into chuckles, Jason’s still too dazed to figure out which and beat them down for it.

***

The next time it happens, Jason’s staking out a meet between the two little upstart gangs who’ve figured his old territory in Crime Alley is up for the taking. Killing them’s not the plan, but it won’t hurt to remind them what a good shot he is, then bankrupt them, make a real good example. He’s just waiting for the right moment to pull the trigger on this brand new, never before used, high-accuracy LA115A3 he found in his safe-house a couple days ago.

Talks are heating up, plenty of shouting, and he’s starting to worry he won’t have to do anything to break apart their little alliance when there’s the twang of a line pulling taut and he catches sight of an inky black cape dropping down behind him.

”Not gonna kill em.” He rolls his eyes, expecting Bruce. Instead, he only just manages to flick the safety on before he’s, knocked aside by the sheer unexpectedness more than the force off the half-assed tackle from behind. The tackle hug. He freezes up. So, not Bruce then.

”Hi Hood.” She tightens the hug minutely and presses her cheek against his helmet, then pulls back to squat down beside him. “So what’s the situation here?” She pulls out some binoculars.

”What are you doing?” The phantom feeling of her weight pressed against him strains his voice, but the modulator evens it out for him, and thank god for that. Makes it easier to not have to deal with it.

”Backup.” Her tongue pokes out from behind her glossy lips as she adjusts the zoom on her binoculars, then settles in to watch. “Perks of the whole teamwork thing.” She turns to offer him a grin. “Pretty great huh?”

Jason turns quickly back to his scope so he doesn’t have to look at her anymore. “Don’t need back up.” The shouting has died down and they wannabe crimelords are talking like human beings again, almost look like they’re going to come to some kind of an agreement, almost time for Jason to mess that up.

”Yeah you and every other Batboy.” She scoffs and scooches a little closer to him, close enough that, even though it’s probably all in his head, he can feel the warmth radiating off her.

He does his best to ignore the heat he feels creeping up his neck in response and tries to focus on his job.

***

It happens again, and again. Every time they cross paths, even if only for a few moments even if it’s in the middle of a smack down with a jumble of thugs, she will, without fail hug, or attempt to hug him. Jason checks his pockets, but never finds that they’ve been picked, he never finds that any trackers have been slipped onto any part of his body. She’s never taken advantage of his shock, either before or after to attack him. There is no logical or illogical reasoning he can find behind why she keeps doing this to him.

When he brings it up to Dick one time when they’re stuck in a small lifeboat together, escaping the a yacht that’s just gone up in smoke, and flames, all he gets is laughed at, and Dick gets thrown over the edge of the boat to swim himself to safety. Asshole.

The most confusing part of the whole thing is that, once he’s crossed off any potentially malicious intent, Jason finds he doesn’t mind. He comes to expect when his eyes catch sight of her, and he doesn’t look for paths of avoiding the contact.

“Hey there Jay.” She greets one night while Jason’s making use of the Batcomputer for some chemical analyses he doesn’t have the patience to do in his own right now. Her arms slink around his shoulders and stay there, as she rests her head on top of his. No one calls him Jay anymore and Jason feels warmth building in his chest that has only a little to do with her body heat. “You working on new drugs to build your empire on?”

Jason snorts and, without thinking about what he’s doing, he leans his head back to press against her collarbone. He should be offended, shouldn’t he? He’d be offended if any of the others made a joke like that. At least, he thinks he would. He doesn’t know right now. “Shh”, he presses a finger against her lips, “don’t tell the others.”

She laughs at him and drops her head to his shoulder, she’s resting it on her arms, but he can still feel the warmth, the cool puffs of her breaths against his neck. She smells more of vanilla tonight than usual, or maybe it’s just that she’s so close, and she’s not moving away this time. He spends more time in front of the computer that night that he’s planned on, but somehow, as long as she’s there, he keeps coming up with just one more thing he needs to use it for.

Even when that one more thing is this kitten video he absolutely has to watch, she insists, her lips very, very close to his. He could just… He shakes the thought off before it’s had a chance to fully form and quickly moves on to the next video.

”Hey,” she flicks his ear after a while and Jason turns to her, tries to make it look begrudging. “Everyone’s asleep, you wanna raid the kitchen?”

He glances at the computer and the muppets music video still playing on the screen, then lets his eyes linger on her. “Eh, what the hell.” He shrugs and only flinches a little when her arm links with his as though he needs to be lead upstairs.

***

The first time he actually returns her hug is another time he’s not really thinking, or maybe he’s thinking too hard. He’s sitting on the edge of the highest point of Wayne Tower, watching steam rise up off the styrofoam cup of soup he picked up off a street vendor as it twists it the wind, then dissipates into nothingness against the overcast skies, gone forever. It looks like it should be warm, but he barely feels it, not even when he can bring himself to sip on the salty liquid.

It’s not a day he wants to spend around them. When she shows up, this time without a word of greeting, just to sit down next to him and squeeze her way under his arms to tuck herself against his side, a huge part of him wants to push her away. To let out the all the anger and frustration and bucket loads of emotion he’s gotten so good at hiding behind sarcasm in the name of peace. The bigger part of him though, the part that’s exhausted by a night of phantom pains and laughter in his head; it’s like a black hole that sucks up the rest of everything else and leaves him too cold for the soup to work against.

That’s the part that drops the cup and turns to fold him over her, wrap his arms around her and press her head into the crook of his shoulder and just hold her, just absorb what little he can of the suns worth of warmth she has to offer.

”Why do you keep doing…?” His voice hitches and he stifles it by burying his face in her hair.

”You have a chronic hug deficiency, I like hugs.” Her voice is soft, but steady as her fingers brush against the pulse at his neck, then grip his jacket. “’Nd I like you. Works out.”

Jason tries to laugh, the only response he can think of, but it turns into a sob, and he’s hard pressed to make any other kind of sound for a while.

When he sees her again a week later, neither of them bring it up, but she does give a short, soft, happy squeal when he hugs her back.

***

”Jason.” Bruce says, he’d been about to pull his cowl over his head, but he pauses when Jason doesn’t immediately run off to get started on the job he said he’s help them with – installing some surveillance equipment in some dumbass’s crappy apartment.

”Relax, I got all night.” Jason’s resting against the computer console, slapping Bruce’s big chair in lazy circles while he watches the driveway, listening for the near silent engine of Batgirl’s bike.

”And you’d rather spend that night playing with the furniture than on a patrol.” Bruce still hasn’t put his cowl back on, is still watching Jason, his expression as close to confusion as Jason’s seen since he got back.

”Ya don’t want me here, all ya gotta do is…” he start’s kicking off from the console to approach Bruce.

”He’s waiting for his huuug.” Dick half sings, from where he’s busy restocking his dumb utility bracelets.

”Your what?” Bruce blinks, and now he really does look confused, his eyes darting uncertainly between Jason and Dick.”

”Shut up Dick.” Jason glares warningly when he sees the grinning idiot opening his idiot mouth to speak. Dick, the bastard just grins wider and Jason can already tell he’s going to have to physically stop him.

”Do you want…” Bruce drops the cowl to hang around his neck and awkwardly spreads his arms, “me to give you a…”

”NO!” Jason yells, backing away from the man so fast he almost trips and Dick almost doubles over in laughter. Now Jason knows the owner of at least one of the voices that had chuckled at him that first time, and as soon as he gets his head straight he’s going to…

”Aw, you waited for me.” Stephanie doesn’t appear from the driveway, but from the stairs that lead up to the manor. Jason’s arms close around her, and he doesn’t care so much about Dick’s laughter, doesn’t notice that it cuts off almost as soon as Jason pulls Stephanie close and she burrows into his jacket.

***

”So, I’ve been thinking.” Stephanie shows up at his current safehouse. He doesn’t know how she found it, but he’s stopped trying so hard to hide them, so he doesn’t wonder too hard, especially not when her hands link up behind his neck and she stands on the tips of her toes to get her eyes as level with his as she can.

”Sure ya should be doing that there Blondie?” Jason croaks out as soon as he can find his breath. She’s not in the batgirl suit, or in post-patrol/workout sweats. What she is wearing isn’t particularly fancy, just jeans and a very fluffy looking orange sweater, but it’s… nice. He doesn’t know if he should tell her that.

”You remember how I said you don’t get enough hugs?” She squints at him and tugs his head down just a little more. Jason shrugs in reply and finally let’s go of his doorframe. She cocks her head to the side. “And I also kinda said I liked you, and you didn’t really say anything back?”

