#Picking “I hate talking about cats” as my soul dies and breaks apart because I don't wanna fucking flirt with Gale what the FUCK

[hamartia-grander]

Gale: you're not an animal lover?

Me who had to pick that dialogue option because the only other two options were to flirt with him for some fucking reason:

[kurtty-drabbles]

Postwoman au (part 9)

N/A: Oh, God! It has been years. No, seriously. This one will be straight to the point. Kurt is just messing with Kitty.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @muninandhugin @tieflingteeth

There´s a saying passed down by generations that goes more or less like this: when you´re about to die, you´ll see all your life in a flash. However, the same can apply to one scene that you deem important.

Kitty Pryde never hide the fact she´s a city gal at its core, sure, she may like animals and even ride horse-once and it was thanks to Mirage who lead the horse one time-yet, Kitty would never prefer camping over a day in the city.

Once upon a time, the Prydes ventured camping. Kitty was a small bean- her father´s words, not hers- pouting and complaining akin to a cat, however, the pouts and jokes stop once a wild wolf enters their line of view.

Kitty, herself, doesn´t remember that episode but her mother always gives the details to paint a mental image. The small bean! Kitty tried to face the wolf with all the courage someone so young can muster.

Thankfully, a ranger did pass down and saved the Prydes. A story with a happy ending. However, what possesses a young Kitty to try to face a wolf?

Right now, what posses Kitty to stares down at whatever is gazing at her as if she could win? Stubbornness or stupidity? At this point, it doesn´t matter.

"What...strange little creature you are" his English is too heavy. The accent is too noticeable and almost familiar, but, she can be excused for not paying too much attention to his phonetic.

Kitty hugs the basket with her rocks. A mission is a mission. A job is a job. Her eyes noticed the fog cloud the area. A black fog that has a smell of brimstone-flashes of fire invaded her mind. Fire and more fire. Kitty could even taste her own flesh burning- as her eyes scan the area one last time.

"Rich words coming from a coward that hides in the fog!" Kitty reminisces the time Bobby fought an invisible man. According to him, he was extremely lucky in that fight, because the invisible man had a perfume so strong that even Bobby-who has a normal nose- could pick up. Can this apply to Kitty too?

The voice gave a burst of bombastic laughter. It was laughter or a mini-Earthquake? Kitty scans the area again. She takes a step down as she waits for any attack. Any clue of where this invisible force may be.

"If you think I´m hiding then it means you´re not from here..." his tone is conversational. "Or you´re not from this time..." the fog gets thicker as Kitty can measure up with her naked eye. "Nor I think you´re a witch!" the former is an accusation.

Kitty´s lips straighten in a thin line as her eyebrows narrow. The fog remains. The fog gets thicker and thicker causing Kitty to try to levitate. "I don´t have to answer to you..." She opens her mouth in a perfect O when noticing she can´t levitate. The Fog is not allowing.

"Yet..." the creature continues ignoring Kitty´s rude stares. "your hair says you´re guarded by someone...how interesting" and laughs again as Kitty´s eyes are doing a scan for the third time. "Oh, darling, mein dumme Frau, I´m not here...I´m up here!" his tone is jovial.

Kitty almost screams as her eyes follow up and saw a mountain and two golden moons. Until her mind registers that the creature is the mountain and the moons are its eyes.

"The fog..." Kitty got pale. Still hugging the basket because Kurt trusted her with this mission.

"Me, all me, Schoen Frau" Replied amused. Now, Kitty can see its razor-sharp teeth up close. “What a non-witch is doing with my magical rocks?”

Kitty stills hugs the basket. Kurt trusted her and Kitty, for some reason, doesn´t want to let him down. “I´m on a mission…is all I can say. If you don´t let me do my job, my boss will come here and kick your ass…serious, he´s really scary and into some strange things”

The creature frowns at her briefly. “You don´t know my name, do you?”

Kitty has the perfect counter-answer. “Do you know mine?”

“No, how curious is that…I usually know everyone´s name. OK, mein Frau…you can call me Chernobog” Kitty's expression twisted as the name dances in her mind. “And I´m not as cruel as to prevent a working woman to do her job, so, let´s make you a deal, mein Frau?”

Kitty cannot trust in fairies and Gods-even if what land her into this job was an Outer God- and hissed carefully now. “Depends”

“Oh, don´t look so frightened,  I´ve no intention to harm you. All I ask you to stay here until the sun rises. If you can handle my party, I´ll let you leave with the stones” Noticing her confusion and distress. “I gave my word as a God, Mein Frau if a God breaks a promise….”

“She or he dies right away” Kitty completes the sentence. “If I accept, what your party will entail?” She was vision orgies and maybe some public-speech in languages she´ll never understand.

The creature smiles too inviting. Too above her. “Dancing and music, just that”

Seems…innocent enough.

“Deal”

The fog let her touch the ground. Kitty only has to endure one demonic party. Well, she saw Yana´s parties in the past, this is nothing on her resume now.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty is not even sure if she can still in the mountains. The fog remains. The burning smell remains but as she can walk freely now-she had a paranoid moment where she thought her feet are being mutated and sigh in relief as this is not the case- and notice the lack of life in such a party.

Her brown eyes stare at a procession coming her way. People wearing black and white clothes coming her way. Slow steps as if they have no rush.

The woman manages to take a good look at their faces and cover her mouth with one of her free hands. The procession of the undead is hard to miss. The flash decaying from its owners. Eyes popping out from their socket.

She´s levitating as the undead continues. The Fog takes them- The fog is this creature and all she can understand in the bleak scenario was screams-so many screams. Women, men, and children alike- until the corpses were dust.

The souls are free.

The souls are erring.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty is not sure where her feet, the wind, or even the fog is taking her. All she knows now is how she needs to survive one night to be able to live and never return. "I don´t want to see you ever again" she sniffs hating her own tears.

"Oh, why? The party is only begging" Kitty started as she feels a hand on her face cleaning her tears. Tasting said tears and looking at her. Two golden eyes gaze at her amused.

Words escape her mind/

"Why so quiet, Mein Frau...you��re so talkative before" the creature spoke softly.

Kitty steps back and runs away. The creature is too cruel for using that face...is the only reason, cruelty, and nothing more.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty saw demons being torn apart by the creature. She knows his name. Chernobog. Yet, to her, this God is too alien to use his own name. Too cruel to deserve some politeness.

Kitty sees demons being made in the grotesques way possible. A mockery of birth. More blood is spit, more flesh is decayed and more souls beg for mercy.

Finally, the sun rises and with that, all the torture is put to stop. The sun is shining and Chernobog has to fulfill his deal. "Well, well. You did survive" he analyses. "Even if you cry a lot"

Kitty shakes her head as Chernobog is wearing an indigo face with golden eyes again. How cruel can he be? That´s the only explanation. The only...

"I´m a God of my word, Mein Frau, you´re free to go...hope we meet each other soon"

Kitty didn´t say anything as she used her key and leave that time. She still has the image of everything burned into her mind.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty is back to her present. Having all the rocks needed for the ritual. Santa Claus thanks Kitty-the woman nods absently as her puffy red eyes are a given away of the level of this mission- then she stares at Kurt who has the same indigo fur and golden eyes.

"So...you´re Chernobog or is he or evil twin?"

"I´m Chernobog"

[mirror-juliet]

~Searching For Soulmates~ Park Seonghwa X Male Reader

Requested by Jax on tumblr.

Since there isn't a lot of male readers that read my things (To my knowlege) I decided to make this one special by using Jax's name, the one who requested this. I hope you enjoy it bub.

Tagging: @themainineveruse @atinybrew @vocalyunho @hongjoongs-hoe​

Love story's are so over-written these days. So hard to write about. They say write the unexpected, but everyone's already done the unexpected. If you write it wrong, nothing will become of it. If you excel in writing the impossible-you are praised beyond belief. Unexpected love story's are impossible. Most story's are Frankensteins of other stories, stitched together by a dream and desperation. But the well known authors dreamt those dreams before you could write them. You'd just be copying them if you made a story close to the lines of theirs, if the two characters hate eachother, or if they don't know eachother. Who's to say you didn't dream those dreams first, And why wont the world let you dream those dreams more than once. Aren't dreams supposed to be eternal. An extension of our thoughts, how can someones thoughts be wrong. There is no right way to think, it isn't a math formula with a set outcome. So why have people decided that we must think in a set algorithm?

The world's too busy thinking about their own love theory to worry about a simple love story written for a college literature class. Only the teacher would read it, so why's Jaxson stressing about it so much? There are set outcomes to what grade he'll get so it doesn't really matter how he writes the report.

"Here's your Pomegranate potion, Weirdo. You come to a coffee shop and order tea." Maggie, Jaxon's favorite barista and best friend since they were younger ruffles his hair. "You're the one who dragged me here today. I could have finished my report at home."

"There was no way i was going to let you stay cooped up in that apartment one more day. It's a lovely atmosphere here," She's not wrong about the atmosphere, it has the right amount of teenager swag mixed with an almost professional look. "Plus if you get bored you can entertain yourself by watching me train the new guy." Jaxson pays close attention to Maggie now

"That's today?.. And you are going to be the one to train him? Lord help this shop now." Maggie attempts to wack Jaxson upside the head, but he's too fast for her tiny fist of rage "That isn't funny Jax. I'm a good trainer, After all i was trained by the glorious booknerd that is you." She bows and holds her hand out gesturing to him. The boy wonders why he's friends with such a weirdo in the first place, but he supposes it's because he acts just like her. "What was he like, the new guy. Do you know?"

"You could always ask me what i'm like, pretty boy." Jaxson freezes in place, fear painting him as he watches Maggie wear the most shit-eating grin of the century. "Seonghwa, it's nice to see you again. This is Jax, he's off today but he's one of the workers here. Jax meet Seonghwa." Jaxson turns to greet Seonghwa, But holy God's why did he have to call him pretty boy? He's the pretty boy for gods sake! "You were talking up a storm just a moment ago, what happened; Cat got your tongue?" Curse him for having such a beautiful face because Jaxson does nothing but stare and hold his mouth agape! Seonghwa chuckles and goes behind the counter next to Maggie. "When do i start coach?"

Jesus his smile is pretty and he knows it. Jaxson watches him roll up his sleeves into uniform cuffs, his forearms are way too toned for his good, his tan skin extenuates them so much. Despite how good looking he is, he is quite clumsy with the espresso machine. It's expected since he explained to Maggie "I don't like bitter things so I've never used one of these." He has coffee grinds all over his apron and at the bottom of his white shirt. Jaxson had given up working on his report to examine Seonghwha and his arms. Both of them were covered in tattoo's, he cant help but wonder if one of them are perhaps his soul-mark he tries to hide in the cluster of ink. Maggie never tried to hide her mark, though it did look quite odd to only have the veins of butterfly wings on her cheek. Her soulmate, Yeosang did try to cover his up. It looked like 'an unattractive pink blob' in his opinion. Though, Maggie thought it looked cute in pictures, when they kissed for the first time, their marks melded into one. Now Maggie spends most of her weekends looking for Jaxson's soulmate even though he's made it very obvious he doesn't want to find them. After searching forever, he got tired and was convinced that his soulmate had either not existed or died before he had ever met them.

"Seonghwa you'll be okay, i'm just leaving you to make some of these for lunch hour. You're doing much better than an hour ago." Maggie sings sweet words to Seonghwa who seems to be shaking like a leaf in the wind. "I don't think i should make anything for anyone to consume."

"Okay, make Jaxson something and then prove me wrong. If he decides it's too horrible then he'll take your place for the day and we'll train you more."

"Why do you have to drag me into this?" Jaxson groans, he was enjoying his day off-well, not really; But Maggie doesn't know that! Then again, she probably does given the knowing look on her face. After a few minutes of a silent stare match between the two he gives in. "Make me an iced americano." The tan color leaves Seonghwa's face as Maggie leans against the counter, leaving him all alone with the coffee maker and his wits (Which arent a lot when it comes to the machine). His toned arms are clumsy with everything, making a much bigger mess than needed, Jaxson could have sworn everytime something got dirty Seonghwa cringed. After five minutes of entertainment Seonghwa Shakily sets the drink in front of Jaxson. "Whats wrong newbie, see a ghost?" Seonghwa glares at that, upset his own joke was used against him. In retaliation he mutters something under his breath that Maggie nor Jax can quite make out.

He takes the drink and puts it to his lips, only having it on his tastebuds for mm, less than two seconds before spitting it back in the cup. He wipes his mouth and grabs his things. "I'll be back out in a minute. Don't let him near customers." Seonghwa watches Jaxson walk into the employees lounge and come back out in uniform, buttoning his sleeves up and shoving his way behind the bar. "I want you to clear off tables, you'll have to move fast because this place gets packed in about fifteen minutes." But Seonghwa isn't moving, Only staring down at the shorter male. "What?" Jax's getting impatient as he's wasting time standing around when he could be preparing for the forty people he's going to have to deal with for the next two hours.

"Can i take you on a date?" Maggie drops the cup she's holding, hot espresso now on her new martins, the only thing saving her from burns. "What?" Is all Jaxson says because Seonghwa's hot! This is a manga scenario that only happens every blood moon, no love story has ever prepared him for this moment because any situation in a manga would never be accepted by society. And what't the point? Whats the point of dating someone that isn't your soulmate? "Go clean tables please."

The three of them don't talk about the situation the rest of the day, only trading words to explain an order or if they need to wash more mugs. But they do watch eachother. Seonghwa watches Jaxson make coffee and tea at an alarming rate, Jaxson watches Seonghwa clean tables with so much care; never leaving a cup ring. And Maggie watches the tension in the room between the two grow it's like candy burning to the side of a pot. Sickening but sweet. At the end of lunch rush, it's nearly time for the quaint little coffee shop to close it's eyes for a good night's rest. You think for how many people visit it, it would stay open longer than Three pm.

Yeosang came to pick up Maggie for their date night leaving Jaxson to close at the shop. That isn't the plan tonight because for the love of Hade's Jaxson cant figure out why the manager decided to hire Seonghwa other than his looks. Every drink he's had Seonghwa make in the past thirty minutes he has managed to burn or fuck up magically somehow. "Why is making coffee so hard?" The tall man groans out, backing against the counter away from the machine. "It really isn't. You've just added way too many steps to it. Here hang on." Jaxson grabs a fresh cup and starts up the machine once again. The poor thing might be overused by tomorrow.

It's crazy how simple Jaxson makes it look to Seonghwa, not only that but how elegant he is while doing it. His fingers flip switches effortlessly, pouring the milk into a beautiful leaf shape he's convinced the shorter man shouldn't be able to make. But he almost does it with his eyes closed. Seonghwa should be able to make designs like that- "What?" He says, realizing Jaxson must have asked him a question given the quizzical look on his face.

Jaxson's laugh is pretty, Seonghwa decides. It's just the right amount of baritone with the ever so slightest bit of soprano. "I'm telling you to take the coffee so you can see what it's supposed to taste like."

"Aren't we supposed to be teaching me how to make this instead of drink it?" Jax jumps to sit on the counter, taking his own teacup in his hands. "I needed a break and the machine is making sad noises, so here we are. Go on, taste perfection." Jaxson's cocky words brink an obnoxious smirk to the older's lips. Because there's no way his coffee is that good.

But it is

Seonghwa isn't one for bitter taste, hell he doesn't like coffee. But the cup Jaxson handed to him it seems he's refusing to put down. "Woah, woah. You're gonna give yourself a stomach ache." Said boy causing concern hops down to drag the cup away from him. "I'm sorry, i didn't think you had to drink it slow." A pinkish hue covers Seonghwa's neck. "I don't like coffee usually...." He trails off.

"Seonghwa." Jaxson's voice is gentle, Seonghwa wonders if he's gotten sad somehow. "Why are you working here? You don't like Coffee and you absolutely suck dick at making it. So why?" Jax hops on the counter once again and Seonghwa has to avert his eyes from the smaller male, intrusive thoughts invading his head. He shakes his head hoping to get rid of the thought like an etch and sketch. Anywhere but his eyes is better, does he not think before talking? Seonghwa thinks. "I, like most people in the world need money. This quaint little coffee shop so happened to be the only one hiring. So i had to get it before i ran out of money for rent. Why are you working here?" A question for a question, fair enough right? "I like the aesthetic of this place, it's calming to me. And it pays fairly well." The two sit in silence, sipping their respective drinks, only sharing glances at one another.

