#4. deep down i want to live and create a beautiful life for myself but i just dont think i’m capable of doing it

[revserrayyu]

2.3 Penacony thoughts [part 4]

***SPOILER WARNING*** for the ending of the 2.3 story update for everything after the Charmony Festival. This should be the last part of the story so if you haven’t finished it for yourself yet, please do return once you have.

Despite the dreammaster “forcing” Acheron out of Penacony, I was still patiently for her to show up at some point during the festival. While she didn’t make a guest appearance upon the grand ship in the sky, she did manage to get a whole scene to herself, but unfortunately, it starts right at the gravesite and I already know I’m in for an emotional ride..

I’m so happy that out of all the experiences and people she may have forgotten about, that Acheron remembers Tiernan so clearly and delivered flowers like he originally wanted: 

“What I do know is that one day, I too will pass away, and when I bid farewell to this world… Someone will stand at my grave and place a bouquet of flowers on it.” 

Also, we might not presently know who voices Tiernan, but props to them because they were a joy to listen to in the previous few patches.

I’m glad someone is smiling because I sure as fudge ain’t.

We haven’t even met these trailblazers personally and most likely never will, but to still get emotional for them despite that is truly an amazing feeling, even if it’s a highly upsetting one. You can really feel the respect the crew has for all three of them.

It’s hard for me to grasp that Gallagher “died” as well, considering he wasn’t truly alive? I don’t know what to feel for him, honestly. I kinda enjoyed that twist at the end of 2.1 where we were lead to think he was a villain, but then 2.2 happened and tossed that idea aside. I’m at least glad March and I shared the same wondering mind about what he meant by saying he was only 13. I know people have theorized it to mean he’s “death” as that number of a tarot card, but a confirmation would’ve been nice.

It was at this moment where I started to realize that each one of our faithful cremates were taking turns saying goodbye to everyone, so leaving Himeko last to speak with Mikhail was perfect.

Our lovely navigator begins with “This entire adventure started because of you, and should naturally end with you.”  Oof, talk about going full circle. That’s beautiful.

I can’t really put into words what about this moment with March made me feel. I’m certain it was also due to whatever sad, slow music was playing in the background at this point of the story too, but even I started feeling this sort of strange regret. Their lives had to be so similar as they trailblazed through space, experiencing all kinds of people, places and feelings, and you would hope and pray their lives had a good ending, but you could never be sure, so this lingering sort of emptiness fills up inside you as your words of wonder and thanks fall of deaf ears.

Man.. no matter how often I hear it, but knowing that our lives are indeed short lived compared to all the time in the world will never be easy for me to accept. I can’t even begin to tell you how frequently people tell me I’m still young and capable of doing so much with my life but knowing deep down that so much time has already passed and I had missed so many opportunities to enjoy what I have, create everlasting memories and experience a life I’d be proud of living. Even now I’m sitting here wondering if this life has been worth it and if I’ve ever been truly happy with everything that’s going on or simply finding sporadic moments of peace where I’m content enough to embrace that one feeling and ignore everything else to fool myself in thinking I’m fine with it all. Sorry, I’m delving far too deep into my own mind with this.

Seriously, we need some good jokes right about now. Get to work, Dan Heng! Why March decided to ask him instead of grandpa Welt I’ll never understand, but his dry humor is certainly great.

All those trailers, cutscenes and memorable moments.. and we’re still learning more about this woman. I truly love how deep her character is. They did a lovely job with her.

I swear if we don’t meet Acheron again at all during the rest of our journey on this sparkling silver star rail I will be heartbroken. She’s too good to simply forget!

You know a conversation is serious when we’re the ones speaking in red text! 

I’m personally lying here, by the way. I’ve never played Impact or Genshin long enough to encounter any of the other Raiden Mei lookalikes, but who cares! She shall never know! (nor will she even remember *sob*)

I believe that deja vu is such a wild feeling, to experience a scenario that seems so familiar to a moment in your past is crazy. I dunno how it is for everyone, but whenever I feel it, I always wonder if what I’m feeling in this moment is a sort of warning from my past telling me that there’s something strange or memorable about the present moment in time. I dunno how to explain it, but if our mind has to remind us that a specific moment like this has happened already, then surely it would have to be for a good reason or important in some way, right? It’s interesting to think about anyways.

Okay now, this scene.. this gorgeous image that I had to no doubt choose for the cover photo is fantastic. She’s beautiful and that gentle smile on her face makes you feel so safe and thankful that you embarked on this journey. At least, that’s what I’m personally feeling. That sense of deja vu is also coming back to me here, but I believe it’s solely because of certain words she’s speaking and Allegra’s tone of voice with them that make this all feel so familiar to me.

She continues on to say “All those things, beautiful before, are still so now. And I believe… It will still bloom at the end of Nihility, until we meet again beneath the sun’s rays,” and y’all I wanna cry with how beautiful this entire moment is. Look at our girl! Aaaahh.. I seriously don’t wanna say goodbye to her! Everything with the previous trailblazers was upsetting, of course, but saying our farewell to Acheron, someone who has been at our side (sorta kinda) since the beginning of our Penacony journey and stayed close assisting us with all the dangers we faced up until this moment.. oohh my heart hurts. It may be because I experienced these updates as they released, thus spanning over several months of time, so it feels as if Acheron has been in my life longer compared to those I met during both Belobog and Luofu stories as I zoomed through them without pause since I started playing towards the end of 1.4 and therefore didn’t have to wait for updates, but yeah. Wonderful character. Allegra deserves the upmost praise with her performance and I seriously need to pull for her next time.

Ah, you can always count on the Express family to lighten up the mood just a little bit.. just not too much since Pom-Pom is literally sobbing upon learning the status of their dearly departed friends.

Hey, it’s not our fault chaos just so happens to follow us around everywhere like we’re some kind of protagonist in a well written, engaging and exciting story! 

Nothing makes me happier when we’re given the option to can crack a couple jokes during a serious conversation.

Once again, I’m not even gonna question how or why she’s here. At this point, Black Swan seems like the perfect plot convenience that needs no explanation. 

“Charming little dragon” indeed.

Our next stop I assume? And how shall we get there if it’s “hidden away” and “only revealed by the light from the mirror of the Garden of Recollection?” Surely Black Swan would assist us, yes? At least I hope so, if it’ll mean she’s still around for a bit longer. She also mentions it’s a world “fettered by three paths” and I’m curious are to which three she’s referring to.

As per usual with ending scenes, 2.3 gives us one more surprise that also leaves me with many questions because what on earth is happening here and why and how?

Apparently this is a hard place to get into.. and yet here Jade is. She comes on the behalf of Robin’s wishes, which I pretty much assumed it would’ve been saving Sunday’s life, but the one who has to pay the heavy price is not Robin, but Sunday himself? That is if I’m understanding what’s happening here correctly. Instead of ranting about being equal to a god, he has to live as a normal citizen? It seems fine enough to us, but for him it’s probably out of his mind to even consider acting in such a way, even denying her “charity” at first.

As we learned, Jade is a very patient woman so she doesn’t expect an answer right away. She then instead leaves some parting words in the form of a warning “from someone who’s been in your shoes before” and judging by all the chains, I can’t help but think of Aventurine when she gives the following advice:

And with that.. 2.3 is finished. I know there’s a handful of side quests to do now and perhaps they might fill in some random questions I have about this entire story, but presently, I’ll say Penacony was at least a very enjoyable yet wild ride. There were many times were I was so lost in what was happening and I feel like there were too many characters, motives and ideals to keep track of, yet on the flip side there were other characters we didn’t get much information about at all and were just kinda there. Penacony did have a fantastic vibe though from all the great music, challenging bosses, and an endless amount of memorable moments whether they were emotional, jaw dropping or straight up hilarious. Was it truly “heartwarming and wholesome” like they said? Perhaps a little bit, but it was truly an exciting experience and well worth the wait and hype. Is it my favorite story arc so far? Hhmm, debatable. I still have very strong feelings for Belobog.. so that's probably it.

[her-reawakening]

Hi, bitches.

*Gossip Girl intro voice*

Her Reawakening is inspired by my very own frontal lobe developing. Let's give it up for her! (applause emojis)

I've found myself in a life long rut. For some reason, I'd thought my life would magically take a u-turn and everything would work out in my favor without my having to work for it. I don't know what kind of delulu I was in but to my shock life doesn't work that way, and it's much harder without a plan.

So let me hold myself accountable here. My future self will definitely read this, and then I'll feel embarrassed about not having done a gotdam fuck thing.

It might have to do with the poison of Social Media which I am apparently very susceptible to, but I have this immense pressure and anxiety to be HER. I want to tear my skin off and put a new one on overnight and reawaken as Her, She. It's so frustrating not being able to do that. You know? Hehe...

I know I can become that version. And you can thinkpiece as much as you want on the dangers of women's toxic and impossible beauty standards on social media but I don't care. *laughs evilly* This is the world we live in and I'd rather enjoy the benefits of being an Angel on Earth. I've only just accepted that I'm starting at a certain point to reach my ideal version, so we're off to a good start. Hopefully whoever reads this will be able to learn from my experiences.

And this is not just the embodiment of beauty, but physical excellence, mental wellbeing, mindfulness, spirituality, social experiences, academic achievement, financial stability etc etc. <3

I want to sleep like a baby knowing I am doing my best to create the life I ENJOY living. I want to be the cuntiest, most solid version of myself. Every breath I take will be proud of me just because I am so excellent.

I have a few goals in mind at the moment.

Eat whole foods 95% of the time.

I am a particularly sensitive person, inside and out. My organs won't accept heavily processed food without making me feel sick, especially with gluten and dairy included. In my experience I have to eat as close to Whole as I can so I will actually feel like a real and functional person. To put this in perspective, eating this way for me is like putting the most expensive oil made for your car and also deep cleaning and detailing inside and out and getting brand new tires and a new paint job. It is a truly incredible feeling and I highly recommend anyone tries it out.

Also, cut out caffeine. I don't want to shock my poor body by going cold turkey so I'm going to slowly cut down my dosages everyday, take it early in the morning (but after two hours of being awake) and drink a lot water with it as well.

Green juices are amazing and my go to for breakfast. They help me feel so revitalized and give me a serious buzz.

I will grocery shop on Wednesday and Prep on Thursdays to avoid feeling overwhelmed of doing it all in one day.

2. Exercise regularly

Workout out 4/wk and Yoga 3/wk

I'm starting out with running since I'm not familiar with the proper forms you need for weight training. I add progression to my workouts of course, one minute longer, .5 miles longer, etc. I also do stair masters, and some leg machines that don't scare me. The glow I get from combining exercise and eating well is insane. It does take a week of 100% commitment for me to get to this 'candlelit within look' but I've done it before so I know I can do it again! I'm going to work out Mon/Tue and Fri/Sat and do an hour of yoga Wed/Thur/Sun! :)

3. Gua Sha/Face massage

I hold all of my tension in my face and traps, so I plan on getting masseter botox for a softer face and TMJ, which is a huge pain for my jaw! In the meantime I will face massage deeply every other day, at 8PM. I eventually want forehead botox as well to help with my frown lines. As an alternative I stick with forehead stickies and it makes a difference.

This is all I want to incorporate right now. They are my most bother some insecurities so I'll do myself the favor and create habits that support them :) I don't want to overwhelm myself and give up completely by too many goals.

Cheers to an update by next Monday!

Xoxo

[multistoty]

Even a man who’s spent his whole life at sea has reason to fear her when she’s angry, but she loved at fiercely as she lived. Everyone has darkness inside them, however hidden. The fierce dragon of a targaryen roaring in her stomach begged for blood. The part of herself she hated. Time goes on even when we do not.She had always wondered about raindrops.Sbe wondered about how they're always falling down, tripping over their own feet, breaking their legs and forgetting their parachutes as they tumble right out of the sky toward an uncertain end. It's like someone is emptying their pockets over the earth and doesn't seem to care where the contents fall, doesn't seem to care that the raindrops burst when they hit the ground, that they shatter when they fall to the floor, that people curse the days the drops dare to tap on their doors. She was a raindrop. And yet her fire was blazing. To be clothed in spit and her own blood was a thing on its own.But she was a mother bear angry and ready for this revenge.Hate looks like everybody else until it smiles. Find her  a cure for these tears, she’d really like to exhale for the first time in her life. Because she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to say the blood. And that terrified her for that wasn’t what Alicent had created her to be. Thusnelda and Aemond together would be terrifying. The queen. A name she still wasn’t used to. A name Rhaenyra either wanted them killed for or her fanatics did.

Love is a heartless bastard. In this moment,  nothing more than the consequence of catastrophe. Truth is a jealous, vicious mistress that never, ever sleeps. She had told herself, ‘If you hide your heart, he will never be able to take it from you'’. She would no longer be afraid of fear, and she  will not let it rule her.Fear will learn to fear her. Her eyes are two buckets of rainwater: deep, fresh, clear. Hurt. Her mind was a warehouse of carefully organized human emotions.She locked away the things that do not serve her. She had a heart, says science, but she was a monster, says society.Thusnelda is a soft, deadly creature. Kind and timid and terrifying. Helaena was enchanted by her pretend-innocence; jealous, even, of the power she wields so unwittingly. She had always  wanted so much to be a part of her world. She wanted to know what it's like to be in her mind, to feel what she feels. It seems a tremendous weight to carry. They both were such beautiful diasters with people trying to put them in boxes.they were  synonyms but not the same.These letters are all she had left.26 friends to tell my stories to.26 letters are all she needs. She can stitch them together to create oceans and ecosystems. She can fit them together to form planets and solar systems. She can use letters to construct skyscrapers and metropolitan cities populated by people, places, things, and ideas that are more real to me than these 4 walls.She needed nothing but letters to live. Without them she  would not exist. Hell is empty and all the devils are here.Sometimes she wishes she could step outside of herself for a while. She wants to leave this worn body behind, but her chains are too many, her weights too heavy. Why had she never seemed so beautiful as an avenging angel with her hand cracked around the middle of a demons throat? Honestly, her sister was as much a warrior though Aemond took his revenge for his siblings with the kind of valor one would find impossible. “For once, for the sake of my children. You have freedom to do whatever monstrosity you wish. Though- I will not allow myself to look away. If I am queen, I can not give orders or ask so much from those who mean the most to me.I would prefer my nightmares to be of his death than the monstrocity he has created. I need to not be a shrinking violet when you are a lioness. He wished to pull me by my roots from this world to murder my innocent children. This is different. Justice. A woman scorned and a woman delivering that which was failed and necessary is right. I am not the queen my mother was. If that is good or bad is still in the realm of possibility.” Her voice did not shake as her body had. Still, a hand reaching to pull at the embroidered cloth against her face. A slight smile sent to the girls way. The freedom thusnelda had would always covet her. She was more targaryen than Helaena could ever even attempt. ‘We are dragons. And you will feel the weight of our fire”

@thusnelda-targaryen

[gothic-mutt-rambles]

Anxiety is a truly beautiful thing, it keeps you safe, aware, and ready but sometimes the poor beast gets too excited. When they suffer you do. Anxiety is like a stupid fucking needy child, calm the heart rate, breathe, stop shaking, I want my blanket, I want my bottle ass motherfucker. I hate them sometimes, but within the anxiety and panic there’s peace. There’s them forcing you to stop and notice what’s around you, or making you get a breath of fresh air so you get to see the first peaking of dawn. Or you meet a lil cat who’s just chillin with you, enjoying the calm, enjoying the quiet. Do I wish I could live without him? Yes absolutely, but I’m glad I have my anxiety, even when they turn to panic.

It’s a beautiful morning, warm and mild but a crisp breeze makes me just barely shiver. The sky a pale grey, the aloe vera stupid, sharp, and green as always. The palm trees dancing in the breeze and one sleep deprived mutt. (Me) As much as I hate the 100°+ days I find a joy in the nights here. It’s tropical without being humid, it’s warm in all the right ways, and it makes me love my cold bedroom even more.

I haven’t had time to write or feel recently with all the stress of making rent, and getting grocery money. It’s been annoying, writing was my first love and I’ve abandoned him without meaning to. I used to write beautiful poems and stories, create complex worlds and beings to live in them, now I’m just an average guy. I mean I still draw when I get the time but even that’s turned into a way to try to make money. Man I hate capitalism.