”Yeah, you and like five people on this Earth.” He has to think a little to remember that particular conversation. “I’m not sure what…” wait. Jason frowns down at her, but the look she directs at him, eyes narrowed and her brows raised, her lips drawn into a straight line.

”Guess I shouldna used playground terminology on someone as dense as you, huh?” The expression melts away and he has barely a couple seconds to see the red flush across her cheeks before she ducks her head and hides it from sight.

Wait. “There’s no way you meant…” Her head snaps up and it’s Jason’s turn to duck his from her view. There’s really just no way, but he can still feel her watching him, and then her hand gently closes around his jaw and turns his eyes to meet hers.

Her expression is still incredibly serious when she says. “I’ve decided you don’t get enough kisses either, but I can’t exactly tell if you’re up for kisses.”She bites down on her lips and releases the hold her hand has on his neck, the warmth there almost immediately being replaced with an unpleasant chill. “Totally okay of you’re not though, you can still…

Before the traitorous parts of his brain make him reconsider, Jason holds her chin much the same way as she did his, he leans in to meet her lips with his. She lets out a surprised squeak, and Jason almost pulls back, but then her hands are linked up behind his head again and she’s pulling him even closer, and, well the traitorous parts of his brain kind of need oxygen to function well enough to betray him. Jason’s more that up for kisses.

***

Stephanie’s a very tactile person. It probably comes from growing up with a mom who was never quite able to give her much attention, and a father who’s attention Steph didn’t usually want, even if he were willing to give it out. Things are better now, sure, with Dad gone and Mom trying to catch up on the whole bonding thing. It’s great, but it’s a little late for it to impact Steph’s personality much right now. To reiterate, the many hugs and head pats and forehead kisses from Mom are great, Steph has no desire whatsoever to lessen their frequency. In fact, she’s determined to dole out as many hugs and head pats and forehead kisses of her own as humanely possible.

Which works out great, depending on whose side you’re looking at it from, because it’s her unprofessional, but still incredibly expert opinion that Jason hasn’t gotten enough hugs, and she’s in the perfect position to deliver them, along with all the head pats and forehead kisses and… various other forms of kisses he also doesn’t get enough of. And Jason, after a brief adjustment period, is more than happy to soak up all the attention like a touch-starved sponge and respond in kind.

See, it works out great… for Jason and Stephanie that is, for the Bats that have to deal with it just about every second the two of them are together? Not so much.

[reesewestonarchive]

chapter seven / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost / mature content

Twenty five cents seems so much heavier than it should. A weight in his pocket, in his palm, and Nakoa knows getting the heaviness from him will only make him feel better, but…

He still can’t pick up the receiver.

Rain pelts against the side of the phone booth, and Nakoa shivers. Across the street, Rem sits in the van, his feet kicked up on the dashboard, smoking. Nakoa can just barely make him out through the foggy window panes.

They haven’t talked all morning. Not even so much as a hello.

With shaking fingers, Nakoa drops the coins into the payphone and lifts the receiver. Dials home, and waits.

If his father picks up, Nakoa will hang up. He’ll return to the car, he’ll ride off into the sunset with Rem. If his father picks up, Nakoa won’t listen, won’t even speak. He’ll let the fucker wonder.

“Hello?”

It’s his mother. Nakoa’s heart clenches, nausea twists his stomach into knots. He voice cracks a, “Mom?” and he feels twelve years old again, the first time Michael hit him. Donna says nothing, though, so Nakoa says, “Did I lose you…?”

“No, one moment, let me get a pad…” Then, distantly, “Just someone from work, Michael, I’ll take this in the other room.”

Relief spreads through his veins, and his eyes burn with unshed tears. She’s keeping him from Michael, and—he chokes out a laugh. Thinks if she’s stood up for him years ago, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Nakoa,” she says, her voice watery and weak. “Are you okay? I won’t ask where you are, but are you okay? Do you need money? I can—” She pauses. “I don’t know how I would get it to you, but I /could/, sweetheart, I could.”

Nakoa grips the receiver, closes his eyes tight against the onslaught of tears. Fuck. “I didn’t—No, Mom, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

A sigh of relief. “Now I know you’re safe, yes.” Another pause. “Why did you leave?”

“Don’t—this isn’t. I’m not—” He leans his head against the phone box. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I miss you so much,” Donna says. It feels like Michael’s hands around his throat, hearing her words. “I wish you would come home.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He swallows. “I just wanted to let you know I’m okay. Okay?”

“You’ll visit, though, won’t you?”

Fear grips him tight around the throat. “No—I can’t—” Once upon a time, Nakoa thought maybe he’d never get out of his father’s sight. Now that he has, the idea of ever seeing him again…

He looks back at the van, at Rem playing air guitar in the driver’s seat. “I’ll—I’ll call again, okay?”

“Nakoa, wait!” Donna hesitates, then says, “He has people looking for you. You know your father is an influential man, I just… please be careful.”

People—why the fuck would Michael care about it. Why would he waste resources on finding his own fuck up of a son?

Nakoa shakes, anxiety rocking him apart. “I gotta go. Love you, bye.”

He slams the phone down in its cradle harder than he needs to, steps out of the phone box, and stumbles to the van. The rain’s at a downpour now, and when Nakoa climbs in the passenger seat, next to Rem, he’s soaked.

“How’d it go?” Rem asks, turning down the music. Then, seeing Nakoa’s expression, asks, “Hey, what the fuck—what’s wrong?”

Nakoa’s throat feels tight, tears burning at the corner of his eyes again. He blinks, says, “Nothing,” but then Rem’s hand is on his shoulder and Nakoa breaks.

His sobs are silent, quiet things sung to the backdrop of The Cure, and Rem pulls Nakoa into a hug, awkward from the angle but no less appreciated. He speaks against Nakoa’s ears, but the blood roars too loudly in his ears to be heard.

Searching for him. Nakoa thinks about the stories Rem’s told him, about the guy with a bat, the windshield, and, when he can speak, Nakoa asks, “Did you know?”

“Know what?” But Rem sounds sufficiently confused, and Nakoa doesn’t want to believe he’d lie to him, so he decides he doesn’t believe it. “Hey.”

Nakoa doesn’t look at him. Thinks back to all the stupid shit he’s said and done, the mixtape, leaving in the first place without a plan. “Rem.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” His voice is soft, and in the storm, Nakoa thinks this is the safest he’s ever felt. Locked away from the world in Rem’s arms.

Maybe it’s how lost he feels, maybe it’s Rem’s breath warm against his neck, but Nakoa still feels safe enough to say, “I think I’m in love with you.”

It doesn’t hurt to say them. Nakoa’s not sure if it’s because he already hurts so much, another piece of it won’t make it worse, or if it’s…

Rem’a lips brush against his neck, soft, softer than Nakoa’s used to from him, but he says nothing. After their morning, Nakoa’s surprised by his closeness, surprised by how easily he came to Nakoa, but.

“I’m an idiot,” Rem says.

Nakoa blinks. “That’s not exactly the response a guy wants to hear.” Rem laughs. “Neither is that.”

“It’s not… badly received, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Rem clears his throat, pulls away. “…you’re…that’s…”

“I wasn’t going to say it,” Nakoa says. “That’s what the tape was for. Kind of let you figure it out on your own.” Without Rem’s body heat, the van’s cold. Nakoa reaches for the knob for the heater, fingers shaking again. “I didn’t wanna fuck this up.”

Rem’s voice is soft when he says, “You wouldn’t have fucked it up. Hell, if I haven’t fucked it up…”

But commitment’s a different storm than… whatever it is they’ve been doing. Intertwined, but Nakoa knows the feelings he gets from Rem, but he’s wanted to fuck plenty of people. Rem goes farther than that.

He always has.

“Hey,” Rem says, knocking his elbow against Nakoa’s. “We’ll figure this out. That’s what we do, right?”

Figure it out. A weight settles in Nakoa’s chest. “Right.” He turns away. The van no longer feels like home, but like a prison. Maybe he was better off at home, under Michael’s thumb, or…

With a frustrated sigh, Rem says, “I’m not. I don’t mean—”

“Can we just not talk about it? Forget I said anything.”

“I can’t say it back.” Rem gives a frustrated groan. “I’ll get there, okay, I will. Just, this is important. You’re important.”

Nakoa certainly doesn’t feel that way. He clears his throat, wipes a hand down his face, and says, “Can we just go?”