"Say whats on your mind pretty boy, You've been looking at me with a question in your eyes." Seonghwa smirks, only making Jaxson blush harder from the nickname. God he wished Seonghwa would use a different name. "Sorry. I was just wondering where you used to work before here. "

"I worked in a tattoo shop." He crosses his arms, the drink from before long since drained. "It was a pretty good gig too, i was the only apprentice that was allowed to work on people, plus i got half off tattoo's...if i let them do it drunk." Seonghwa looks up into the air, a meloncholy smile on his face. "It was the best job of my life."

"Can i ask you another question, if you don't mind." He lets out an approving sound, not bothering to look down. "If you were so happy....Why leave?" Jax realizes he's touched a soft spot when Seonghwa looks back at him, his eyes are hurting, hidden behind a small smile. "Aren't you just a nosy little one." He takes a deep breath "The old man that owned the shop passed, it was taken over by his daughter. She decided to turn it into a hair salon, kicking everyone that worked there out of a job. It was quite selfish of her, don't you think?"

Jaxson nods his head, wondering what it must have felt like to suddenly loose a friend and a means of living. Suddenly the cup of cold tea is more intriguing than the saddened face of Seonghwa. "My turn~" Said man sings out, tipping Jaxson's head up with his finger. "When can i take you out on a date?"

"O-oh, you were serious about that......."

"Why wouldn't i be?" Jax pulls away from him, hopping down to begin cleaning dishes. "Because i don't like dates." Seonghwa takes the cup out of his hand. "So, don't think of it as a date. Think it as if were just a couple of friends hanging out for an afternoon." A sarcastic chuckle leaves Jax's lips. "But it's still a date."

"Will you at least give it a shot? If you don't enjoy yourself in the first fifteen minutes i'll even take you home." Both of them stop movement, Jaxson wondering why Seonghwa is so hellbent on getting him to go on a date. "Fine. Only fifteen minutes, where will you be taking me?" Jax snatches the mug back from Seonghwa. "That." He pokes Jaxson's nose "Is for me to know and you to find out, tomorrow at two?"

"If you mean a.m. then hell no."

***********

Seonghwa had in fact not meant two am, but precisely when the autumn's sun hits Jaxson's glasses just right to blind him. Where even was Seonghwa? He had told Jaxson to meet him in front of the Cafe five minutes early just in case he got there before.

He hadn't.

He hadn't shown up the first five minutes after the intended meet time. Where the hell was he? Turning the corner onto the Cafe street, the loud motorcycle that was annoying Jax approached in front of the Cafe. Only once the rider pulled off his helmet did he realize Seonghwa was the knight under the mask. A knight wearing a leather jacket to reveal a blue floral shirt tucked into black skinny jeans with no chains this time. Instead he's swapped them out for makeup smudged onto his face, making him seem even more attractive than he already is. "You expect me to get on that? Wearing this." He motions to his outfit, denim jeans, a striped sweater and sneakers. Obviously not appropriate apparel for a Motorcycle. "You'll be fine pretty boy. Hop on." Seonghwa pats the seat behind him, pulling out a second helmet. "The five minutes i spent waiting count against your time."

"The ride doesn't though, Deal?"

Jaxson wishes the ride would have counted against Seonghwa, they've been driving for the past thirty minutes on the highway. He swears Seonghwa's speeding on purpose for Jax to have to cling onto his torso so the small boy wouldn't fly off the bike. Once the bike ride was finally starting to be bearable, it stops. "We here?" A chuckle from Seonghwa. "Do you think i stopped here for gas?" It's an aquarium, It could be worse, it could be a movie theater. "C'mon, i wanna show you a lot here."

A lot he did show Jaxson, from river bass to sharks in a dive tank. He even payed for the extra experiences like holding hermit crabs or feeding the sea turtle from a pole. Jaxson has to admit, he is having fun; he didn't leave two hours ago when the fifteen minutes were up. "Oh, c'mon we're at the touch tank!" Seonghwa Pulls Jaxson through sliding doors to a room with quite a large touch tank in the middle. In it are stingrays of all sizes. He leaves momentarily to come back with two small cups of something foul smelling. "We can feed them by hand." Seonghwa hands the cup of sardines to Jaxson, not waiting for him to grab one before taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "Just put it between your knuckles, their teeth are on their bellies so don't be afraid."

Easy for him to say as he seems to have no fear towards the slimy sea pancakes, his arm is already submerged past his elbow, getting his rolled up sleeve wet. "This big one i named Calvin. Say hi Calvin." The large stingray swims on the bottom to take the fish from his human friend. He even lets Seonghwa give him rubs and pit pats. It's quite cute to see him acting so young and happy. "Well go on, the worst that can happen is one of them tickle you."

Jaxson mustered up the courage to roll up his sleeves, only dipping his hand about forearm deep. Shortly a small sea pancake fly's over and goes straight for the fish. Thanking the boy by flapping his wings against his arm. More cute giggles coming from Seonghwa. The more fish he goes through, Jaxon finds himself moving closer and closer to Seonghwa. Eventually the two are brushing hands, Seonghwa startles him by grabbing ahold of it. "If you wanted to hold hands you could have asked." He smiles, not one of shitery or mockery. But a genuine smile, directed at Jaxson.

A warm tingle pricks both of their arms, on the verge of being hot. "Look." Jaxson points to their interlocked arms. A white snake being engraved into the knot of his black snake. The opposite of Seonghwa. He freaks out and pulls his arm out of the water to inspect the new tattoo. "Wha-"

"Mommy Mommy look! They got their soul-mark!" A little girl bounces next to them, pulling on her mother's arm. "Is that what this is?"

"It looks like it." Seonghwa hands a paper towel to the smaller of them. "Wanna go get dinner?" It took some convincing but Jax finally agreed to go to dinner, there they talked about what it meant, and how Jaxson could have possibly missed the white snake in the cluster of Seonghwa's tattoo's. It is the only white tattoo he has after all.

A/N: This feels kinda bad compared to my other works but my friend who read it over says it quite nice. (They prefer to remain anon) Jax bub i hope you liked this. I had some troubles making it but i think it's okay. Remember to like and reblog if you're reading this on tumlr

[kaidans-alenko]

26 on physical affection prompts: bonus: touching feet and immediately screaming and recoiling for kaidan + lily? (because it reads like them lol)

Ha! You’re absolutely right lol it seems all I know how to write is me1 or post-war fluff pieces but any who, I hope you like it and as usual thank you for sending one <3  

AO3 Link 

The smell of pancakes traveled from the kitchen to the small bedroom Lily was still asleep in. Mmmm pancakes….when was the last time she even had pancakes? With her brother maybe? Aiden couldn't really cook but he did know how to make pancakes. 

Lily let out a high pitched noise as she stretched out like a cat, rolling onto her back, the warm sunlight coming through the window at odds with the cool breeze from the quiet ceiling fan above her. It had been a long time since she had woken up to actual sun and not just the fabricated day cycle on the Citadel but actual sun. 

She blinked awake, taking in her surroundings from where she lay still on the bed, that's right, she was in Kaidan's apartment. So far the only room she had seen was the bedroom, he had intended to give her a tour but that of course didn't happen. 

Lily giggled to herself at the memory of it, smiling as she sat up, Kaidan sure had taste and for a previously single guy who was hardly ever home it was surprisingly clean, well besides the clothes strewn about, courtesy of Lily’s impatience, it was clean. His bed was pretty big too, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy that slept around so maybe he just liked having room to sprawl out in, she knows she did. She hopped out of bed, nearly falling on her face, the bed was pretty high up to begin with but her general clumsiness didn’t help things. “Let’s see...underwear, underwear, ah!” Lily picked up the pink lacy piece of fabric off the floor quickly slipping it back on, carefully snatching the blue flannel that was hanging off the lamp, throwing it on just as Kaidan walked into the room with breakfast.

“Well good morning.” He said, barely containing a smirk. 

“Sorry...I got cold.” 

Kaidan shrugged “There are certainly worse things to see first thing in the morning.” 

Lily rolled her eyes “Those better be the pancakes I smelled earlier.” she threatened as she crawled back into bed.  

“Sorry, cereal.”

Lily sighed dramatically, falling back against the pillows “Does it at least have marshmallows?” 

“No but your hot chocolate does.” He told her, Lily’s ears perking up immediately and she sat with her legs crisscrossed on the bed.

“Hot chocolate?” The one way to her heart and Kaidan knew it. 

“Peppermint even.”  he said as he got in bed next to her, setting the tray across from her.

“You remembered!” Lily picked up the mug, letting out a content hum as she sipped at it.

“Hard to forget when you drink five cups a day.” He teased, kissing her head.

“Listen, I can’t have coffee, I need to improvise.” 

“And tea also has too much caffeine?” He asked.

“Exactly!” she set the mug down, picking up her fork “it’s gross anyway.” she cut into a pancake “this better be good or I’m breaking up with you.” Kaidan liked to think she was joking, it had taken months for them to stop arguing and finally admit their attraction to each other, he’d hate for it to end over something as silly as pancakes but it was Lily he was dealing with, he certainly wouldn’t put it past her. Lily paused, fork still in her mouth “Kaidan…”

“Yeah?”

“With this pancake making ability of yours, how was it you were ever single?” 

Kaidan laughed “Because you’re the only person I've ever cooked pancakes for.”

Lily leaned against him “Aww Kaidan, you do love me!”

“Was there ever any doubt?”

Lily shrugged, popping a strawberry in her mouth “Not particularly, this just solidified it.” 

“Is that right?”

Lily nodded, mouth full of pancakes and Kaidan couldn’t help but think she looked like a hamster. “I’m a simple woman, Kaidan, I only require a few things to be happy.” she said after swallowing “Breakfast food and hot chocolate.”

“Ahhh so that’s why you were so grumpy on the Normandy.” He teased, it was hard to keep your morale up when all you had to choose from was two different kinds of MRE or a protein bar and since Lily despised eggs it was always a protein bar. 

“Ha ha, but seriously, I appreciate it, things have been…” she hung her head “well you know.” 

Kaidan pulled her to him “I know.” he was an only child and while yeah he has lost friends, came with the job he’d never lost a family member before so as much he wanted to say he understood her pain he couldn’t and he knew her well enough to know a weak sentiment like that would only push her away and make her mad. “You’ll be okay Lil, not saying you’re gonna get over it soon or that you have to at all but you have Ashley, Anderson and-”

“You?” She asked, her chocolate brown eyes looking into his whiskey ones.

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.” He brushed back her hair, kissing her, he remembered the day Aiden died, Lily was devastated and with good reason. It’s why he took them to Earth, he hoped spending shore leave away from the Citadel and constant reminders of her brother would take her mind off it, at least for a while.

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

Lily sang along to theme song of the Blasto cartoon they had put on vid screen as she browsed the extranet on her omni-tool, feet propped up on Kaidan’s lap as they lounged together on the couch, “So Kaidan, what do Canadians do for fun around here?”

“Well Vancouver is pretty big, I’m sure we can find something to keep you entertained.” At least he hoped so or she would find ways to be entertained and for someone as technically minded and curious as she was it usually resulted in taking something apart. He remembered one instance on the Citadel where she wandered off to bother the Keepers, getting stuck in one of the tunnels as a result. Thanks to Aiden covering for her she just got a warning from a very tired C-Sec officer who mumbled something along the lines of: ‘I don’t get paid enough to deal with humans.’ and any other time it would’ve bothered them but in that instance it was warranted.  

“Hmm I sure hope-” Lily felt Kaidan’s hand brush against her foot as he lazily rubbed her legs, it was brief and he barely touched him, in fact it was more than likely an accident but it was enough to freak her out. Lily screamed recoiling back against the arm of the couch, holding her legs against her chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked both confused and concerned.

Lily nodded “Yeah just…” she blushed avoiding his gaze “if I tell you, you have to promise me you won’t laugh.”

“Of course, what is it Lily?”

“No, you have to pinky swear.” she said sticking out her small pinky to him and he bit back a laugh, it seemed like she had something serious to say but it was diminished by the childish request.

“Okay, Lily I pinky swear.” He said, linking their pinkies together.

“Good,” she took a deep breath, Lily always did have a flair for the dramatic so he wasn’t sure how concerned he should be but it obviously was serious to her “I may be just a bit ticklish on my feet, which is why I panicked.” 

“Ticklish?” He was both surprised and unsurprised at the same time by this sudden revelation, it was cute if he were to be honest. Someone like her, with her reputation being what it was, to be ticklish just made her even more interesting, she was full of surprises and he loved her for it.

Lily nodded “If you tell a soul I will kill you then bring you back and kill you again.” she glared and he could see the flames burning in her eyes, apparently being in a relationship with her didn’t he mean he was exempt from her death threats. 

“If anyone does find out your dark secret it won’t be from me.” 

“Hmph, I’ll believe you for now.” Lily stretched back out and Kaidan took the opportunity to tickle the soles of her feet and she jolted, rolling on her side and squirming as she laughed. “You’re horrible!” she said, catching her breath.

“Me? I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about Lily.” he said, tickling her again.

“I hate you!” she said between fits of giggles, her stomach starting to hurt from laughing. 

She would more than likely kick his ass for it later but it was the first time he’s heard her laugh in a long time and she had the most beautiful laugh, loud and cheerful, contagious even and if he got hit with her biotics because of it it was well worth it as far as he was concerned. 

[welcometophu]

Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 6

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 6

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Pels naps on the bus until her phone buzzes with Cheyenne’s description of the afternoon. Cheyenne ‘discovered’ Pels’s absence late enough that Mom was already home from work, and Mom… didn’t seem surprised. She picked up the car from the station, then picked up Cheyenne, all without a word. Pels figures there will be more conversation over dinner, but who knows, maybe Peter will treat her as a ghost, and ignore the fact that she’s gone.

It doesn’t matter. The bus is pulling into Unity’s station, and Pels isn’t turning around to go back now.

She grabs her bag and her backpack, rising from her seat to get in line with the other folks getting off at this stop. The bus will continue on, further into the Adirondacks, but there are almost as many people getting off here as left for the last stop, in Valiant. She’s probably not the only one coming back early from Spring Break, but the others probably have apartments waiting for them off campus.

She really hopes she has somewhere to stay.

As she climbs down, she looks for Jess and Shane, her almost smile falling away as she doesn’t see them. “Shit,” she mutters.

“Don’t worry, they wouldn’t abandon you,” Dad assures her, nudging her from behind so she takes the last step down, stumbling onto the sidewalk. She glares at him, but he’s looking out into the crowd. He points. “Don’t you know him?”

Pels follows the direction of his gesture. “Yeah. He works at Teas Please. He’s one of the servers. He’s a nice guy.”

As soon as she looks, he looks up too, waving as he spots her and then threading through the crowd to get to her. He’s tall, with a quick, ready smile, and one eye that seems to gravitate slightly inward. “Hey,” he greets her. “I’m Nate. We’ve met, remember?”

“I remember,” she says warily. “What are you doing here?”

“Jess’s car wouldn’t start, so she’s had to take it to the garage to get it fixed. She was in a bind and freaking out when I saw her and Shane at Teas Please this afternoon, so I offered to come pick you up since my shift was ending,” Nate says easily. “I can drop you off at her place—”

“No.” Pels doesn’t mean to speak out loud, but the word comes out far quicker than she expects.

Nate blinks. “No?”

Pels looks down at her wrist, at the complications of the soul mark there with its cloud and mountain. Dad holds her hand, his thumb against the mountain, and she looks at him.

“You should go,” Dad says.

“No,” Pels repeats. She tugs her sleeve down over the mark. “Things are really complicated, but I can’t stay there. Jess and Shane were going to try to find me a place to stay, but I know Shane’s staying with Jess right now, because Ángel’s boyfriend is up for break, and I just—I can’t do that. I still barely know them.”

“You barely know me, so if I offer you crash space is that also going to be a no?” Nate asks.

He doesn’t look like he really cares about the answer. Like she could say yes or no and he wouldn’t be offended. Pels knows that everyone on her floor likes Nate. Rory likes Nate. Even Alaric likes Nate, and there are days when Alaric feels like a grumpy, put off by social activity kindred spirit.