The stupid stained rock beside me keeping me company, the smell of smoke from my neighbor, the cries of cats in the night. It’s all beautiful and peaceful in an odd way. The rumble of cars as they go about their nightly commute. The wind blowing dry leaves and dust into my face making my eyes water.

A car’s panic alarm is going off, I guess I’m not the only one panicking tonight haha. It’s kinda calming in a way, to know that this unfeeling, uncaring object is panicking, all the same as I was.

Do you ever wonder if the stars get lonely up there? Shining down on us, giving us their beautiful light. I mean the moon has the sun but who do the stars have? I guess they have each other. They have community, something a lot of humans don’t have. I feel like an outcast in my communities.

I feel like an outcast alot of the time. I feel like I’m just here not wanted, not needed. It’s a hard thought to deal with. But at the end of the day if I’m not wanted then giving those bastards my time isn’t worth it. I’ll find my people who want me one day, if not in this life then the next.

Fourteen cars have driven by me in the thirty minutes I’ve been out here. I wonder where they’re going? I wonder what stories the passengers have, or even the car themselves. Everything has a story if you think about it, and I find that beautiful and fascinating. Make that fifteen.

My story isn’t an exciting one but like all stories it deserves to be told. I may not be not be strong, or fast, or even brave but I have a story. One full of pain, triumph, and love. Maybe that’s the key, love drives us all.

It’s now 5:08a, I started this at like 4:30a and I still have more to say. Wow, when taking time to just relax and think I sure have a lot to say haha. My problem is I worry about the impossible and the inevitable. And where has that gotten me? Sitting outside after a panic attack, exhausted and deep thinking. They recommend so many contradictory things for easing panic attacks it’s funny. “Relax, distract yourself and breath” but at the same time “Let it run its course”, So what am I supposed to do? I went with the, “sit outside, get fresh air and write method” (Patton pending) it’s a rather great method ya know, you just sit outside, enjoy the night and write your heart out.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m special. Like will I make something of myself one day? I was taught if I work hard enough I can do anything (as long as I’m white and cis of course) and I am neither. Maybe I write to make an impact on someone, even if it’s just one person. Who knows.

God I’m tired, I need to go to bed. Ya know, this was good for me, all of it.

[lifeinmedicine]

January 15

This day will forever live in infamy in my life. My whole family's life. The anniversary of the day my dad left this world.

Every year I try to ask myself, "how do I feel today?" And every year I answer something that scratches the surface, busying myself instead with whatever memorial events my mom and family plans. I don't let myself feel or acknowledge, fulling accepting that years of suppression is never a good thing and will probably blow up in my face at some point. But it's always easier to let it go and ignore it, than to face the demons in my own mind.

But today I want to try. For you, dad. So how do I feel?

I feel sad. Obviously. I feel sad that you're not here anymore. That I don't get to see your beautiful smile, and see how your big belly shakes everytime you laugh at your own dad joke. I'm sad at all the events that have already transpired without you by my side, and to think of all the life events to come where you will be absent. "He's always with you." It's something people say to make you feel better and I know it's all bullshit. The rational part of me knows you're gone and whatever form of you exists today is just whatever I've created from my memories. I can shape them however I want-- to erase your flaws, and enhance your love, even if that may not be accurate. To convince myself you would approve of my choices and be proud of me, even if that may not be true.

I feel guilty. Guilty that I just want my life and my mind to go back to normal, and shocked by how normal it has already become just 4 years after you left me. I feel guilty that I'm going to go about my normal life today, as if 4 years today my dad didn't fucking die. I feel guilty about wanting to do things today that make me feel happy, instead of spending the day feeling sad that you're no longer here. I feel guilty that I don't think about you every single day, even though somehow you are always present on my mind. I feel guilty that I haven't let myself open up to all of these feelings buried deep down inside my brain and move on to create something beautiful from your memory. Maybe one day I'll be strong enough to do that, but today I'm broken.

I feel scared. I'm scared to cry and open the doors to all the memories of your time in the hospital, because I know once I do, they cannot be closed easily. I have to lock them with my rationalization and desire for happiness but I know behind them lurks all of my fears and doubts, and all of the sadness I desperately don't want to confront. I'm scared of what this suppression will cause me in the long run but I'm too much of a coward to do anything about it. And I feel guilty that I'm too scared to celebrate your life today and to allow myself to openly feel all these things today, because of all the discomfort it will cause me.

I'm tired. I'm tired of my grief and regrets. I'm tired of the grief and emotions of my family and trying to console them. I'm tired of explaining what happened to everyone, convincing them all that we all did everything we could, convincing myself that I did the best I could as your daughter who is also a physician. I hate all the questions, dad. Because sometimes they scratch at that door to all my doubts that maybe there was something I could have done differently? Maybe there was something we could have changed and you would still be here today. I know that's not true, and I know nothing good comes from thinking that way, but today I'm tired and my tight grasp on reality slips and I let myself think like this, even if it's to my own torment. I'm tired of how much space your death has taken up in our family. Of how much things have changed between us and how much your death influences everything we say and do. And now I feel guilty for saying that.

I'm confused. I'm confused that I have come so far from where I started in this grief, but still have so long to go. I'm not a crier, everyone knows that. But then why do I cry everytime I have a quiet moment to think about you? How come I can smile on a daily basis when I see pictures of you, and talk about you to my friends, but then still break down completely like you just died yesterday?

And I'm not dumb. I know all of these feelings are normal. I know it's okay to feel okay today, or to do something that makes me happy, or just live my life like I normally would. I know you wouldn't want me to feel all these things. I know with time things are going to change. They've changed so much already-- all the fears and concerns I had when you first died have ebbed and now deeper, more complex existential questions have replaced them. I know I need professional help to deal with everything. I know it all.

But it doesn't change what today means. I wish I had something profound I could end this saga with. Tell you that I'm okay, that I've found some sort of happiness, blah, blah. I don't have it in me today dad. All I can say is that I miss you a lot, I wish this never happened, and that I'm sorry for all the shitty things I may have said or done while you were still alive. Sometimes I look for a sign from you. My sister always talks about cardinals and how they're a sign of people you've lost and I never believed that. But today I desperately look for these prized red birds. For one of your favorite songs on the radio. Anything to tell me you're still out there somehow, still with me.

So, I guess today I just feel. Everything. Good and bad, whatever it is, I feel it today.

[austinhardwicke]

First Impressions

In writing my own stories, I get too wrapped up in “Worldbuilding,” and live in the universe for months and years. While this has positive effects, like being able to explore every possible aspect of the world and its magic systems, there are profound negative effects, like not being able to let anyone inside. I get to wrapped up in my own concepts, that the story becomes incomprehensible

What's the point of building a big beautiful house, if you don't have any doors to let people in? And you built it deep in the country without a road for anyone to drive down to get there? “Yeah, it's real great, you just need to walk through marsh land for about an hour, and then you can finally see it!”

This is a serious issue, not just with myself, but anyone that's moved away from  writing fan fiction, and moved into creating their own “Original Content.” Sure, writing all that erotic Dragon Ball Z fanfic allowed you to skip right past explanations of the world, the characters, their abilities, and let you focus on getting good at writing "the fun part," but now that you've filed off the serial numbers and you're trying  to write your stories, you don't have decades of canon to lean back on. GokuxVegeta was only hot because everyone knows their prior history together.  What's so hot about these new boys? You can't just tell me their love is forbidden for "reasons," you gotta prove it to me.

As someone that essentially writes fanfic of his own content, I never learned how to write that part of the story. Not only do I not understand the process, I have active hostility for that part in any fiction. When re-reading books, and re-watching shows, I will commonly skip the first episode or chapter. It's universally the place with the worst dialogue. And yet, you can't have a story without beginnings. And, furthermore, beginnings aren’t just at the beginning. Every new character, new land, and new power, have beginnings. Over and over throughout your story. Its an integral part of the storytelling process

Stephen King says you get better at writing by “writing a lot, and reading a lot,” and so I'm going to twist that advice and try to read a lot, but track my mental progress as I go through the books. Try to see how the road is built(to keep using that exhausted metaphor.) I will keep these write ups posted publicly, for the sake of posterity, and to embarrass myself later on in life.

And now for rules(cause hobbies should always have rules, right? Or is that just me?)

Rule 1. Only read chapter once before doing a write-up

People don't commonly re-read a chapter of a book they're enjoying. They plow straight ahead. It's not uncommon for readers to miss important facts, either due to issues on the readers part, or the author not bringing enough attention to it. In an effort to catalog my own mind, I should try to stick to this, no matter how foolish I come off

Rule 2. Do not look anything up (amended to allow me to look up how to spell fantasy names)

If I don't know a word in the book, or how its used, that just something I have to live with

Rule 3. Lean towards emotional charged impressions

Emotional significance is more important than a factual recounting. I want to see how the story is built, not a census of the world. 

Rule 4. This is not a review of the book, this is a review of how I process the book

This is more of a content warning for any stranger that comes across these posts. There's no grade system at the end of reading the book. The purpose is for me to take apart critically acclaimed stories, and see how they tick. Disregard any negative comments as a condemnation of the novel. If I'm taking it apart here, that means it's probably worth reading

[talkinthepark]

Walk With Me

The 4 conversations I had with myself over the course of a two mile walk:

Why won’t you write? What prevents your pen from meeting paper? You need to cultivate the habit of writing. Whatever you hear, whatever you see, whatever comes to mind, whatever profound wisdom you receive. 

You see, it’s gotten a bit harder to articulate myself, and I have spent years now thinking so much yet speaking so little. My inner dialogue has subsided because--and I just realized this--I don’t like wasting my words for any reason. I try not to misspeak, to be perfectly and accurately understood. Reading more will help me to recover that gift and strengthen that skill I previously had. The type of writing I create doesn’t matter, but I spend unnecessary time thinking about how to do it correctly. Because correctness brings me fulfillment. I feel that there’s is a certain way that everything is supposed to be said. I want to develop my mind and speech to where every thought I decide to share, and everything that I decide to say, is said and uttered exactly how it is supposed to, so it can be understood how it needs to. 

On this walk through my neighborhood about five weeks ago, I confronted laziness. The next question I asked myself, “How did you get here?  What keeps you from taking this walk more often?” After scrolling idly on social media for a silly amount of time, I tossed my phone to the side, put on a coat and Crocs, and stormed out of the house as if leaving a heated argument. I decided to be present; no phone, no music, no company. “What keeps you from taking this walk more often?” After all, this is a beautiful place, a beautiful path that I’m walking on, a path that belongs to me, that I have exclusive access to whenever I want. God blessed me with this place, to move through and find whatever I’m looking for. 

I realized that I have a lot of reflecting to do while walking along this two mile path, ironically called Legacy. Plenty of gratitude to catch up on. I took a detour off of the path that I had never taken before. The ground was smooth. God had to bring me out of a prior place in order for me be on this smooth, curved, and paved path I’m walking on. And I remember that prior place, and the places before that. I need to look back on the losses, the relationships, the procrastination, the help, the extremely long months of uncertainty that consistently bring tears to my eyes. I need to review what situations I was up against at the time God did what he did, so I can then look forward with real, true, fortified expectancy. 

I observed that my day to day life had become myopic. I rarely stepped outside unless absolutely necessary. Life outside of work had become sedentary for the most part, so giving my body some movement, my eyes some sunlight, and my mind some exposure to natural structures that I rarely take the time to just look at, felt good. I hoped to find a connection between why I won’t walk, why I won’t write, and why I won’t pray, triangulate the three, and then start to make some changes. Even though I was looking for reason’s why I wasn’t, I didn’t need a reason in order start doing these things every day.

“You think you can pick up that rock?” I asked myself. About two minutes into the detour, and I approached a large rock off to the side of the trail. Out of deep thought or simple amusement, I bent down and tried to lift up focusing on my legs. I hoisted about 5 times, shifting it right and left to loosen it from the ground it may have been partially buried into, then pulled a sixth time. I figured that with the proper form and sheer will, I’d be able to lift it no matter how heavy. Never mind the fact that I hadn’t done so much as a push-up in months, I could lift this rock with innate strength, mental fortitude and every ounce of effort and desire I had.

I quit trying, and continued my journey through this new place I had been living in for five years. I probably could have controlled my breath better, but it’s too heavy for me right now. The most stubborn and irrational opinion I hold is that I should be able to know and do everything, without having to learn or practice anything. Does that make sense? A backflip, cooking, coding, painting a mural of a landscape, swimming, skating, or playing an instrument, whatever it is, I should know how to do it if I have at least seen it be done. I don’t live by this thought, but it gets in my way very often. My failed attempt to lift that rock reminded me of that mindset. If I see a rock and I want to and believe that I can lift it in my current state of being, I should be able to. If I see a piano and I want to and believe that I can play it, I should be able to in my current state of mind. If my current level of effort and capability isn’t enough to succeed, I’m perplexed and a bit disappointed, but accepting. These are simple truths I’m encountering; there’s nothing profound about finding out that I have to get stronger if I want to lift heavy objects or read if I want to learn new things. But in that moment it let me know that I struggle with accepting the growth and learning process when it comes to certain thing in life. The time, persistence, and repeated failure aren’t very appealing, these skills should already be present within me, this strength should already exist inside me. So what gives?

“Have you ever been in a convertible?” I’ve reached the beginning of the neighborhood, passing a red and off-white vintage Buick convertible while taking the crosswalk in front of the Bellingrath subdivision. There are a few small experiences in my life that I haven’t had yet, but think about from time to time. Like riding in a convertible and wondering what that feels like. The thrill would be immense I’m sure, but would it last very long? How satisfying would it be for me? The expectation says very, but reality probably says only slightly. I could go to a dealership and test drive one right now, I may very well enjoy it. But am I content with someone else providing this experience? If not, my desires require faith in God, coupled with a committed work ethic and discipline to equip myself with the means to bring them about. Much like picking up that rock in my path requires additional strength and power, obtaining that convertible for whenever I need to relive that experience requires a different and better place financially. 

Fulfillment. . .That’s all I am searching for in this life, all I’ve been pondering on while taking this walk. I find fulfillment in writing, in being able to articulate and express thoughts through words. My fixation on doing it “right” or “correctly” is still a mystery, but is the primary culprit I can point to for why I don’t do it more. This story or essay, for one, isn’t the best I can do. It took me entirely too long, and I’m not at all satisfied. But after seeing all the improvements I can make, I’m glad to have written it. My ability to be better conflicts with my reluctance to do what it takes to get better. I have a small fear of effort and time spent towards anything that doesn’t bear fruit. The effort is abundant, but the older I get the more time seems like a finite resource. I read a retelling of a conversation between Tom Hanks and director Bob Zemeckis, while filming Forrest Gump for the 27th day in a row. He asked Bob if anyone would care about this film, to which Bob replied, “It’s a minefield, Tom. You never know what’s good. . .it’s a minefield, it’s a d*mn minefield! We may be sowing the seeds of our own destruction!”  Zemeckis’s words held true for every movie he worked on. It’s jarring, yet very telling that the feeling of uncertainty is the stickiest memory for the 5th highest-grossing actor of all time. John Keats explained in a poem that rarer than talent or work ethic is the ability to step into and push through doubts and uncertainties. “In 1817, Keats wrote a letter to his brothers on this: ‘At once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement. . .Negative Capability.’” The ability to sit with uncertainty, and spend months or years “in the minefield that is working on something,” knowing that not a soul may even care. Not for the sake of money or fame, not as a means to an end or even for the sake of victory, but for the sake of doing it. As for me, the work of building strength and lifting heavier has to be the win, not picking up that rock. The work of building wealth and persevering has to be win, not riding in the convertible. The work of writing daily, learning more, growing and gaining knowledge and skills that can never be taken from me, has to be the win, not doing it right or correctly.

The work has to be the win. 

[chicken2potato]

4/21/2023

Te quiero a ti solamente.

It was so good to hang out with you last night. Every time I’m with you, it just feels like a blip, like seconds have gone by, when in reality it has been hours. 

I still love you. I think a part of me always will. I mean, it’s been almost ten years and you’re still on my mind all the freaking time. 