-

He splurges for a hotel on the coast. It takes half of what Nakoa has left, but it’s worth it for two nights of the view of the ocean, for two nights with the salty breeze.

For two nights of Rem getting decent rest in his own bed.

They arrive at 9am to the hotel. Nakoa’s kept his distance for a while, after his accidental confession, and he hasn’t touched Rem without being touched since. He’s passed out in the passenger seat, instead of sleeping with Rem on the mattress, because the closeness feels wrong in the aftermath of Nakoa’s words.

But he steps out of the van and closes his eyes at the wind coming off the ocean, and feels peace. Water droplets spray his face, and Nakoa imagines what it might be like to drift away on waves like these, away from Michael, from money and the concern of where they’re going to sleep next.

Rem takes two towels from their room for the beach, and Nakoa disappears with a fake ID to the nearest liquor st to surprise him with a bottle of whiskey.

“Aw,” Rem says, twisting the top off. Behind him a sign reads, NO ALCOHOL ON BEACH. Rem downs half the small bottle and hands the rest to Nakoa. “You spoil me.”

Nakoa shrugs, downs the rest of it.

With the people around, Nakoa keeps to himself a little more, thankful for the excuse. Still, Rem has other ideas. “No one knows us here,” Rem says, against Nakoa’s neck. “We could fuck on the beach if you wanted.”

“And get thrown into jail?” Nakoa snorts. “Actually, fucking you might be worth the public indecency charge.”

Rem’s mouth is warm at his neck, sends shivers down Nakoa’s spine. “You think you can take me?” His voice is low, rough against Nakoa’s ear.

“Bold words,” Nakoa says, but instead of turning around and pulling him into a kiss, Nakoa elbows him in the ribs and ducks away, laughing as he takes off down the beach.

They settle, finally, a good distance away from the others. Nakoa slathers sunscreen across Rem’s back after he writes ‘fuck me’ with the lotion, feels the reverberation of Rem’s voice against his own hands as Rem speaks.

“I thought we could head back through the mountains, right? Montana, then through North Dakota.”

Nakoa wants to tell him they should go back to Colorado, but the place still has Nakoa checking over his shoulder, so maybe not. Maybe this is best, this haphazard map searching.

“Maybe settle in for a week somewhere,” Rem says. “Get a job or something.”

“You mean I get a job. When was the last time you held down anything?”

Rem shoots him a look over his shoulder, reaching for the lotion. “Depends. When was the last time I fucked you?” He pushes Nakoa back against the towel, bites at his neck. “I miss handcuffs.”

Through the fog building in his head and the heat building in his stomach, Nakoa says, “You lost the keys last time!”

“They were plastic!”

“You had to cut me out of them with wire cutters,” Nakoa says, but he’s grinning. Rem’s pressing kisses along his torso as he goes down, his hands holding him up, sinking into the sand. Nakoa really doesn’t want sand in his business anymore than strictly necessary. “I’d rather not be locked up and at your mercy for the rest of my life.”

“No?”

“Gotta have my fun too, don’t I?” For a few seconds, he just stares into Rem’s eyes, hoping, searching… until Rem pulls back with a goofy grin, and the world rights itself.

“What?” Rem’s eyes are shining.

Nakoa shrugs. “Nothing, just…” His gaze drifts, over Rem’s eyes, his hair, his tattoos—down the horizon, down the beach, across the water. From their spot in the sand, it’s hard to see anyone at all. They’re almost completely hidden by a small spot on the beach which is hidden by rocks. Rem has a mischievous glint in his eye, and he unbuttons Nakoa’s jeans, fingers moving so slow Nakoa can barely handle it, before Nakoa shoves him away with a laugh.

“Come on!”

“I’m not fucking you here,” Nakoa says, grinning like a fucking fool at Rem. He thinks about the mixtape, about Rem’s response. He thinks about what Rem had said about not being able to say it back.

He thinks about Rem, about how much Nakoa does love him, in spite of his bullshit, in spite of the shitty things that he drags them through.

Nakoa’s hands ache for a joint, and all he wants to do is get high and fuck, slow and leisurely, until Nakoa’s not sure where he ends and Rem begins, but Rem, here, sober and smiling and pleased…

He’ll take it.

Rem covers him in sunscreen and presses open mouthed kisses along Nakoa’s shoulders, then pulls him up against a rock and leans against one of the shadowed sides. Sunglasses sit atop Rem’s nose, blocking out the sun. He’s already turning red, though, Rem.

With a longing glance towards the water, Nakoa crawls up to lie beside Rem. He sinks into the warm sand, like a backrub against his muscles, cramped from the van. If he lifts his head, just a little, he sees Rem.

The warmth, the breeze, the distant sound of kids playing. Rem sitting at his feet, his breathing quiet and steady.

It’s more like this than it isn’t, but it’s still not often enough that Nakoa won’t take the brief respite from the bullshit.

Nakoa dozes. Dreams of small ocean-side cottages and sex in motel rooms, in resorts. Working at a job he doesn’t hate, of Rem’s smile and his laugh and the cadence to his voice when he’s trying to turn Nakoa on (so, always).

When he wakes, Rem’s fucking with a Walkman, fumbling tapes between his fingers. “Hey,” he says, nudging Nakoa with his foot. “Come here.”

So Nakoa goes, because he always goes, settles in between Rem’s legs, his back to Rem’s chest, and waits for Rem to plop the Walkman in his lap. Rem shoves the headphones on over Nakoa’s ears and says, “Listen. Yeah?”

His hand brushes down along Nakoa’s arm, and, after hesitating for just a second, Rem presses play.

[cannibalisticshadows]

Nightcall (1/2)

Inspired and named after the song “Nightcall” by Kavinsky 

Rating: T

Pairing: Megamind/Roxanne

Tags: Angst with a happy ending. 

Summary: Megamind can’t take it anymore. He has to tell her.

(ao3 link) | (part 2)

He’s sick.

It’s shameful how badly the words sit on his tongue, begging as if it’s life or death to be said. And it’s sick. So, so sick. Evil gods above, common sense screamed that everything about this was wrong on a million levels. Though “common sense” never applied to him much, this was a boundary even he was unwilling to cross. Their relationship was professional!

But how can he help it when he sees her walk away, hips swaying side to side like a metronome that seems to beat to his heart. He wants to cry out from the tugging at his soul the farther she is from him.

So, he supposes that’s why he’s always taking her. Mr. Tighty-Whities goes out and entertains hundreds of woman, but there’s only one woman that’s worth the effort.

These day’s he’s taking her more frequently. Half-assed schemes be damned, all he cares now is seeing her face again, right in front of him and not on television. To hear her voice being spoken just for him, tones low and seductive and just for him.

Temptress...

He can’t even...

He digs his fingernails into his palms so hard that even through the kid leather it hurts. He can feel it behind his gums, unsoothable even with his own tongue, which drools with the mere thought of being allowed to touch her in the most chase of ways.

The need to have her to himself has become overpowering. He writes out absurdly poor or well-thought-out plans just for the sake of telling Minion to fetch Ms. Ritchi. Once every-other week has become weekly.

Weekly incidents have become twice, or even thrice, a week.

“Are you okay?” She asks suddenly, tied to her chair and being quieter than usual. No. No that’s not right. She’s supposed to be talking about the plan. Taunting him. Bantering with him. Why isn’t she!? "You kinda seem... tired."

He nervously runs his hands down the crappy built control system of today’s Evil Scheme. It’s cold here, biting at his exposed skin, but the heat of his desperate, sick want keeps him heated. Bitting into his lower lip, he hunches over the buttons and knobs with his back turned to her. But he watches her from the little mirror he put beside him.

“I am ecstatic,” he says with false, half-mad cheer. “Today is the day Metro Man will die.”

“Wow,” she says mildly. She pauses. “Never hear a death threat before.” Despite her tone they both know it’s true. He usually says defeat. Is she frightened for once? Nowadays he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He bites harder, this time on the tip of his tongue.

He tastes metallic, and it burns his throat.

“Just shut up and be a damsel for once?” He sneers, baring his teeth and turning around to show her. He’s angry at himself, not her.

But it makes Roxanne jolt in her seat, comically surprised. Then she goes still, eyes wide with... Something. He can't read her. Always guessing, with her. She doesn’t respond, but shrinks a bit in her chair, glowering at him with suspicion.

It’s a weird feeling to drawl out this reaction from her.

~.~.~

He’s becoming more desperate to help his vice. Withdrawal starts the second Wayne throws him into prison, keeping him quiet and brewing over the duration of his stay. The guards notice; they steer clear of him.