“Alaric trusts you so no, that would not be a no,” Pels says slowly.

“Well then….” Nate stops, nose scrunched. “Is that a yes, then?”

Pels’s throat feels tight, and she clutches her bag in both hands, even though Dad is nudging it, swinging it toward Nate to try to get her to give it to him to carry. “If you would be willing to offer me a couch, yes, I would appreciate it. It’s already dinner time, and I can figure out the rest in the morning. I need to find out when I can get into my dorm room, and if it can be any earlier than Saturday.”

“I have room at my house, because I live in Unity when I’m not in the dorms,” Nate says. He holds his hands out. “Do you want me to take that?”

Dad is being insistent and whatever, Pels can give him this. “Sure.” She hands over the bag, which leaves her with only her backpack and that’s definitely easier to carry. She has to look up at Nate—he’s so goddamned tall, but then, when you barely top five feet yourself, everyone is. “I appreciate the help.”

“It’s no problem. My father isn’t even home right now, so it’s not like he’ll notice that we’ve got a guest.” Nate throws her bag over his shoulder and starts walking. “I’m guessing since you mentioned dinner, you didn’t somehow eat on the bus. Want to swing by Teas Please and grab something on the way home?”

“You work there. You really probably don’t want to eat there,” Pels points out. She does a little half step every couple of steps, trying to keep up with his long stride. As fast as Nate naturally moves, she’s glad Dad encouraged her to give up the bag. She’d never keep up if she were carrying everything.

Nate laughs. “You’d think that, and you’d be wrong. Mallory’s never served me bad food, so I actually really like eating there. But I wasn’t planning on staying.” He glances down at her, looking back to where she’s half a step behind him. His stride shortens, and she finds it easier to catch up and stay beside him. “You look like you’re overwhelmed and exhausted and don’t want to deal with people. We can get takeout and go back to my house.”

“I like him,” Dad says. “He’s a caretaker. Let him take care of you.”

Pels has no idea what her expression is—between Dad and Nate it could be anything—but Nate’s brow furrows and he stops dead, just before they step off the walkway into the parking lot.

“If you want to call someone and let them know you’re with me, that’s fine,” Nate says carefully. “And if you’re worried about this being some kind of weird pickup, let me assure you that I am very gay, and my heart is very taken.”

She blinks. “No. I’m not scared of you; just a little overwhelmed. I said Alaric trusts you. Even though you flirt with him. Which I’ve heard about. I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

Nate presses a hand to his heart. “Said it was taken. Didn’t say it was returned. I am still very, very single. And seriously. Right about now, it’s nice to see someone who isn’t just a customer. Most of my friends are gone, which leaves me with running and an empty house. My father and I don’t exactly get along, so I’d rather be in the dorm, but it just didn’t make sense to stay when the house is right there. Besides, it’s nice running the paths around my house for a week, at least.”

He talks so much.

Pels glances at Dad. While he’s not omniscient—or says he isn’t—he is a really good judge of character, and extremely overprotective. When Dad nods, she says slowly, “Your house is still fine. And picking up food from Teas Please is fine. Just. Whatever. I don’t even care what it is. I’m not allergic to anything, and I’m really not picky. When we get in the car I’ll text Jess and Shane to let them know I made it in safely.”

“Sounds good, then.” Nate leads the way to his car—an old beat up thing that looks like it might be older than either of them. He opens the trunk with a creak and tosses her bag in, and Pels carefully sets her backpack in after that. He settles into the driver’s seat, typing something quickly on his phone before dropping it into the cup holder so he can start the car.

She feels dwarfed in the passenger seat, the seat belt crawling up to her chin, so she grips it tightly at her waist to hold it down. It leaves her typing painstakingly with only one hand.

I’m back in Unity. Nate’s taking me to get food and then I’m going to crash at his house tonight.

She wavers before pressing send to the group chat. As soon as she does, Dad pats her on the head as if to say she’s done well.

I’m glad you made it back safely! My car died on me but I don’t think it’s anything major (I hope it’s nothing major) and I’m getting it fixed. I was completely panicking and Nate offered. He’s a good guy.

Everyone seems to say that. Nate’s the nice guy. The one who’s always there to talk or help or whatever.

I’ve heard, Pels types. I don’t think I should stay in your room while Shane is staying there. She hates the way that makes it sound like she’d stay there otherwise; she wouldn’t. Not yet.

I think we’re doing a big group thing with the guys from Florida tomorrow before they head back on Saturday. They’ve got a really long drive ahead of them. I can pick you up from Nate’s in the morning and you could join us.

Pels hesitates. She’s not sure if Jess realizes how anxious she is about spending time with just her and Shane.

No, she’s not kidding anyone. They’re all aware of exactly how anxious she is. But if she’s with a group, even if most of the people in that group are couples, she can pretend it’s just friendly. Jess is giving her a good out.

Okay.

It’s just one word, and it doesn’t encapsulate any of her worries, like will the cats try to get close to her? But she does kind of want to see them shift. They seem soft, and affectionate.

I’ll text you before I come over tomorrow! I should be getting my car back soon, and I promised I’d pick up food after that.

Pels is relieved that Jess doesn’t say she’s coming to see her after she gets the car back. There may be a tiny bit that’s disappointed that it doesn’t come up, but this way she doesn’t have to say no, either. She has time to adjust to the way her world continues to turn upside down every time she takes a moment to breathe.

Nate pulls into the ten minute parking space in front of Teas Please. “Just stay here.” He pulls up the emergency brake and leaves the car rumbling as he climbs out. “I texted Mallory. She should have something ready for us.”

Pels reaches for her backpack before remembering it’s in the trunk. “Tell me how much I owe you and I’ll get it when we get to your house.”

“Don’t worry about it. Chances are Mallory won’t bother to charge me.” Nate raises a hand, waving as he heads away.

“Stop worrying about going home with him,” Dad says, leaning over the back of Pels’s seat.

“I’m not. If anything happens that I don’t like, I’ve got you to protect me.” That’s the one thing Pels can always be sure of. Dad will step in if she needs him. She’s never actually been alone. She trusts him to make sure she’s safe.

“You have a point.” He looks at her phone, and she wonders if he can read it. She tilts it so the screen is angled toward him. “Are you going to stay at Nate’s again tomorrow, or with Jess?”

“It wouldn’t be with Jess, just in her room,” Pels points out. “Don’t rush things.”

“I’m not. You’re on the right path, just take it at your own pace,” Dad assures her. Pels doesn’t believe him.

She hasn’t touched Jess yet, and she can admit to herself that she’s afraid to. She doesn’t want to know what the next step is with the soul marks, or what it would mean for the three of them. And it’s still possible that Rory and Kit are wrong. Maybe this mountain isn’t Jess.

But when she thinks about Jess—tall, solid, stable, with that small smile and gentle logic—she knows that they’re right even if she still doesn’t understand why.

Dad’s fingers drift over the top of her head, through her curls. “You know, the marks might mean that this time you don’t have to worry about getting your heart broken. This is the time when it’s safe to open up.”

“You say that like it’s easy,” she mutters.

“You say that like it’s not,” he retorts. “There’s a reason it’s called falling in love. There is nothing easier to do than falling.”

“Oh excuse me, I tripped because my dead Dad pushed me into your lap and whoops, there’s my heart, please don’t stick your fingers through it, I might bleed out,” Pels snarks. “Seriously, Dad. Some stupid magical tattoo is no guarantee I won’t get hurt.”

The door opens and Nate puts a bag on the back seat before climbing in. “Mallory has given us enough food to feed a small army,” he says. “Apparently she thinks we’re going to spend the night doing each other’s nails and indulging in girl talk.”

Pels blinks. “Did she say that? Because I don’t think either of us is the type.”

“She said snack while watching movies, which is probably a better guess of how the night will go.” Nate glances at her sideways. “You do like movies, right?”

“I like movies,” Pels agrees. She slides down in the seat, watching out the window as they leave the area closest to PHU and move into the suburbs of Unity. They pass by the high school, then the long wrought iron fence around a graveyard before Nate turns onto a tree-lined street.

He pulls into the driveway of a low, small house. “And this is home. My father isn’t here, but I’m just going to leave the car off to the side so he can get in the garage, in case he randomly shows up. As far as I know he’s working all weekend, but his plans have changed before when I wasn’t paying attention.”

Pels climbs out and takes the bag of food when she hands it to him, carrying that cradled against her front, her backpack on her back. Nate lifts her bag and leads her in through the garage.

“It’s kind of a ranch.” There’s a door in the garage, leading into a small mud room, with one door leading into the house from there, and a set of stairs leading down. “If we go in that way, that’s the kitchen, then the living room beyond, and two bedrooms down the hall. That’s mostly my father’s space.” Nate starts walking down the stairs, and motions for Pels to follow as he ducks slightly to make it through without hitting his head. “The basement’s finished, and I moved into it years ago. It works out better for us this way, and he made over my old room as an office.”

The stairs come out into a long room with two windows high up, sunlight filtering in. The dark red carpet on the floor has seen better days, and the wood paneling is dark. But there are built-in bookcases all around the edges, and a fireplace with a mantel at the other end, next to a high countertop with a fridge and sink behind it. Nate sets her bag on the couch in front of the fireplace, then pats the top of the counter. “I try not to go upstairs much,” he admits.

Once she sets down the bag, and drops her backpack on the floor, Nates pulls their food out of the bag and then grabs plates from cabinets under the counter. “So, quick tour,” he says. “The door closest to where we’re standing is a bathroom. Full bath—there’s even a tub if you want to have a long relaxing soak or something. I’ve got bath bombs, but if you’re stressed the lavender bubbles are best. I’ve got one soak that’s fantastic after a good workout, though. I buy those by the dozen for track season. And it’s almost always track season. Anyway. That other door is my room. I’ve got an air mattress because my best friend Jackie used to sleep over all the time before she went out west to school. I can either put that on the floor in my room, or out here, depending on what you’d prefer. Just don’t sleep on the couch. It’s really comfortable for watching TV and movies, but you’ll get some serious kinks in your back if you try to sleep on it.”

Pels takes in the shelves littered with books and decorated with hanging medals and trophies. The fridge, with what looks like old pictures stuck up with magnets. The fact that this space is completely closed off from the house upstairs. “It’s like an apartment,” she says slowly.

“That’s exactly what it’s like,” Nate says easily. “When my parents bought this place I was still little, and my grandfather wasn’t in good health. My mom thought he’d move in with us, so we got a place with an in-law apartment. He passed away unexpectedly, she took off, and when I turned fifteen I carved out this space for myself. I’m not sure my father even noticed at first. He asked me about it maybe four months after I’d moved everything down. A week later he’d made my old room into an office. It works for both of us.”

“I—” Pels glances at Dad, her hands tight by her sides. “I’m sorry. I have a shitty relationship with my Mom and my stepfather, but it’s better than this.” Not to mention that her Dad sticks to her like glue, but she doesn’t really know Nate well enough to explain that one, yet.

“Which do you think is worse,” Dad muses. “His father, Peter, or me?”

Definitely not Dad.

It’s funny how lucky Pels actually feels in that moment.

Nate nudges a stool towards Pels, and she climbs up, wrapping her feet around the legs because she can’t reach anything else. He just stands, leaning on the counter of what Pels realizes now must have been set up as a bar. There’s a microwave beneath it, but no stove. She wonders what Nate ate for most of high school.

Nate divides a sandwich between two plates, and ladles soup into two bowls, handing one to her with a spoon “Eat up.”

The soup is something creamy with chicken and spinach, and it’s pretty good. She’s surprised to find that the sandwich has peanut butter and cranberries and bacon. She looks at it warily, but after taking a bite she can’t stop herself and devours her half.

Nate laughs a little. “Mallory’s good,” he says. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of food. This is just round one.”

Pels takes another spoonful of soup, her plate empty of sandwich aside from crumbs. “So,” she says quietly. “I don’t know how much Jess told you.”

“Nothing,” Nate says. “Just that you had to come back early for some reason. I figured that’s your business.”

“I don’t get along with my stepfather,” she says slowly. “He doesn’t like me. I don’t like him. He doesn’t like anyone who’s Talented—it goes against his religious beliefs. He and my mom met in the Church, and she grew up very conservatively. I’m not sure how she got involved with my Dad and had me.”

“And you’re Talented,” Nate says.

Pels nods. She figures she doesn’t have to explain exactly how. “Peter and I had a big blowout, and I wanted my little sister to be safe, and she’s safer when I’m not around. So I left.”

“You should probably let her know you arrived.” Dad picks her phone from her pocket, laying it on the counter. If Nate notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Shit. Yeah.” Pels picks up the phone and quickly taps out a text to Cheyenne. I’m in Unity, staying with a friend of friends. I’m okay. Dad’s with me (when is he not). I’m going to spend the day with Jess and Shane tomorrow.

I’m glad you’re okay! Cheyenne’s response comes almost immediately. We’re still good here. Dad’s pretending nothing happened. I think Mom misses you.

Haha. Pels wishes she could convey exactly how sarcastic that laugh is meant to be. You’ll let me know if anything goes wrong, right? And I’ll get that contact for you to help you learn how to better deal with that thing. She doesn’t want to reference her Talent in text, just in case Mom or Peter picks up Cheyenne’s phone. You have to promise me to talk to them, and don’t get in trouble.

I promise. Can you promise me to at least try with Shane and Jess?

Nate’s glancing at her periodically as she types, and Pels tries not to make faces that reflect exactly what she’s thinking. Dad knocks into her shoulder, and she wobbles slightly on the stool before glaring at him. Dad agrees with you. But I’m not making any promises. We’ll see what happens.

“You okay?” Nate asks.

“Lost my balance.” Pels sets her phone down on the counter, glaring at Dad one more time for good measure before diving back into her soup. “My sister’s doing okay, and apparently my stepfather is pretending I didn’t leave without permission, or maybe that I never even came home for that matter. So that’s good. As long as he keeps paying the bills, I don’t really care if he never talks to me again.”

Nate snorts. “Funny. I’ve said that exact same thing about my own father. Sounds like we’ve got some things in common.”

One disappearing parent, and one they’d rather not talk to. In a way, yes. Except she’s pretty sure it’s not the same at all.

“Was your dad ever nice? Like, before your mom—” Pels cuts off. She shouldn’t be asking. Asking questions invites other questions in return and that could get awkward.

“I think so. I just think—it really hurt him when she was gone, and he didn’t know how to deal with me.” Nate shrugs one shoulder. “I was crushed. He was crushed. We just broke, I guess. Now he ignores me, but he pays the bills, so I can’t say it’s all bad. I have a good job. I really like PHU and the track team’s great. We finished indoor, and the spring outdoor season is just starting up. Dax—one of the guys from the football team—is going to be running this spring. I think he’s going to be good.”

Nate opens another package from Teas Please, and this time cuts a crêpe in two, putting one half on the plate in front of Pels. She uses her fork to peek into it, finding a soft melted cheese along with caramelized onions and mushrooms, and a strong scent of sage. Between that and the cranberries it’s a little like eating a strange turkey dinner, without the turkey.

“Thanks for feeding me.” It’s a complete shift in topic, but Nate runs with it easily, grinning at her.

“It’s part of what I do. I should have grabbed some tea, so we could have tea & sympathy.” As if that reminds him, he reaches up into a cupboard and pulls down a tin and two mugs. He fills an electric hot pot and sets it running, then fills a tea strainer for each cup. “When I was still in high school, I’d run all the way from here to Teas Please and I got hooked on tea like most kids get hooked on coffee. That’s how I ended up working there.”

He leans his elbows on the counter, watching her as she takes a bite of the crêpe and makes a surprised sound at how good it is. “It wasn’t all bad,” he says quietly. “It was hard being a kid in this house, but there were good parts, too. And I’m at PHU now and I’m making myself a new life.”

“We moved all the time, and Peter’s a dick, but it wasn’t all bad,” Pels agrees. “I’ve got the best little sister, and a guardian angel, and well, I’m here now. And you’re right, PHU is definitely a new life. It might be the first time I’ve ever been able to make friends.”

