as he that sleeps here swim

I’ve been meaning to draw Percy Jackson lately, so here he is in all of his battered, salt watery, sandy glory. GDI Take a shower Percy. And no, your midnight swim in the ocean does not count.

Art is mine
Do not edit or redistribute without proper credit


3.Freeな寝起きどっきり。 part 1
  • 3.Freeな寝起きどっきり。 part 1
  • 七瀬 遙(CV.島﨑信長), 橘 真琴(CV.鈴木達央), 松岡 凛(CV.宮野真守), 葉月 渚(CV.代永 翼), 竜ヶ崎 怜(CV.平川大輔),

Track 3: Free Wake Up Ambush, part 1

Nagisa: Listen up, we’re going to give Haru-chan a small wake up prank, so Mako-chan and Rei-chan need to stay quiet.
Rei & Makoto: Understood!
Nagisa: Then here we go…!
Rei & Makoto: Yeah!
Nagisa: Haru-chan!! Wake up!! …Eh!?
Rei: T-This is!?
Makoto: He’s sleeping in just a pair of swimmers?!
Rei: Is this called… Swimming pajamas?
Makoto: Wouldn’t it be too constricting?
Nagisa: We’re the ones that got surprised!
Rei: Really now…

(note: translations are done from japanese -> chinese -> english, so there may be small differences)

you have to understand / the wolf isn’t always the villain here / yes / he tore the deer apart limb by limb / but he was only trying to stay alive / this lesson can be applied anywhere / the ocean doesn’t care that i can’t swim / it just needed a little more salt / you didn’t mean to leave me splintered / you just needed to understand my fascination with space / i didn’t care that she’s sleeping in your bed now / i just needed you to stay on the phone a little longer / here’s the catch / in a not so distance future / i’m falling asleep without the thought of your hands in my hair / instead of spring cleaning / i waited for fall / and then threw open the closet doors / listened to the skeletons rattle back to life / said yeah / this was just another lesson learned / the blue girl is the dead girl / and the dead girl is six feet under / and me / well i’m still breathing / so if you don’t want to answer the phone anymore / i think i’ll still be okay / you weren’t the villain / and neither was i / but that doesn’t make us the hero / we were just trying to stay alive
—  SYMPATHY FOR THE WOLF, angelea l.

Okay, since it’s now canon that percy is a swimmer, here’s some things to consider:
-he wakes up super early for morning practice and sleeps through his math class
-broad shoulders!
-eats constantly. constant snacking. lots of food in his bag. so much food.
-what’s that you say? cap tan? and goggles tan? gods, percy wear sunscreen during outdoor practice
-lots of chlorine means hair that won’t smooth down eVER
-back muscles. b a c k muscles
-don’t tell me percy would be anything but a sprinter. one time he swam the five hundred and got out after a two hundred. he’s all about that 50 life
-he’s got a big old speedo bag filled with a mix of mildewy towels, broken goggles, and old camp shirts
-annabeth timing at his highschool meets and showing up with big signs at club ones

“What do you think, I just  went  down to the local ghost Top Shop?”

as he that sleeps here swim, Where harry is a ghost and louis is drama director. this is interesting, sweet and bitter at the same time. I love it…i love how the story flow and how lonely i feel when i read about Harry. i’m still not into ziam - but fully enjoying how sweet louis is. .

okay, painting is more fun than i expected… gotta do some more :D



This actually isn’t the entire collection (my bitty sister has most of the Nagisa merch for herself because he’s her favorite!) and there are still keychains and things like a towel with Rin’s stupid face on it I couldn’t fit here, but for the most part, THIS IS MY SWAG.

To date, I have a complete collection of the large Taito Sweet Macaron, Sugar Cake, and large preschooler figurines as well as bits and pieces of the rest which I hope to complete someday!

… can you tell which one is my favorite character yet.