No one is surprised when he breaks out not twenty-four hours later, snarling at the one puny guard who dares to raise a gun at him when he comes charging out.

Minion, barely given the warning he’s breaking out on his own, manages to catch him a few miles away from the prison he’s running from.

He’s sick. Still sick. Still wants to barrel himself through this confusing life with the little bits of the drug that’s pretty much the only thing keeping him afloat. An unquenchable hunger that has nothing to do with food, and it gnaws at him like a flesh-eating parasite. And it’s so, so wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. Shouldn’t be physically shaking everything she moans his name in tiredness at yet another kidnapping. Shouldn’t be crying into his pillow at night because he wants to hear her voice outside of the television.

Kidnappings are more frequent. At the third kidnapping this week, Roxanne is barely awake which slightly pisses him off. This is a two-person job. He can’t just broadcast their trysts with her snoozing!!! He wants to grab this little woman by the shoulders and shake her—gently—because he just wants to talk to her.

Curse his alien psychology. Because he damn well knows what is happening to him. He knows why he’s resorted to spending more time in his room, biting at his own flesh because he can’t have what he wants. No. What he needs. Minion is starting to catch on, a bit, and Megamind cannot let that happen. No. No he doesn’t feel anything more than an annoyance for Ms. Ritchi, Minion! I am not falling into the same cycle my ancestors did!

He has to convince himself that his tone is somewhat convincing. Because it isn’t.

Tonight he’s determined to do it better. Today’s kidnapping ended before it even began, thanks to a sloppily build machine. It ended with a bitter, nasty remark at her choice in dress. He feels like a boy on schoolgrounds, tugging at the cute girl’s hair to get her attention.

But anyway. He fixed the machine and he demands a do-over. Tonight. At this very moment.

She’s at home, according to one of his spy-bots. not gonna admit that he’s so wretched over his own alien heart he’s started to spy on her in an indirect way.

He’s already on his hoverbike, because Minion, bless him, finally passed out from being worked too hard. He’s getting really close to Roxanne’s place when—

“Oh, no you don’t,” says a disapproving, gruff voice.

Snatched out of the air, his bike’s handles caught in the same beefy hands used to grab his collar, Megamind finds himself dangling and flailing his limbs.

Fucking Wayne. Fucking fucking fucking Wayne. What does he have to do at this time of night around Roxanne’s place, the bloody creep.

Oh. No. Megamind’s the creep, he viciously realizes, eyes ablaze with fury. Wayne’s the perfect boyfriend. Fuck him, Megamind weeps internally.

“Listen, little buddy,” the meat-head starts, pissing off the other alien even more. “You’ve kidnapped Roxie four times this week. What’s your problem?”

“You are my problem,” he hisses vehemently. “Let go!”

“No,” Wayne sighed, flying off closer to her apartment. Still spitting curses, but also rather confused, because why bring him to his destination when he was usually dropped off at the prison when caught? “You need to see this.”

Wayne drops him on the balcony without delicacy, making Megamind hand on his side with the air sucked out of him. Huffing, he stands and wipes dust off him. He breathes in, catching the faint vegetation scent of her potted plants.

His long-time enemy lands beside him on his white-clad toes, staring inside of the glass doors. Peeved, he meets where his gaze lands.

It’s Roxanne. Yes, she is home, and not at all conscious.

She’s still dressed in the same outfit from earlier; a sleeveless, deep wine-red—almost black—dress that flared at the knees, hugging her hips and derrière like a godforsaken glove. She looked good enough to drink. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, earlier,

That could have been a terrible, terrible tease if she hadn’t spent the duration of their short encounter today falling asleep. Why was she so tired lately?

She’s conked out on her red couch, one leg hiked up over the back of the couch, the other hanging off with her heal barely hanging onto her big toe. Her hair is completely disheveled, her mouth parted open as she drools slightly onto the couch’s fabric. One of her arms is curled up behind her hair, with the other hanging off the side of the couch.

And with that hand she’s gripping onto a bottle of wine. Her mascara has smeared down her face like black veins.

“You need to back off a bit,” Wayne said, his heroism voice gone and replaced with something that actually sounded human. It made things a hundred times worse because Megamind knew what his problem was.

He stood and stared at his poor Roxanne. Why. What the fuck is wrong with him!?

Wayne grabbed him by the collar before he could linger another moment, and he’s being thrown back into prison, to the bewilderment of the Warden. Can’t blame the old man; everyone could see Megamind was finally losing his marbles. He could see the thoughts in their eyes.

But as he sat in his cell, the tv on but muted, familiar orange jumpsuit scratchy against his sensitive blue skin, he thought over this hell of a month. He was sick of this. Sick of his wretched alien secret of this… need.

It should be below him. It should be abolished from his DNA; a trait his pre-evolved ancestors needed for… things. He was a scientist; an evil genius; a lone wolf. He shouldn’t be made weak by the simple, kind smile of a blue-eyed reporter.

Yet he was.

And he knew what he had to do.

Before it destroyed him.

[neganisking]

In a prison of his own creation

Negan x gender neutral reader Fluff, angst, light smut Wordcount:1675 Request by @negansmagic based on this prompt: “Let’s run away together.”

Masterlist

It was almost pitch black in your room but the soft click of your door was unmistakable despite you being on the verge of sleep.

Your senses heightened, you strain to hear any signs of your intruder. Turning to face the door before your eyes had adjusted to the darkness seemed like a bad idea but you do reach your arm carefully to grip the blade under your mattress.

As a floorboard groans sharply under their feet you make your move and shoot up, defensively bracing yourself in the direction of your would-be-attacker. “Woah. Hold the fuck up butternut. It’s just me.”

The adrenaline spike flushes your system, coupled with sheer relief making your skin prickle uncomfortably. Squinting slightly you manage to make out the shape of a familiar silhouette which matched the voice perfectly. It was him.

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair, easing back on the bed into a reclined position. “You scared me.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” For once you actually believe him. He sounds dog tired, his voice heavy, laced with something that sounds a lot like regret.

It occurs to you that you probably should be angry – or at least a lot more annoyed with him than you are now. There was a lot you had forgiven him for but him taking his frustrations out on you, for pretending you didn’t even exist all because you had told him something he didn’t want to hear had broken something inside you. It hadn’t been fair, but you had gotten used to him just not being around anymore.

But no. Looking at the man looming awkwardly beside your bed, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. You didn’t want to, falling in love with him was never part of your plan but it happened anyway, it was as easy as breathing.

Moving over to the other side of your mattress, placing your knife on the table with a soft clink, you look up expectantly, accepting the inevitable. “You just gonna stand there?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, the man toes off his boots and in one fluid motion, drapes himself over you. Leaning most of his weight on the mattress beside you, he abandons all sense of propriety and you feel the scruff of his beard and his hot breath against your neck.

There is no intent. He just lies there with his face against your throat and you can’t help but wind your arms around his neck, threading your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. You know how he feels. As much as it frustrates you to admit, you feel overcome with the sense of safety, familiarity, home. It has been too long.

That is how you stay, for so long that all sense of time seems to float away. Your fingers rhythmically carding though his hair, scratching lightly over his scalp, his warm weight on top of your body a reminder of every embrace, every smile you had both shared. For a while it’s almost as if nothing had happened, the fear this new world brings feels quieter, almost non existent in the moment.

You feel his body slowly relax, beginning to sag slightly against you. Just when you start to think that maybe he has fallen asleep, he shudders, sighing so deeply it makes you ache inside. You know this man well enough to know something must have happened. Why else would he break his resolve to stay away from you? He’s hurting.

Sliding a hand down his back, you do your best to silently soothe him. As much as you treasure being trusted enough to see his guard falter, you hate seeing him like this. But then, is it really your problem? You tried to help last time and he had thrown it in your face. Should you be helping him again?

Oblivious to your inner conflict, he presses a soft kiss against your throat, warming your insides. “It’s getting worse.”

It was the confirmation you needed – but it was hardly surprising. Growing numbers of people became harder to control so more extreme action was needed every time. People became desensitised to the brutality so Negan had no choice but to step up his game to keep them in line. It got worse every time. It was only a matter of time before it would get out of control.

It was an old argument, one that had been allowed to come between you both. You wondered if this was his way of conceding. Letting you know that you were right after all.

Maintaining your rhythm, you hum in acknowledgment. Point scoring was pointless. When it came down to it nothing else really mattered. You would help this man every single time. You didn’t have anything else to lose.