Nate’s eyebrows go up at that, and he stands up straight, hands flat against the counter. “Might be? Don’t think that way, Pels.” He holds one hand across the table, palm up, and wiggles his fingers until she cautiously reaches to take his hand. His fingers close around hers, and he shakes her hand once. “Hi, Pels, I’m Nate, and whether you like it or not, we’re friends now because that’s what happens after I get to be your knight and ride to the rescue.” He grins. “Come visit me when I’m working and I’ll feed you. That’s how it works.”

She withdraws slowly. “I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to bring something to the friendship, too.”

“You are actually the first person I’ve met at PHU who even has a clue what it’s like to grow up in this fucked up kind of way,” Nate says quietly. “So yes. You bring something. We get each other, at least a little. So if you need rescuing again, tell me. And if I need rescuing, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

Pels finishes off the last bite of her crêpe because it’s just that good. “Okay,” she agrees.

“Besides.” Nate starts putting his soup away, and packing away his half of the sandwich and crêpe uneaten. He makes a plate of the treats Mallory packed—scones, slices of cake-like bread, and several gigantic cookies. “You’re the first person I’ve hung out with like this since Jackie left for California, and that’s definitely something. I appreciate it, Pels. You might have needed rescuing, but I needed this, too.”

“Funny how that works out,” Dad murmurs.

Pels takes the plate that she’s handed and brings it to the couch as directed. She settles down, feeling small in the hollow that was obviously shaped by another person who sat here often, but it doesn’t feel as weird as she’s sure it should. She pulls up her feet and curls up comfortably, letting Nate talk while he sets up a movie and gets it started.

If having someone here for company and to talk to makes Nate happy, she can do that. Maybe Dad’s right. Maybe this friendship thing isn’t as hard as it seems. Or maybe Nate just makes it seem easy.

Either way, Pels resolves that she can manage to do this at least for tonight.

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Want to support me? – Patreon | Ko-Fi | Reblog & Comment

[deafwestnewsies]

the most dangerous woman in new york

To be the best- that’s all he wanted. To help others, that’s all she needed. 

hades x persephone, orpheus x eurydice 

read on my ao3!

The room was so fucking fancy for no reason. Plush, green velvet couches with golden lining and carved feet, chests made of real pine and polished so much that it shone under the dim glow of the lamps swinging above them. She noticed that, just like she noticed everything else, that they all swung above their heads to the same gentle beat, an underground chant that no one could hear. Her head eventually matched the even sway of the song and helped her lose herself in the thoughts that swirled in her head, thick as the cigar smoke lazily pouring from the men at the doorways. Should they even be smoking? Seems like men of this stature should want to stay alert at all times- especially when they have New York’s most dangerous woman sitting right in front of them. Of course, they were employed by the city’s most dangerous man. They were probably pretty fearsome themselves. 

Eurydice, only Eurydice, no last name, was something of a legend around the streets of the lowly and working class. She had a habit of appearing out of thin air, walking into a union meeting unannounced, and spinning her magic tales of victory and justice that left her audiences enraptured. No one really knew where she came from or where she went, only that she was the best in town if you wanted someone to organize your strike- the truly lucky ones were simply picked by her, no pleading necessary. Now she sat perched on the edge of a plush green couch, heavy overcoat and dark circles under her eyes emphasizing the scrappy look that made her so effective on the streets. No one wanted to argue with the girl who was one hundred pounds soaking wet, demanding the rights of service workers in an even, calm voice. 

She was intercepted outside of a deli where she was buying a can of lemonade when a group of men asked her to get inside of a limo. After pouring the drink on one of the men’s expensive looking shoes and calling them “crazy sons of bitches,” they picked her up and placed her inside, ignoring her suddenly violent protests. It was a comical image, she was sure, her sitting with her arms crossed and shoulders raised high in between two men that looked straight out of the president’s secret service, black suits and all. They wouldn’t answer any of her many, many questions, and eventually the driver just turned up the radio to cover her shrill voice. 

Now inside, it was very evident to her where she was. It was plastered everywhere, not to mention decorating all of the flower bowls and men’s suit jacket lapels. A single red carnation etched into the wood of the wall, groups of them on the coffee table in a crystal vase. His name was Hades, only Hades, no last name. 

Mr. Hades was a mighty king, and he was always making some mighty big deals. 

Eurydice did not understand what he wanted from her. They did not run the same circles, Eurydice did honest work for people who deserved honest reward, and Hades was a thief, stealing from businesses that lived in fear of the other mobs in town. Hades capitalized upon their fear, and Eurydice used it to everyone else’s advantage. 

She ran through a list of things she had done recently- money she had taken from organizations, contracts she refused to sign, people she had done business with. If Hades had arguments with any of them, she could be in really hot water, and she couldn’t afford that right now. There was an apartment contract waiting to be signed and her landlord had made it very clear- he could ignore her line of work as long as she was not in trouble with the law. Eurydice had a feeling this would be enough for him to withdraw on his end of the lease, and she needed a more permanent place to stay. A home.

So there was nothing that she could think of in the moment, no one with any shady deals, when a man opened the door. “Eurydice?” He questioned, and she was on her feet in a flash. Simply gesturing her inside of the office doors, oak paneling with the same red flower carving, Eurydice noticed that he did not follow her into the room. 

Almost comically, a man sat in a high back chair spun to face the wall, and Eurydice expected him to turn around holding an evil white cat and a maniacal grin. When he made no movement at all, another man coughed slightly into a handkerchief, causing Eurydice to jump. This man sat tucked away in a corner, perched gently on a chair in a gray silk suit. He was old, gray hair neatly arranged in an afro on his head, wrinkles framing his dark skin, but old in a dignified way. In a way that Eurydice, although she knew it, felt it in her bones that she would not grow old, wanted to seem when people would look at her and think “Hmm. She is old.” He was the only other person in the room, and did not offer an explanation, just simply cleared his throat once more. “Hades, do not keep the girl waiting. You are here for her.” 

“Eurydice.” His slow drawl crept up her spine. “Thank you for joining me.” 

“Hades.”

He finally turned in his ridiculous chair. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, young lady.” She bit her tongue and held back the insults. She hated being called young lady, woman, or girl. “Your work with the employees over at The World- most impressive. There are some men who will talk higher of you than their poker buddies, and I would consider than quite an accomplishment.” 

“Lee wasn’t hiring any woman on the investigative staff and because of that, their numbers were down. It’s simple economics, I don’t think I deserve any praise for that job.” The heat in her cheeks told her everything that she needed to know, she was blushing. Modesty had always been a difficult task. 

Another woman emerged from the shadows of the room, draped in brocaded green silk and black buckle shoes. Her low, gravelly chuckle filled the room as she stepped into the light. “It took more than that, don’t undermine yourself. Lee’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.” 

“Persephone-” Both men chastised her in unison. 

“Am I wrong?” She lazily held up a cigarette, smoking on the end like a loaded gun. 

“You’re not-” Eurydice spoke quickly. “He was terrible. Nearly took my left hand in exchange for the newest batch of female truck drivers.” 

Persephone draped herself across Hades’ lap. “Stubborn son-of-a-bitch. A lady knows.” Eurydice felt warm under the woman’s heavy gaze and wink, delivered directly from her husband’s lap. Persephone Ceres, a statuesque Greek woman with a face that looked drawn from a heavy hand, all sharp lines and smudged edges. She was famous for simply being her husband’s wife, a rich broad who came through city attractions and slept with all of the workers, men and women alike, and then returned home to her adoring husband who held a soft spot for only her. If Eurydice was nervous around Hades, she was downright terrified of Persephone. 

Hades cleared his throat, dropping his crossed knee to create a more comfortable spot for his wife. “We’ve brought you here for a very specific issue- one that’s proved to be quite challenging for us.” She bit back the snark that lived on her tongue, what’s too challenging for the almighty Hades? “I’m sure you’re aware of the Calliope Theater?” 

“Ye-e-es.” The hesitation in her voice was more than apparent. 

“There’s a strike being held by the musicians. They can’t perform without the orchestra and they’re also under our… special protection plan. Money, albeit from a theatre troupe, is still money, and it's as good as any in my eyes.” 

Eurydice scoffed. “Hire more musicians. I work with pre-existing unions, not the merry band of fools.” 

The words died in her throat when Hades’ gaze turned to ice and fire, locking onto her. A quiet sniffle from the corner reminded her of the second man, still un-introduced, and at least there would be witnesses to her murder. Although she had a feeling that these folks wouldn’t go running to the cops- hell, she wouldn’t either. She’d die a true strike worker’s death. 

“But I could always check it out.” Her chicken-shit soul winced as she conceded, but she was halfway through a really good book and didn’t want to be the character that died before the end came. 

“Delightful.” There was no delight in this man’s voice. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s talk business.” 

&&&

The older man’s name was Hermes Mercurius, “A conciliate of sorts,” he had chuckled. He wore blue, wing-tipped shoes that Eurydice couldn’t help but privately admire. After Hades had laid out the details of the situation in front of her, Eurydice saw the clear hole in his original problem.

“They just want stability,” she whispered, tracing her finger across the names of the orchestration line-up. 

“Pardon?” His voice boomed down her back. 

Her throat was cleared, a frightened squeak disguised by a cough. “Stability,” she offered. “They aren’t hired for every single production. Technically the management isn’t breaking any laws, the contract they’re under is about as shitty as every loading dock agreement, but that’s your answer. If your men hired them more often, there wouldn’t even be a strike to worry about.” She spread her fingers over the invisible map on the table, her mind filling in all the gaps. “Contracts happen to be my specialty. If you send me, I can fix your problem.” 

So Eurydice walked alongside Hermes, both of them taking the stroll over to Broadway and 4th, the block home to the Calliope Theater. She had tried to opt for the subway, but Hermes gently pulled her elbow away from the stairs and nodded towards the busy sidewalks. “I’m afraid I don’t take the subway,” he sniffed. “My nose is so temperamental.” Who the hell lives in New York and can’t take the subway? She grumbled in her head. And of course, in keeping with this bizarre expedition, she held her tongue. 

Thankfully the walk was short and the day was long, so the pair arrived with time to spare. Hermes took a moment to adjust his suit jacket (they were an awfully strange pairing to be seen in public together) and then walked through the arched doorway, Eurydice trailing hesitantly behind him. While she was seen as a warrior of the people, she was simply another loud mouthed girl with a passion for whatever issue was thrown in her lap. The jobs she received were usually working in labor-heavy areas, shipping docks and construction sites. This theater, while in need of a good dusting, was much fancier than what she usually got to work in. 

“Mr. Orpheus, I presume?” Hermes walked towards a group of people gathered together, a pile of instrument cases littering their feet. A tall, skinny boy with a sweep of dusty blonde hair looked up at the mention of his name, and leapt to his feet. He held out his hand, trembling only slightly, and Eurydice was charmed by the red bandana knotted around his neck. She knew what that symbol meant, she had adorned herself with the fabric more than once before, but she wouldn’t out a fellow resistance member in front of one of Hades’ men. They were both here to do a job, not talk politics and run the risk of getting killed. “This is Eurydice. She’ll be negotiating the contract between your group and the Fate sisters.” 

The boy raised an eyebrow. “We need to hear the terms before we sign anything. That’s why we wouldn’t do business with you in the first place, Hermes.” 

“You’d be the on-site orchestrations for every show, with the exception of travelling groups.” Eurydice blurted out. Orpheus’s curious eyebrow dropped and Hermes’ raised, both looking expectantly at her. “If... everything works out.” She was blushing. Damn. 

Orpheus scratched the back of his neck abashedly. “That sounds… really good. Let me introduce you to the team.” 

After pleasantries were exchanged, the group gathered around a small table where both Eurydice and Orpheus were sat. She knew that her contract she had drawn up was popular among the musicians by the nodding and jostling happening behind her, but she kept her eyes locked on the leader. If he found even one flaw the entire deal could be called off, and she hadn’t had dinner in days. Hades’ paycheck could buy her a damn steak if she wanted it. 

“Everything looks in order, no?” Hermes chimed in from the corner. 

“Yes.” Orpheus muttered under his breath, skimming the document one more time. He cleared his throat finally. “We’ll sign, but you also have to go through the old lady Fates. And they won’t be as easy as I am.”

Cocking an eyebrow, feeling much more relaxed, Eurydice leaned back in her chair. “Easy?” Now his face was stained red and Eurydice made a mental note to laugh later on. “We’ll take these to the Fates and Hermes here will contact you further about what will happen next. Thank you for your time, folks.” 

Hermes was already making his way towards the door when Orpheus called after her. “Eurydice? Can I talk to you for a second?” 

&&&

Ultimately she was very grateful for the fact that Hermes was a quiet man, because he didn’t ask her what the boy had to say to her on the walk back. She might’ve been a public speaker by trade, but she was a terrible liar and knew she would immediately blow the entire operation- the Resistance, that is. 

Anyone who understood what it was like to struggle in a city such as theirs understood what the Resistance was. A mass organization committing acts of disarray that negatively affected the larger companies and businesses, most of whom employed the very members. A modern day weapon of the weak attack, Eurydice had been involved since she was a teenager. Her specialty was rumors, spreading them like nasty vines across the city until they twisted around someone’s neck and left them worse then dead, ruined. As she travelled from union to union, her vicious and carefully placed words about a former boss, a union leader with no morals, a landlord only after your money, and suddenly people distrusted them with such a fervor they could go out of business. Eurydice was a valuable cog in this organization’s machine, and it seemed as if Orpheus had recognized her. 

“What are you doing?” He had asked, pulling on her hand forcefully and tugging her behind a corner. Once released, that same hand curled into a fist that she was prepared to throw. 

“What the hell do you mean?” She shot back. 

“Do the words ‘It sounds like drumming’ mean nothing to you?” 

Eurydice inhaled sharply, immediately looking behind her for Hermes. “Are you crazy? Not here!” 

There was a common identifier between members of the Resistance. One would ask ‘What’s that sound?’ and if the other replied with ‘It sounds like drumming,’ they knew that they were in safe company. So those words meant a great deal to her, especially in a moment where they could be killed for knowing them. 

“Why are you working with Hades? Just last month you were saying that he doesn’t-” 

She was this close to slapping a hand over his idiotic mouth. “I know what I said.” Eurydice hissed. “He didn’t exactly give me a choice. And what does it matter, you’re getting a good deal out of this- and wait a minute, you work somewhere under his protection!” Her eyes danced with fire, angry that this boy would accuse her of being a traitor when he was close to being one himself. 

“Work where you can get it,” he replied. “Being a musician doesn’t exactly equate to a strike leader.” 

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she drew her coat around her shoulders tighter. “Well, if you’re done yelling at me, I have to go. Hermes will get suspicious.” 

“I wasn’t yelling. I’m just making sure you’re safe. You… You are, right? Safe?” Orpheus’s face softened, his hands fiddling together. He looked bashful all of a sudden, embarrassed about the entire situation. 

“For the time being. If you keep throwing the damn words around though, I may not be.” She turned on her heel before stilling herself for a second. “If I don’t turn back up, you’ll tell them I was with Hades, won’t you?” Before she could hear his confirmation, Eurydice had walked away. 

The interaction kept playing back in her head. She was astonished that he had recognized her, that he had come up to her like that and so confidently talked about the most secret organization in the city. He was bold, bolder than most, and Eurydice couldn’t decide whether she admired it or found it stupid enough to get him killed. Before she had decided, they were back in front of the homely-looking restaurant entitled “Poseidon's Plate.” Inside were a few booths and a very empty looking register, but behind the kitchen doors was the offices of Hades and company, and Hermes and Eurydice found themselves once again in the lap of luxury. 

Hermes went to knock on the french-breasted door when it swung open, Persephone’s calculating smile waiting on the other side. “We’ve been waiting.” She purred, the sound making Eurydice shiver as she passed through the doors. Hades had forgone the dramatics and now sat plainly in his chair, scribbling down something in a handsome leather bound notebook. 

“Eurydice. Sit.” She followed his orders without a second thought, once again captured by his presence and the mild fear of being murdered. She had heard nasty rumors about the way he took care of his enemies. “So the contract business went well.” 

“Yes.” Her mouth was a desert. 