(headcanon idea rin and haru once went out to swim in the ocean at night, while swimming under the stars rin tells haru that eventhough he lost his father to the ocean he do not fear it, cause he know that his father always will look after him from above)

“HERE’S LOOKING AT YOU KID” EXPLORED #54 18/5 by Englishpointers (Hate Sleep Apneoa) These are my neighbours 10 day old baby ducklings which he has hatched in an incubator and today was their first day outside in the big bad world. We found a shallow tray for them to swim in and they have had so much fun jumping in and out and slashing around


These Inconvenient Fireworks The fic that got me into the fandom. This is by far the best fic out there. Just read it. Don’t hesitate. Stop everything. Go.

As He That Sleeps Here Swims by Acavall AU in which Louis is a director at the Globe Theatre and Harry is the unconventional ghost that haunts it.

In From The Cold by Acavall Louis is a hurricane who won’t stand still, but Harry thinks maybe Ireland has this way of changing priorities. A B&B au in which Harry and Zayn run an inn in Ennis, Ireland, and Louis comes to review it. Liam is their handyman, Niall absolutely doesn’t work there, and home is most definitely where the heart is.

This Is The First Day Of My Life by Acavall Four meetings with Harry Styles, in four different lifetimes, on four of Louis Tomlinson’s twenty-second birthdays. One day fate will get it right. She swears. 

We Are The Greatest Pretenders by Complimentarycouture Louis and Harry are androids, Nick developed them with independent emotions, and they get much more than they bargained for with them.

Don’t Look Down by Zarah5 AU. In which Louis is a solicitor at one of London’s most prestigious law firms and Harry happens to apply for the position as his trainee. And everyone else is around, too.

Pull Me Under by Zarah5 AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis’ favourite teammate, Liam as Louis’ agent, and Zayn as Liam’s boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.)

Into The Blue by Zarah5 AU. In which Louis is Harry’s scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can’t be all that difficult to convince Harry that they’re on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity. 

An Eternal Enigma by Goldenquill Louis is a reluctant king with a head full of fairy tales, and Harry is an emotionally-challenged musical prodigy. Zayn is a hopelessly romantic painter, Liam is the castle’s resident ghost with sporadic amnesia, and Niall is the accidental head of the kingdom’s most prevalent spy ring. 

With A Broken Heart And A Ticket Homeby Goldenquill Harry and Louis’ flight is delayed, and they’re the only ones to not get the memo. Cue a night spent in a tiny Irish airport with only each other for company, and the hand of Fate delivering a swift smack on the wrist and a demand to try again.

These Streets Are Yours You Can Keep Themby Acavall Working as an EMT has slowly sanded Louis down to a muted existence, and he’s made his peace with that long ago. Except now he’s got a new trainee in his ambulance, and Zayn’s dating a fireman, and there’s a gorgeous, idealistic policeman on the scene who keeps doing stupid and heroic things and making Louis’ heart beat just that bit faster.

But I Can’t Stand Still That Would Be Lonely byLissomely In which the OT5 met through a sharehouse and are looking for a new place to live. After a month of trawling through terrible properties, they find the perfect apartment… but it has four bedrooms. Now if only two of them can be convinced to share a room together, for whatever reason. 

Sing When You’re Winningby Hazmesentir Harry is fifteen minutes late to the office on the day Louis Tomlinson comes out as gay. Or, the one where Harry’s a chronically underpaid magazine intern and Louis is the Premier League’s first gay footballer and pretty much the last thing they need is each other.

Burning Away From The Inside by Scottmcniceass They’re a little too dysfunctional to be considered superheroes, but they do their best.

Not Happening by Scottmcniceass Zayn and Liam are roommates. They hate each other. (Most of the time.)

Permanent by Scottmcniceass  At twenty-six, Liam has made a name for himself as one of the best football players of his generation. He’s in the prime of his game when a car accident threatens to end his career permanently. Depressed and hating the world, Liam heads back to his home town to take some time off and find himself again. He doesn’t expect to find life pretty much the way he’d left it eight years ago, and he definitely doesn’t expect to find something that might make him want to stay permanently, but that’s what he gets.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird  by 100percentsassygloria_andrews AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who “has made Mozart cool again” according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

The Finish Line (Is A Good Place For Us To Start) by LoadedGunn Racing Car Driver AU which uses the international racing calendar as a plot device to structure the story. The tension shifts nicely from ‘will they/won’t they’ to ‘personal growth/coming out’ and allows the story to continue beyond where a lesser fic might end. Fantastic dialogue, great smut A+ tension, flawless characterization and lovely writing. Have read this probably 6 times.