For the first time since you’ve known him, he sounds lost, almost afraid. “What do I do?”

You want to have the words he needs, to fix his broken system and stop it from spiralling out of control but you cant find them. If he stops he shows weakness and weakness will get him killed. Carrying on would mean giving into their bloodlust and giving the masses what they want in order to keep control which would work - until it didn’t. He was trapped. Caught in a system of his own making, surrounded by people who wouldn’t hesitate to take it from him.

Sighing, you hold the man tighter as though it would help. “I don’t know Negan.”

The silence is deafening. It’s only in the dead of night that you find yourself so keenly aware of how bad things are. At least this time you’re not alone.

“Days like this make me wish that I’d never started this place.”

His whispered confession makes you frown. What could have happened to make him feel so bad? While you couldn’t condone his methods, you had always felt proud of Negan for building something out of this new world. Nothing else you had seen came close. As you marvelled at his achievement you couldn’t help but wonder if it really was worth it. In terms of the greater good of course it was. He had saved so many people from themselves. But you had never really been concerned about the greater good.

There was always another option.

You muse out loud into the dark room. “So, let’s just go.”

“Go?” He presses another kiss to your neck, moving up towards your jaw tenderly without any real heat. God how you’ve missed him.

Feeling your body melt under his touch you continue to think out loud. “Yeah. We’ll pack up a truck. Me and you. Fill it with gas. You tell em we’re going on a long run and we just - go. Keep going. Leave.”

At your words he pulls away slightly to look at you with a furrowed brow, perhaps trying to tell if you’re serious or not. Your inner desire gets the better of you for a moment, taking the opportunity to surge forward and kiss him hard, impulsively catching him off guard.

His low growl lights a fire inside of you. It has been too long since you had last felt him, too long since you had felt anything even remotely like this. Your mouth moves against his as your hands tighten in his hair. He soothes his palm down your side and everything feels right and good with the world.

It’s almost too easy to fall into the familiar habit. You know his body so well even his smell feels warm and inviting. With a pleasured sigh he breaks away from your mouth to kiss along your neck, leaving you panting, arching beneath him.

He’s welcoming your distraction but that wasn’t the plan. It would be so easy to give in. To be carried away in his easy ecstasy. Berating yourself for passing up the moment, you bring yourself back in line and whisper into the shell of his ear. You couldn’t just let your thought slide.

“Let’s run away together.”

He stops then. Pulling back just enough to look at you properly, panting, he sobers up. For a brief moment you see the vulnerable Negan once again, the real Negan, as unsure of the new world as the next person. He huffs a laugh, the corners of his mouth turning up into an easy smirk before resting his forehead against your skin.

“It’s pretty fucking tempting sometimes butternut.”

“So say yes.” You gently coax the man, running your fingers along his defined arms, keeping your hopeful eyes on his just to make sure he knows how serious you are.

A pained expression pinches his features and before anything leaves his mouth you know. It doesn’t make it any less painful to hear him say it.

“I can’t.”

Your eyes flutter closed. Trying to hide the pain you feel. You hadn’t really expected anything more from him but you couldn’t help how you felt either. It was going to be the death of him one day. What was the point of saving everyone else if it meant he couldn’t save himself?

He reaches up to you, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead, eyes, cheeks, the corners of your mouth. Caressing your skin until you open your fearful eyes to look at him. He’s beautiful.

“I’ll fix it. It’ll get better. I fucking promise you that, butternut.”

He looks so sincere, so resolved. You don’t have a doubt in your mind that he believes he really can take hold of things. You know he’ll never leave, that he’ll see it through to whatever end.

Cupping his face in your hands you smile softly despite the ache inside. The new world isn’t kind to anyone else so why should you be any different?

“I know you will Negan. I know.”

Pulling him close you wrap your arms around the man tightly. You know that you will never leave either. You are as stuck as he is. After all, where would you even go? You are already home.

[wtfisrealityanymore]

Recap.

Fast forward

Its a surreal feeling reading some of the old things I used to write. Things are so different. I am so different. Its almost like I dont recognize myself from before. I feel sorry for that 16-18 year old girl venting on this site. If only she knew the things I know now. If she could only see how freaking real karma is--and know that one day it will be working in her favor, so sit patient. 

I’m thankful for my experiences, although they were tough to overcome. I am stronger now than I ever once was. Everything that once brought me to my knees is now the reason I stand tall. I am in a position in my life that I never saw coming.  Things. get. better. 

As for you, my first love..

Oh how things just turned upside down for us. I still struggle with letting you completely go, but you do not control me like you once did. Thats something I have never been able to say -- and truly mean. You stick around in my mind solely for the beautiful memories we have sewn together in our hearts, and the millions of little things that remind me of you daily, but nothing in me yearns to make any more memories than we already have. I have outgrown you, and thats a tough pill to swallow. Apart of me knows I will always love you, for helping mold me into the woman I am today. You were my first true love and my first real taste of freedom. Before you I did not know how much happiness a life could hold, how much laughter a girl could contain, or how much passion two beings could feel towards one another. I believe we all have pieces of our past loved ones that we carry. I am certain that I have pieces of you etched into my skin. stamped onto my heart. branded into my bones. I will carry pieces of you everywhere I go in this world, whoever I become. I hope you have pieces of me that you carry too. You taught me how to truly give my entire all to another human. To love fiercely. To take risks. To not give a single fuck about what anyone in the world has to say as long as it makes me happy. Us happy. You gave me courage. You helped me feel every single emotion to their extreme. You had my heart and you lit it on fire. Im not sure anything in this world will ever make me feel as free or as wild as I did while loving you. I am grateful for having known a love this consuming, because had I not, I would not be who I am today. Yes, I have outgrown you - but I do love you... just not in the way you want me to love you. Back when our puzzle pieces still fit together, we had something worthwhile. What we made together is something so beyond beautiful it belongs in an art museum. All the lows were well worth the highs you made me feel. And now it seems our pieces have shifted and they cant seem to position themselves together like they once did. I can never forgive myself for hurting you the way I did. When people ask about you my mind blanks. I am so sorry. You have hurt me beyond repair in the past, and even so, you deserved better. 

I wish I could find the words to explain to you how someone could walk away from what we had... I still dont know how I did it. I dont know why I wanted more. I dont know why I’m so difficult to satisfy. You once told me that if you were to offer me the world I would still ask for the stars and the moon too. Maybe you are right. I am selfish. I am stubborn. You gave me your all and it just wasn’t enough. I feel so much pain thinking about how much that devastated you. The agony I put you through is unsettling. I woke up and decided I didn’t want you anymore. I woke up and decided I’m missing something. 13 years of engraving myself into your heart, just to break free right at the end. Right when things should’ve been getting more serious. We were supposed to get engaged after I graduated. We were only a few months away. and yet something in me told me I was making a mistake. Our breakup felt more like a death. The months apart felt like a prolonged funeral, agonizing about the “what if’s” and all the potential just thrown away. 

You took me in as a little girl. You broke my heart over and over again, until there was nothing left of me. And then one day, years later, you picked up all the pieces and one by one put me back together. You turned me into your favorite doll. You lifted me high. You praised and loved me. You promised me you’d never hurt me again, and for the most part, you have kept that promise. For the most part. That doesn’t change that my pieces were still cracked, only being held together by the glue you gave me. I couldn’t trust you. You changed entirely for me, and yet I still resented you for all that I went through in the past. I kept a grudge, on the one man in the world that loved me more than he loved himself. I hated that you had to learn to love me, when loving you took almost no effort from me. I hated that it took you breaking me until I was nothing in order for you to see my worth. You were my best friend. You are my best friend. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. It was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. You were my muse. I was your girl. I know your next lover will only see you for who you are, not who you were before. and thats what you deserve. I couldn’t get past your demons, because they have once haunted me. I was the love of your life, but I was also a victim of you. The paradox was too upsetting for me. I had to get out. I knew leaving was the right choice. I knew if I left, and came back, it will be because I will know for sure that you are the one for me. It will be because I’m ready to give you what you need from me. Forgiveness. 