“Very good. I’m glad we could count on you.” He was still writing things down, almost at a worrisome pace. Persephone clucked her tongue from the corner, where she was perched on the arm of a red brocade couch. “We have one more thing to discuss. How long have you been involved with the Resistance?” 

If what she had felt before was fear, this was a new type of terror, one that seized her entire body and wiped her mind blank. The most dangerous woman in New York City now sat as the most vulnerable person in the world. She managed a few sputters, a weak denial, but Hades waved away her excuses. “I don’t like beating around the bush. We’re aware of your involvement with the group, and this is why you were chosen for this specific assignment. You’re smart, Eurydice. Far too smart to be working for those silly children who think spreading lies and stealing will ever make a change in the way this city is run. If you want to do something, to be something Eurydice,” He finally looked up from the notebook. Their eyes caught in a piercing gaze- one that Eurydice couldn’t help but be enraptured by. “I have a proposition for you. If you choose to accept, of course.” 

hello i haven’t written something for a musical in a long long while but i am back! from outer space! just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face i should’ve changed that stupid i should’ve thrown away the key

[another-miracle]

between redemption and living, a Kyoru fic

AO3

1. redemption

It takes two steps to reach out to her.

The autumn wind blows against them, tossing the sheets surrounding them through the air. Her voice trembles through the cloth, and Kyo listens with a breaking heart as she recounts the childish actions she took upon her mother’s death. She chokes on her words, as if them escaping her is a sin, and Kyo scarcely can take it any longer.

His fingers find purchase on her shoulders through the sheet, grasping them gently. She lets out a soft gasp that has his blood thrumming through his veins. He swallows past the lump in his throat.

“I’m sure your mother understood without a doubt,” he murmurs into the blanket. His head leans against what he only assumes to be hers, and he feels her stiffen in his arms.

“D-do you think so?”

He grips her tighter. Not worth comforting.

“Definitely. Believe me.”

And then, “Say as much as you want. I won’t be disillusioned.”

She falls heavily on his shoulder and grips the blanket between them in her hands. Kyo closes his eyes.

This must be a redemption of some sort, he thinks, a kindness the world has bestowed upon him. The guilt tormenting his heart for years eases some, and for a breath, he thinks she may forgive him.

But as quickly as it arrives, the feeling disappears in a puff of smoke.

2.

Desperation claws at his throat. Talons in his hair pull and swing him against the nearest wall. He chokes out an apology to a sin he did not commit, trembling on the floor, and cowers away from the man who holds the meaning to his existence.

Putrid. Disgusting. Monster. A mantra, every day.

The door to his cage slides shut. Footsteps resound outside before fading away. Kyo sits up and cradles his arm against his body. Dazedly he wonders how many days like these it will take for his debt to be repaid.

It is on days like these he remembers Kyoko, blood seeping out of her mouth, eyes dead, speaking words that will sear his soul for years to come. It is on days like these Kyo relaxes into the security that he is only getting what he deserves.

I’m sorry, he speaks to no one. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep your promise.

It must be hysteria that clouds his mind, however, because from one breath to the next, Kyo releases the words he has been dreading to offer for more than three years.

I’ll take care of her better next time.

3.

It’s like she does not want me to forget, his mind shouts angrily as he eyes the slight girl leaving the room with that damned rat. At the corner of his eye, Kyo sees Shigure scratch his head and look at the roof. With a sigh, the man walks out of the room without so much of a glance at Kyo.

The nonchalance of the action pierces through Kyo, reminding him of his place among the zodiacs. Even worse, it reminds him of the child he is being - the lack of growth he has shown since then.

Her voice continues to echo in him. Remember our promise, it mocks. Don’t forget.

A scoff leaves his mouth as he makes his way downstairs, ready to banish the girl from his life within the shortest goddamned notice.

If this is how Kyoko is going to play, he sure as hell wants out of the game.

4.

Her fingers brush against his ears. In the quiet of dawn, it is only the two of them that exist in a field of dew-stained grass. He is perched on her knees, paws draped over her thighs. She calls out his name once, her voice soft in the early morning.

Sunlight peeks past his eyelids, but he is nary a care as she picks him up along with his discarded clothes and cradles him to her chest. Belatedly, he zeroes in on the memory of her lonesome form he’d seen through the window of her childhood home, and marvels at how she has somehow navigated her way here; where remption lays, where loneliness ends, where together begins.

Kyo doesn’t believe in miracles. Still doesn’t.

But hell if the girl; whose hands cup against a body he loathes, whose entire being trembled as it held onto him, whose words brought him out of darkness into a new dawn; isn’t going to help him try.

5.

It is easy to forget when they sit together like this. They talk about the mundane - you don’t know how to swim? - and tease at the other’s expense - you haven’t learnt how to breathe? They laugh and the warmth in Kyo’s chest swells.

It is simple, so simple, to be with her. With every word, she reminds him of the life worth living, hinting at a future beautiful and ideal. Kyo cherishes what he can get, hope still balancing on the pinpoint of a deal made seemingly eons ago that he may someday emerge victorious in.

Shishou returns soon after, a fond smile on his face that Kyo is minutely embarrassed by while Tohru stands at the side with a smile reminiscent of when Shishou bested him before calling him ‘son’. Kyo gathers all these smiles, goes home and burnishes them. He uses them as fuel to stoke a fire to spur him towards living-

-however futile it may be.

6.

“-till death,” Akito tells him.

7.

Vaguely, he wonders if this is what Yuki went through in his childhood. At the thought, his stomach churns, bile rising up his throat. Misery seeks company, but not like this. The thought of a child - barring one he has resented his whole life- going through the same torment as this is absolutely insane.

Renewed hate for Akito ignites in Kyo, but with no outlet, it stews and simmers, and eventually dies. There is no room for hate. There is no room for anyone either. Only Akito. His worth is Akito.

Picking apart his memories, he begins to forget. What was the walk back to Shigure’s house like? Were there flowers that grew on the sidewalk? He would’ve picked them for her. He should have.

How did Tohru call his name? What was the exact cadence of her voice? Does she remember him? Does she wish to see him? Does she miss him?

Closing his eyes, he lets himself indulge in a memory of her.

They sit on the roof of Shigure’s house under a blanket of stars, her warmth next to him. She turns to him, distant city lights casting shadows on her face. Her eyes crinkle and Kyo reaches up to poke at the dimples indenting her cheeks. She giggles in response and Kyo laughs along, brushing her fringe from her forehead and leaning in-

The door slides open with a loud bang.

Choking on reality, Kyo gasps for breath, trying- and failing to return. His fingers search for the comforting roughness of roof tiles, but all that greets him is the scratch of cold tatami against his nails.

He looks up, vision blurry, as a kimono-clad figure walks through the door.

“Hello, monster,” Akito calls. “How is my favourite creature today?”

8.

The walk home is potent with silence, their footsteps the only sounds amidst bouts of shuffling, catching-up, turning around to check on the other. Kyo glances at Tohru for the umpteenth time, only to immediately swing back around after finding that her face is entirely flushed. His own cheeks heat in response.

In the heat of the moment, he didn’t think- couldn’t think of how she might have felt when he leaned his head on her shoulder. All he knew was that she was waiting for him while he was being an idiot. And Yuki was right; he made her worry.

Now as they awkwardly attempt to have a very normal walk back to Shigure’s house, Kyo can’t help but groan at the audacity he had to do something like that to a poor innocent girl like Tohru. Is he a pervert? God. What was he thinking?

Suddenly, a soft giggle sounds from behind him. Kyo’s hand falls from his head-when did it get there? -and turns to look at Tohru. A little clenched fist balances over her lips where an amused smile plays at. Tohru glances up at him, cheeks still flushed, before her gaze shyly retreats again.

Kyo feels his lips purse into an annoyed pout.

“What’s so funny,” he grumbles under his breath.

Tohru giggles again. “Nothing, Kyo-kun. You just look so distressed over what is probably a small matter.” She smiles sweetly at him, hand falling to grasp the straps of her bag.

“Back in classroom,” her eyes avert away for a moment, “I-I didn’t mind. It was sweet of you to think of me.”

Kyo slams a hand against the wall, fingernails trying to find purchase on the concrete. Goddammit, it should be illegal to be that cute. Fuck.

His head hangs away from Tohru, missing the probably flustered look on her face, judging by the little shouts of surprise coming from her. Kyo clenches his eyes, before braving a look at her.

Fuck, still cute. Dammit.

With a huff, his hand leaves the wall to bonk her on the head. His ears are burning. She looks up at him in surprise, eyes wide and questioning.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

Then quieter, “Thanks for waiting for me.”

9.

“I’ll just need to wait for you,” she whispers.

Kyo almost misses it over the sound of the television. He turns in his seat and is greeted by the sight of Tohru crying into a washcloth, tears streaming down her face and onto the tabletop.

“H-hey,” Kyo starts, quickly lumbering over to her side of the table. He begins to take her hands from her face, but she abruptly pulls away. Helplessly, he chokes out a soft, “Don’t cry.”

At this, she seems to sob even more, her knees coming up to bury her face in. Kyo watches her break down, words of comfort drying up in his throat.

He…doesn’t know what to say. He told her a few months before graduation - about the cat’s fate, the bet with Akito - and to his surprise and horror, she told him she already knew. Akito had informed her about everything during his visit to the summer vacation home, fabricating stories of an endless banquet and the zodiacs never leaving his side. It was cruel and strange and absolutely foreign. She didn’t want to believe it then.

But with tomorrow looming, it no longer matters what Tohru thinks. Kyo lost the bet and from tomorrow onwards, he will take up new residence in the Sohma estate, a corner reserved only for him - in the Cat’s room.

Once before, in the days leading up to his mother’s funeral, his father brought him there.

“This is where you will live to pay for your sins,” he said, dragging Kyo towards the door. “All I need is the head’s approval, and I will be rid of you forever, you filthy scum.”

Now, ten years on, Kyo lives in one of the warmest households he’s been in, where he lets time pass wastefully, only to have it snatched away by a fate he knows is a long time coming.

Kyo sighs. “It was only a matter of time,” he tells her. “There’s no use crying over something that can’t be changed.”

He feels her grip onto his beads, her fingers slipping under before reaching for his pulse.

“It wasn’t wasted,” she says with finality, determination glinting in her eyes. “Your time outside wasn’t wasted.”

The next day, they send him off at the fringes of the Sohma estate. Tohru holds his hand until the last moment and tangles their fingers tight together.  Selfishly, he grips back, closes his eyes and imagines a future that will never be, holds onto hope.

He squeezes once, twice- breathes, then lets go.

10.

He wonders what it will be like to have something like that DVD. Of course, it’ll be nice to have something to record all the quiet moments, all the happy times. But if it plays back things like that, she might not survive the fall.

And he’s afraid- that she won’t let go, that she’ll wait on him forever. Replaying the memories over and over, he’s scared that she won’t let herself forget. It’s one thing for him to be subject to this fate, but a person as bright, as innocent and pure as her, should not be saddled with a burden such as he. The curse was never meant to extend beyond the family, yet he selfishly allowed it to be so.

In a way, there isn’t much he can do at this point. What she said during the play- that awkward interruption, paired with a devastated grimace- he heard it loud and clear. Kyo lies sedately on the floor, arm under his head. This is absolutely not what he wanted. He was supposed to leave from the beginning, a mere sojourner passing through her earth. He didn’t intend for this to happen. He didn’t intend to leave things behind.

He didn’t intend for her to fall in love as well.

11.

It comes like a seabreeze from a distant shore, a memory from a long, long time ago.

Tears fall from his eyes without his consent. They dribble down his cheek, dripping off his unshaven chin. Kyo sits up and looks around.

In an instant, nothing makes sense. Nothing about where he is, why he is here, who he is, makes sense. Why are there walls confining him? What was his purpose here? What held him back from leaving?

Why did he not go to where she was?

Suddenly, the door to the room slides open. Kyo bristles and readies himself, an instinct ingrained in his body. But strangely, he no longer feels fear.

Shigure steps into the room, yukata-clad as Kyo has always remembered him to be, and faces him. He smiles briefly, eyes lacking the pity Kyo is used to seeing from him.

“Hey,” Shigure says.

Stunned, Kyo gives a confused wave.

Shigure laughs. It comes out slightly choked, with a tinge of hysteria. He comes up to Kyo and clamps his hand over Kyo’s shoulder. Shaking him, the tears fall as well.

Kyo looks up at him, cheeks still wet.

It’s over.

12.

Kyo stands in front of the mirror and gazes at his reflection. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the Cat’s room, but the beard growing out of the sides of his face betrays the amount of time he’s been alone. Picking up the razor balanced precariously on the edge of the sink, he slowly begins to shave. His fingers stutter in their grip, and Kyo almost cuts himself.

“Do you need help?” Hatori asks, an eye peeking out through the fall of his hair. Absently, Kyo stares at the man a little longer, noticing the lack of pity he has grown accustomed to in his voice.

“N-no.” Kyo looks down and washes the razor for the umpteenth time. “I’m good.”

It’s difficult- witnessing all these changes firsthand. There is so much to say, yet there is nothing to say at all. It seems like they have all come to an agreement without voicing anything, and everyone around him has accepted it, including himself.

Hatori passes him a face towel and Kyo takes it, murmuring a soft noise of gratitude. He wipes his face, before staring at the mirror once more. There is something unrecognizable in his reflection. It’s him, yet it isn’t.

In an instant, Kyo’s gaze is drawn to the beads encircling his left wrist. He slips his fingers under them for a moment, thumb and forefinger playing with one of them. Slowly, finger by finger, he grasps the beads- string and all- in a fist, and pulls.

They drop to the floor like marbles, bouncing once, then rolling away.

And Kyo is already crouched on the ground, sobbing. He curls himself up next to the bathtub, burying his head in his knees. A part of him is waiting for the inevitable, and yet a part of him knows that it will never come and haunt him again.

He’s…free.

Hatori comes down to crouch next to him, and in a rare act of comfort from the man, wraps his arm around Kyo’s head and begins patting his hair. After existing so long without the warmth of another, Kyo clutches onto Hatori’s shirt and cries. In that moment, he grieves for what both of them have lost, and grieves for what both of them have gained. Kyo is lost, and found. Confused, yet so, so secure. He is empty, therefore he is full.

After about ten minutes of full-on sobbing into the shirt of a man whom he has barely spoken more than a few sentences to in his life, Kyo awkwardly removes himself from Hatori’s chest. To his embarrassment, all Hatori does is give him a small smile, cheeks slightly damp, and pats his head once more. Shyly, he scratches the back of his head before moving to stand, Hatori following suit. As he looks around the bathroom, Kyo finds himself at a loss. He has so many questions, but they get lodged in his throat when he attempts to ask.

Hatori must see the look in his eyes because he clasps his shoulder and says, “Ask Honda-kun. She’ll tell you everything.”

13. living

Kyo can’t wait.

No, of course he can. It’s been years.

It’s been years, that’s why he can’t wait, dammit.

He can’t do this. This is too much. What if she’s forgotten? What if she no longer wants anything to do with him? He did leave her once before- what if she decides she can’t take another person leaving and being left behind again?

And what about him? Does he still want to see her? Does he still want her? What about her did he like? What did he use to do with her? What was their life like when they lived together? What if-

A smack sounds across the back of his head. Kyo’s hands immediately go up to cradle his head, only to be met with the annoyed glare of one Yuki Sohma.

“Get it together, you stupid cat,” Yuki bites out. “She’ll be here soon.”

A snarl almost makes it past his throat, but Kyo remembers that…they don’t need to do this anymore.

For a moment, Kyo is baffled by the rivalry manufactured so intently between them. He’s layered hate upon hate on this man before him without even realizing how foreign the idea was in the first place. The anger fizzles out in his chest, and all that’s left is guilt. Guilt of tormenting Yuki since the first time they met, right until the moment before he left. Guilt of pushing the blame onto Yuki every time something upset his seemingly miserable life. Yuki had it hard as well, he knows. He just refused to acknowledge it.

“I’m…sorry,” Kyo tells him, looking up with furrowed brows. The words taste unfamiliar on his tongue. Yuki narrows his eyes at him, before taking a seat adjacent to him in the kotatsu.

He sighs.

“We’ve been terrible to each other, haven’t we?” Yuki starts.

Kyo places his hand back on the table in front of him, finger spreading out before clenching once more. “Yeah, we have.”