Red Brick Heart: by Hazmesentir Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn’t expect is a surprise roommate who’s loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he’s ever wanted.

Be My Little Good Luck Charm: by 100percentsassy  In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

anonymous asked:

Sleeping positions/habits of iwatobi and samezuka?

i’m totally sitting in bed whilst writing this just wishing that i had one of these dorks here right now (-, – )…zzzZZZ


Haruka: Sleeps on his back, and usually keeps to his own side of the bed. Mostly a still sleeper, but there is the odd occasion where he’ll move, kicking his arms or legs (wait, is he trying to swim?), which can sometimes be funny to watch… It’s not such fun to experience, though. Haru’s an early riser naturally, and he’ll be out of bed straight away, unless convinced otherwise.

Makoto: Cuddler, even though he doesn’t mean to, really. Sleeps on his side and is good at staying in one place at first, but throughout the night tends to spread out and start to move his limbs - he’s quite large, too, so this can cause some falling out of bed scenarios. Either him or his partner, that is. He’s a pretty late sleeper, naturally, and so needs a good alarm to wake him up.

Nagisa: Do I even need to say cuddler? He’ll hold onto his partner all throughout the night, and sometimes even into the morning when they need to get up early and he’s still got an iron grip on them. Usually sleeps on his front with limbs splayed out if he’s sleeping alone. His waking time kind of depends on how tired he is. Also, occasional sleep talking. It’s amusing sometimes, horrifying others.

Rei: Similarly to Haruka, he’s a fairly straight sleeper, and also sleeps on his back. You can often find him reaching out to try and touch his partner during the night, though, which can come as a bit of a surprise, and might not end well… Either way, he’s mostly pretty good at staying still. Early riser by nature - unless it’s raining. Expect him to sleep through the morning if the weather’s bad.


Rin: Light sleeper - actually snores a little, although it’s more deep breathing. Sleeps on his side, and actually prefers to sleep with the covers off (something he picked up in Australia, apparently). Good at staying still at night, although it’s easy to tell if he’s bothered by something, because he’ll toss and turn more than usual. Very early riser - it’s actually a little impractical how early he gets up sometimes.

Sousuke: Sleeps on his front when he’s on his own, sleeps on his back when sleeping with someone else. He’s very good at staying still - the most he’ll do is reach out to put an arm around his partner during sleep, but apart from that and the occasional turn, he’s a good guy to sleep with. Also has a habit of spooning, but to be fair he does that whilst awake, too, so no big surprises here. Waking time varies - he kind of just goes with the flow.

Nitori: Welcome to sleepwalking hell. Ok, that’s a little unfair, really… It’s not every night that it happens, and when it does, it’s usually just wandering around the bedroom, but it happens nonetheless. He’s also said some pretty interesting things in his sleep, but claims not to recall them the following morning. And yes, he’s the small spoon. He’s a pretty late waker, although he gets out of bed as soon as the alarm goes off.

Momotarou: Sleeps like a log, surprisingly. Seriously, once this boy has his head hit the pillow and his limbs are comfortable, he’s out until the following morning, and you’d have to literally dunk him in ice cold water to wake him up. Despite this, he’s actually quite an early riser, naturally, and will generally wake everyone else up. If he’s had a lazy day, then he might actually sleepwalk, although this is rare.


A/N: SO I’M PRETTY SURE THIS WAS RUSHED. It’s been sitting in my documents collecting dust ever since the first viewing of the series finale because of this post and I was just reminded of it today. So, here is a little drabble and I apologize if it’s shit because I didn’t edit or re-read it (which I should have, honestly) but- Eh. What you gonna do, right?


If Rae’s arms could be wrapped around his waist forever like this, Finn would never leave this bed. He should be sleeping; because their first time together was a lot about Rae being comfortable enough to let him kiss her skin, to smooth his hands gently down her sides and map them (directions from here to here), and Finn’s tired, he is, but his head still swims at the thought of Rae. Rae who is so ridiculously human, flawed and mending and beautiful like wind that whistles through the leaves.