I left. and its been 8 months. I don’t see myself coming back. I have found what I was looking for. But I do forgive you. I know that you wish that you could rewrite the past. I wish I could too. Maybe then, we could’ve lived our happily ever after. The worst part of this all is losing my best friend. But after all this time has passed.. I look at you, and I look at myself, and I know that it was the right decision. I know that when we think of each other, we both remember the good. I know that you know the special place you hold in my heart. I met someone else and I know that it eats you alive, but really, it only goes to show that there is hope for you and I. For the longest time I thought if I wasn’t with you I’d be settling for less. I thought that there is no other person in this world that will love me like you do. I was wrong. I met someone else, and my life has changed. Someone will love you the way you deserve to be loved, and you will be the greatest blessing in their life. I know this, because I was once that girl. We grew together to teach each other lessons for our future relationships. We met, and loved so ferociously, so that when the right person came along we will make sure to not let them slip away. Like you let me slip away. Like I let you slip away. You are my blessing. I will never have anything negative to say about you. 

You taught what love was. You taught me what a relationship was. You taught me about friendship. You taught me about how the boy mind works. How to understand. How to love unconditionally. and so, I love him the way you taught me how. Had I not met you, I would not know any of these things. I would not know how to care for him. How to make him feel special. I would not know how much patience and compromise it takes to make something worth it work. 

I loved you so hard that I didn’t have time to love myself - and the same goes for you. That was essentially our error. We gave and gave and gave blindly to each other. We stopped growing and became stagnant. I was not happy. Not just with you, but with myself. I did not like the girl I was. I wasn’t sure I had much to offer. 

He’s taught me how to be loved, every single day. How to appreciate the beauty of my own soul. I do not want to give him the world, I want to share one with him. And I promise you, when you meet the love of your life - the real love of your life - you will be thankful for all that we know now. I’ve learned that no matter what happens, what ends, or how many times our heart breaks, we can, and always will, be able to love again. Love may leave, and though it might never come back in the same familiar way, it always comes back. I am not bitter about where we stand now, because I know that what we had was real. Not many people in this world get to experience that kind of liberation. 

I love you dearly, from the bottom of my heart. Dont ever forget that,

Your first love

[kinkyfucker68-blog]

I am 49 years old. I have 4 beautiful grown children. (girl ,boy, girl, boy—in that order) I am Irish/Scottish decent and have been married twice (but abusive and broken) in my lifetime but I am now divorced.since last year Relationships has never been kind to me and never been able to find completeness but not always was bad. I have a hard time in trusting men because I’v been used, cheated on, lied to. Broken promise, abused (mentally, physically, emotionally) belittled by words or actions by how I don’t look or my weight which is 276 or did or didn’t do, Im not stupid but made me feel that way where I have lost my self worth, self respect and confidence in myself and love. Low self worth or self esteem has taken a toll because I have never been with anyone to show me different. Men have no respect of how I feel or go through physically. Treated as I was not enough or important, unwanted and unloved. Which left me broken and shattered with a lonely and empty heart. I’ve loved with all I am and to give all of myself to be taken for granted and broken. Been promised and given false hope with lies and deceit. This left me in a dark places at times I my life where i had felt no meaning to life and wanted to give up on everything. People has mistreated and thrown me away where I was nothing either for what I don’t have or cant give. I am not beautiful or skinny. I am fat and have scars. I don’t think I’m disgusting looking but I could be wrong. I have many health issues but I keep fighting to go forward somewhere in my heart I believe deep in my heart there is love out there. I find myself I can no longer work because of my heath so I am still fighting to get my disability which leave me poor with nothing except myself. Ever since I left my second marriage and left Texas because of the hurricane and a shattered heart from trying again in love I lost everything I owned including myself and so I have nothing except the kindness of family who allows me to stay with them. I don’t ask people for anything and never want to be a burden or a bother so I learn to do without. I am grateful to be where I am and I’m not complaining. Recently I have decided I was tired of being alone and unwanted and risk my heart once again , why I don’t know.iAt my age I have a dark kinky side that is part of me, some shame me because of it and unable to find someone to explore my need I want someone who can love me for me and share my lifestyle with for whatever time I have left. There may not be a special beautiful person but just maybe someone out there is for me. But by the grace of God I have faith. I still battle with trust and insecurities im working thru but I would like to see if there is a man out there for me. I’ve learned over the years of what I want and desire. In no young chic anymore and almost 50 in Dec. and I’m not always good about picking the right relationship and risking too much of myself. But to be honest I’m tired of being alone and I want someone to spend time with and maybe see if there is any chemestry. I am a person who is a child of Christ, I  love with her whole heart and soul, kind and caring and understanding, honest and loyal, humble, and simple. I don’t judge, critize, whine, complain. I see what’s in your heart and not on the outside. I’m not pushy, or controlling, I don’t tell a person what to do or not to do, I don’t change people to be something there not. I am real and an open book I have no servants. I have a kind heart, but I have a passion and wild side in private for that special someone to share the bedroom with the right man. I am shy and sensitive, love animals and crafts of all kinds, poetry, coloring, reading and writing for my ministry I started but also like erotic reading as well and being with the one who is special to me and love my children and family. I am a good friend and listener and try to understand and have compassion. I’m supportive and faithful and patient. Simple and calm which I don’t get mad or angry very rarely but I am cautious when it comes to guys who may want to hurt me. I do have a very naughty side in private I like for the special guy and I love to please the man I’m with and hope he does the same. I have experinced which I have craved in the room someone who is loving and dominate and in control who can please me and send me to the moon. It may or may not exist but if that person does I wouldn’t mind marrying him. I’m sure I am missing some more qualities of myself and what I seek in a man but that Is the mystery of me. You have to want to know me more and see what more there is. Just know this I don’t need what you have or what’s in your pocket. I don’t do head games, drama or sex games. Don’t be disrespectful or rude or mean. Don’t be cruel and exspect sex pictures when you don’t know me. I don’t jump into the sack with strangers. But I want to have a special man to give my all to. I desire a man who would never abuse or hurt me. Be strong and dominate in private. Be strong and protective of what is his if he wants that special person. To accept her as she is and not control her life but be her partner. Someone who is supportive and wants to give her anything of him. Someone who is clean and decent. Someone who is loyal and faithful and only wants one woman in his life. Who is trusting with her heart and is affectionate and passionate and takes her to new heights. To love her and is real about what he wants and a long relationship if he desires it. Someone who wants to get to know each other and see if there is chemistry between them in and out of their privacy zone. Accepts each other as they are even with their faults. Someone who wants them for their heart and soul. This may seem long and I have taken the time to really think about is long and heart and would like one day maybe that one special one would love me and marry me one day. I  hope that special one will search his heart and see what he truly wants in life and love. I may be poor and not pretty but I’m honest and real. So if you see anything interesting about me and if by some miracle you are that special person come find me and talk. Will you take that risk as I am.

[huggpheonix]