“What were we even mad at each other about anyway?”

“I don’t know. I think we were just always being pitched against each other. It pissed me off.”

“Yeah, well. You were being quite an idiot about it too.”

“Hey-“

“Don’t worry,” Yuki puts up his hands in surrender. “I was a pretty big dick to you too.”

Then softer, “I’m sorry.”

At the words, Kyo finds himself being released from a crime he has spent so long believing he had done. He thinks back on what Kyoko said, about not having a designated person to hate and blame, and finally sees the beauty that she was trying to convey. All he needed was an outlet for all the hurt he experienced in his life, and when he realized that there was hope, that there was redemption somewhere, it began to dig him deeper and deeper into a cycle of rehearsed loathing, fashioned it into something so grotesque, Kyo couldn’t recognize it in himself anymore. He couldn’t even recognize himself anymore.

All the wasted years, Kyo briefly laments. But it brings comfort that the bridge between Yuki and him has not been completely burned. Kyo knows who to thank for that.

The front door suddenly slams open and footsteps sound through the hall into the kitchen. In a flurry of brown hair and pink dress, she appears before him, panting heavily and looking straight into his eyes.

His eyes widen. “Tohru-“

Her arms are around him before he has the chance to say anything else. She squeezes him tight, burying her face into his neck. The ends of her hair tickle his jawline, and Kyo feels a dampness against his skin. She shakes in her hold, shifting her face back and forth into the cloth at his shoulder.

Kyo continues to stare in shock at the wall in front of him. The door to the room slides shut quietly, and he realizes that Yuki has left the room.

Slowly, his hand reaches up to the back of her head before sliding down the length of her hair. He repeats the action over and over, his fingers tangling in the soft strands. He combs through her hair, his other hand coming up to rest against her waist. She sobs harder and harder, her words incomprehensible.

“K-kyo-kun,” Tohru whimpers. She clenches a fist in the back his shirt and tightens her grip.

Immediately, something in his chest cracks. Kyo buries his fingers in earnest in her hair, clutching her tightly against him. His arms band around her frame and the tears that were held at bay fall from the corner of his eyes down his nose. He turns his neck and places his lips at her pulse, each beat thrumming through him, signalling to him that she’s here and she’s real.

How many times had he imagined this moment? The smell of her hair, the softness of her skin? No matter how much he polishes every memory of her till they shine, it can never compare to how she feels in his arms right now. The senses that have shut down so long ago from repeated rejection from others in his life, the loss of hope that someone, someday, will hold him like this, like they never want to let go, explode to life and Kyo takes in whatever he can greedily, selfishly, and as much as he wants. He steeps in the luxury of a hug from a girl he cares about most, and soaks in every detail, every sensation he has missed out on in the past few years stolen from his life.

They hold each other a while longer, before slowly separating to look into the other’s eyes. Tohru lifts a hand to Kyo’s cheek, and he leans into it, nosing her palm and brushing his lips across her wrist. She runs a finger repeatedly under his eyes, catching the tears there. Kyo does the same to her, cradling her face gently while brushing her fringe away. They lean their foreheads against each other, broken smiles playing at their lips.

“Kyo-kun,” Tohru calls him.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice cracking.

“I missed you.”

“I-“ inhale, “I missed you too.”

“Kyo-kun,” she calls again.

“Y-yeah.”

She laughs and places a kiss on his forehead. He closes his eyes and grips her tighter. In the deepest corners of his heart, there is a smidge of doubt, an inkling of fear, that rejection will come sooner or later. But when Kyo opens his eyes and sees Tohru smiling through her tears, he is strong, and brave, and fearless, and ready to love and to love and to love. Then, she tells him the words that overwrite the pain he’s gone through, that cancel out the unforgiveness he bears within himself, that make him feel stronger than he has ever been before.

“Kyo-kun, look,” she places a hand on his left wrist, leave a kiss there, and smiles.

“You’re free.”

———————————————

Inspired by a line in @sariedust ‘s fic, If Only:

"This would be a memory he’d polish over and over during the years.”

Do check it out (:

[sian22redux]

He followed me home, chap. 4

Title: Hew followed me home,,  

Rating:   T

Summary :  The whole world gets involved when you and your new boyfriend, Chris Evans, adopt a friend for Dodger but then can’t settle on a name.   .

This chapter:  Chris and reader navigate some unexpected twists.  Fluff and some angst, a teensy bit of social anxiety and a little making out. 

Happy Birthday @theycallmebecca!!    We’re finally at the end!    Thanks so much to @arizonapoppy for her awesome and timely help.   Oenethera5 is the one who came up with the winning name.  Hope you all like it.   Because I rushed to get this up for Becca’s big day it is not beta’d.  If y’all spot anything too heinous let me know :)

You can find Chapter 1  etc. here:    He Followed Me Home,   .tags for folks below the cut

-----------------------------------------------  .  

Two weeks after puppy comes home Chris goes back to work.  

 There’s a whirlwind of press to do for Red Sea Diving and Avengers 3, and with the rave reviews for both (and his Broadway debut) your giant, bouncing labrador of a boyfriend is on a high.  

 This night his assignment is Jimmy Kimmel Live.  

The Town car pulls up in front of the old masonic lodge that hosts Kimmel’s studio and  you’re thinking ‘Wow”.   Already the crush of tourists and fans outside the doors snakes past El Capitan’s classic art deco theatre to Ghirardelli’s chocolate shop, held back by a line of security and police.  The walk of fame with its stars outfront has a red carpet laid on top.  The facade looks elegant; all stone columns and ionic capitals, banners and bright lights.  

 Flashbulbs are already popping before Chris finishes his call with Susan, his long time publicist.  

 “Fine. Yeah.  I know. I know. I’m good. Breathe. Yup, I’m breathing.  See you at 10 for dinner.”  He swipes his phone shut and smiles weakly across at you, leg going a million miles an hour.  The nerves never get any easier. They do this before almost every show—Susan, the pro, talking  him down, getting the noisy brain in gear, but this time with the Avengers hype off the dial, they decide it might help if you came along.  

 (Officially you are representing Getaway and reporting back on audience response. Unofficially you are there to stand in the wings and wish calming vibes his way.)  

 The evening mercifully starts out light and easy.  

 Jimmy loves Chris as an interview: they always have fun and joke around, but he knows his subject well enough to go a little slow while his guest gets in the groove.

“What is new with you?” he asks, smiling broadly, clapping Chris on the shoulder as he sits on the soft grey wool of the couch,  bobbing his head at the wild applause and nervously smoothing his tie in place.  

“Not much.  Filming. Hanging out.” Chris huffs a breath and smiles, trying to act nonchalant, adjusting his cuffs and surreptitiously wiping his sweaty palms on his dark suit pants.   “A ten city press tour.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows head for the ceiling.  “Not much?  Other than being everywhere on screen and nearly breaking the internet tweeting about your dog?”

Chris laughs and Jimmy explains whole missing Dodger thing to the audience.   “For the few folks who spent this year underneath a rock—this is Dodger.  And this is where we all thought he died!”  

Pictures of Dodger show up on the big screen backdrop; the pining tweets that were misinterpreted; the amazing video shot by Carly of their reunion.  The audience is oohing and awwing and clapping loudly.

“I know, I know. What can I say?” Chris shrugs.  “Dodger’s a pure soul. It was hard.  It was hard.  I was in South Africa and I missed him.  For months. He took it hard but I wasn’t gonna put him in quarantine.”  

Jimmy smiles.  “Nah. I get it.  It’s rough. But next just time warn us ok?”  He turns to the camera, all mock serious.   “And Twitter? Jack you listening?  Give this guy 280 characters right now—cuz jeez I don’t think our hearts can handle too short Evans tweets.”  

Chris throws back his head and laughs, grabs his pec for a sec, shaking his head, full on going for it as the whole studio cracks up.  “Suuure that’ll work.  I get to word vomit more.”  He mimes grabbing for a barf bag and waves the idea away.  You’re smiling, watching him relax.  Thank heaven.  So far it’s going great.  “No Twitter.. please.  Do not.” He shakes his head and settles back into his seat, beaming a sunshine smile.  “But seriously—it’s all good. When I have to be away, we’ve got a solution for it now.”

Kimmel raises an eyebrow.  “Oh yeah?”

“We adopted a puppy.”

The whole audience in unison goes ‘Awww”  and suddenly Chris is pulling out his phone, flipping through his pictures to show Jimmy one of the two amigos on the lawn,   Dodger sitting tall and puppy flopped at his feet.  

He holds the screen facing out toward the seats.  The camera zooms in and out, trying to focus and Jimmy turns to ask the stage manager:  “Can we get that up?  The little fluffball is pretty cute.”    

Magically, the picture is caught and appears on the backdrop:  puppy and Dodger beyond life size and so adorable the audience is cooing.  Jimmy nods at the screen.  Chris nods, smiling like the proudest papa at the two of them but then suddenly,  laser like, Jimmy turns back to Chris and picks up on what was said.

“We?”  

Chris blushes bright red as a tomato then pales to an unhealthy shade of white.  

Standing in the wings, you think “oh shit.”  He’s probably in panic mode; brain berating him for slipping up, worrying all at once what Susan’ll say, and how to talk his way out, and if he’ll fuck up more.  

You heart goes out to him.  This is exactly the type of nightmare scenario guaranteed to bring out his anxiety.  You watch him awkwardly cross and recross his legs, stroking his tie down again and stalling for more time.  

“A friend”  That’s all he has to say, he doesn’t need to give any more but for some reason he’s biting his lip, fingers tapping on his slacks, agonizing.   This is his least favourite part of the biz but surely Jimmy won’t give him too hard a time?    

The silence is getting a little long.  Come on Chris.  You’re an actor.   Just fudge an answer.  You’re pleading in your head and then it comes.

And you almost drop your notes in shock.  

“My girlfriend and I.”  

An instant giant collective groan emanates from the audience.  Cieto, Jimmy’s band leader, right on cue leads the house band in a mournful dirge. You’re frozen, thinking that at least no one there knows it’s you, as your phone buzzes in your hand.  

It’s Susan.  Of course it is.  She watches all his events and you just know she’s madly texting “wtf???”  

Jimmy can barely speak for chuckling.  

“Folks.  Folks,” he pleads, palms up, getting the hooting of the audience to calm down.  “Oh my god, you heard it here first.  The scoop of the year. Chris Evans is no longer single and the internet is about to break again.”

You’re dying.  Just dying, trying to keep your face straight, head whirling at the implications.  What??!!  Fuck, Chris.   How long before someone finds out it’s you?  Days if you’re lucky and that thought makes your stomach knot.  What will Anthony and Joe say?  How will you handle all the crazies? You’re picturing shit-tons of hate mail, a posse of paparazzi at the gate when you get home and wonder if you can scale the cliff at the bottom of the lawn to drop into Christina Applegate’s backyard next time you have to leave.  

Maybe you should leave right now?  Maybe you should get a taxi to your apartment?   Not be seen going back to Laurel Canyon but then what would puppy and Dodger do?  

You’re just picturing never dining out again, never jogging on Mulholland, when you notice that Chris, the shit, is grinning like a loon.  

What?!

The noise finally subsides.  Jimmy leans over and asks: “How long has it been?”  

Chris takes a breath, licks his lips, slouches a little lower and weirdly almost looks relaxed.   Some colour has come back into his cheeks.   “Four months.”

“Four months?  So new!”

“Yeah.  Yeah.  New but feels so right.  It’s like she’s always been there, you know?”  

Jimmy’s nodding, says something about that was how it was for him and a shy smile creases Chris’s face.   You’re melting; a little dizzy at the heartfelt words.  

It is?   What did he just say?

Your brain has gone from panicked to short circuited: replaying that sentence over and over.  You ignore your phone’s frantic buzzing, miss most of Jimmy’s saying until he asks, curious as a cat.   “How did you keep this secret?”  

Chris grins.  “She’s Anthony Russo’s right hand.  Goes almost everywhere that I do with the Avengers movies being made.”  

Ok that’s good.  Good. He’s brought it back to the reason that he’s there—press for Infinity War—you think that Jimmy will move on to the debut but then Chris does the unthinkable.

Perhaps he’s still a little flustered or maybe his brain invaded for a moment by the God of Mischief.  

He waves his big strong hand toward the right stage wings. “She’s here.”  

Oh my fucking god.  

A studio camera whips right ‘round but you’re in shock.   You can’t believe it.  Your carefully protected secret.  Held for months.  Friends and family have sworn a pact.  Every little move carefully choreographed and this impetuous goofball has just outed you to the world!  

There’s a producer in headset tapping you on the shoulder but you’re shaking your head; turning away and bending over.  Hiding your face in your hands and clutching your clipboard hard, thanking every god you know that you’ve worn a business suit.

(Out of the corner of your eye you can see the feed.  Oh great.  Your ass is on national television.  Hastily you straighten up.)  

Over on set Jimmy’s hand is waving lazily at you to come out. The audience is clapping, louder and louder but still you mutely shake your head.

No.  Way.  This is Chris’s thing.  You are not stepping into his limelight. Marvel’s limelight.  Fuck, Kevin Feige is gonna have an aneurysm.

Jimmy, the heartless bastard, is still laughing.  “She’s kinda shy. 

“Not really…but,” Chris stutters.  He’s wide-eyed and worrying. Trying to apologize.  “I’m sorry. Sorry.  I didn’t mean…”    

He didn’t mean to what?  Implode your world?  Live?  The buzzing in your pocket has gone nuclear.  Your hear Anthony’s dedicated tone and Joe’s.  A few others with no alert and you wonder if it’s his agent Josh and manager Brad, on top of Susan.   Oh god. You’re almost hyperventilating. Will you get fired?  Will you still have a job on Monday morning?  Will your friend Lena who you haven’t told ever speak to you again??

Jimmy looks over anxiously at you and, bless his sensitive soul, gets that this might be a little much.  They cut the feed away and like a pro, he starts to dial it back 

“Ok… What’s her name?”

“Y/N.”  

“And where did you meet?”

“On the set of Avengers 4.”   Suddenly you’re thinking of Frank Grillo.  Another excitable Marvel guy with Italian parents.  Talks with his hands as if he’s conducting an orchestra but that moment he had nothing on Chris.  The hands you love are almost dancing as he relays Bautista’s accident, excitedly talks about your mutual love of baseball.  It’s adorable and overwhelming.  

But still not what Chris is being paid to do.    

You think you are about to be in the clear when Jimmy launches his next question.  

“And what’s the puppy’s name?”

Chris chuckles and shakes his head.   “About that….”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two events happen in the immediate aftermath.  

Puppy’s nameless state becomes a thing. And your previously 250 follower-Twitter feed explodes.

By the time you make it back into his dressing room your name is trending.  Chris holds you anxiously in his arms, apologizing over and over until you have to put your hands across his mouth.  

“It’s ok.”

“It’s not.  I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.  I don’t.”  He frowns, runs his hands up and down your arms.  He smells of aftershave and the heavy sweet lilies stuffed into a giant crystal vase.  You normally hate their smell but weirdly not in that moment.

“Well I do, but shit.  Y/N, I love you.  I just couldn’t hold it in.”

A giant bloom of hope and happiness races through your chest.  “And I love you.”  You’re crying and laughing all at once. “Chris Evans, you are such a fucking meatball.”

“Yeah. Well I’m your meatball.”

The searing kiss lasts until a panicked Susan, come down in person, knocks upon the door.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turns out Chris Evans trending for any reason short of murder is good for Marvel too.  

The next day you a get bazillion texts from friends, get grilled by Susan and Chris’s agent Josh about your past until Chris is forced to growl, and learn all about block chains out of necessity.  While you and Chris were lying in (naked, oblivious and very occupied) that morning some enterprising hack went to work with Getaway’s employee list and guessed your twitter handle.  

Shit.  Lesson learned.  

The afternoon is spent fielding calls and messages.  The most precious text you get is from Tara, Chris’s best best friend.  You’ve only met her once, overwhelmed in the giant Evans-Capuano New Years party where you first met his family.  She was lovely but you haven’t really talked.  

<Welcome to the crazy whirl—we’ve got your back.>  

Wow.   Deep breath.  Guess this means it’s real.  