“I can hear you thinking,” Rae mumbles sleepily against his bare chest. She snuggles up more, tucking her head under his chin and Finn smiles, the arm that’s wrapped around her shoulders pulling her in tighter so that all he can smell is the sweetness of her hair. “Go to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Finn says quietly, the gentle white noise of the rain almost swallowing his voice in the sound. “I tried.”

“What you thinking about?”

“You,” he feels falling, like stumbling onto a beaten path and then down a hole with no end. “And the fact that we’re here.”

“What d'you mean?”

“I mean like, the fact that I have you in my arms. Is that too cheesy?”

“Oh, definitely,” Rae laughs and then, “But it’s alright.”

Finn smiles, presses a kiss to her temple and it’s nice, the feeling of peace that settles all around them. He thinks of slow kisses and hands tangled in hair and drinking in the moonlight. Skin pressed flush against skin (rose petals).

(He’s never known something could be so special. Like walking through a gallery of art and everything else is just a blur of pastel, sunshine yellow at every turn, baby blue smudged across several canvases. But Rae-
Rae is all vibrant colors, Finn’s noticed from the start. From the very first time she showed up at the pub, arms linked with Chloe, he’s known she was going to be someone who would either make his life hell, or make it better. It’s been a ride ever since.)

Rae smooths her hand over the planes of Finn’s chest, pulling him out of his thoughts. He hums softly.

“So,” she taps her fingers along the space between his collarbones to the top of his ribcage. “Are you going back to Leeds, then?”

“It depends, really.”

“On what?”

“On you.”

It’s a big risk, he knows. He knew it the first time he asked (“I’ve got no other reason to stay, have I?”) and yet he goes for it again because this time he feels like there might be a different answer to this question that haunts him in his sleep. The wish to a have a reason. The glue that keeps his feet on the ground and keeps him from drifting off the face of this earth and into the abyss.

Rae lifts her head up slowly, looks him in the eye as the finger that was previously tapping starts tracing letters on his flesh, hesitant like she’s not sure if she should.


And Finn feels like his heart might soar out of his chest because she smiles down at him. The light from the lamp illuminates Rae’s eyes and, if he could, Finn would drown in the warm honey color of them, let it wash over him until he can’t breathe.

Finn cups Rae’s cheek in his hand and reaches up to kiss her softly, licking into her mouth. It’s sweet, the fit of their lips together and there’s a promise that lingers even after they part for air. A promise that yes Finn will stay, because all he needed was a confirmation, in any way, shape or form and he has it. It’s written on his chest and he still feels the ghost of her finger against him.

He grins up at her and kisses the corner of her mouth.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

a list of halloween aus 👻

basically h&l as various creatures because it’s almost halloween 

domestic monsters series by g_uttertrash witch harry, vampire louis, etc etc

Keep Me In Your Pocket by ologist  louis was cursed by a witch 

Keep reading

He never let his hair get quite as long as Rin’s had been (it’s not like his hair would ever be as naturally sleek looking as Rin’s anyway) and he never bothered putting the effort into styling it that Seijuro always did (there were too many products and he liked his extra half hour of sleep way too much.)  But somewhere along the way he managed to grow out of his awkwardly adorable bowl cut and into his own style.

He would never be as brilliant a swimmer as either of them.  But that didn’t mean he was useless.  This was Samezuka after all.  If he couldn’t pull his own weight he wouldn’t even be here.

He didn’t quite command the way Seijuro had or inspire the way Rin had.  But his fellow swim team members always found a caring smile and a shoulder to lean on when they turned to him.

He was Aiichiro and most days he was fine with that.  There were just some days that he wished he was Aiichiro a few years from now.

(AKA: 3rd year Aiichiro misses Rin & Seijuro)

Just Keep Swimming, Swimming, Swimming... ( Ginevra and Asher)

Laying on the ground outside of where he was staying at with Ginevra while at Silver Lake, Asher hadn’t been able to sleep really at all. For obvious reasons. But he did just close his eyes and pretend to. Accept for at this moment, it was a warmer day, and he was just staring up at the sky. It had been a few days since he last had seen anyone.  Asher was mostly sticking  to the Silver Lake. To be here seemed to calm the storm that would take over his thoughts and mind while outside. What would happen if he ran into Paige and her army of sympathizers again? Could he control his insane thoughts long enough to escape them? With a soft sigh he shook his head “ A game of Tag would be fun, or hide and seek.” Just anything at all, that would help distract him from the thoughts that flooded his mind, even for a short moment. That would make his day.