When I went down to Kentucky, I thought that I knew what I wanted from my life. I saw friend after friend get engaged, married, and have a family. Countless times I tried to wish that was me. But in the end, I came to realize that that wasn’t what I wanted. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to settle down with the love of my life and create a beautiful life together. But I didn’t want what they had. They were all cookie cutter molds. All the same. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I knew deep down, that wasn’t what I truly wanted. 

I want to live my best life with my favorite person by my side. Whether that’s creating a family, or traveling the world, or neither. I just want to share my dreams and my passions with someone who truly understands me. Someone who actually knows me. Someone who is my everything. Someone who loves me unconditionally. Whether that’s as friends, or as something more.

I love you. Te quiero. So much. I’ve tried over these years to put it aside, to move on. But I literally can’t explain how I can’t do that. Everything reminded me of you while I was in Kentucky. There were so many times when I would see something funny on Facebook or somewhere else and I would want to send it to you. Or when something crazy would happen and I would want to tell you all about it. Throughout all this time, you’ve always been my best friend, even if we weren’t talking. You were always the person who knew me. You were always the person that I could go to without judgement. You were always my person. I have wanted to reach out to you on so many occasions, it’s not even funny. 

Even now, I find you, find us, in everything. I don’t care if we never date again. I don’t care if we never get married. I don’t care if we never build a life together. I am so beyond thankful that I at least have you as my friend again. I have missed you so much. And even if you find someone else and move on, I’ll still love you. And I will be so happy for you to find happiness and find someone. Just please, let me stay your friend if you ever do find someone. Because I need you. I need my person to at least be my friend. I care about you so much. 

I wish I could take away the demons that you are fighting inside your head. I can’t imagine what you go through on a daily basis. I can’t imagine the strength it takes to continue on every day. I am so proud of you for coming this far. I wish there was something that I could do to help you. You don’t deserve the shit cards that you were dealt in this life. You have one of the biggest hearts I have ever seen in someone. I am inspired by your strength and your ability to continue to be an amazing person in spite of everything. 

I feel bad for giving you that look. I promise I don’t try to. I just really love you... I don’t want to confuse your life any more than it may already be. I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to manipulate you and that I’m trying to get back together with you. Would that be awesome if we did? Absolutely. I would love that. But I just want to be your friend above all else. I want to be there for you. I want to be someone that doesn’t hinder you, but helps you excel and attain your goals. I really love you, Rowan. So fucking much. 

When I realized that I wasn’t ever going to get you, back in high school, it felt like someone had ripped out my heart and my lungs and stomped on them a trillion times. I felt so stupid for fucking it up somehow. It hurt so much to keep going. I think I distracted myself with the whole religion thing. Wanna hear something that I’ve never told someone? When people would ask me what I wanted to do I told them that I wanted to be a missionary. And the first place I thought of was Syria. I don’t know if you remember in high school, but when we got those refugee students from Syria, you bought us both Syrian-English dictionaries. You talked about how we could go over there and help, we could get our nursing degrees and help them... I never forgot about that. And so when people asked where I wanted to go, I said Syria. Because you were right, they did need desperate help. And at the time I figured if I wasn’t going to be a nurse, then I could go over as a missionary. I even started to learn Arabic for a little bit. You have made such a huge impact on my life, in every aspect. It was like I could not escape you, no matter how hard I tried, though it wasn’t like I wanted to.

I tried to throw myself into religion. I tried to distract myself from losing you. It was probably one of the things that had hurt the most in life. You were my everything. I was going to marry you. We were going to have our farm with our tire swing for the kids. We were going to get you the surgery you needed. We were going to grow old together and be a nuisance in the nursing home together. When I lost that, I felt like I lost a bit of myself. Or rather, every part of myself. So I tried to find something to give me meaning again. That’s why I went so hard into religion. It somehow gave me meaning again when I thought I would never get that again. But, when everything went down with mom, I started questioning that as well. Why did I believe in God? Why did I do what I did? Why was spending so much time and money doing what I was doing? Did I really believe it? Was I just distracting myself? 

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret going to Kentucky. It gave me so many wonderful friends and amazing life experience. I don’t regret it, I think it was right for me at the time, to get away from it all. To find myself and what I believed. But, especially towards the end, I realized that that wasn’t who I was anymore. And I no longer needed to be distracted. Trust me, I still had days when thinking about you and us hurt, but it had gotten easier. I had finally accepted that we were never going to be. I had finally made peace with the fact that I may never find someone and that that was okay. I needed to stop focusing on finding someone else and focus on finding myself, again, and the real me this time. I think I finally found her. She’s a little rough around the edges, and definitely needs some help in some areas. But she’s here. She’s doing the best she can and I’m proud of her. 

When I came back to Maine last May, I knew I wasn’t going back down to Kentucky in the fall. I knew that I was here to stay. And then it was like everything else fell into place. Someone let me rent an apartment from them, my friend came with me to go pick up the rest of my belongings, and I was finally getting better mentally.  My last semester in Kentucky was so depressing and so freaking mentally draining, it’s not even funny. I hated it. With a passion. I was ready to move on. 

I still have a long way to go. I still have bad nights when my emotions are fucked because of my PCOS or just my brain being shitty in general. I still can be a little too selfish at times. Sometimes I’m ruder than I need to be. I need to be cleaner and healthier. I need to be nicer and more patient. But I feel so much more like me and more at peace now than ever before. 

Honestly, I feel like you helped a lot in that. If you wouldn’t have picked Averi, I don’t know where I would be. Where would we be? Would we have finally gotten our farm? Would you have gotten the surgeries you needed? Would we be happy? Would we be together? Would we be thinking about kids? Would we just have all the animals? I have a lot of “what if” questions. I’ve made peace with understanding that I will never know the answers to those. I will never know what would be. I do know what is. I know that I’ve grown as an individual, as have you. I know that I have an incredible friend. I know that I have someone who supports me 100%. I know that I am so thankful for you. I wish in high school you would have picked me. Maybe we would have grown together. Maybe we would be stronger. But even if you didn’t, I know that I have grown and gotten stronger throughout these past years. You picking her helped me find myself. Maybe this divorce is your chance to find you. Who are you without having someone? Who are you when you are all by yourself? What are your dreams and goals? I hope you find yourself, your true self. I hope you find happiness, not in some relationship or in others, but in yourself. I wish you could see how amazing you are. You’re the most thoughtful, kind, compassionate person I have ever met. 

I’m thankful for us. The good and the bad. Because both equally made us into the people we are today. Even with all the regrets and the mistakes, I’m still thankful. I’m a strong believer in that everything happens for a reason. And besides, we’re friends again, right? It’s like you said, you never know what the future holds. No matter what that is, no matter where we go, know that I am behind you 100%. No matter if I’m halfway across the country or just thirty minutes away, I’m always here for you. I love you. Not just romantically, but just as a friend and as family. I don’t care if we never get together again, I’m here, I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re amazing, Row. Please don’t ever lose sight of that. <3 

[studentmayal]

Virtual Sketchbook 2, pt 5: PHOTOGRAPHY

PORTRAIT:

About your portrait – Who is it? What does the picture hope to tell you about the person or animal?

Mou Aysha lives in Dhaka, Bangladesh and finds people with a deep past and rich culture to be fascinating, showing this interest through her choice in photographing portraits. 

She said in an interview, "I dedicate myself to capturing the best moments of life as I see and feel them. I have always loved people and have always wanted to learn about them from up close. People, their culture, their experiences, always fascinated me since my childhood. I found out that photography gives me opportunities to go and learn about people and their journeys. Photography is more of my passion than my profession. It means a lot to me personally, and I find a great deal of satisfaction and challenge in this art. I only shoot what I feel is important to me. I go out to take photos because it’s fascinating to me and because I am curious about people, their lives, their culture, and their faces. Every time I go out with my camera, I feel happy. Every new place and all the new people I encounter make me happy.

Aysha saw a lot of people from the islands, growing up in Bangladesh, and noted that their faces were always different from the other people that surrounded her. She said, “They were burnt by the sun, had many scratches on their faces, and their eyes were red. All those faces grabbed my attention as a child; one of my main reasons to become a photographer was to capture those faces and bring more light to them. I wanted to share their beautiful and unique faces with others."After looking at her portraits, I am to see the intention and details Aysha wanted to capture. 

Links to an external site.

LANDSCAPE:

About your landscape - Where is it?

Photograph of a prairie in North Dakota by Patrick Esterly. 

North Dakota is where I am from, and I chose this snowy landscape photograph in particular because the long North Dakota winters are what I remember best and look back on with fond memories. I love how the lighting in this photograph looks like someone has lit a fire and that light is flickering upon the cold landscape. The contrast between the icy blue and white colors of winter against the bright, illuminating red from the golden hour sun is so fascinating and really sums up how I view my childhood here. Most people do not look forward to the long winters ahead, but what I remember is only warmth and nostalgia— highlighted perfectly in this photograph. 

STILL-LIFE:

About your still life – What is it? Why include this stuff? What is the message? (4 sentences total)

Still-life photograph by Cason Latimer.

This is a still-life photograph of a bunch of yellow flowers enclosed upside-down in a plastic bag of water. The yellow flowers stand out against a flat background and minimal styling. The message I perceive is that, while this presentation is atypical, it is one that brings serenity and contemplation. 

The quality of light surrounding the space creates stillness. The way the flowers are upside-down and submerged in water make them stand out and reflect even more. The fact that something we would normally see and accept—a flower upright in a vase, in this case being the plastic bag—is inverted. And yet, the viewer is not put in a state of confusion. The flowers being upside down is not the first thing I noticed or even questioned because of the photograph's ability to absorb the viewer in the peacefulness and serenity of the scene. Overall, the flowers still radiate color and life even in its abnormal position. 

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate!Harry: I'll Make It Up To You - Part 2

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Warnings: Hints of depression and anxiety

Part 1 - Part 3

—————————

Days had passed since the audition, and while you were sat on your laptop every hour searching for new jobs, new projects, more auditions and pure hope of some miracle, you couldn't help but starting to feel like you were failing slightly.

You liked to write happy songs and create stories using your music, but you were finding it harder to find the inspiration. Usually you and Harry would sit and talk ideas for hours, but since he made you miss your audition, you were distant from him, it was only the last day or two that you had been getting slowly back to normal.

Every day since the incident when Harry came home after working at the studio, he would open the curtains to make sure you had fresh air and daylight after cooping yourself up on the sofa all day, in the dimly lit living room. Not only that, he would check the cupboards, fridge and the sink to check that you were eating enough. He had seen you stressed and upset before. He had been there through some difficult moments in your life, and had always been your rock throughout the years, especially when your mental health was struggling during these times. But this time was worse. He couldn't help being concerned for someone he loved and cared for.

"Hey pumpkin..." He whispers softly, settling himself down beside you after completing his daily routine "Have you done much today?" he gently combs his fingers through your hair before dropping his arm round your shoulders.

You just sigh softly, looking ahead blankly at the quiet TV, simply shaking your head. If only he could see what was going on in that pretty mind of yours then maybe he could make everything better.

"I see you used the piano and the guitar today though..." he states, although it came out more like a question.

Minutes of silence filled the room until out of the blue, some words left your lips. "...Adam came to get the ring today" you whisper, feeling the tears brim your eyes once again, for what felt like the millionth time today.

"Oh darling" He frowns, pulling you into his chest tightly, just like he did the night you found out your (now ex-) boyfriend, Adam, was cheating on you. Unfortunately, you happened to find out minutes before he proposed to you, in front of all of your friends, including Harry. You didn't know what to do, so you took the ring, said you'd think about it and you left him standing alone. This all happened months ago, and you really thought that you was totally over it.

"Everything that's happened this week...I-I just...I feel like such a failure Haz. It just feels like I...I-I'm falling...falling apart and nothings going right! Why isn’t anything going right! I can’t even write one stupid song that makes sense" you let out hard sobs as your hands fisted his clean white t-shirt.

"No...no, no, no don't say that...please don't ever say that." He frowns, pulling away from you, but still staying close. His warm hands press against your cheeks as he lifts your face gently "hey, hey look at me" he whispers, begging you to look at him.

Your sad wide eyes flickered up into his, gentle tears falling down your face. "I know...I know it's hard at the moment. But everything happens for a reason. And everything will get better...I know it will. Do you trust me?" He whispers, his eyes gazing deep into yours, almost like if he looked hard enough, he could read your mind.

You give a hesitant nod as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before wiping the tears dampening your cheeks. Being affectionate together wasn't anything unusual for the two of you, you really were the best of friends.

"I'll go make some dinner okay? Pasta sound good?" You just nod your head gently at him as he leaves your side. You let out a deep sigh and head over to the living room window, watching the sunrise beginning to set over the busy London town. "So...how's the studio going?" You ask him curiously, your gaze still at the window.

"I erm..." He clutters around in the kitchen. His job was a topic he had been avoiding for the last few days. He didn't want to rub it in that he was busy writing an album for millions of fans, who would be screaming his lyrics back to him all over the world in years to come. "It's...good. I mean, its tiring but I...yeah. It's good" He nods.

"H, you don't have to avoid it. I forgive you for what happened. I know you would never have done it out of spite...and you deserve your life style, you work hard!" You say as you head into the kitchen, re-filling the water in the vase on the table, your vibrant roses and lilies still looking as beautiful as the first day Harry bought them for you.

"You work hard too!" He frowns softly "Harry I don't think moping around on the sofa, drowning in my sorrows, is the definition of working hard" You let out a gentle chuckle.

"So...how's it really going?" You hop up onto the stool beside the kitchen counter.

"Well, we have 4 songs so far...and they are...different to the last album. I mean they reckon three of them will be on the pop charts...maybe even a number one slot there" He sighs softly.

"Oh wow, that does sound different to before...and you...don't want that?" You ask curiously, judging by the lack of excitement. "Well...it's not that. I just...it's hard to write another album when the last one did well, and you have to make sure it's better than the last one." He sighs softly as he cooks. "They want me to write some slower, more emotional songs. I just can't...well the words don't fit right. I'm just not feeling emotional about anything, so I don't know where to get the emotion from"

"Well you can't put a price on emotion Haz, you can't just go and buy it in Gucci. You have to really feel it. Even if you aren't thinking about something specific or direct to you. I used to find that sometimes when I was trying to write, I'd create these characters in my head, and I'd give them all these different stories and personalities. And I...I used that to really help me write music. It's not easy." You explain while getting two of the plates from the cupboard and pouring two drinks for the table.

"You used to? You mean you don't use that method anymore?" He asks curiously, while giving the pasta one final stir.

"I...I think I've decided that I'm not going to write music anymore" You shrug softly, your eyes unable to life to his. "I need a proper job. And things aren't going well with auditions lately and I make a total fool out of myself every time I go into a meeting. It's time I looked for a proper job. Besides, the price of bills in this house keeps going up and up."

"What?! Y/N you're so good at writing songs and music! You can't throw it all away now! That is your proper job. And I love hearing what you write, it inspires my own stuff!" He frowns, his brow furrowing, trying to understand you. "Think of all the songs no one will get to hear"

"No one hears them anyway...It's different now. The entertainment industry is changing more and more by the day. Maybe the stuff I write just isn't as trendy anymore." It was difficult for you to admit, but you knew you had to accept it.

"There's a fine line between us Styles, because the difference is, you're already there. You have the whole world in your hands Haz, you can go anywhere and do anything. You could sing a song to a fish and the whole world would be adored by you still! If I did something like that...I'd be laughed out of every interview, audition and meeting for the rest of my life. But we’ll be alright" You smile and shrug, your mood had certainly been hit and miss the last few days, but you knew you had to carry on with your life.

—————————

“Hey Y/N come here!” Harry calls from the living room. You were currently in your room, scrolling through your Instagram, while in a pasta coma after dinner. You rush over to the living room “What’s up?” You ask, seeing him sat at the gleaming white piano, which as always was sat under the window.

“What do you think?” He starts to play a few notes on the piano, looking between the scruffy paper notes cluttering the top of the piano and his hands. 

“Can’t put a price on emotion...it’s something that you just can’t buy...you...you’ve got my devotion...but....but” He sighs softly, playing around with the notes and the wording on his notes. 

You smile softly as you recognise his acknowledgment of your earlier conversation “...but man, I can hate you sometimes” you sing gently, testing to see how it could fit.