Sad fic avatar

"Aang... Its not too late.." She whispered. She whispered it with conviction.. But fear mingled with it. As if scared to offend the boy who sat before her. "It is." He growled. He had allowed his hair to grow back out and it sat shaggy and unkempt around his face and shoulders. Stubble had erupted on his chin and the boy seemed paler than usual. A scar the size of his hands trailed down his spine and neck. He sat crosslegged and without a shirt. He seemed go be freezing. Katara gave a sigh and put a blanket over his now tall figure. It was true. Firelord Ozai had take over and killed many. Many all over the continent. Starting with zuko. "Its not your fault." She added hastily. "We were kids, Aang. Kids, and Ill be damned if we anything but." "I was the worlds only hope, Katara. I failed." "Get over yourself." Came a deeply annoyed tone from behind them. Aang hunched his shoulders and his tattoos seemed to glow. He didnt turn to face them. Katara however looked to see Toph leaning into the entrance. She had allowed her hair to take a roguish look and her features seemed to be edgier and sharp. Thick bangs covered her face but not her blank grey eyes. She wore water tribe clothing to blend in, after her family had been killed off. She was the last known beifong to be living. "Toph." Katara whispered hurriedly. She had an edge to her voice, like an icicle. "No, Twinkle toes, listen here. You failed. Okay? Quit sulking about it. The more you do, the more people get killed. We alll failed, Aang. We all did. But that doesnt mean we still cant recover. Zukos dead. Alright? As far as we know we could be next. But dont think for a second we arent going to stay here any longer waiting for you to get over it." Aang only buried his face in his hands. He didnt seem to register the tough spiel thrown at him so suddenly. Katara stood so that she and Toph were face to face. "Toph! For gods sakes! " she muttered. "Its the truth Katara. He may respond to niceness and kindess but the cold hard truth needs to be exercised." She groaned. "Its been far too long." She said and stalked out. Wether Katara would see her waiting patiently outside or practsiing in the caves, she didnt know. "Aang. Please. I know it hurts. More than you know."  Aang gave a snort and finally turned to look at her. His tattoos were a bold electric blue and they glowed on and off. His eyes looked so tired compared to her desperate ones. A grizzly scar had reached across his face. But it did not hinder his handsome deep set features. They enhanced them. "You dont know about pain, Katara. Youve a beautiful family, that hasnt been touched by the fire nation." He said coldly, Her eyes narrowed, an icy blue searched the cold grey ones. "Bullshit, Avatar. Tell that to my father and my mother. Tell that to sokka.." She broke off and looked anywhere but him. Aang widened his eyes and once again buried his face in his hands. "Everything is so fucked up, im sorry Katara. " his eyes turned white and then grey again. "Dont say shit like that. And then.. And then expect the world to hang at your fingertips. Tophs right. But theres more to it then just that. Aang. We were too young.. But.. Times have changed. Our appearances have changed. We can overtake the firelord." "H-how.." He stuttered. "We can infiltrate and change towns over to our favor. Aang.. Its been 4 years.. 4 years.. And.. And.. I can feel, that its gonna be different this time.. I know it." "Katara im so tired. Everyone hates me now." "Get over yourself. I dont hate you, Toph doesnt hate you." "Wow gee." "Get up."  Fear crossed his features. "Im.. Im not gonna try again." "We need the current avatar Aang. You cant just hand over your avatar powers." Aang groaned. He stood up and could barely. The snow hut they were in was pretty tiny compared to his height now. They both stepped outside. He grabbed his old nomad top and tucked it into his watertribe pants. Katara moaned, Toph wasnt there waiting.  "We need to go get Toph. If shes right and you havent exercised your bending, youre probably pathetic." She said this so matter of factly aang actually kind of grinned. So they set off on foot, for Appa had been taken by the firenation once again. He carried his old staff but it was dwarfed by now. As they walked he could not help but notice again how breath takingly beautiful she was. Her brown hair flowed effortlessly behind her in a braid and her features were soft and determined at the same time. Her icy blue eyes seemed dimmer now that they were in the snow storm. Time had had an effect on all of them. Not that there were many anymore. Most had fled into hiding, turned themselves over to firenation cells, been slaved, worked undercover for the cause or had died. He shivered. He had failed. And yet he wasnt dead. They arrived in an hour to see Toph had taken refuge in a cave by the southern water tribe village. She was working on her technique where she tried to earthbend by just using her fingers or eyes. It was going great. She had managed to move a rock the size of a small dog two inches off the ground using only her eyes. She was wicked happy about this.  She also seemed to have worked on strength conditioning by her torn muscle. "Ah, if it isnt Katara and the avatar. How nice of you to join us mister avatar." "Cut it out Toph. Weve all fucked up greatly lets get over that. Lets accept it."  Katara strode over to the rock pot of cold leopard penguin soup. "Im sorry Toph. Ive been a huge pile of shit. Can you forgive me?" "Forgive? For what? I was never angry with you, you big dumb airhead. Sulking pisses me off. But.. Its also human... So.. Yeah." "You both.. Ready? I mean.. For whats... To come?" "Its not like we have anywhere to turn to, that money cant buy and that isnt haunted." "My whole village is melted. Literally." Katara remarked sadly from her stool.  "Join the club." Toph sneered. "Im sorry." "Quit apologizing and eat. Eat and fill your skinny bones out. We have training after this." Even though the world was being conqured and maimed, toph had still managed to make Aang smile. "How do you know im skinny. I could be humongous for all you know." "The vibrations under your feet dumbass." He laughed and Katara kind of giggled. He ate with difficulty. Not because of its tastlessness (he was famished.) but because he really didnt intend on caring for himself too often.. Since.. Since.. "Sokka wouldve loved this soup. Full of meat." "Hes not dead." Katara's eyes watered. "Hes been put into custody and forced to haul wood for the flameymen." "We will get him back Katara its my fault hes in there." "Quit that." "What?" "Blaming yourself for every little thing." "Al-alright.. Alright.." He said. "This is depressing. Aang Katara follow me. We need to train. If we are gonna kick some firenation ass, we need to train ours off." She turned the soup into sand and took the seats out from under them both, Aang being rusty was caught offguard. "I was right. Youre pathetic. Get up." He obeyed. Later on they were very very tired and sore. Aang had a black eye and a swollen lip. "Geez Toph." He moaned. "First things first. Its master toph because even though youve had an additional four years to hone your skills, youve basically sulked it away. You even let your hair grow out." "I can still do it!" He yelled indignantly. "Do and bend are two different things." He flushed a deep scarlet. "Aang tighten up your stance you need to face the fucking rock or it will pummel you! Now!" She yelled and hurtled a rock his way. He slapped his hands together and concentrated. The rock collided with his hands and groud itself into sand and it flowed around his body before he turned it into a huge rock and sent it back again. She stopped it inches away from her face and returned it to the earth. "Not half as bad as yesterday," "Thanks!" He said excitedly. "Did i say good?!" She shouted and sixty pointed rocks pinned Aang to the wall. "Okay, now metal bending. Remember when we departed four years ago and i was captured? Well metal is just rock. Just wayyy more purified." He condensed the rock under aangs fire. It turned into metal and bent to tophs will. "Wow, okay let me try." He touched it and it immediately dented. He bended it in about 6 minutes tops. "Ha, ha beginners luck." After a week Aang had atoned for a years worth of training. But there was still kataras water bending basics again. They were both right, just because he could still manipulate the element, didnt mean he had a gritty understanding if he were to be born into them. Air was still his element, he understood air as he did his own mind, so pretty and very well. Air would not hurt him. It flowed freely into his lungs and made him light on his feet. Air was mastered. "Aang. You need to feel the water trickle through your veins." "I know.. Im just a little shaky," "Damn right your shaky. That isnt flowing its like fire." By the time a month had passed he was feeling the element very well. He could get down into the earth element by feeling all his apprehension and tension release and combine to move the earth. He could feel water by letting his fear and anxiety calm the stream and in turn it helped him. It helped him feel more than just dead. Fire and air were still his best elements by far. Fire was easily done now adays. Because he was so angry and all the pent up rage against the firenation was fused into his attacks. He felt he was ready and with alot more training. He would be fierce. "Youre actually getting good." Toph admitted one day when he had managed to lock one of her ankles down to the ground and in turn she had locked his arms down. "You really think so?" "Yeah. I do, twinkletoes." He beamed and undid both of the rocks and flew back to his original stance. He was going to get it all down by the end of the week. By the end of the week he was fighting and kicking and punching with control and firosity all in one. He felt the people in need fill him. And he strengthened because of that. They go and get sokka back. And zukos not dead just hidding out. "Im proud to say youve mastered water, avatar Aang." Katara purred with fondness in her voice. "Really?" He asked blushing. Well, the parts of his face that werent scarred turned pink. "Yeah, youve always been a natural Aang." She admitted. "Y-youre just saying that Katara. Youre the master. Im greatful to have learned so much." Katara opened her mouth to say more but then Toph walked in. "Im not deaf. You two sound like were gonna die very soon. Therll be enough time to coo about eachother. We need to get Sokka back." "Really?!" Katara yelled with tears in her eyes. "Yes, ive got the map. Hes in the boiling rock. Theyve reallly tightened up security around there. We will have to be careful." "I love you both!" She said and grabbed them in a very tight embrace. "Yeah yeah, I miss having sokka around anyways. Aang, youre awesome at earth bending but never as good as me." She conceeded with a grin. "Of course, Master." "We begin travel tomorrow." Aang's gaze hardened and he thoug back to Appa. "We'll get him back Aang." "I just wish id said i loved him alot more.." "Dont worry Twinkletoes. Its gonna be ok.. Zukos gone.. But.. Sokka isnt and i have a very good feeling Appas alive too." The next morning katara, Toph and Aang set off for the boiling rock. "Its in firenation territory. But we can obtain a fleet ship. I know it." "We dont need to. The farther we go on foot, the less cospicious we look. Theres refugees all over now that Ozai's in power." Aang avoided eye contact with anyone they passed on their way to firenation territory. "Aang you need to smarten up. We cant even tell its you. Youre so different from how you were four years ago." "Yeah for one thing, youre taller." "Skinnier, your hair is long." "You HAVE hair. It covers your tattoos." "Youre burnt." Aang only looked up occasionally from now on. They had still taken the liberty of gathering travellers clothes but Aang still kept the nomad shirt under his earth nation vest. Finally after a week they reached fire nation borders. "That wasnt as exhausting as I thought it would be." "Its only smooth sailing from here." They explored more and more of the firenation within days. Finally Katara reported back that she had discovered the boiling rock prison in a volcano. "They werent kidding, were they?" "Back when we were together.. Sokka mentioned something about this place." "Your father." "Yeah." At midnight they managed to break into it. Aang pretented to be a earth nation prisoner who had comitted treason of the highest sort. Katara and Toph were both guards. "Bleh, firenation prisons are so bleak.. Good thing im an all nation sort of guy." Katara smiled only a little and Toph snickered. "Eyy! Firemates, get over here! We're kicking some waterbenders!" Aang flinched and Katara froze. Toph gritted her teeth and she and katara moved to the other firenation guards immediately. It was then that Katara came face to face with her long lost brother Sokka. He was older mature looking and had a sunken face obviously to malnutrition. His frame was still lean and lanky. He was taking the beating but he was closing his eyes. His hair has been cut short and his neck and body had sustained war prints and tattoos and scars. He had stubble on his neck and jaw. "Watertribe scum, a guy named Sokka. Lucky we caught him. Took his little gadgets too. Aint no bender are you boy? He dont even resist." "Ah, he used to. But we broke him. We always break them." "Stop!" Katara whispered fiercely. Aang and Toph widened their eyes. They all stopped but one of the guards spit on him. "I need to take this prisoner at once. Hes been very very naughty to me." The fireguards smirked and kicked him in the ribs to where she stood. "Take 'im treat him very nicely. And by nice i mean harshly. Just a little gift, huh sokka!" Katara gave Toph the 'stay here look'. Then forgot she could not see. She finally looked Aang in the eyes and he understood. She stared at her long lost brother, whom she had not seen since four years before. She finally grabbed his shirt collar and with little help from sokka, had managed to stand up. He wobbled a bit and when taking more than a few steps, he stumbled. She noticed that he had a limp to his once stride. He closed his shadowed eyes when he walked. Head down, as if in defeat. Finally they got to an empty cell room. She unlocked the door with the chain of keys and shoved him in there. Carefully she slid the door closed and switched on the lights. "Sokka..." She whispered breathlessly. She had pronounced his name right and he glanced up. His dim blue eyes scanned her and then he shuddered, curling his legs up to his chest. "Please... Dont touch me.. all the guards like to." He muttered with fear. Katara brought a hand to her aching chest. She slid off the helmet and Sokka gasped. Her beautiful soft brown hair was tied in a ponytail and her bright blue eyes were the same as he remembered them. "Katara!" He shouted. The blue fire returned fiercely in his eyes, and finally... Finally.. She recognized him. "I thought you were dead!" He said hoarsely and fast, as if he hadnt used his voice in weeks. "No sokka, im not." She crossed the last steps and embraced her brother. "Oh.... Man... I love you Katara! Ive missed you.. Ive missed you so much.." He said it fast. "I love you too.. Ive spent four years Sokka.. Four years.. When we get you out of here we will catch up." She said with determination. Sokka nodded, he looked weaker then she remembered, fragile. But, one look at his physique proved her wrong. "A couple friends of mine, helped me out with food. I guess when youre an adult, you just need more of it. If you think ive been just sitting here... No.. Ive been waiting." Katara nodded. She reached a hand and touched his face. "They took away my tools. My cool moonsword, my boomerang, my knife.. I cant nessecaerly shave." Katara could only reply with nodding.. It was weird.. She thought he had been dead. "Okay now dont panic.. But they arent going to let us out until you look beaten up." "Katara, four years really does make you a good actor." He ruffled up his out grown hair and added several small bruises and cuts to his face lips and hands. He tussled his clothes and layed down. Katara frowned but didnt say anything. "23.you done in there? Geez, he must have been bad." 29 asked. "Teach you a lesson." Katara growled convincingly enough. Sokka smiled sadly at her and then huddled into himself. She emerged from the room breathing heavily. "Sweet sound of a water freak groaning, I love it. Nice job 23." Katara didnt answer but only nodded. "Aang! Toph! Katara! Oh man i love you guys i missed you guys! Ill never take you for granted again.." He blurted out in a fury.