I am lying on this floating marshmallow I share with him, thinking about if you were here.

We would have fucked and fucked and fucked, disentangling ourselves at brief intervals only to go for water, sweaty and starved of it. Desperate for a sip, a shower, a swim.

The soft, yielding whiteness is so vast that I sleep next to his body, barely noticing it is there. We do not touch. I am so still in the night, knees balled to my chest, that he calls me his little collapsible human.

I wonder if I breathe at all in the dark.

There is a profound loneliness that accompanies travel. A companion only compounds that aloneness, at times. That deep empty is with me now. Out of my element, on edge in my comfort, set upon by things that mimic home but are never quite home.

It forces me to imagine your solitary life, and how comfortable you are alone. For all your claims of self-loathing, surely this echoes of acceptance. Of being content in your own company.

He has left me in this room and this suffocating afternoon is too like those quiet times at home. The rawness of those moments when I feel utterly adrift – belonging to nothing and no one. Already I am aching to fill up the time with distractions.

Of course it ambles on, slow and unforgiving.

I sit outside, legs crossed, eyes closed. My root chakra throbs. I wish I could escape this – the strange, wet climate – yet it brutalises me. Sticks to the inside of my lungs, filling me up with a turgid kind of fire that tastes like my longing for you. 

There is a huge indent in the ceiling, made of dark wood, lined with beams. Last night I dreamed it was a richly woven carpet hovering over us. It seemed to call to me, whispering of fragrant adventures. I was quite surprised in the morning to find it was made of wood.

(My mother hated exposed ceiling beams. She said they were bad Feng Shui. That they caused arguments, just like knife blocks. My father – the cook who loved to sharpen steel – was not allowed to have a knife block in the kitchen. He never complained. Perhaps she was sharp, beautiful and dangerous enough to suffice.)

The air smells of salt, and burning wood, and they say the heavens may open tonight.

How I would love to see a tropical rainstorm. I bet they too are brutal and cloying. I imagine what it would be like to surrender to that kind of untameable force. To let my careful construct melt into the deluge.

To drink the rain from your lips.

“Wakey wakey!” Whispering into Robert’s ear as she crawled into their bed she grinned, plopping Josie down in between them. It was his day off and even though he had volunteered to take the little one off her hands she couldn’t bare to have him get up at 5 in the morning to a crying infant. “I let you sleep in a bit but it’s 10 now so you gotta get up, get something to eat in you before you two head off for swimming lessons.” Watching as her daughter rolled over she laughed softly as the baby collided into Robert, her small hands holding on to the side of his face as she placed her mouth on his cheek cooing. 

“Look even Jo is saying “Get up Robby!! I have a stinky diaper!” Pointing down to her daughter’s lower half she wrinkled her nose. “I’ll leave you to it while I get dressed. Her diapers and everything are on her changing table in the nursery.”

#34 In His Dreams


You are his. His to hold and have and keep. You look at him with all the love in the world, and so much more. You live life together, every passing day another adventure. But when he wakes it all escapes. All the laughter, and the way the light hits your teeth when you smile. You aren’t his when he wakes, so he lets himself drift back to sleep.


You’re still here, your smiling and laughing like always. You’re by his side and he is by yours. The world seems infinite but just in your grasp, ready to be seized and used at no ones expense. But when he wakes up your miles away, with someone else, seizing the world, forgetting him piece by piece.


You drift back and forth, there and not there. A face in the crowd, swimming in his dreams like he had known you his entire life. An entire existence and life crafted by his subconscious, brought to him from the second your eyes met through the crowd, the music still pulsing, but the world seeming to have fallen away. You left his sight, by not his mind.


You’re by his side, not on a screen. You’re flesh and blood, not a picture on a screen or a voice in a microphone. He isn’t thousands of miles away, he isn’t homesick, or lost, or sad. He’s holding you, like he should be. 