“Hey that’s mean! Why would you say that!” He fakes a pout up at you “I thought we- hey actually...you’re right! That really fits!” He chuckles, pulling you onto the stool beside him. “Can you try a G chord, B chord and....lets try a C...” You nod and smile as your fingers gloss over the keys effortlessly, while Harry fits the verse together and tries to find the right tempo.

“Wait...it doesn’t sound right. Maybe lets try a D instead of C?” You suggest as you re-try, playing those three chords over and over again.

“You...are...a genius!” He grins and wraps his arms around your waist. ”Keep going!” He smirks, pushing more lyrics in front of you. Sometimes having a fresh pair of eyes really helped...or perhaps he just wanted to prove that you had talent.

You peer down at the pages upon pages of words flooding your view. “...I don’t want to fight with you....and I...and I don’t like to sleep in the dark...we’ll get the drinks in...I...I can’t stop thinking of her...” 

Harrys fingers join yours at the piano “We’ll be a fine line....We’ll be a fine line...”He smiles softly as he taps on a few random keys. 

You pull your fingers away gently “It...your song sounds...really good H. It’s beautiful actually.”

 “You mean our song...” He whispers.

“Harry no, it’s your song, all the pieces, I just put your jigsaw together” You smile. “I know how it is writing songs and the first draft is never the same as the final version. You might decide to change it all completely” You whisper.

“Not with your lyrical genius ability and words of wisdom...your name will be all over this track” You felt a shock of electricity ripple through your veins as you felt his eyes burning into yours. His lips pressed gently against your forehead, lingering against your skin longer than usual. That sort of affection was normal from your best friend...so why did it just feel like something completely different? And what did he mean about my name being all over the track?

—————————

Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores - @sad-capuccino

[crystalwolfblog]

I Can’t Sleep Without You || Ivar x reader || Modern

This is my fic created for @ofmanderley’s writing challenge. My prompt was: It's 4:03 and I can't sleep without you next to me.

First of all I need to apologize because I am SUPER late with my work but life was kinda crazy and writing block wasn’t kind! 

Hope you will like it!

Being with Ivar Ragnarsson wasn't an easy task to perform. He was a man of a short temper; he could be cruel and mean but thankfully for him you were out of the reach of his anger. Ivar always did his best to keep his raging nerves away from you. For him, you were his little treasure, a lovely woman who was patient enough to even try to form any kind of relationship with him.

You got used to this life and no matter what everyone said, you stayed by his side.

Of course you didn't do this because Ivar forced you or blackmailed you. The love towards this man was simply too strong within you.

After two years of being together you learned that behind that huge, thick wall he built around himself was a suffering, lonely man that craved to be loved.

____________________________

There was one thing you loved to do right after work - paying a visit in the local cafe. It was a quiet, little, cozy place. You sat at your favourite table and placed your usual order - a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.

Last thing you expected that day was to see a familiar face.

"Y/N, I didn't expect to see you here," Bjørn smiled, sitting in the chair right in front of you.

"Hi, Bjørn," you greeted him, returning the smile. "How are you doing?"

Eldest Ragnarsson nodded. "Oh, I am doing just fine. Since I have a break at work, I decided to get myself a coffee and something sweet."

____________________________

"So, when do you have this big game of yours?," Ubbe asked, looking into his phone.

"Seriously? I am going on and on about it for weeks now. It's this weekend, Saturday to be exact," Hvitserk rolled his eyes; he grew annoyed by repeating himself on and on.

"Forgive him. I guess the family takes a lot out of our dear brother," Ivar chuckled.

All three of them walked down the street.

It was the first time in months when they could just meet and go out. Even if they didn't plan anything crazy, it still was nice to get reunited.

"I at least have a family, Ivar. You and Y/N could think about it as well," Ubbe shrugged, placing the phone back in his pocket. "Mother is still talking about it."

"Mother will talk. We both feel comfortable with how things are for now. I am not pushing her and she is not pushing me, to anything. We just live the best of our lives and we both are happy about that," Ivar answered, nodding.

"I mean, that's sound fair," Hvitserk commented.

Boys quickly changed the subject to something far way interesting to talk about. They walked  lively as they talked about some stuff.

The nice atmosphere lasted until Hvitserk stopped in front of a little cafe. Through the cafe's big window he spotted a familiar person, actually two to be exact.

You were sitting there, talking with Bjørn and giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Yo, Ivar? Isn't it Y/N?”

Ubbe and Ivar looked over their shoulders, and then joined Hvitserk.

Ivar frowned as soon as he spotted you.

Of course you going out wasn't a problem for him, you were a free woman after all but meeting with Bjørn? Out of all the people?! Fucking Bjørn. What else?! Maybe you were doing it regularly behind his back?

"I am going back home. Whatever idea you two had, go without me, I’m passing," crippled, young man muttered, tightening the grip on his crutch.

There was no reason to argue with Ivar at that point. They could see that he was pissed and arguing with angry Ivar was like teasing a bull with a red cape, it was the last thing they really needed that day or ever.

Ubbe and Hvitserk just shook their heads and then slowly walked away.

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You had no idea how long you sat there but you couldn't help it. Talking with Bjørn was really captivating. While listening to one of his stories you looked at your watch. "Oh, my! Bjørn, I am so sorry but I should go. I still have plans."

Bjørn looked at you and nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure. It was really nice to see you."

"Same! We need to meet up one day. Bye!," You quickly paid and left the cafe.

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The walk home was calm, you even texted Ivar that you are on the way back but for some reason he didn't respond. Maybe this should be a red flag but you shrugged it off, he probably was still with his brothers.

You didn't expect to see him in the flat. He was sitting on the couch, tapping his fingers angrily. It was more than obvious that he was mad.

"Love? Did something happen?," You asked, taking your jacket off.

"I don't know. You tell me, love."

Walking into the living room you looked at him with confusion written on your face. At this point you had no idea what he meant.

"What? You gonna stand there and make a fool out of me? You thought I won't find you? I wonder how long you go behind my back!,” Ivar growled, getting up from the couch.

Then it suddenly hit you. Did he see you in the cafe? After all he was out with Hvitserk and Ubbe, so there was a slight chance he did.

"Ivar. It's not like that. I was in a cafe and Bjørn just happened to be there as well."

"He? Happened to be there?," Ivar chuckled darkly. "You are blind, stupid or both!"

His behaviour was getting out of hand  but his accusations were too much for you to handle.

"Excuse me? Watch your words, Ivar."

"Me?! Watch my words?! These are words of truth! He was following you those fucking eyes ever since I brought you home for the first time. Ever since that day he accidentally happened to be in places that you are!," Ivar growled, shaking his head. "Of course you had to fall for this. What's next?! Are you gonna fuck him? Or Maybe Hvitserk?”

You went silent. How could he even have thought about something like that? He was hard to live with but you would never cheat on him, no matter how moody or annoying he was. His words cut you deeply.

The lack of response meant as much as a yes for him.

"Fuck it. I am leaving, no idea when I will be back," Ivar muttered and walked to a hanger to grab his jacket before leaving.

The door slammed loudly that you literally jumped in the place.

____________________________

House without Ivar seemed empty.

Maybe it was stupind to miss him after this argument but you couldn't help it. You really loved that man, no matter how moody he was. Even if it was hard to love him, you knew that he was different deep inside.

Laying in bed alone was odd, without his body next to yours. He always was there, mostly complaining about his legs or just talking about his day and how annoying his brothers were.

Sighing, you took his pillow and hugged it tightly, you wanted him back but he needed time to cool down. Looking at the clock helped you realize how sleepless your night was. It was almost morning.

____________________________

Ivar also couldn't sleep. He just lied in bed, smoking and looking into the ceiling. Aslaug would prabobly murder him for smoking inside the house but he didn't care, it's not like she would kick her crippled son out of the house.

Puffing out the smoke he watched it disappearing in the air.

He already missed you, so fucking much. Ivar looked at the bedside table and grabbed his phone to check the time.

____________________________

Trying to get some sleep, you laid on the bed, with eyes closed and Ivar's pillow under your head.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed.

You sat up and grabbed it; maybe it was Hvitserk? Or Ubbe? Maybe Aslaug? Maybe something happened to Ivar? You simply had to know.

To your own surprise, it was text from Ivar himself.

Ivar ❤️😈: It's 4:03 and I can't sleep without you next to me.

Chuckling, you felt the wave of relief washing over you. He was alive.

You: I can say the same. Where are you?

Ivar ❤️😈: I am at my parent's house.

You: I am happy that you are safe.

Meantime Ivar blonked looking at the screen. You were happy he was safe? You were worried about him.

Ivar ❤️😈: Were you worried?

You: Of course I was, dummy. I am always worried. Listen, I just want you to know that I don't care about Bjørn. All I care about is you, Ivar. Always and forever.

He looked at the text. You didn't have a reason to hurt him in any way, you always were patient with him. Even when he was a total asshole. No matter if the day was regular or filled with pain, you just were there for him.

Maybe the fear of losing you just clouded his judgement? Bjørn wasn't like him, he was a strong and healthy man when he was just a cripple. Who the hell would pick a cripple over a healthy man?!

He was jealous and scared but it was time to fix it.

____________________________

You waited at the message but nothing came. Maybe he just fell asleep or didn't care about your empty (for him at least) arguments. After giving him fifteen minutes, you send another text to make sure he is okay, and surprisingly you heard the sound of the SMS notification in the flat.

Ivar opened the door to your shared bedroom and rested his weight on the crutch, looking at you. Without any word he walked to the bed and sat down. He removed his braces, clothes, and soon you were wrapped in a tight hug.

"I am sorry," Ivar whispered.

You nuzzled to him. "It's fine."

"It's not, Y/N. I hurt you... All because of my insecurities. I was furious, he is Bjørn, big, strong, healthy. I am none of that, and you are beautiful, special. You deserve better,``he muttered, nuzzling to you.

While listening to him, you undone his bun and moved your hand through his hair. "Silly! I love you. I love you so much, no matter what. You are hard to deal with sometimes, that’s true but I still love you."

"You are too good to me, you know that?”

Giggling, you gently pulled on his hair, earning a soft growl from him. "You should be grateful and not point it out," you kissed his forehead. "We should get some sleep."

Ivar nodded, hugging you tightly. "Yeah, you are right."

Soon, both of you fell asleep, embracing each other tightly.

____________________________

[volturiwolf]

Unorthodox - An Embry Call x vampire!fem!Reader Story - Part 3

A/N: I thought the second part was big, but this is bigger.

A/N 2: I'M SUPER HAPPY BECAUSE STEFANIA AND GREECE ARE ON THE EUROVISION 2021 FINAL !!

A/N 3: Again, (Y/N) likes expensive things.

A/N 4: This part is a bit cheeky, and it makes my heart melt thinking about Embry.

A/N 5: Enjoy

No of Words: 6300+

Through the parts, mentions of: Abusive relationship, Attacks, Hunt, Illusions, Loneliness, Mental health, Murder, Sex / Sex language / Sexual activities, Suicide, Swear language, Wild imagination

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Part 1 / Part 2

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"Unorthodox" Tag List (reply if you want to be added or removed): @eunoia-kth @eugeniapet @aquanova99 @foggyturtleknightangel @avecletempsy @girlgirlgirlnormal @hshehdyhd @musicandpenguins @letskidnapsenpai @foreveror-never @kpopgirlbtssvt @adaydreamaway08

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Embry’s POV

Hunting was a first-time and unique experience for me. As shifters, we didn’t need to hunt like regular wolves did; we ate normal, human food. We mostly ate the food Emily would prepare for the whole pack, and, thank God, her food was just as amazing as she was herself.

Honestly, we had to give her more credit than she accepted. She had to cook huge food portions to satisfy our insatiable wolf appetite, and she spent too much in her kitchen cooking for us every single day. She was like our wolf mom - if we could consider Sam as our wolf dad, making sure we were fed, healthy, and unharmed every day.

(Y/N) was running beside me, led by her vampire instinct to hunt. She was truly beautiful - she exuded so much power and confidence in whatever she did. I couldn’t help myself from turning to look at her every minute or so, watching the wind passing through her (y/h/l) hair, her eyes glistening in a deep gold color, her lips slightly parted. Every now and then, we would pass by a ray of sunshine, and her skin would glow like the most beautiful diamond I have ever come upon.

I didn’t know if it was the imprinting, but watching her doing her “vampire stuff” did not repel me at all; on the contrary, I felt closer and more drawn to her. She felt comfortable enough to open up to me, though I knew I had many more things to learn about her, and I was willing to wait for her to tell me anything she wanted.

I didn’t realize that transforming into a vampire could be as stressful as it was phasing into a wolf. I never had to think about it, because they are supposed to be our enemies, not people to sympathize with. In the end, I realized that we weren’t so different - just like us, most of the vampires we’ve come across, did not choose this lifestyle. In their case, though, it was someone else who decided for them; someone else who took away their choice in living a normal life.

I knew that, under normal circumstances, I would have never met or come across (Y/N) - and if I did, I would probably keep my distance from her. But I also knew that I was grateful that the pack made this “unofficial” agreement with the Cullens, and I could meet her, and be together maybe? Things were going fast here, and I didn’t exactly know if we were dating or just casual friends because of the imprinting. I didn’t want to believe she felt no connection to me, but I also would not receive the vulnerability she showed before as a sign she was into me. I would wait for her to decide, to tell me what she wanted for us. Whatever she chose, I’d accept it, as long as she was happy and alive.

She slowed down a little, looking directly at me. “At this point, we have to take in our surroundings, to take in every sound and smell around us. It is important to distinguish between an animal and a person, and control ourselves, to avoid anything bad happening.” She started explaining the process of hunting, and I could only nod at her for now, to assure her I understood what she was telling me.

She stood still for a few minutes, closing her eyes and breathing in every smell around us. “It’s a bit easier for me to “read” the environment around me. I create an illusion up to a certain distance, and if anything or anyone falls in the illusion, I can basically “see” them and understand their nature, what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling. That’s why it became a bit easier for me to abstain from human blood in the years after I decided to follow the vegetarian diet. I already kept my distance from humans, so I could avoid them easier.”

She suddenly opened her eyes and ran forward. I ran after her, trying to be close to her but also keep my distance. She stopped on top of a boulder, eyeing a mountain lion a few feet below us. She turned to me and nodded towards the lion, motioning me to stay quiet, before stroking my cheek lightly. I shivered under her touch and when she let go, I craved more.

In a swift move, she launched towards the lion, growling. The lion growled back at her, and I couldn’t help but growl at it as well. (Y/N) let out an animalistic growl as she fought to immobilize the lion, before sinking her teeth into its neck. Normally, the sighting would make my stomach turn, but, again, nothing was normal in our lives.

I watched closely as she sank her teeth in the lion’s neck once more, gulping the blood in the process. When she finally lifted her head, there was only a small strip of blood falling out of the left side of her mouth - her whole appearance still perfect, despite the fight. She looked at me, sweeping the blood with her pointer finger and licking it slowly. I don’t know why I was turned on by the sighting, but I was. Quite turned on.

She smiled cheekily at me, starting to giggle. And then, as if she was air, she suddenly disappeared in front of my eyes. She didn’t run away; she literally disappeared. I slightly freaked out, but then, I felt a small kiss under my ear, and I knew it was (Y/N). The sneaky little bastard “blinded” my vision, and was playing games with my head.

“Sorry. I was just messing with you.” She grinned, and snuggled in my side, wrapping her hands around my face. The smell of blood was still prominent in her breath, but I couldn’t care less. It felt as if she was reciprocating my feelings for her, and I couldn’t be happier.

“Are you okay? Shall we continue? I’m still pretty hungry.” She questioned me, her words barely coming out of her mouth, whispering so as not to ruin our happy little moment. I nodded, and she rubbed her face into my fur, before letting me go and running forward.

A couple of hours and many deer later, we were on our way back to (Y/N)’s place. She invited me over to spend some time together. She lived about 1 mile away from the Cullens; she told me that she appreciated them as much as she appreciated her own privacy and space, and they understood her need to spend time on her own.

She waited a few minutes for me to change back to my human form, giving me the space and privacy I needed. Though I had no issue changing in front of her, I thought it would still be too early for that. After shifting back to human and getting dressed, I came out of the woods.