And kind of overwhelming.  Chris is off again in days for the long-planned European opening of Infinity War and you’re at home, doing your job (the long lead in for Avengers 4 post production) and holding down the fort.  This includes taking Dodger and puppy out, and at first you’re nervous, knowing you will be followed, Josh arranges for guards to enforce a breathable perimeter away from the vile, scum-sucking paps.  It works.  Folks get the hint mostly and eventually leave off.  

But the fuss over puppy’s nameless state?  That keeps on going….  

Chris tweets about the new member family: a hundred thousand responses in the first two minutes. He mentions that puppy has learned to sit and stay and it goes viral.  Your twitter and his are literally inundated with puppy names—yours from friends and his from fans.  Even random peeps on the street get in on the act.  

Instead of Miles’ ‘I don’t wike it” being called out to him, people now shout puppy names.  

He laughs, and like Steve Rogers, pulls out a small notebook and writes them down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This state of ridiculousness lasts for the whole time that he is gone.  

Thank heaven you can telework.  Chris’s normally immaculate office is a riot of your stuff but it sure helps.  Puppy is growing so fast, he needs constant supervision.  First he jumps up and gets the car keys off the island; chews them until the car alarm goes off.  Then he slides across the kitchen floor and accidentally knocks the cupboard kick plate out.  A priceless Himalayan poppy is shredded into tiny, forlorn blue bits.  A rather more mundane knitted sock winds up, unraveled, strung between lounging chairs.  

You amuse Chris by texting pictures of the contraband.

Puppy’s personality grows just like his paws.  He’s smart and biddable, if anything almost more of a sap than Dodger.  You work on leash training, and sit and stay, endure the inevitable hilarious tabloid pictures of puppy looking confused at the walking park.  He loves to snuggle at your feet but also is more skittish, less confident than Dodger--   easily spooked-- and you suppose this is because the wide world is so big and new. Dodger was a rescue but grew up in a home.  Puppy has spent all his days inside a cage.  

It comes out, sometimes, in hilarious and unexpected ways.

One day he shies away from, but then furiously demolishes, an ‘indestructable’ Ovis frisbee.   Another he barks manically at barbeque sauce.  Once he cowers at the sigh of just one trash can. (the other is ok??).  The escape artist comes out when one morning he bolts through the closing electric gate.   A startled photog thinks quick grabs him by the collar  (That is a puppy?  What is he?  Cerebus?)  

All this fills your time but still you miss Chris something fierce.  He’s in Rome and Bucharest and Berlin.  Running from event to event. Tired, stressed, and you wish you could be there.  

All throughout the puppy name ideas keep coming in.  After Renner instagrams  ”Evans can’t name a dog”  the suggestions come flying thick and fast and then the sneaky snarky shit goes to town—Jeremy puts it in a poll on his private app.  The one he does for fans to interact with him.  Of course you need to follow just to see what’s trending, to tease Chris with the top rated latest idea, and that is how you wind up in your pj’s, enveloped by twenty pounds of puppy and  more of Dodger in the middle of the day when IW has its London premiere. Chris looks amazing in a silvered, deep indigo and mauve silk suit by Ferragamo.  It’s edgy and fun—Mackie’s teases him about it but clothes horse Sebastian approves.  

After the red carpet and introductions to the Prince and Princess (only you know how many times he’d practised that perfect bow) they take their seats and you shoot him a text with the latest names.  

<How about Cerebus?>

<Thumbs down>

“Bruno?>

<Blah>

<Beethoven>     

<He’s not a St Bernard>

There’s a pause.  You wait patiently until the little dots start up again.

<Sry. Chris put popcorn down my shirt>

They are such kids.  Pratt or Hemsworth.  Either could be the culprit.  

<Those Renner’s top rated stars?>   This is followed by a barfing face.

You laugh.  <Least it’s not doggymcdogface>

<Shut up>

<Make me>

You’re pretty sure his answer counts as sexting.  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Chris gets back he and Susan hatch what they think is a brilliant plan for your proper coming out.  

You hate it.

You are terrified.

Ten of days of complicated, exhausting back and forth between the CGI guys and studio pass in a whirl and before you know it the day arrives.  May 3rd.

Infinity War’s New York Premiere.  

You both fly out, leave Scott to sit at the house and start down the incredible set that lines the huge red carpet.  Photographers, literally a hundred of them, have come from all over the world for this night. You are shaking like a leaf, beyond nervous as you’ve never been before.  Chris’s stylist had picked out a gorgeous gown; ruched and slim, ice lavender, it’s right on with the latest trend and shows off your height.  (The funky diamond and fluorite necklet Chris surprised you with is worth more than your monthly salary but he insisted.)

“You look beautiful.”  Chris whispers in your ear,  surreptitiously brushing his fingers across your ass.  It makes you flush right as you both walk slowly  past the waiting phalanx.  

“Chris! Y/N!  Here. Look here.”

“Chris!  Chris!  Here!”

“How’s puppy?” someone shouts and he answers right away.

“Great! He’s with my little brother.”

“Got a name yet?”

“Nope.”  

There’s a ripple of laughter at that.  You stand a little dazed.  Chris holds your hand and  strokes a warm palm across your lower-back and you aren’t sure which of you it calms the most.  You keep expecting Susan’s assistant Joan to touch your elbow, the pre-approved signal to break away, but Chris keeps you there, shakes his head at her and holds you hard.  

When Elizabeth and Scarlet sweep up and join him you step quickly back; let them flirt and laugh and answer questions; have a great time joking about how weird it was to work with bearded Cap.  They seem lovely; you know them just a little from the set but you don’t ‘know them’ know them.  Maybe at the after party you’ll get that chance.  

Just when you begin frown and wonder if it’s weird you’re just standing there, a hand pulls at your elbow, drags you back to the centre of the throng.  

It’s Robert.  Beaming as he wraps you in a hug and plants the biggest kiss on your cheek.  Tucks you at his side while you blush furiously. You know him a little more because you’d worked the Siberia unit set.  

“Hey,” he smiles.  “You good?”

“Trying,” you admit and he hugs you hard just as an overly made up woman in thigh high slit gown and sky high heels stalks forward and sticks a microphone in his face.  

“Robert!  Robert Downey Junior!  Brooke from E! here.  What do you think about the rave reviews Infinity War is getting?”

He smiles a little wanly, waits for her to acknowledge you and when she doesn’t ignores her question blithely. “Brooke, great to see you.   Have you met Y/N?  One of the best damn producers in the biz.  She’s one of the reasons for those reviews.”  

Oh lord, but RDj is like this. Positive, Lovely. And occasionally full of shit.  

You are not a producer, you are a second assistant producer. You want to die but settle for digging an elbow in his ribs   (He giggles, but of course Robert has the chutzpah to pull it off).

Miss-self-centred-celebrity-interviewer frowns, plucked brows furrowed into a fairly accurate image of permanent confused surprise.  “Great,” she bullshits and gamely ploughs right on.  “Robert any predictions you want to make?”   

She means about fan response.  Folks expect the movie has been hyped but you know,  frame by frame, how great it is.  

You smile a little proudly, and glance up at Robert, wondering what he’ll say.  His eyes are hidden by the trademark coloured glasses but something about the stiff set of his jaw says he’s pissed.   By how rude she is.  

His answer makes your jaw almost hit the floor.

“Predictions?  Sure.” He looks fondly down at you and then over to the big muscled guy to his right.  “Y/N here will be the best damn thing that ever happened to Chris Evans.”

Wha..?   …?”    

Before you can even frame a coherent thought Robert quips “See, look at this. He can’t be away from her for more than a heartbeat.”  

It’s true.  Chris has hoped back to grab your hand again and now you are sandwiched between your gorgeous boyfriend and one of Hollywood’s true legendary stars.  You sneak a peek at them both.  They’re happy and grinning and bantering back and forth.  

The part of you that isn’t terrified wants to pinch yourself at where you are.

Later, in the theatre’s dark with an epic battle raging overhead, you reflect on how freaky your life has become.  Before it was secrecy and haphazard dates; knees touching under table cloths and walking late in the evening with no one about.  Now it’s sitting next to this amazing man, in public in the middle of the afternoon,  while he squeezes your knee and kisses your palm every chance he gets.   Like a pair of giddy teenagers you whisper to each other, touch and flirt, get shushed by a grinning Scarlet.  

It’s amazing and crazy and just like a dream but it gets even crazier the next day when E! magazine runs the  byline “Is this the one?”.  Next to a picture of you, one hand on Chris’s chest, looking up adoringly into his eyes.  He has the softest smile and looks so happy he could burst.

Tara texts  <I sure hope so>

All you can think is when did they take that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You fly back to Los Angeles and Chris does Chicago and D.C. but, finally, mid-May he is back home.  Dodger and puppy are overjoyed.  You settle into something of a routine.  Work, workouts, hanging with friends, keeping up on puppy training.  Walking puppy three times a day to keep him happy and just a little less rambunctious.  The world has got used to the idea that you’re a thing so a few less paps haunt the gate.

Puppy by default gets called puppy all the time.  

One Saturday morning you are both huddled on the couch indulging a second cappuccino when Chris’s phone rings.  It’s Susan’s tone.  Reluctantly he puts it on speaker phone so he doesn’t have to hold it to his ear.

His lips are kinda occupied, buzzing along your collarbone.

“Hmmm, Suz?  What’s up?”

“A new invitation came in for an event I think that you should do.”

Chris frowns, wondering why this has to be handled now. “When?”

“End of June.”    

“Kinda busy with Red Sea opening near then.”  

“I know.  But I think you’ll really want to see this one.”  Susan sounds like she is smiling.  Intriguing. Normally she’s so straight-faced, looks more like a poker player with a shitty hand.  

“Ok.”  Chris is shrugging as you mime a question.

“I’ll send the car over with the invite.”

Now?  Wow. It obviously is a major deal.  

Thirty minutes later the doorbell rings, Dodger and puppy race for the door, stand there with tails wagging while Chris accepts the envelope from Susan’s driver.

He flops back beside you on the couch.  You scoop puppy up, give him a scratch behind both silky ears while Chris runs a fingernail under the flap.

“Holy shit!”

You lean over and peer across his muscled shoulder.  “What is it?”

“An invitation from the Bosox’s owner John Henry himself.”

“To what?” you ask, thinking of his beer-drenched, football weekends with the guys.  This would be a perfect opportunity but you’re the Red Sox’s biggest fan.  Maybe Scott could sit again and you both have a weekend to yourselves?

“Their ‘dog day at Fenway’”

“What?!”  You squeal. “Yes!”  You shake puppy’s paw and his kiss his snout.  “Oh my god little guy you get to see the Green Monster for yourself.”

Chris laughs.  The Green Monster is Fenway Park’s fabled left field wall. The highest in the MLB.   “So long as he doesn’t piddle on it. We’re going to do it then?  Says here they need an answer by Monday.”

You shake your head incredulously at Chris.   “Are you kidding?  Our favourite team?  The most famous field in all of baseball!  Of course we’re doing it!  And besides, our first date was there.  It’s awesome.”  

It is.  Dodger, catching some of your excitement, gets all keyed up.  He jumps up and puts his paw on Chris’s knee.  His master gives it a grave shake, purses his lips thoughtfully.  “Hmmm. Maybe we can take a couple days off. Hang with mom and everyone.  Charter a jet to make it easy to fly both these dudes.”

You like that idea.  The only thing dampening your enthusiasm was the thought of putting puppy in an airplane hold.  Chris reaches down and gives Dodger’s head a pat before looking across at you, a slow smile spreading along his lips.  Your soulful boyfriend has saved the best bit for last.

“They want me to throw out the first pitch.  With Dodger and puppy there.”

“Woohoo!!”   That’s it. Pandemonium breaks out.   You’re up and dancing with an excited, yipping ball of fluff in your arms, while Chris grabs Dodger and gets his face washed excitedly.  

“We need red ribbons for their collars,” you exclaim, “and to get them groomed and…”

“Whoa.  First things first.   I need to work on my pitch.”  

“Oh I can help with that.  I’ve got good hands.”  

With a glove you mean, but Chris chuckles mischievously and leans in to catch your lips in his.  “I know. Maybe we should go work on ‘signs’.”

Oh god.  You laugh through the feather softness of his kiss along your jaw, shiver as it presses harder and finds the hollow of your throat.  So good.  Your eyes are starting to glaze over while a perfect liquid heat pools low in your core. Several blissful moments are then lost to making out before the ‘kids’ begin to wriggle.  

Puppy’s whining in that way that says he needs to pull up a tree 

Reluctantly you break apart and make a face. “Parent time.” Chris sets Dodger down and goes over to the French doors, slides them open and lets both dogs out into the yard.  It’s warm and a little hazy.  You grab your half empty mug and the invitation, sit at the outdoor dining table to read it through. 

God this is incredible.  They want Chris to throw out the first pitch and join Mr. Henry in his suite.  Lead the seventh inning stretch and bring you too. You’re named.  Wow.  It’s unbelievable.  You look up at Chris and smile, shielding your eyes from the climbing sun.  

He’s stretching out his shoulders, flexing to get out the kinks.   It makes you want to run your hands up underneath his shirt.  

Focus Y/N, focus.  

You tap your fingernails thoughtfully on the mug.  ‘Fenway.  I still can’t believe it.  Puppy and Dodger going to Fenw…  Wait.  That’s it!”  You sit straight up.  It’s perfect.  How had you never thought of it before?

“What?”   Chris swipes your mug to take a swig, cocks one eyebrow, keeping half an eye on the dogs as they go about their routine.  

“Puppyu needs a name.  Before we get to the park. Look.”  You shake the heavy vellum under Chris’s nose.  The Red Sox’s address is in big green lettering at the top.

“Fenway.  It’s the perfect name.”

Chris looks over at the little guy, chasing after Dodger with his tongue lolling out and ears flapping in the wind.  It’s been two whole months since you brought him home. Two months that feel more like two days and have been an amazing ride. 

“Fenway.  Dodger and Fenway.  I love it. It so works.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue.

From Boston’s NESN-TV feed.   June 27, 2018.  Jerry Remy and Steve Lyons announcing.

“Well folks look at that.  It’s a high looping curve ball, right over the plate and Vasquez nabs it easily. He jogs out to the mound.  Hands it straight to tonight’s special first pitch guest: Chris Evans.  Captain America himself has just thrown out the ball on tonight’s Sox-Tribe game.  A long anticipated matchup that is sure to be a slug fest.”  

“You’re right about that Jerry.  The fans, and their pooches, are keyed up for this game on ‘dog day at Fenway’, brought to you by Nutrisource and the Sox’s great management.  37,000 here tonight.  Almost capacity.”

“How many dogs?”

“No official stat on that…but the two cutest gotta be out on there right now.  Dodger and Fenway.  Chris Evans’ and his girlfriend Y/N’s pups.”

“No doubt about it Steve.  They’re both being very good dogs there, standing with Miss Y/N.  Now Mr. Henry and tonight’s managers, Alex Cora and Tito Francona, and the plate umpire come forward to shake Mr Evans’ and Miss Y/N’s hands.  Starting pitcher Drew Pomeranz tips his cap.  We’re just waiting for Mr. Henry to say a few words.”  

“Hmm.  There seems to be a bit of a delay.  Can you tell what’s going on?  The big wigs have all stepped back.”

“Not sure. Wait. Oh lordy.  Mr. Evans has gone down on one knee.”

“Yup.  No doubt about it.  Folks we are witnessing history here.  Mr. Evans is holding Miss Y/N’s hand and pulling something out of his pocket.  It’s looks sparkly and suspiciously like a ring. Miss Y/N is nodding her head and those are definitely tears upon her face.”

“What an amazing moment.  The crowd is on its feet.  The whole stadium is pounding from the cheering.  Mr. Evans has now stood up and wow that kiss might just bust our rating.”

“Dang it, Jer, there’s something in my eye.”

“Mine too.  What a phenomenal way to start this series. The organist has struck up ‘It’s a Wonderful World’ and there’s one heck of powerful hug going on down there.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. 

“And gal.”  

“Absolutely.  They’re slowly starting to walk off, hand in hand, waving to the crowd and the dogs are trotting along.  A storybook start to a new life.  We wish them every happiness.”    