A/N I feel like this one came out a little shitty or is different that what I usually write but here it is anyway. Enjoy.

Feedback & Requests

I’ll be your reason

A/N: Things be giving me feels. Read here or on FFN.

Emma doesn’t even attempt sleep that night.

Too many thoughts, feelings – regret, panic guilt – and she’s just drowning in them, sinking fast, gasping for air and it’s one of those nights where no amount of deep breaths can calm a panicked heart rate.

She simply waits until she knows Henry’s asleep – not long, considering he spent another day with him – climbing out of bed and slipping on a hoodie and some leggings.

Storybrooke was always quiet at night, even more so now. The whole place just seems to be swimming in melancholy; it’s a feeling that seems to live in the concrete of the roads and in the gentle ripple of the puddles that have come as courtesy of the recent rainfall.

For a while, Emma simply walks. She has a bottle by her side – something she grabbed in the hopes that it’s strong – and takes a sip – although it’s more like a gulp – every now and then, constricting worries and qualms fading into numbness as the alcohol settles in. It burns its way down her throat and somewhere down the line silent tears do the same to her cheeks, tears that glisten with the guilt and the regret and secrets shared in echo caves – the deeper the lie the more truth in its echo.

She lets them fall – no one can see her after all – and for what seems like ages and nothing at the same time she just walks.

She should have known it was too good to be true.

She feels more than sees Hook – Killian, whatever – come up beside her and she doesn’t even bother cleaning her tear stained cheeks. Maybe it’s the whiskey. Maybe it’s something else.

“You alright?” He asks in a quiet and tentative voice.

Her answer is by default. “Fine.”

His scoff is quiet, but still there, and she wonders if she should have bothered at all. Probably not. “Are you actually fine?”

Emma lets out a shaky sigh. “No.”

There’s a pause, quiet and completive, and then he speaks again. “You will be.” He assures her, and for the first time, she actually believes him. She will be…just…not here.

“I know.” She says quietly. She goes to take another swig of her drink, only to find the bottle empty. With another sigh she lets it drop to the ground, watches it roll away into the gutter.

“I mean here, Emma.” He says, practically reading her mind and she supposes she was always an open book to him.

All she can do is shake her head and mutter a quiet no because he doesn’t understand, he can’t understand. She needs to go back – for Henry, for herself – and after the witch is dead there’s hardly a reason why she shouldn’t do just that.

“You’re still set on getting up and leaving, then.” The hurt in his voice is there – laced through every syllable – but she can’t focus on that. She has to leave for Henry. For Henry, for Henry, for Henry.

“I don’t have a choice.” She says, looking to the ground.

“Everyone has a choice, Emma –”

“Well then this is mine.” She snaps because god, will he stop just pressuring and suffocating her because it’s not fair.

“You can be pretty bloody ungrateful sometimes, you know that?” He says with an underlying tone of bitterness and she stops walking, looking at him with an incredulous expression on her face.

Ungrateful?” She says and he nods.

“I gave up so bloody much to get you here – back to your family – and you’re just going to sodding leave again?” He shakes his head, looking up to the clouded skies that hang above their heads.

She doesn’t even bother asking what it exactly he’d given up, knowing it’s fruitless and maybe she’s been shut off to many times to actually want to bother, too busy focussing on how fucking unfair he is.

“I never asked you to bring me back.” She spits. “I was happy, for god’s sake.”

“I had to, Emma, you’re family needed you – needs you – you’re the saviour –”

And it’s like something in her just snaps because why, why is she the saviour, why is it her job to fucking save everyone. “Yeah – well – I quit.”

“You quit?” He repeats and she nods before whirling around and stalking off in the opposite direction to him, fuming because can she get a fucking break –

“You can’t just bloody give up!” He calls after her and she turns on her heel, eyes blazing, fists clenched.

“Why not?!” She screams back to him, borderline hysterical by this point. “Why shouldn’t I give up?! I’ve tried to save everyone – to do my job – but I can’t! I couldn’t save Graham, I couldn’t save Neal – ” A choke escapes her, burning at her throat as images of sandy curls and dying on the floor of the sheriff station swim before her vision, dark brown eyes slipping shut on the forest floor.