She waited for me in front of her house. Her house was pretty big, a mix of dark wood and glass, making it extravagant but also warm and welcoming. Her very expensive car that I noticed in the clearing we "trained" a few days ago was parked in her driveway, along with a white silver Cadillac Escalade Hybrid.

She saw my wide eyes and overall shocked expression and laughed. “That is..my “more casual” car, you know, to drive around.” I gulped and nodded, as she motioned me to come into her house.

Matching its exterior, the interior also exuded a mix of luxury and warmth. There was a big bronze chandelier in the foyer, but it was nothing compared to the ones further into the house. At first glance, there was a huge living room, decorated with brown fabrics and furniture of different hues, enhancing the warmth. The kitchen was pretty big, especially considering there lived a vampire who didn’t need to cook. The counters, the cabinets, and the drawers were made out of white marble, in complete contrast to the living room. A wide wooden staircase led to the upper floor. My jaw was probably on the floor by now.

“I really like buying expensive things and such.” (Y/N) grinned at me, watching me turn around the place and take everything in.

“You must be pretty hungry, huh?” She looked at me, serious now, and my stomach growled in response. She smiled widely. “I have quite a few pizzas in the freezer if you don’t mind. I usually wouldn’t buy anything, but I thought that someone, or even you, would come over, so I went out yesterday and bought a few things. Would you be okay with that?” She looked unsure, waiting for my response.

I didn’t realize I hadn't said anything for a few minutes, until (Y/N) came in front of me. “Embry?” My name came so pure out of her mouth. “Are you okay? Are you feeling okay?” Her voice sounded concerned, as she examined my face for any signs that would “betray” a lack of wellbeing or something.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. I just didn’t expect that you would go out of your way to make sure I ate if I ever came here.” I was indeed shocked, I didn’t lie.

“No, of course I would. I didn’t expect you to come over, but I just hoped you would.” She smiled, lowering her eyes to the floor.

I came closer to her and stroked her cheek lightly. She gasped slightly, but I felt her melt on my hand. My heart was beating so fast, pounding so loudly, full of love and nerves. I didn’t think about it twice before I leaned in and pecked her lips lightly.

I heard her gasping at my action, and I pulled away, worried that I scared her away. That wasn’t the case though, as she grabbed my neck carefully, afraid of her own strength, pulling me back to her and kissing me with more passion this time. The fireworks and stars I saw and the fire that was burning deep inside me were definitely not a part of any illusion. It was a reality - the reality we were currently living and experiencing together.

I captured her face between my hands and she swirled her hands around my shoulders and neck, keeping me close. She cooled down my nerves, and I set her body aflame. Even after we pulled away, we stayed close, foreheads touching, eyes closed, just feeling each other and relaxing under each other’s touch. (Y/N) was the first to speak.

“How about you go take a hot shower, and I’ll prepare the pizzas?”

She stroked my hair while looking me deep in the eyes and I just wished this moment would last forever. I was absolutely delighted and felt blessed to have met my imprint and mate for life. I couldn’t even remember what life was like before her, and I couldn’t even bear the thought that I would have never met if she wasn’t bitten and transformed into a vampire, over 100 years before me. I didn’t mean I was grateful for the vampire who bit her, or vampires in general, but I was grateful I had her.

“Okay.” The words barely came out of my mouth, before I kissed her once again.

“Let me help you.” She took my hand and guided me upstairs. She showed me the bathroom and brought me freshly-washed, fluffy towels, clear underwear, long jeans, a woolen t-shirt, socks, and slippers. I looked at her curiously.

“I bought a few things if you ever wanted to crash here.” She confessed, a kind of guilt on her face. I smiled widely and kissed her once again.

“Thank you, love.” She relaxed and smiled.

“Okay, now, go shower. Relax, have fun with the jet streams.” She winked before running downstairs. I chuckled at myself, and hopped in the shower, turning the jet streams on, and relaxing further into my thoughts.

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About half an hour later, I jumped off the shower, clean and relaxed. I quickly dried off and got dressed. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I would have never thought of being this happy in my life.

I didn’t have the best childhood. I never met my father; I never knew who my father even was, but I definitely knew he was a Quileute by now. My mom, however, was a Makah, an outsider of the Quileute tribe, so she didn’t know about the shape-shifters.

There were a lot of one-sided fights with her when I came home after a long night patrolling. She thought I was going through a rebellious stage, and I just let her believe that. Even Sam offered to tell her the truth about the Quileutes, but I refused. I couldn’t have her getting in trouble or hurt; it would be better if she didn’t know. I sighed deeply and slowly walked downstairs to meet with (Y/N).

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(Y/N)’s POV

I didn’t mean to watch Embry’s head, but I couldn’t help it. All these images suddenly started flooding my mind; his mother yelling at him for being out of the house at odd hours, but him never yelling back at her, never revealing the real reason for his absence. He was thinking about all the times he asked his mother about his father, but she refused to say anything more and dismissed Embry’s inquiries.

Embry’s head was heavy with these dark thoughts, tangled and disorganized, reminding me of my own. His thoughts were all over the place; small images and scenes here and there like little flashes of memories.

I heard him coming down the stairs and tried to forget about everything for his own sake. In a minute, he entered the kitchen. He looked so beautiful, even a plain pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt. He was mesmerizing, his face calm, a small grin lighting up my world, and, if I hadn’t seen his thoughts, I would think that his head produced only happy thoughts.

Anyone who saw Embry, saw a quiet, reserved, but seemingly happy young man, not what I had just seen for myself. I decided not to talk about it; if he ever felt comfortable talking about it, he would, and I would wait for him, no pressure.

“Like what you see?” Embry grinned seductively. Cheeky bastard.

“I do, actually.” I leaned forward, over the counter standing in the middle of the kitchen, pressing my breasts against the surface. It only lasted for a few seconds, before I sat back straight, but it was enough for Embry to gulp down and his cheeks to turn red under his already tan skin, his eyes wide in shock. Two can play the game, babe.

“Well, come on, the pizzas are ready.” I acted as if nothing happened, and continued acting normal, taking the pizzas out of the oven before handing a plate to Embry from the nearby cabinet. He was standing close to me, watching my every move with a look of questioning.

“Are you okay? You seem as if something is bugging you.” I didn’t see a single image in his mind that could give me any clue as to why he looked concerned.

“I just have a question. It is a weird one, and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t feel comfortable. I suppose that’s personal, but I was just wondering.” I nodded at him to continue. “How did you come up with all this money? Like, I guess the Cullens are rich, Dr. Cullen is a doctor and they probably come from old wealth or something, but how did you afford to buy all these things?” He motioned around the house.

I sighed. “I actually waited for you to ask this question, eventually. First of all, I should let you know that most of Cullens’ money - if not 90-95% of it - comes from trading stock, bonds, foreign exchange, investments; Alice’s visions have helped A LOT. And, everything is legal. Nobody says that visions count as fraud; inside info does, but visions don’t. So..that’s their story. Mine is complicated. It is on the verge of being illegal but not really.”

“What do you mean “illegal”? What, like, you sell drugs or something?” He laughed but then, upon seeing my blank face he stopped. “YOU SELL DRUGS?” He plopped down on a chair.

“Yes, and no. I sell..candy, sugary sweets, gummy bears, anything really that is considered candy. But, I present them as “drugs” to people who I know are interested in buying drugs. I sell them the candy, which is regular candy, sugary and sweet, something a kid would eat. And then, I just stand nearby or a few kilometers away - it depends - and cause them to see illusions, so they actually think they are on drugs. The more they pay for a “drug”, the more intense illusions I create. Most of my regular clients are CEOs, CFOs, businessmen, investors, you name it. Usually, they will organize a party and “book” me in advance to provide them with “drugs”. I always make sure they pay half price in advance and half price when I arrive with the stuff so that I don’t get fooled.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught? Isn’t it dangerous for these people?”

“Embry, I never, ever, present my true self to them. Again, I create an illusion of myself when I collaborate with them. And I am never the same person more than once; they actually think there is a whole network behind it. And, I always make sure they are safe and don’t take things too far. That’s why they “book” me. I’m like a designated babysitter for the “junkies”. I take all necessary precautions so that they have fun, don’t harass others, and don’t do things that will get them killed. It’s an extra paid service.”

“And that pays a lot, huh?”

“Everything you see around, and many more, have been purchased with this money. Though, I recently had Alice manage my money and invest them wherever she thinks it’d be profitable for me. You know, so I don’t risk getting caught, and actually start making money in a completely legal way. Though, I have to admit, I liked the small doses of danger, and the money was REALLY good.”

Embry looked skeptical. “Normally I would say that this still seemed illegal and it would be better for you to stop. But,..” He stood up from his chair and came closer to me. “...I also know that you must know what you’re doing by now, and you’re not doing anything that is more illegal than what your clients are doing. So, I think you should choose for yourself, see the pros and the cons, and see what would be better for you.” He wrapped his hands around me and held me against his hot chest.

“If I’m being honest, I have enough money by now to last me a lifetime - a human’s lifetime, maybe two or three. And..I think it is time to go legal. I think Alice’s idea was the right one. It will also give me a chance to be closer to her and the rest of the family - though I told her I didn’t want to take advantage of her gift, she assured me that I wouldn’t.” I sighed. There was a lot of pressure in my head, but Embry’s presence and touch actually managed to keep me calmer than usual.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“I guess it’s time to go deeper, so shoot away.”

“When you said it was easier to stay away from humans when feeding, did you ever actually kill people?”

“Well, I do have pretty good control over my thirst now. I still had to go through the newborn phase though, for a year or two. I killed many people, I couldn’t contain myself, until my gift started developing more, and I could see my ugly, scary side in their head. When I told you I can see what people are thinking..? I basically can see the images and illusions in someone's head - kind of like what Edward does, but he can actually read someone’s very thoughts at a specific moment. I can only see the images. So, I could see that I wasn’t who I wanted to be. I didn’t realize it at first. But I didn't want to be like the vampire who attacked me. I didn’t want to be that kind of monster. I know I am a monster, but I didn’t want to live at the expense of other humans. My life being taken away from me did not excuse me from taking other lives.”

Embry was speechless. He only had to squeeze me harder for me to understand that he was trying to sympathize with me. It couldn’t be easier for him when he first phased, and every other moment from that point on couldn’t be any easier. I had to leave my family behind for their own good. He has to live with who he is; he has to keep the secret from his own mother to protect her while going through her critical and vigilant gaze. She was certainly concerned for her son, but knowing about the shifters would most likely put her in great danger, and Embry could not risk that.

We have long forgotten the pizzas, but I reminded myself that the wolf had to eat, so I forced myself out of his arms. Embry looked upset as if I rejected him. “You MUST eat. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

He nodded and grabbed a few slices, devouring them in under a minute, taking a few more on his plate. I looked amused at him; I never saw anyone eat so much so fast. Within ten minutes, he finished all five pizzas I had baked. He looked proud of himself, a wide smile spread across his face.

“You sure have an appetite!” I laughed at him.

“I could say the same about you.” He grinned back, reminding me of the fact that I did actually kill one mountain lion and about a dozen deer.

“Touché.” I laughed and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me up in the air. I wrapped my legs around his waist and we just stayed there, foreheads against each other, eyes studying the other’s soul. He kissed me lightly and I could only feel happiness, my undead heart bursting with love, forgetting about everything and everyone.

Suddenly, my phone rang. We both sighed deeply. “Moment ruined.” I said disappointed, climbing out of Embry’s grip, and unwillingly picking up my phone. It was Alice.

“Alice? What happened?” I was worried. Alice did not just call without any reason.

“(Y/N). The newborns. They are coming earlier than we thought.” Alice was panicking by now.

“What do you mean “earlier”? How much earlier?”

“They may be arriving early in the morning, sometime after the sun has risen.”

“Are you sure? That’s like...” I checked the kitchen clock, it was already 11 pm by now. “...in less than 9 hours!”

“I’m positive. Edward and Bella just left. They will be camping in the mountains, where they had agreed. Jacob will probably be on his way there. The wolves will be getting ready by now. I called Sam. They will be staying away from the reservation tonight, just in case. Is Embry with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Okay, good. It will be better if he stayed with you for tonight. The further he is from the reservation right now, the better. The wolves don’t want to risk the safety of their families right now. Only Brady and Collin will stay behind, to make sure everyone back in the reservation is safe.”

“I understand. Thanks for calling, Alice. I’ll see you in the morning. Bye.” I hung up the phone and I turned to look at a shocked Embry, his jaw clenching. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” He sighed deeply. “We’ll manage, (Y/N). Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter if it’s 9, 10, 12, or 15 hours. We’ll be good.”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I paused. “I hope so. Can..Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, whatever you need.”

“Can you communicate with the pack? You can use my phone. Tell them to come here. I have plenty of rooms for them to sleep in.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure? I mean, that’s kind of you, but, won’t the smell annoy you?”

“The smell will be fine. What matters now is that they are safe. They can’t stay in the woods. They need a good night’s sleep. Please, talk to them.”

“Okay.” Embry took my phone, dialing a number, and waiting for a reply. Finally, somebody picked up, and Embry was talking almost frantically to the other person. About 5 minutes later, he ended the call and gave me my phone back. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Good. I’ll go get things ready.” I pecked Embry’s lips and ran to turn the heater higher on and get pillows, bedsheets, covers, and blankets for the rooms. I also laid some hair, body, face, and feet towels, in case they wanted to have a bath or a shower.

Apart from my own, the house had four additional rooms that I used as guest rooms. When I bought the house, my thought was that the Cullens may be visiting someday and would like to stay over, so each pair could have their own room. Now, they will accommodate the wolf pack and I was just as happy as if it was family coming over. Well, technically, they were family - they were Embry’s family, so that would likely make me family too? I just hoped they saw me like family.

I finished getting everything ready, spraying some spray freshener around each room and through the corridors, to cover up my own scent. I said I wouldn’t mind their scent, which I wouldn’t, but I didn’t know how my own scent would make them feel, especially when it is spread all over the house. I just wanted them to sleep well, and rest; for tomorrow would be a tough day for all of us. I smelled and heard them quicker than I saw them, and I ran downstairs to stand next to Embry. He took my hand in his own, and we walked towards the door.

Opening the large entrance door, we were greeted by six tired and upset shifters - Sam, Jared, Paul, Quil, Leah, and Seth; though Quil and Seth were a bit happier to be there, compared to the others.

“Hey!” I greeted them, extending my hand to Sam, the Alpha of the pack. He looked at my hand, looked at Embry who nodded, and then, he shook my hand.

“Thank you for having us in your house. I hope we are not intruding.” He was careful with his words, his face serious and stern.

“Of course you are not! Please, do come in.” I motioned them to come further into the house, and they took small steps coming in. I smiled encouragingly. “I have prepared your rooms. Please, follow me.” I walked up the stairs, turning to the left corridor, them following behind.

“Unfortunately, some of you will have to share between you.” I informed them as we were walking through the corridor. “This room is for Sam. As the Alpha, he will be sleeping on his own.” Sam laughed at the others and thanked me. I continued to the next room.

“This room is for Jared and Paul.” Jared and Paul looked at each other and shrugged. “Don’t worry. All the beds are quite big, in case you have restless sleep, or just don’t want to be close to each other.” They barely hold their laughs. I had to admit, they were quite amusing.

“Next, this room is for Quil and Seth.” They turned to each other, and high-fived, smiling widely and howling.

I took them further into the corridor, to the biggest guestroom. “And, this last room is for Leah, to have some privacy away for the guys. I know what it feels like being the only girl surrounded by guys, and honestly, I couldn’t handle being surrounded by boys with extremely high hormones.” I turned to Leah, and I saw her smiling at me, mouthing a “Thank you”. I smiled back at her, I felt for her more than anyone.

“Also, as you may notice later, I have also laid some towels on your beds in case you wanted to have a shower, a bath, or use the jacuzzi.”

“THERE’S A JACUZZI?!” Jared, Quil, and Seth practically screamed. Sam turned to stare at them like how a disappointed parent would stare at his 5-year-olds who were causing trouble. Leah rolled her eyes, disappointed but also kind of expecting that. Paul and Embry couldn’t stop laughing. I tried to keep a straight face, stifling my laugh.