[erlgaytea]

Reasons to kill myself

1. I'll never be able to keep a job: i cant keep a job because i burn out too quickly. I can only work for so long before i lose momentum and start slipping. I start being late for work, i stop looking presentable, etc. Also my anxiety although i seem like i can keep it together im panicking on the inside. Everytime i have to face a client im silently dying to run away. My heart races and i get cold sweats and shortness of breath. Every. Single. Time. People think im so cute and awkward but its not cute at all its debilitating. I look like i can function in the workplace but i really cant. And if i cant work than whats the point? I wont make money and i wont follow my passion. Ill have to stay on social assistance forever and in turn thats not good for me either. When i have nothing to do i feel overwhelming emptiness and the realization that nothing in my life is right and probably never will be. Ill never be able to work and that is a huge problem that will affect my other reasons for living making them reasons to die 2. I wont be a good mother: all i want to be is a good mother that provides everything for her children that i didnt get from my parents. But i wont be able to do that. My mom neglected me my whole life. Sure i got the bare necessities, but i didnt get enough love. She looked at my scars and didnt say a word. Shes just absorbed in her own problems that i will and do inevitably have as well. I look at how far shes come in her life and i dont want to end up where she has. Four kids who dont want anything to do with her, a shitty boyfriend, a string of shitty abusive exes and no work or passion. My biological dad was never there. I kinda want to see him so he can just be proud of me. Have someone anyone be proud of me. I probably wouldn't be able to feel it anyways. My step dad abused me for 16 odd years and i watched him abuse my siblings and mother. So with all that given to me...how can i be a good parent if i dont know what a good parent is. I dont. Have the emotional compasity. Also i cant even take care of myself. 3. I cant take care of myself: i cant even shower regularly. I cant eat properly, i smoke like a chimney, my room has mould...ill be destined to die a painful early death like my grandmother who was also depressed. Thats what i have to live up to. A life of sadness and pain only to end it in pain. The only way i can be taken care of is to spend my life in a hospital 4. love doesnt last: all i want to be is loved and to give love. But whats the point if it doesnt last? Love isnt even really real. I look at my happily married peers and think to myself: how long until they divorce? If they cant find a partner that will stick with them and theyre mentally healthy...how would anyone want to stay with me? Ill never get better im permentantly emotionally damaged. They dont want a broken person. Even if i got married theyd leave and i dont know how much more abandonment i can take 5. I cant feel anything good: nothing feels good anymore except drugs and sex. And those are fast dying pleasures that leave you feeling emptier than before. A compliment goes through one ear and out the other. I cant absorb any good because im so full of the bad. People have helled me while i cry but i cant feel their arms pulling me back together, or rather trying to. I cant feel any love that is radiating from them. I feel all horrible. Maybe they dont truly care and thats why i cant feel anything good. 6. Probably every boy ive slept with: each of my partners have taken away from me and never given anything back. I give my all only to have it thrown in my face. Am i not good enough? 7. All the trauma ive lived through: watching my mother get beat by my step dad...knowing if my mom died that it wasn't an accident and it would be my step dads fault. Knowing if i died it would 've been by my step dads hand. I feared for my life and my siblings and mothers life. My step dad sexually assaulting me. Being sexually assaulted by many other men. A counsellor once told me: "you must have an idea of what every man is like" and i do. Every man is a potential threat to me. Whether its to use and ditch me or to beat me up and rape me. I am deeply fearful of men. My ex asked me why im so scared of his dad. Well if he'd listened to stories of my past maybe he'd know why. Summary: all i want in life is to have my job that i love and have a beautiful family that loves me and i love them and i can care for THEM instead of my children having to care for me like i had to for my mother. But i wont have it. I know it. I watch my mothers path and i see it paved all out for me. I try to be the functional human i want to be but its a fucking joke. Going to school, dropping out and going back only to find my anxiety and depression will probably keep me from doing anything. Keep me from keeping my job and from keeping a spouse. No one wants a damaged fucked up human. So many have left me because of my depression. No one wants to stay with my mother either unless its to control or take advantage of. Thats all im good for too. And even if i got all that and was able to (by some fucked up miracle) keep it all by the skin of my teeth, would i be happy? Could i feel the love my family had for me? Is it worth trying so hard to find out its all false? And then i just put off my inevitable suicide until i have a child. Then i fuck them up too and they live the same life i did? Is it worth it really? I always knew i would die by my own hand. I just wasn't sure exactly when it would be. Im still not sure, im terrified of death...but i know that i dont have much to live up to...