Tears stream down her cheeks and she raises her hand, wiping them away only for more to take their place, burning their way down her face, but she continues in a broken whisper. “I can’t save anyone anymore. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t give up?”

He rubs at his temples in a gesture that screams agitation – it’s etched into the creases in his brow and the looking of aching in his eyes – then he’s stepping towards her, invading her personal space until their foreheads are almost touching and god someone has to teach him a fucking lesson in personal space because she’s a little drunk right now and plain distraught to be honest and –

“Me.” He says quietly. “I’ll be your reason.”

God how she wants to just lean in, to close that gap – she always does, because it’s always there, heavy and humming and fuck – but she can’t, she never can –

You?” She repeats, taking a step back. “I don’t need you.”

It’s something she’s repeated to herself over and over – trying in an adamant cycle to convince herself that she’s fine on her own, she always has been and she always will be – thinking of cold hard rejection and flying monkeys in those weak moments when all she wants to do is sink into his arms.

He grimaces at her words – pure frustration radiating from the way he grips at the ends of his hair – and then shakes his head to the floor before looking back up at her, raw emotion swirling in his blue blue eyes. “And have you ever considered the possibility…” He takes another step forward – keeping the gap forever small – and she feels her breath hitch in her throat “…that maybe I need you?”

Her lips part unintentionally and she finds herself completely and utterly lost in the expression on his face – the pure longing that pours out – and the plain answer is no. She hadn’t – to busy thinking about what she needs – no one – and what her son needs – a normal life – to even consider anything beyond –

“I need you.” He repeats, and his hands find their way to her hips and she doesn’t even flinch or stiffen because it feels right. His eyes slip shut, his forehead falls against hers. “I need you healing me, making me want to be a better person, making me want to live again. I need you, and…I don’t know what I’d do if you left.”

Her hands find his where they rest on her hips and she covers them gently, holding them there because, maybe, just now, she needs him too. “I can’t keep doing this.” She whispers, feeling completely and utterly on the breaking point of her entire existence, every muscle and thought and memory simply aching and she just wants to go, to leave the pile of crap that is her life, with people dying every other day, god dammit.

“You can.” Comes his murmured reassurance.

“How?” She whispers, lip trembling, voice breaking and she feels on the very brink of a mental breakdown. Her knees feel weak under the weight of her body, her body feels weak under the weight of her title – saviour, saviour, saviour. It’s one she’s accepted – but it’s still heavy.

So heavy and if she doesn’t pull herself together she is going to sink to the ground in a mess of chokes and sobs and tears –

But then she feels a hand slide away from her side, a warm finger under her chin, lifting it up to her face is level with his. His hands – one real, one fake – slide up to cup her cheeks and for a second they just stare – eyes locked and pure emotion is seeping out of his, and hers too, she imagines. Then she hears his voice, quiet and slow and lilting.

“One step at a time, darling.” His hands slide down until he’s taking hers in each. He starts to walk backwards, leading her down the desolate, puddle ridden Main Street. “One day at a time.”

He continues to lead her, slowly walking and she slowly follows, biting her lip in a vain attempt to stop the stubborn tears, but they slip past anyway. “I know it hurts, love, but if you can get through to the end of this day, you can get through to the end of tomorrow.”

“Will it get better?” She asks in a tiny voice.

His smile is sad and sorrowful, and he nods. “One day at a time.”

She sucks in a deep breath – sharp and cold – and then slowly and hesitantly, she nods. “Okay.”

“You’ll stay?” He says, halting in their path. She nods again, and surprising herself – and him, no doubt – she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Someone’s got to take care of this shit-storm we call a town, right?” He lets out a short sigh of relief and then he’s smiling too and before she even has time to re-asses his arms are around her, enveloping her in his warmth.

She lets him hold her – head slipping into the crook of his neck and her arms finding their way around his waist. She feels his lips against her head and she smiles – small and content – before slipping out of his arms.

She feels his fingers entwine with hers, his palm flat against her palm, and it’s okay. And if when they walk down Main Street in a comforting silence, her head falls onto his shoulder, maybe that’s okay too.

It’s all okay.