“Yeah, every room has a bathroom, equipped with a toilet, a sink, a shower, a bathtub, and a separate jacuzzi. You are also welcome to go anywhere around the house if you can’t really sleep, or if you feel like it. I don’t have anything prepared if you are hungry, but you may bake and eat anything from the freezer. If you need anything else, feel free to knock on my door or call me on my phone. It is written on the phone catalog, near the phone, on your bedside tables. And my room is across the hall, at the end of the corridor. I will leave you to it now. Have a good night's sleep.” I smiled, and they all said their goodnights, walking towards their rooms.

I took Embry’s hand in mine and led him to my own room. I opened the door, walking into the room. “You will be sleeping here tonight. Hope you don’t mind.” Embry was grinning, a wide smile spread across his face, radiating true happiness. He held me in his arms, squeezing me, his wide smile never leaving his face.

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping on a cement floor if it meant that I slept with you in my arms.”

“I could say the same. If I could sleep at all.” I laughed and he joined me. “Shhh, the others will hear us. I don’t want them to feel uncomfortable or weirded out.”

“They won’t, believe me. I think that you are the first vampire to warm up to them. Pun intended.” He laughed.

I lightly shoved him back, afraid to put too much force on him. “It’s time to sleep, mister. You have a long day ahead of you.”

“Only if you lay in my arms while I sleep.” He lightly swayed me around, as if we were dancing, and walked me towards the bed. He lied down, me sitting on his lap, each of my legs on each side. It was a very intimate moment but I knew that he had to rest well.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that. You now need to rest. Please.” I stroked his head, my fingers running through his thick hair, which shined even under the dim light that came through the windows, from the full moon in the sky. He sighed and I climbed out of his lap and sat on the bed. He took my hand and kissed it, making my insides melt and my eyes slightly stink with venom.

“You promise you will stay with me forever?” He looked me deep in the eyes, a mix of worry and seriousness in his voice. I looked startled but confident in my answer.

“I promise. You are the most important person in my life now. I won’t leave you, ever. But you have to promise you will stay alive tomorrow. For me, for your mom, for the pack, for the tribe.” There was a pause. Nothing was certain for tomorrow; no one knew what would happen, but we could only hope.

“I promise. I won’t leave you like that.” He shot me a small smile and he leaned in to kiss me lightly on the lips. I kissed him back, thinking that it may be our last kiss, but not wanting this thought to come true.

He slowly laid back on the bed, pulling me in his arms, and kissing me on my forehead. We laid there for a few minutes before his breaths started becoming more steady and heavy, indicating that he finally fell asleep. I looked at the beautiful man in front of me. I wished everything was different; that we met under different conditions; that we were free and careless.

“I promise you, when all this ends, I will take you anywhere, show you everything.” I whispered, kissing him on his cheek, him smiling in his sleep.

We talked for what felt like hours; Embry was telling me stories about the pack, their imprints, the shifting, and everything in between. I lifted a dome-like illusion around the house and the surrounding area, in case anyone came too close to us, and I closed my eyes, listening to Embry’s steady heartbeat, as he took deep breaths. This was the happiest I had ever been in my almost 153 years of life. I sank further into Embry’s arms and wished I could stay there forever.

----------------------------------------------------------

I didn’t realize how much time had passed until I opened my eyes. I was still in Embry’s arms, and thankfully, he was still asleep and really warm. He was breathing deeply and steadily, his lips slightly parted. I smiled at the sight; he looked so peaceful and pure, I couldn’t imagine him killing vampires. He seemed too good for me, for the world.

However, I couldn’t calm down, too nervous about what was going to happen today. I slipped away from Embry’s embrace, trying not to wake him up. I slowly stood up from the bed and looked at the clock on my bedside table. 3:45 am. Less than 4 hours away from the newborns’ arrival.

I grabbed my phone and ran quietly towards my bedroom door, opening it, and slipping away, trying to go undetected by the wolves who slept across the corridor. I ran down the stairs and out of the house. I fixed my brain on a decision I made on the spot, hoping both Alice and Edward would pick up on my actions.

I was worried we would not be able to realize the exact location of the newborns at all times, so I went out to make sure we had the upper hand in terms of time. That’s what I kept telling myself - the actual reason why I did this was actually more selfish. I wanted to know how many of them we’ll be dealing with; how many I would have to mess up with, mentally or physically. How many vampires I would have to fight off to keep Embry safe.

Alice saw the newborns coming out of the sea in her vision, so that was my lead. I assumed they would travel through the Quilcene Bay, which was right in the middle, between Seattle and our fighting location. The 70 miles that separated my house from the bay were nothing for me. I was mostly motivated by anger and protectiveness towards Embry - I had to know and warn the others.

I reached close to the bay and went up to a higher point, so I could watch everything around me better. I looked at my phone. 4:15 am. That was faster than I expected. I decided I would just sit here and wait. The clearing where the Cullens and the wolves chose for the fight to take place was about 35 miles away, which was still far away from Forks, and close enough to the mountains where Bella, Edward, and Jacob would be staying for the night.

My phone rang unexpectedly. I saw the caller ID. Alice.

“Hey, Alice. What’s going on?” I answered casually.

“(Y/N)! Where are you? Why did you leave your home?”

“Hey! Don’t worry. The wolves are safe.”

“You know I’m not worried about the wolves! Why are you after the newborns?”

“I just want to make sure we have the numbers. I need to make sure, Alice.”

Alice didn’t say anything for a while. “Okay. Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay. I will call you later. Just make sure the wolves are ready. I will break down the illusion when you are near. I’ll probably meet you at the clearing.”

“Okay. Bye, (Y/N).”

“Bye, Alice.” I ended the call and just waited, and waited.

It was almost 5 am, when I saw movement in the water. I leaned closer, trying to be careful to stay out of their way while watching them closely. I knew I would probably be the only one they wouldn’t be able to see, “blinding” their vision if they came close to me.

From Alice’s vision, I remembered about 15 or 20 newborns, but I guessed the number changed during this time. I was now staring at about 30 or 40 newborns, way more than what we expected. It was as if whoever created - I assumed the redhead everyone was talking about - did not just want to take down the Cullens, but the whole town of Forks.

They were walking rather than running, which I thought was odd for newborns, as most of us tend to run all the time at that stage of life. With this speed, they would probably arrive at the clearing in 2 and a half to 3 hours, just like Alice predicted. Hopefully, they would not come across any humans who would, inevitably, become their meal.

I ran away, towards the mountains and the clearing. I would warn the others when I went there, knowing they would have enough time to get prepared.

[jxmbi]

⠀

[buckyownsmylife]

Lucky - Logan Howlett smut

The one where Logan catches you touching yourself when you’re supposed to be his.

Warnings: masturbation (f), oral sex (f), slight voyeurism, playful possessiveness, reader is a dumbass, Logan is in love, p in v, dirty talk, unprotected sex, a single spank, kind of a cum kink?, creampie

A/N: If a man tries to control when you can orgasm without your consent, please ignore him and get yourself another one. Logan here is obviously jesting and even if he were to create such a rule, he’d only enforce it with his girlfriend’s acceptance, of course. Day 4 of kinktober and the prompts were masturbation + eating out.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

As soon as I hear my room’s door close behind me, the stress of the day started to leave my tense muscles. Just being surrounded by my stuff, that I’d been carefully collecting since my arrival in Charles’ academy four months before, was enough to send the message to my brain: you’re home, relax. No one is going to disturb you here.

It wasn’t necessarily true, of course, which was one of the cons of living in the same place that I worked, but the probability of one of my students coming all the way here to ask for help, advice, or any other sort of guidance was extremely low, thankfully. As 5pm approached, the youngsters too began to relax, opting to look for social activities or hobbies to occupy their time instead of training and studying. In all my time here, no one except teachers had come to bother me in my own bedroom, and even that was extremely rare. Everyone seemed to understand the need for some alone time after a day of responsibilities.

So that’s why this room that was designated to me had this ability to instantly make me feel better, I guess. Up until now, the only other place that managed to make me feel so safe wasn’t actually an environment, but a person.

Logan.

We’d been some sort of unspoken thing for a while now, only about a month. Despite his usual grumpiness that seemed to be directed to keep me away from him right after my arrival, the fact that I didn’t seem to care quickly made him curious, and this curiosity soon became a particular interest in seeing me underneath him, moaning pleasurably in his bed.

He made me feel safe, and the truth was that I didn’t care that after a month, we still hadn’t decided to give a name to what we had. All that mattered to me was that he wanted to spend time with me too and that he treated me right. 

But he’d been gone for the last four days on a special mission assigned by Professor X, so that meant that my current situation couldn’t really be blamed solely on my student’s behavior for the day. Oh, no. This particular tension came after my body had grown accustomed to being treated to multiple orgasms night after night, only to be abruptly denied those treats.

I missed him. I hadn’t had to touch myself in over a month and I’d spent the last few nights depriving myself of it because I knew I could never give myself the kind of pleasure that Logan could. Only he wasn’t here, and I was going crazy, especially since no one had any idea of when he would be back.

I needed him.

So I decided to grant me at least some sort of relief, as pathetic as it’d be, in the hopes of calming my longing body. The first thing I did was strip down to nothing. My favorite pampering activity was a nice warm bath after a stressful day of classes, and from Logan’s comments, I knew he liked it when I took the time to lather myself up in essential oils, too. On more than one occasion he commented that it made me smell “good enough to eat”.

It was only after said bath that I laid down on my still-made bed, spread out to appreciate the silkiness of my own skin after a good hydration session. The smell of coconuts from my favorite cream helped to ease me into the right state of mind, that I so desperately needed so I could start softly running my fingers over my thighs without that stupid inner voice that wanted to make me recoil in embarrassment.

I was a grown woman in the privacy of her own room. It was stupid to be timid about needing to touch myself, so I focused on the desire I could feel rising through me, and not on any other pop-up thought that insisted on making its way into my brain.

It became a lot easier when I thought about my lover.

Oh, how I wished Logan was here. He’d love to see me in this position, legs spread open for his eyes to take. Only the thought of his piercing eyes fixated in my naked body was enough to get me wet, and that elicited another memory of him. How he’d groan when the smell of my juices hit his nose, immediately prompting him to get on his knees in front of me and bury his head between my thighs. He’d lap me up eagerly, hungrily, like I was an entire feast dedicated to him after a life of restraint. As passionate a lover as Logan was, I don’t think there was anything he loved more than eating pussy.

If he was here, he’d say mine was the only one that provoked such an animalistic reaction from him. I’d laugh, refusing to believe anything that came out of his mouth when all he could think about was burying himself inside of me, but I’d blush nonetheless. A part of me wanted to believe I was special to him, despite his years and the number of women he’d most certainly laid with, mostly because he was special to me, too. 

But I couldn’t afford this sort of thought, so I opted to focus on the memory of how Logan’s tongue felt against my clit. I let a single finger touch it, trying to mirror the same pattern of movement he’d make. It was nowhere near the same sensation, but it was enough to prompt me to release a little moan of pleasure.

We were starting to get somewhere.

Logan’s P.O.V.

After four long days of fuckery, the only thing I could think about was going back home straight to my girl’s arms. So as soon as we were through the academy’s doors, I took the stairs two at a time to go directly into her room, having memorized her schedule long enough to know that she’d most likely be there. 

No one tried to get in my way. They knew better.

Much to my surprise, as I approached the now familiar doors to her room, a familiar scent engulfed me, prompting me to tune into the sweet sounds that I’d dreamed about these last nights. They were very discreet, but for someone with my enhanced abilities and extreme focus on her body and reactions, it was very obviously there.

Blindly, I reached for her door, slowly pushing it open and welcoming the warmth and overwhelming perfume that I’d come to associate with her presence, especially during the times she was releasing these delicious little moans. Immediately, my ears picked up on another, much dirtier tune: the squelching sounds her fingers elicited from her sweet pussy as she fucked herself.

I almost fell to my knees, as my legs suddenly lost the ability to keep me upright, but I was able to hold myself back just in time. Wouldn’t want to miss the show, especially when it was making me so fucking hard. 

Finally venturing further into the room, I came face to face with the beauty waiting for me. She hadn’t noticed my arrival yet, too preoccupied with her pleasurable activities, her eyes closed shut in concentration as her mouth fell open in that delicious silent scream I liked to swallow so much.

I watched as she touched herself a bit more, attentively looking for the telling signs that she was close to her release, and just when the muscles on her thigh began to clench, I leaned over her and wrapped my hand around her wrist, pulling her fingers from inside her cunt. The surprised gasp she let out made me smirk.

I sucked on her fingers, enjoying my first taste of her after what felt like forever. A deep groan erupted from my chest at her sweetness invading my mouth. “Missed me?” I teased when I finally reopened my eyes to find her staring back at me with a lustful expression.

“You have no idea just how much,” was her answer. I was enough of a man to feel proud of her response, but it also became clear just how much I had actually become soft for the woman under me - a stark contrast to the hardness I could feel restricting my jeans.  

When she first arrived at the academy, I hadn’t expected her to become as important to me as she had now, but just as I struggled to take off my clothes as quickly as possible before kneeling before the bed, pulling her by the ankles so she was spread out just in front of my face, I couldn’t really deny it. I’d do anything to keep her with me, just like this.

“I think I have some idea of it…” I teased her just as I softly ran my fingers over her pussy lips, simply collecting the wetness that had gathered there.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

He once more wrapped his lips over his wet fingers and moaned at my taste in his mouth. “How are you this fucking sweet?” Was all he asked before he delved right in, parting my thighs with his large hands and licking from my puckered hole to my clit. 

“Fuck!” I cursed, throwing one of my hands over my head, to find something to hold onto, while the other found its way into his hair, pulling on it just the way I knew he liked. I felt his groan reverberating through me before he chuckled, briefly stopping his ministrations to stare up at me with his lower face dripping from my wetness.

“I love when I can make you curse.” Biting my lip, I accepted that I couldn’t retaliate his teasing while he continued to eat me out. His tongue easily engulfed my whole pussy, so just that was enough to bring me to the edge of an orgasm in a way I could never grant it to myself. “Come on, sweet girl,” he admonished, slapping my thigh. “Ride my face. Give me what I came here for.”

I obeyed him without even thinking about it. This was just how it was when it came to us. He asked me to strip, my panties were on the floor before he finished his sentence. He ordered me to get on my knees, my mouth was instantly watering at the sight of him.

But God, did he deliver. My compliance came very easily when it came to a man like him, so eager to please beyond what his body could already offer. I’d been with many men before who, while obviously not as well-endowed as him, had been on the bigger side, and they always left me needing more, like they believed their dick’s length was enough to satisfy me without any real effort from their part.

Not Logan, though. Oh, no. Logan thrived on making me cum, over and over again. He liked to say he’d live on my pussy alone if possible, and by the way he very hungrily ate me out for hours on end at times, I knew he was being honest.

I sometimes liked to entertain the idea that I was the one who brought out that side of him, but I knew better. Someone like Logan had a lot of experience, I was dumb to think that I might be somewhat special to him, somehow. So I didn’t.

Instead, I allowed the filthy sounds of my wetness being gurgled down by him to bring me back to this moment, choosing to focus instead on how delicious his tongue felt against my clit, how he happily accepted my movements as I buckled up, in search of my orgasm.

I was right over the edge, in need of just a little something else to push me over it when Logan suddenly decided to open his eyes and focus them on me. The sight of his darkened eyes and dilated pupils was enough to make me throw my head back against the soft pillows of my bed as I reached bliss.

When the stars of light disappeared from my vision and I came to my senses, Logan was still in the same spot in front of me, his thumbs softly caressing the inside of my thighs. “You’re back with me, darlin’?” He asked in that deliciously gruff voice of his, and I shivered, nodding breathlessly as I wetted my lips. “So now, let’s have a talk. Who said you could touch yourself while I’m away, huh?”

I blinked once, then twice. My mouth was slightly agape as I looked down at Logan, still sprawled out for his viewing pleasure while my mind raced to make sense of his words. “I-I don’t understand,” I finally confessed, my eyes following his movement as he climbed up on the bed until we were face to face for the first time since his return.

Logan’s P.O.V.

I tsked teasingly, leaning down to deposit a quick kiss on the corner of her lips. “I asked you…” I breathed out on her ear, watching as goosebumps raised over her skin. “... who said you could touch yourself, darlin'. Because last I checked…” I cupped her cunt with one of my hands, chuckling lightly at how I was able to cover it with my palm. “... this pussy was mine and only mine.”

“I-it was?” Now, hold my heart (and my cock) but she just looked too fucking cute with that confused look on her face, her eyebrows frowned as she stared at me like I had grown two fucking heads.

“Of course, sweetheart. Now, I know we hadn’t talked about this before, so I’ll let your pretty little ass spank free this time, but be warned…” I leaned over her again, my nose touching hers as I felt her little breaths against my own lips. “... next time you’re feeling horny, you ask your boyfriend to help you deal with it. And if he’s not around, you wait.”

Now, I was expecting some kind of reaction from my little rule, and I was 100% ready to negotiate, but what I wasn’t expecting was for her eyes to grow twice their size as she suddenly sat up on the bed, forcing me to lean back and take a seat, too.

“Boyfriend?” She definitely looked confused, her eyes searching mine for something I didn’t know since I was just as puzzled. Opting to stay silent, I simply stared back at her, both of my eyebrows raised high as I waited for her explanation. “You mean… you?”

The familiar fire of anger rose up quickly inside my chest, and I had to curl my hands into fists to control myself. “Of course it’s me, who the fuck would it be? Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

Rationally, I knew my problem was less anger and more disappointment. I’d let my guard down for her - way too quickly, faster than I’d done for anyone else throughout my life. And I’d done it because she touched my heart in a way no one else had. I was falling for her, and I thought she felt the same way too.

“NO! Of course not!” She all but jumped, her hands reaching out to cradle my face and I found myself actually relaxing against her touch, as my heartbeat started to slow down at the knowledge that she really was all mine. “I just… I didn’t know… I didn’t think we were dating. I thought you saw me as…”

She didn’t seem to have the courage to finish her sentence, but she didn’t need to. I understood what she meant, and as realization fell upon me, I found myself throwing my head back and full-on laughing, much to her displeasure. When I managed to calm down, she was pouting at me, which only made the arousal that had dissipated by the fear reappear that much stronger.

“Oh, darlin’...” I started, pulling on her ankles to force her on her back again as I hovered over her, watching, analyzing. “I’ve fucked you every single night for the last month. Now, I know I’m not the kind to talk about my feelings, but I figured that made it pretty obvious…”

Leaning down, I took possession of her mouth to give her a breathtaking kiss, forcing her to accept my eager tongue, to taste herself on my lips. Then I went further, kissing her jaw, her neck, until I reached her collarbones, where I sucked a bruise, all the while rubbing my aching cock against her clit before pushing it inside of her in one forceful thrust. 

“... You’re mine. Only mine. Mine to fuck, mine to bruise and mark, mine to cum into.” Her mouth immediately fell open at the feeling of my hardness stretching her open, and I couldn’t help the smirk that took over my lips. “You okay with that, sweetheart?” I asked, waiting for her to adjust to the feeling of being invaded as I nibbled on her earlobe.

Finally, after a few minutes of her struggling to breathe as I felt her squeezing my biceps, she nodded. “Y-yeah.” Grinning, I took that as an okay to start moving and immediately started to pound her against the mattress, just like I loved and had come to learn that she did, too. Her nails bit on my flesh, but it only added to my own arousal, making me growl against the skin of her chest.

“This fucking pussy… You really thought I’d just treat you like a fuckbuddy?” Abruptly pulling out of her, I manhandled her onto her hands and knees before pushing her face down against the mattress, all the while laughing at the little scream of surprise she let out. “I’m never gonna stop fucking you, pretty thing. You better watch out.”

She was moaning desperately now, just how I’d dreamt of hearing while I was away from her, and it made my sack even heavier as it slapped against her clit with each thrust I gave. “Fuck… ‘m gonna cum, sweetheart. Do you want it? Say you want my cum in your pretty little pussy, come on.”

After a gasp that followed my slap on her ass, she flipped her head back, looking at me with those fucking sultry eyes that I loved so damn much. “Please, Logan, cum inside of me. Wanna feel it dripping from me, please, I need it so bad.” And this is why I was convinced she was some sort of siren or whatever. The second that our eyes connected, I was fulfilling her wishes, releasing all of my milky cum inside of her throbbing pussy, as she came at the same time as me.

Once I was able to breathe again, after having thrown myself by her side on the bed, I pulled her so she’d rest her face on my chest, chuckling to myself over how much of a cuddle lover I’d become ever since we’d started sleeping together.

“Hey, Logan,” she called out my attention, making me hum in response as I looked down to find her staring up expectantly at me. “I hope you know that this goes both ways.” I blinked twice as I waited for her words to make sense to me, but before they did, she was giggling, already clarifying her meaning. “You’re mine too.”

To say that those words filled me with the happiest kind of warmth would be an understatement. I didn’t know what to say, I’d never been good at this lovey-dovey shit, so I settled for pulling her back to me again and giving her forehead a kiss.

“Believe me, darlin’... I know.”

[engagemachine]

"You're so gentle," she tells me. They all say it. I hear it from my patients every time I take their arm to wrap the blood pressure cuff around it, or when I place my stethoscope on their belly, or when I rub circles into their back when I've helped them sit up on the side of the bed for the first time in three days. Sometimes they cry, because it's the first tender touch they've felt since they've been in the hospital. It's very humbling and at the same time very concerning -- why has no one else offered this tenderness to you? Why am I always the first?

But I don't feel gentle. Not when a pair of ribs are cracking beneath my hands as I'm doing chest compressions on a Covid patient who's stopped breathing--the second time I've administered CPR on a Covid patient in two days. I don't feel gentle when I'm wrestling with a patient and begging for them to keep their oxygen mask on. When I have to hold them down and hold them still so my coworker can draw a blood sample. I don't feel gentle when I'm inserting a nasogastric tube down someone's nose, then throat, and into their belly while they're gagging around the tube and their arms are flailing. And I don't feel gentle when I'm washing a sacral wound with bleach and they're crying because it hurts. I don't feel gentle when I have to shout, beg, and plead for patients to listen, when I tell patients they're going to die if they don't keep their oxygen mask on. I don't feel gentle when I have to place a patient in restraints, or when I call a family member and tell them that their loved one's condition hasn't improved. I don't feel gentle when a patient tells me they can't breathe, they can't breathe, I can't breathe, and I'm yelling for coworkers to call the doctor while I'm cycling through different oxygen masks and trying to administer medication to slow their respirations and calm their anxiety.

I'm writing this because I feel like I've been living a little bit behind a veneer on here, although I know deep down that's not really true; I have always wanted my blog to feel like a positive space for anyone and everyone, including myself. I come here to have fun and destress and that's why you usually don't see me reblogging content having to do with politics or global news. I think it's possible to create a healthy space where one does talk about those things and spreads awareness for important causes, but for me, Tumblr is where I come when I need to escape the harsh realities of real life. This is my platform where I can indulge in my fictional proclivities and interests, where I can appreciate art, photography, beautiful writing, my favorite films, music, and cute animals. That's what this space is about. I also have loved meeting new people and getting to know my readers and making new friends and chatting about my stories. That's why I'm here and I thank you all so, so much for indulging me in my passions and for encouraging my writing the way that you have: it has helped me weather the current storm of stress I am feeling in more ways than I could possibly convey.

But I have to be very honest with you all about how much I've been struggling lately, as I feel like I'm reaching a breaking point and I'm somewhat at a loss for how to handle it.

Since September of last year, I've been on an accelerated track to finish the degree I'm working towards, which is a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. I've been a nurse for four years, but I graduated from a two-year nursing program versus a four-year program because I wanted to get into the field earlier than some of my peers, which has been great. Anyway, my school counselor/mentor and I agreed that I could obtain my BSN in a year if I really pushed myself. The program I'm in is self-paced, which has been both a blessing and a curse. Most of my classes I have finished in about three to four weeks. Other classes, like biochemistry, took substantially longer, about seven or eight weeks, if I remember correctly. All of the classes have relied on my ability to self-teach, as there are no scheduled lectures to attend, only assigned readings and videos to watch, if you choose to do so. Fast forward to the end of May, when I went to visit some family, and, upon my return home, really started to lose some of my motivation to complete my classes. I was meant to finish my program in August (this month) but agreed with my mentor that I would take a short break and put my last three classes on hold so that I could resume the program in September. I've enjoyed approximately a month off from school, but "enjoyed" is a term I use loosely here as I was also picking up extra shifts at work because we've been so short staffed and losing nurses left and right.

Which brings me to the main cause of my stress. This pandemic has completely changed the landscape for how I administer care to my patients, and the stress of the care itself has been so utterly overwhelming at times I can hardly bear it. I broke down in tears at work on Sunday morning, shortly after 4:30 am, right there at the the nurse's station, and was sobbing so hard that my supervisor had to pull me away so that I could have some privacy. I wish I could tell you that I sobbed harder than I have in a long time--but I had sobbed at work with that same intensity just four weeks prior, only, I had been alone at the time. It's becoming a trend--I either cry at work or I cry at home--because the stress of this job has become unbearable.

I wish--I desperately wish--I could convey to you the seriousness of Covid. I think so much of the world has already decided to move on from it because they're so tired of having to deal with it and, quite simply, are ready to return to normal. I don't even know what normal is anymore and when--or if--we'll ever be able to return to it. And that has caused me a fair amount of stress and anxiety in and of itself. I miss traveling so much and I don't know when I'll be able to do it again. I haven't seen one of my best friends since the fall of 2018 for this reason, which kills me.

I've seen so much death. Transferred so many patients to the PCU and ICU. Frantically chased patients' oxygen saturation, trying to keep them from circling the drain. Being responsible for six or seven human lives at one time is a stress you cannot fathom unless you have done it yourself. I have cried with a patient, a young woman, who had lost her husband to Covid only hours before in the ER, a young woman who was now faced with battling Covid herself but also planning the funeral of her high school sweetheart from her hospital bed. I have wheeled a patient to the ICU so that he could say one final goodbye to his wife--married for over 50 years--before they pulled the plug and removed her from the ventilator. I have raced down the hallway with my patient on BIPAP, pushing his bed to the ICU and praying that he doesn't stop breathing on the way there. I've had to console crying family members over the phone who are worried about their loved ones, not to mention my crying coworkers who are as overwhelmed as I am. These are just a handful of experiences from the past month alone. There are so many more.

The discomfort of my job has become secondary. I expect, now, to be wearing an N95 for a full twelve or thirteen-hour shift because there isn't time to take it off. Not having a chance to pee or go to the bathroom during that time. Not drinking any water until I'm in my car and taking off my mask and finally taking a deep breath.

On a more personal note, I am continuing to lose weight and it's so discouraging. In high school I used to wear a size 2 or 4. Now, depending on the brand, I wear a double 00. My hair is falling out because of my stress. I haven't slept during the night in... I don't even know how long. I'm constantly tired. Exhaustion hits me like a great tidal wave and I am powerless to stop it. I expect now to crash during the middle of the day on my couch, only to wake up at 11pm and be wide awake for the rest of the night, and, if not wide awake, then in an out of nightmares and sleep paralysis. I have thought about leaving my job, but the idea of job hunting during a pandemic, and while I'm in school... it just makes me feel even more stressed.

I need a break, but it feels like there's nowhere to go to escape. I fantasize about some great adventure, going somewhere I've never been, but I also really miss my family and I'm scared to go home to visit.

This post doesn't really have a conclusive ending. I'm just exhausted and overwhelmed. Any prayers/thoughts would be greatly appreciated.

[babylooneytoonz]

a little bit of you, a little bit of me

— pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

— summary: Tommy and you had a one night stand right when Tommy was 18 and you were 17 and you fell pregnant with a baby girl- but wanted to convince your husband it’s his- so Tommy grew up seeing his daughter every day grow up in the street and with her other dad. And on her eighteenth birthday she comes into the garrison for a drink with a purpose to meet Tommy.

This is requested by an anonymous, although the request was slightly different, I have modified it a bit and I hope you like it.🤍

A/N- I just modified it a bit because I am really not good with the timelines so there might a slight difference in the age . Let's just assume this is set in 1908 which I suppose is when Tommy would be 18? and then later in 1926 when Grace had been shot and all [end of season 3 - beginning season 4] I'm not sure and my math sucks please correct me but I think Tommy was born in 1890 or something I could be seriously wrong though.

— warnings: mentions of extra marrital relationship, trigger warnings, unplanned pregnancy , a lot of angst (Please do not read if you're not comfortable, thank you.)

*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost or claim my work as yours.

[My Masterlist]

You were only seventeen when your parents succumbed to bankruptcy and disease, leaving you an orphan, an only child; but not without ensuring that you were married off to a young man. You weren't in love with him, or with anyone else, and thus, it was easy for you to accept.

With the war not yet begun, you and your husband moved to Birmingham City, hoping to find yourself a place to live at half the rent as compared to London.

And it was during that time, when you met Tommy Shelby, a young lad who lived four houses away from yours.

It was innocent at first, just a glance through the window, or a mindless bump against each other on the road which then developed into greetings and then smiles until finally, one day, when you found yourself sat by the docks late one evening, shielded by unwanted, prying eyes with Tommy Shelby next to you, talking about life in general.

You opened up, telling him about how you were never lucky enough to find someone to love, and to marry for love. Although you had utmost respect for your husband, you couldn't bring yourself to love him, yet. But it wasn't all sad talks.

Sometime, in between the morose and sad revelations, a lighter topic broke out, and they two of you began talking of your favourite pass times, your hobbies and the most embarassing moments of your life.

"Don't you have to go back home, [Y/N]? Isn't someone bloody waiting back home?" Tommy raised an eyebrow, his eyes glistening with amusement and you snorted, pressing your index finger into his chest playfully as you pushed yourself up.

"So, Tommy, what are we friends now?" You remembered smirking, the corners of your plump lips curving into a devilish grin as you stood up, wiping the back of your skirt with your palm.

"Do you want us to be?" He smirked back, and reached forward trying to grab the hem of your skirt, but you dodged, biting your lip as you shook your head, running your hand through your hair.

"Friends don't grab a lady's skirt, Mr. Shelby," you curled your lips teasingly, and taking Tommy by surprise, your fingers slid through his matted hair ruffling them up, before you darted off, the sound of your running the only voice audible to Tommy as he kept sitting by the docks, grinning.

That was only the beginning; and the flirt only rose after that, it didn't die down, no matter how much you knew it was wrong. You couldn't help yourself be attracted to him.

"[Y/N], are you going out, eh?"

You stopped, mid steps, your coat halfway through your arms as you slowly turned around and gave your husband a nervous smile.

"We're out of bread, and tomatoes, and eggs. I thought I'd stock up for two days." You looked at him, glancing at him through your fluttering eyelids, and he simply nodded, pulling a lit cigarette up to his lips, "Don't be gone long, love. It's going to get dark outside."

You grabbed your purse, and fixing your hair with your hands, you pulled open the front door and ran out of your home. You looked left, and right before you crossed the road to the other side and slid through a cramped alley, ducking underneath the clothes that were hanging to dry off from ropes.

Finally, Tommy was in sight.

His hair were disheveled, and his shirt had dust stains on it but you didn't mind; he was perfect in your eyes. You smiled, parting your lips, your tongue sliding out of your mouth as you moistened your lower lip. Your walking turned to running, and the next second, you were standing chest to chest with him, his hand fixed on the low of your back, holding you against him.

"You—"

"Don't, Tommy. Don't make me change my bloody mind," you whispered immediately, cutting him off.

His palm came to rest on your cheek, his thumb stroking against your supple flesh, his blues fixed on yours. You could see the ocean in your eyes, and although you were guilty in that moment for willingly be ready to give yourself to this boy, your guilt was far less than the feelings your heart held for him.

"This one time, Tommy—" you whispered, placing your palm against the fabric of his dusty shirt and balling it into your fist, pulling him closer, you blinked, giving him a nod.

It all flew by in a buzz then. One moment, the two of you were laughing like little kids, chasing after a butterfly, your hand entwined in his, as the two of you ran through the alleys one after the other. Tommy pulled you into one of the structures, made out of bright red brick walls, until he shut the door and pressed you against it, both his hands gripping your neck, his lips pressed to you.

Kisses, moans and gasps. Feelings, passion and unshed tears.

"Can you leave him for me?" Tommy whispered against your ear as he undressed you slowly, his fingers sliding over your bare velvet like skin, making heat and current radiate all through you.

Amongst moans and archs of of pleasure, the crowning and the curling of your toes and Tommy showed you the stars, as he filled you up completely, you moving in sync with him, like dancing to a slow song, you couldn't help but wish.. that maybe you had met him a few months back.

"You know I can't. It's too late now.." Would things have been different then? Would he have married you and then left for war?

"I know love, I know. I'm sorry I didn't find you before." He moaned into your ear, his fingers tracing your spine.

"Tommy.." You threw your head back, your fingers tightly clutching the sweaty boy's head in front of you, as you felt him teasingly bite you on the nape of your neck, all the while, his movements now becoming sloppier inside of you, and the two of you came, and collapsed in each other's arms.

The two of you remained entwined in each other, holding on to each other like either of you would slip into the sands of time. Finally, Tommy's hold on you relaxed, and he brought his fingers to your face, stroking through your sweaty hair, that were sticking to your face.

"This is goodbye then, love?"

You looked up at him, your eyes shriveled with unshed tears, and inexplicable emotions as you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, "I will still see you, only the world will never know. Maybe someday.."

Tommy was true to his words, and he never let anyone find out, about that one slip of the moment the two of you had shared, that had led to the creation of the light of your life.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks flew by, turning into months and Tommy watched you from afar as you walked down the street with a friend of yours whose name was Greta. Your head hung low, your stomach bloomed and swollen, the glow on your face bright enough to compete with the brightness of the sun. He was happy for you. You deserved to be happy, and he was okay, even if it wasn't with him.

Upon seeing you with a smile on your radiant face as you entered the bakery, Tommy could not control himself, something that he had been doing for months now at the sight of you. He pushed open the bakery door, with a tiny jingle of the bell, and that caused you to turn towards the door, your eyes immediately widening at the sight of him.

He kept his eyes fixed on you for a second before he looked away, and fixed himself on the counter right next to you, as he began looking around, looking for anything he could buy and not be suspected.

You pulled the coins out of your purse and handed them to the bakery owner, and with one glance at him, nodding in courtesy, you turned away, hurriedly walking out of it. Your steps were fast, as fast a six months pregnant young lady could walk and thus, it was easy for Tommy to catch up to you.

"Greta," you looked at your friend, your eyes widened, and the girl next to you smiled.

"Go," she whispered and looked around, just to see if there were any prying eyes that were looking at the two of you.

You slowly stepped into the alley, and Tommy followed until he had you in a corner, and his eyes fell to your stomach. You parted your lips but all that came out was thin air.

"I'm sorry, love. I couldn't bloody keep myself away from you. You look beautiful."

You gave him a tiny, lingering smile, fluttering your lashes as you looked down at your belly and then back at him, "Liar. I feel humongous."

"You're a sight for my sore eyes, love," his words were breaking you down, piece by piece. The wall that you had created, the thin wall of what was right and what was wrong was slowly crumbling down again. Your lips ached, your body ached, for his touch, once again. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, you opened your eyes again, and with a finality, you said, "Find yourself a nice girl, Tom. I want you to be happy."

A woman he did find. As time flew by, Tommy did find love again in your best friend, Greta Jurossi, and you were happy for them. You lay in your bed, your sheets coiled over you, covering up your modesty as the midwife examined you. Waves of pain flushed through you, causing you to ball the fabric of the bedding and the towels and let out cries of anguish. Your husband was downstairs, walking up and down; his shoulders tense, listening to your cries of pain.

After fourteen hours, you finally held your little black haired girl to your chest. Your heart filled with unconditional love; as you kissed the mass of her hair, you realised you couldn't love anyone else like you loved this girl.

Tommy held Greta's hand as the two of them entered their spot under the bridge. He pushed her to the wall, keeping a hand at the back of her head so she didn't hit it against the wall as he kissed her and finally made love to her.

"Why do you look like you've seen a bloody ghost, love?" Tommy's eyebrows perked up, as he pulled out a cigarette and flicked it to his lips, lighting it with a match.

"Not a ghost, Tommy, it's just that Marigold keeps us up all night long, she is such a fussy babe," Greta sighed, smiling softly when the image of your baby girl flashed infront of her eyes. She was in love with that little angel, but she knew she was Tommy's, you had told her this as you were her bestfriend. She looked down at her hands momentarily before looking up at Tommy, pursing her lips. She knew this man, and you, better than anyone in the world and she could read your faces like a book.

"Sometimes, I wonder," she hopped off the place she was seated at, pulling her skirts properly at place before she bent down as pulled up her stockings. Tommy took a drag of the cigarette and flicked it away, stepping on it, "What would have been if she would have left him."

"She made her decision, Greta, and I respect it," Tommy called out and she flinched, slowly turning towards him, chewing on the insides of her cheeks.

"Still, it's tragic, isn't it? Watching her everyday and knowing she can never be yours?" She whispered.

"I've made my peace with it." Tommy grumbled, under his breath, shaking his head as he threw his hand towards her and she accepted, entwining their fingers together as he pulled her into him.

"She made me swear something, but I can't keep it inside me anymore. This secret.. I feel like you deserve to know. Will you keep it?" Greta suddenly stopped walking and turned towards him, placing her hand delicately over his chest, and giving it a soft stroke.

"What is it, love?" He asked, his voice husky, and low. He kept his eyes fixed on her, like fireflies drawn to a source of light, that light being the impassivity of her words.

"Marigold is yours, Tommy. She's your daughter. She's got your eyes, and that sweet little smile."

Tommy parted his lips, as if wanting to say something, just anything but he felt like someone had choked him. He couldn't speak. No words flew out of his plump, trembling lips. Waves of anxiety suddenly flushed through him, and he clenched his fists, drawing his hands away from her as a gnawing emptiness filled him up.

Nothing felt worse than the bitter, aching slice his heart felt; as though someone had shot him through his heart, and the bullet was now lodged through. Yet he couldn't bring himself to hate you, although you had never told him, not once in these nine or so months that the baby you were carrying was his.

He laid back down, his head resting against the hard pillow. His mind was intoxicated, his thinking fuzzy yet he couldn't throw out the anguish he was feeling, no matter how hard he tried. The girl he had grown to love, the girl who had pulled him out of the feelings he had for you, the girl who had breathed life into his cold heart once again, the girl he wanted to marry, destiny snatched her away from him like a joke. Was he cursed to not be with the one his heart desired the most?

With a heavy heart, and a tormented soul, Thomas Shelby and his brothers left for war.

The war lasted for years, and so did Tommy, and every single time he felt like death was lurking close by, it never really touched him. When war was over, Tommy Shelby returned a different man, a man with a hollow heart, mind tormented completely differently now. He could hear the shovels in his mind, the clawing of metal against metal. He returned from war, and so did your husband and as the years passed, Tommy watched his daughter grow up, from a young little petal into a full blooming flower, and he never said a word. It was like a silent promise made to you, to protect your honour, something he had sworn with his life.

As the years passed, the hollow void left by you and by Greta slowly died down, and Tommy found himself a woman called Grace. She was enchanting, and she made Tommy feel whole again, complete again, although the shovels never stopped, no matter how hard he tried. Yet, Tommy didn't stop silently watching over the little girl that lived across the street, Marigold.

"Tommy, love?" Grace asked him one day, as she rolled over in bed, the sheets wrapped around her tiny frame and she laid her hand on his rising and falling chest, her fingers tenderly stroking his flesh, "Does that girl mean something to you? I've seen you look at her when she steps out with her mother out on the street, your face lights up."

Tommy didn't reply and instead buried his face into her side, letting himself get lost in her sweet fragrance, soaking him up. When he didn't answer, Grace didn't ask again, but the question remained at the back of her mind, until the day she left Tommy and went to London, breaking his heart all over again.

Just three months later, Tommy found himself standing at the back, his head hung low, staring at the wet soiled ground as your husband's coffin was lowered to the ground. You sniffled, your palm pressed to your lips, as you pulled Marigold closer to you, letting the thirteen year old child grieve, and cry her heart out as her father was lowered to the ground.

As the guests started dispersing, the two of you kept sitting in the front, on chairs that had been put out for you by someone kind. Tommy slowly walked up to you, hesitant and reluctant. Marigold was the first one to look up and Tommy felt his heart swell at the sight of her. It was like he was staring at himself, the same ocean like eyes, her hair just the same amount of dark like Tommy's were, the nose was, however, you and so were the lips. This was the first time Tommy felt he had seen her this close, and the more he saw her, the more he felt how she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes across.

You looked up then, and a faint, weak smile crossed your lips,"You came, Tommy? I never thought.."

"If you need anything, I'll always be here for you," that was the only words he could bring himself to say to you for he had by now, suffered so much, he had leaned to lock the young boy that had fallen in love with you, away in a corner. You watched, your eyes cloudy, as he left the cemetery, and you weeks later, left Birmingham, never to look back again.

1926,

The warm liquid rushed down the canal in Tommy's throat. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair messy and tumultuous, dark bags already forming under his eyes as he has been working mostly through the nights. Garrison was as usual, crowded but the Shelby room provided him with the solitude and the peace that he didn't find anywhere else.

It was just then when a knock resonated from the door and his head snapped upwards as Curly poked his head through.

"What's gone wrong now, Curly?" He said, dryly.

"Tommy, a young girl who goes by the name Marigold says she has some unfinished business with you?" He knew instantly who she was. He hesitated for a bit, his fists clenching slightly before he nodded, "Let her in and close the door, Curly."

Marigold bit her lip, yes she had a purpose to be here and yes, she had thought she had motivated herself enough to finally do this, yet one look at the man seated in front of her made her insides churn with nervousness. This was much difficult as it appeared to be.

"Take a seat, Miss.." Tommy pointed towards the empty couch in front of him and she nodded, absentmindedly sitting down with her hands now resting against her lap, "Marigold [Y/L/N]."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, regarding her through his cold, ocean like eyes, "You don't go by your father's name?"

Marigold didn't reply; instead she gave him a knowing smile and Tommy leaned forward, letting his elbows rest against the table, his hand absentmindedly grabbing his glass of whiskey, "Curly said you had some, eh, unfinished business?"

She nodded, her fingers toying nervously with other.

"Care to walk me home, Mr. Shelby? We can talk while we walk."

"Alright then," Tommy nodded as he stood up downing the drink in one go and began reaching for his coat, "I'll walk you home then," Tommy's eyes flickered as he waited for Marigold to walk out first, and once she did, he closed the door behind her and walked out of the Garrison.

Tommy couldn't describe the feeling; although there were no words, there was a warmth. Right next to him, his little girl, now not so little anymore, walked. Slowly, he craned his neck towards her as he pulled out a smoke and flung it to his lips, "How is your mother?"

"Growing old, that's her words, not mine."

Tommy smiled, looking up at the sky, his eyes fixing on the moon for a split second before he looked at her again, "I'm sure she is just exaggerating, yeah."

"Mr. Shelby, it mind sound like I am poking my bloody nose into your business, but I think I deserve to know. There was something between my mother and you once, wasn't there?" She suddenly asked, as blunt as a knife. She had the same fire burning in her eyes, like that in her real father's.

Tommy faltered upon hearing her words though, for he hadn't expected her to ask him this. He paused for a minute, looking at her with a perplexity, he wasn't sure how to answer her. She waited for a second and finally, reached out, grabbing the lit cigarette from his hand and flung it to her lips, taking a drag of it.

"Why would you think that ey?" Tommy blew out.

"Come on, Mr. Shelby, I'm not a little girl any more. I remember you at my father's funeral, the way you looked at my mother, even my dad didn't look at her that way. Come with me," Marigold suddenly grabbed Tommy's hand rather inappropriately if anyone was looking at the interaction and she began walking in a fast pace towards the building now right in front of her eyes.

"Hey, will you bloody slow down?" Tommy tried, but she was headstrong, and the grip of her on Tommy's hand was strong, although Tommy could pullout his hand in one jerk, yet he didn't. This felt personal and it somehow, warmed his heart.

Marigold finally came to pause, her hand letting Tommy's wrist go as her hand flung to her chest, and she began gasping like a fish for air, looking at Tommy.

"Now are you going to answer me? My mum's asleep upstairs by the way." The girl bit her lip, looking from Tommy, pointing her finger upwards, and Tommy realized that she had brought him to her house.

"Did your.. mother.. ever remarry?"

Tommy finally muttered, in a low voice although he had no bloody idea of whether he was ready to hear the answer or not.

"No, she didn't, Mr. Shelby." Tommy felt he could breathe again.

"Is that the unfinished business you wanted to talk about? Because its late and I don't want your mother worrying about you, Marigold," Tommy's eyes remained stoic, not a sign of emotion reflecting in his ice like radiant face. "Goodnight then," He turned away, letting his hands slide into the pockets of his coat when she called out from behind him, making him freeze on spot.

"I know you're my father, Mr. Shelby. That makes me Marigold Shelby, doesn't it?"

Tommy turned around, slow as a snail, and fixated his eyes on her. She had half the door open and she was leaning against it, her chin resting against the back of her hand with which she was holding the door and smiling.

"What did you say?" Tommy almost choked out, surprised.

"Aunt Greta left me some letters, for when I would turn eighteen. She left you some too, if you want?" She slid her hand into the pocket of her trench coat and pulled out a letter that still had a seal on it. Slowly, she extended her hand and Tommy looked from her to the letter, his hand trembling as he took it. It had Greta's signature on it. He blinked, an inner turmoil forming inside of him. Finally, he gave up, and handed the letter back to her.

"Won't you read it?" She asked, confused.

Tommy sighed, "It's better for the dead to stay dead."

"Christ, Marigold, what's gotten into you?" You frowned and watched your eighteen your old act like a five year old, her arms crossed against her chest, as she blinked, impatiently, "Mum, can you hurry up and get dressed? We are going to miss the 7 o'clock show."

"Alright, alright. I'm getting ready. Don't make a fuss, love."

Now, an hour later, you were stack in an almost empty movie hall, watching the black and white movie that Marigold was so interested in watching. And next to you on the right hand side was the man you had least expected to be there, Thomas Shelby.

"She planned this all, didn't she?" You whispered, leaning towards him. It was only days back Marigold had told you everything, especially about Greta's letters and you had been shocked. Now here he was, days after the revelation, and it couldn't have been a coincidence.

"You know I can't bloody say no to her. If it were up to you, I would have never known she was mine." Tommy whispered back, and you stiffened.

"Greta played a nice game," you drawled, absentmindedly turning towards Tommy, who was looking at you with a look of amusement in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're still beautiful. And look sixteen."

You flushed, your cheeks turning a scarlet red, and you were thankful you were in a dimly lit movie hall, and he couldn't really see. If amazed you, how almost nineteen years after you had ended things with Tommy Shelby, he still gave you butterflies, like you were eighteen again,"Jesus, Tommy stop. You're not eighteen anymore, and neither am I."

"Jesus, mum, dad, can the two of you please stop? I'm trying to watch something." The eighteen year old protested, but unbeknownst to the two of you, she had an amused, content smile playing against her lips, as she forced herself to look away.

You glanced at Tommy, and without uttering another word, you slowly sunk into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder, and your hand snuck into his, your fingers entwining with his.

If the two of you were eighteen and seventeen again, who would have thought that it would take losing Greta, and losing your husband to finally end up in Tommy's arms nineteen years later?

What made you smile, however was the fact that he was still the same; he still smelled the same like he did before the same lingering smell of burnt cigarettes and alcohol, mixed with a strong scent of musk; his hands were the same amount of calloused and warm, and your hands still fit perfectly into his. You were sure his lips would too, but maybe that was a thing for another time. You wanted to enjoy this night, watching the film, as a family of three.

Permanent Tommy Shelby Taglist:

@really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @baumarvel @captivatedbycillianmurphy @nyotamalfoy @peakyfooky @buckyxreader99 @theflamecrystal @milea

Want to be added? Please ask, message or comment.✨