“We sure do.  Look at that. Both dugouts have emptied to salute them.  Nice touch.  Class acts both teams.”

“For sure.  And while the happy couple take a few last waves the infield has filed back to their spots. Pomeranz is scuffing his cleats on the spike cleaner, getting ready for his set up.”    

“It’s a beautiful and special night Boston.  Let’s play ball.”  

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

@sweet-empowerment  @miss-cap21  @brooklyn-to-battlefields @inkwellsandmagicspells     @maggieskeleton   @imagine-cats96  @mewsiex  @yourtropegirl     @its-forevermore  @dirajunara    @s0eul   @our-sharona  @avaalons     @lumelgy   @mycapt-ohcapt  @mypatronusismrpricklepants  @3dsaunt   @mrchristopherrobert   @our-jasmine-universe  @rayleyanns   @s8sense   @tinaferaldo     @callamint  @emilyevanston   @interstateofmind   @lilnerdy   @666themarkofthebitch    @thestarlighthotel    @doloreschanel   @pegasusdragontiger   @zkkn

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #114

“oh yeah, i’m a reaper man; every good thing, i kill it dead.”

What kind of makeup do you think is appropriate for church?  Who cares.  Wear what you want; I don't see how your makeup affects God's opinion on you while in His house. What would you wear to church?  I don't dress up for the same reason as above.  I just wear my usual. Would/do you like having brown eyes? I like having blue eyes.  It's not that brown isn't pretty, it's just so common. What kind of gift would you appreciate for your birthday? I'm just asking for money again.  Can already go see Sara, time to work towards the tattoo. What do you use Facebook for?  My main reason is legit funny pictures lmao.  There's few people I'm actually actively interested in keeping up with. Would you rather be called a geek, a nerd or a dork?  A geek is 100% a compliment lol. Do you like pretzels? Soft ones, yes.  Especially the ones from those little shops at malls, omgggg.  I'd prefer to not eat hard ones. You want your next pet to be what? A bearded dragon.  Or two rats. Would you spend 20 dollars on a candle?  Ha.  No. What is the goriest thing you’ve seen in real life? There was a deer that died directly beside the road leading to our old house and it was decaying.  I still remember all the maggots squirming around in its side. @_@ Do you take any meds? If so which and why?  Mood stabilizers, anxiety med, something for nausea if one of my mood stabilizers causes it, Melatonin, something for heartburn, and birth control unless I want my uterus to tear me apart from the inside. Is "no glove, no love" your STRICT policy?  If I actually was to have sex, yes.  Even with me on the pill, I'm not taking any risks.  Not getting pregnant. If someone breaks a law, should they be punished if they did not know it was a law?  Depends on the law. Name a band you sort of like:  What a thing to admit, but Blood on the Dance Floor.  I like some of their songs, while others are just too repulsive. In your head do you call yourself 'I’ or 'you’ or both?  Usually "you," and always when I'm trying to calm or reassure myself, because it's like hearing validation of something from another person. Someone tells you 'well there are black people, and then there are (removed term bc fuck that word)’. What do you think?  My former friend used to say that and I fucking hated it. Who REALLY has a higher sex drive, girls or guys? How can you tell?  I might be mistaken, but I'm pretty sure there's science behind men having more of a libido. Do you enjoy wild parties?  I literally could never. Have you ever been stereotyped? As what?  I was called both emo and goth in high school.  It wasn't offensive to me personally, but I don't think I totally fit any stereotype. Who do you know that you believe does not masturbate?  I don't for a number of reasons, and I can name a few others I'm pretty sure don't. Does a cloned human being have a soul? Why or why not?  explosion.gif Who looks better naked, men or woman?  Women.  I'm bi, yes, but penises look fucking disgusting to me personally. Is there anything you won’t say unless someone else says it first?  Nothing immediately comes to mind. What’s your favorite type of doughnut? Either glazed or cake (the totally plain ones). Do you have any candles in your bedroom? Do you light them often?  No, I have an incense burner.  I use it often enough. What is your least favorite thing about your full name?  I just don't like my last name, and my middle name's too common, but at least I like the name itself. What’s your favorite kind of Poptart?  Probably the chocolate sundae one.  But I don't like Poptarts much. Do you think you look good with a hat on? I can't remember the last time I wore a hat. Are there some songs you can’t listen to because they remind you of something? "The Mortician's Daughter" and "Stairway to Heaven." Do you live near a street light?  No. Do you wear any rings? A red gem one I got from Mom, then a "bitch/jerk" friendship ring (Supernatural reference) with my girlfriend. Do you put collars on your cats? When we had cats, yeah. Do you like celery?  Ew no. Did you cry while watching the Notebook?  I've never sobbed at a movie, but I cried, yeah.  I've cried in subsequent watches too lmao.  I think I've always teared up, actually. Do you have a protective mom and dad?  Mom's extremely protective of me.  I'd say Dad's pretty normal. What field trip did you last go on?  Probably for a band competition in high school. Five ways to win your heart:  Uhhh.  Show compassion, patience, generosity, wisdom, and maturity. Your views on mainstream music:  It's getting too vulgar to be on the radio.  I firmly believe children don't need to hear profanity (they don't know when it's inappropriate to use) or talk of sex, and songs just have so much censorship yet lack thereof now.  If you're going to censor almost an entire song, why the hell play it?  Then some songs are so clearly about sex or just openly say the word that it bothers me.  I wouldn't wanna explain what sex is to say my like five-year-old if they heard some of the shit on the radio and asked questions. Put your iPod on shuffle and write that 10 first songs that play: 1.) "Clocks" by Coldplay, 2.) "Paradise City" by Guns N' Roses, 3.) "Blessed With a Curse" by Bring Me the Horizon, 4.) "Let It Die" by Starset, 5.) "I Don't Love You" by My Chemical Romance, 6.) "Animals" by Nickelback, 7.) "Shoots and Ladders" by Korn, 8.) "Divinity Statue" from DMC3, 9.) "Float On" by Modest Mouse, 10.) "This Is Gospel" by Panic! at the Disco. A quote you try to live by: "Life's hard.  Shouldn't you be, too?"  ... It's not meant to be an innuendo. How do you know when someone thinks you’re attractive?  I would literally have to be told lmao. Which one of your relationships was the shortest?  Two weeks and it was fucking stupid. Which was the longest?  Almost four years. If you want to get married, what age? I don't have a set age in mind.  Just whenever my s/o and I are ready. What did you end up getting for Christmas? A PS2 after mine broke years ago ahhhh, way too much money from my dad, his wife, and my grandpa, a "meerkat lover" street sign, a meerkat puzzle I'mma do and frame for my room, some pajama pants, an iHome for my iPod, Pikachu and Grumpy Cat plushies that're too cute, among other things that aren't coming to mind rn. Do you think buying underwear/bras at Victoria’s Secret is a waste?  Meh, mixed feelings.  Like they are way too expensive for some damn bras and underwear, but if they make you feel more confident or pretty in your body, buy them. Do you like glittery things? Usually. Do you like Red Lobster?  It used to be my favorite restaurant, but after I got sick after eating there, I haven't gone since.  Even though I was feeling sick before we went, it's just an association thing. What are you most scared of?  Relapse, losing certain people. Favorite video game?  "Silent Hill 2" Do you believe that leaving a significant other for someone else is ever a good idea?  YUP. because if you loved the first person, you wouldnt even consider the second.  <<<< This. Do you have any possessions that you’re very attached to, and you’d be absolutely devastated if you damaged or lost them? Absolutely devastated... the little rock I got from my partial hospitalization at Holly Hill.  When someone "graduates," you pick a shiny rock from a jar that gets passed around the room for your "classmates" to wish you well and say anything they'd like to say about you while they hold it.  I cherish that thing so much. What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done, and you got away with it? I guess have oral entirely naked on the old chaise in the living room.  But we were home alone. How much do you want to weigh?  I was totally happy at 120, but I was fine at 140.  Supposedly I should be like 130-something. If you HAD to do your holiday shopping for EVERYONE in only ONE store what store would you pick?  Uh probably Walmart lmao. Do you believe that guns don’t kill people and that people kill people? Why?  People kill people, and that's coming from someone afraid of guns.  You have a choice where you're pointing that thing. What is the difference between a good poem and a bad one?  I don't like ones that are virtually impossible to understand. Which do you need more: sugar, caffeine, alcohol, drugs, sex, sleep?  I'm addicted to caffeine, I can't go two days without it. @_@ Who is someone you know should deserve more respect?  Ha, my Dad from my mom. What movie would you like to see again, that you haven’t watched since you were a kid?  The first movie that came to mind was "Shiloh." Are birds happy in cages? Are pets happy indoors?  I truly doubt birds are happy in cages, but maybe if they have enough entertainment and it's big enough?  But I'm sure like dogs and cats are fine indoors considering a whole house is much bigger.  Though I think bigger dogs especially need to be let out to run around sometimes. Hula hoops or jump ropes?  Jump ropes.  Loved it as a kid.  Now my knees would murder me. Can you understand sign language?  No.  But I remember learning this song in elementary school that we had to sing and do sign language to, but I don't remember any of it. Does anyone in your family hunt?  Nicole, my little sister. How about fish? Me and Dad, maybe his dad. Do you pronounce the "l" in salmon?  No. Have you ever gotten stuck on an amusement park ride? Thank Christ no. Have you ever seen an albino animal?  Maybe?  I've seen a white alligator, but it technically wasn't albino. Have you ever tried summoning Bloody Mary?  No. When is the last time you consumed alcohol? New Year's Eve.  I drank a margarita way too fast but felt nothing because my alcohol tolerance is God-Tier. ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  (Though I like never drink.) Do you ever judge people based on if they believe in God or not? No. Are you sometimes scared to express your opinions in fear of what others might think? Y U P Do you ‘bless’ strangers when they sneeze? Sometimes. Would you rather go to a University or a community college?  The latter if they offered good classes.  It's cheaper, and you can still get a worthy degree. What’s your favorite kind of bread?  Pumpernickel. What toppings do you like on your pizza?  Only jalapenos or pepperoni. What color or design does your shower curtain have?  It's just white. What color is your microwave?  Black. Could you ever give yourself a shot?  If I had to, yeah. Have you ever been so embarrassed that you cried?  Story of my life. How many people have told you they were in love with you?  One. Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted?  Well, we're both girls, so actual sex would be psychically impossible, but I'd do as close as we could to it if she made it very clear she wanted to. Does it bother you when people don’t answer questions with exact answers?  Yes, especially if I'm asking them a question about needing validation for something.  Don't be vague. Have you ever watched a needle go into your own skin?  I usually do so I know exactly when it's coming.  And if I'm getting my blood drawn, I watch it for whatever reason. @_@ Have you ever seen someone get a piercing/tattoo? Yes. Do you like strawberry and banana smoothies?  Strawberry.  I doubt I'd like banana. Do you know someone that is mute, deaf or blind? My sister Ashley is literally blind in one eye, I think her right?  For the other two, idk. What’s your favorite horror movie? I really like both "Blair Witch Project"s, as well as "The Crazies." Is it true that people with depression CAN’T function in society?  Sometimes, absolutely. Can you think of any person or group you cannot empathise with?  Pedophiles, rapists, racists, abusive people, homophobes, the list goes on. Do you want to get married? If so, what color will your dress be? It'll be either black, white, or ivory, idk. Do you like peanut butter and fluff sandwiches?  NO. Do you play video games? If so, what kind?  Yes, just about exclusively story-based ones that usually involve horror.  But I like many others, so long there's actually plot to it. How old is your oldest and youngest friend?  Oldest is like... 32, youngest is 17, I think. How weight conscious are you?  Only extremely. Stripes or polka dots? Polka dots. What was your first word?  "Dada" What's a show that you absolutely refuse to watch?  "13 Reasons Why" Do you remember how old you were when you started swearing? 7th grade. Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before?  I'm actually not sure.  I don't think so.  If it did, Mom never told us. Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls?  Yes, until I think a dirty needle was found in one of McDonald's ball pits. Do you think biting is weird or sexy? I like it so long you don't leave a mark in an obvious spot. Do you have a class ring?  No. What type of internet browser are you using?  Chrome. How long do your showers typically last? Not even ten minutes. Can you cry on cue?  No. Were you a Nancy Drew reader when you were younger?  No. Are you the kind of person that takes pictures with a drink in your hand?  No, and quite frankly, it's obnoxious.  You're getting intoxicated.  Congrats. Do either of your parents have a mental illness?  Mom has depression, and she says Dad's bipolar, but I absolutely don't see it now that they're divorced. When you were growing up, did your family rent or own your home?  Own. When was the last time you wore a full face of makeup?  I couldn't tell you.  The most I ever wear is eye liner, shadow, mascara, and lipstick, but I don't consider that a "full face of makeup." Do you own an iPad?  No. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?  No, thank goodness. Do you think it’s wrong for people to say 'retard/retarded’ as an insult?  I FUCKING HATE IT. How many people of the opposite sex have made you cry?  I think two. Would you eat a live tarantula for $1,000?  No, I just wouldn't be able to.  If it didn't have its fangs, maybe? What’s one health problem you wish you didn’t have?  Anxiety.  Shit would be so much better without it. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom by one year. Do you have any close friends that were adopted? No. Do you believe that people can be psychics? No. List these apple types from greatest to worst: green, red, yellow. Red, green, yellow. Does your house have more than one fireplace?  We don't have even one. When it rains does it leave a lake in your front yard?  No.  My original home was like that, though.  It ALWAYS flooded. Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks?  No, I actually found it flattering to know they wanted me to sign it. Where is one place that you’d never be caught dead in?  A strip club, to name one. Do you have a favorite Scooby-Doo movie?  I loved the Phantom Virus one.  Even had the game. Do you dislike when people ruin the endings of anything for you?  Yes, unless I ask to just be told. You are holding onto your grandmother’s hand and the hand of a newborn that you do not know as they hang over the edge of a cliff. You have to let one go to save the other. Who do you let fall to their death? What was your rationale for making the decision?  ... Whoa.  I'd feel fucking godawful, but I'd save my grandmother.  I'm not calling the baby less human, but my grandmother is more conscious of life and everything, I guess? Which would you choose: true love with a guarantee of a broken heart, or never loved at all? Why? Never love at all.  Heartbreak is fucking awful. Have you ever seen the movie "A Walk to Remember?" Cliche or worth watching?  I think it's worth watching.  Very sweet movie. Do you know how to sew? What’s your favorite thing to sew? No. Do you own many pairs of shorts?  I don't own any. Do you ever have movie nights with your significant other?  Ye<3 Do you like fiction or non-fiction books more? What’s your favorite?  Fiction.  "Johnny Got His Gun" and "The Outsiders." Have you ever slept in the same bed as your friend? Yeah. How many tattoos would you get?  I want LOADS. What brand of toothpaste do you use? Crest. Would you ever tattoo the name of a bf/gf or spouse on yourself?  No.  I'd get a matching tattoo relatively deep into marriage, but name, nah. What’s your least favorite season? Summer. D: What’s your favorite dessert?  Red velvet cake. Do you like cotton candy? Meh, I can have a couple bites. Do you have any shirts signed by famous people?  No. Where do you normally get your hair cut? A family friend's salon. What would your dream engagement ring look like? I really like dragon's breath opal rings or rose gold ones but idk how expensive either are. @_@ What’s the longest your hair has ever been?  Like to the small of my back. How do you feel about bleach blonde hair? Gorgeous on some people, not for me. Do you know anyone who has been arrested? Yes. Name 2 questions that you will most likely never say ‘no’ to:  1.) "Do you wanna go get a tattoo?", 2.) "Do you wanna Skype?" if it's Sara. Imagine someone has a great personality, sense or humor, family and job. they also really really like you a lot. Would you consider dating them if they: Were fat?  Yes. Limped?  Yes. Were a midget?  Yes. Had HIV?  No, because I'm too scared to put myself at risk. Were paralyzed in one arm?  Yes. Had a glass eye?  Yes. Had only 6 months to live?  No, that would destroy me. Would you get married on TV?  No.  I don't want people I don't care about watching. Do you own a metal detector?  No.  I did as a kid, though.

[sighingtirf]

It’s just...so hard to wrap my mind around all that has happened within this year.

And I don’t want to let go of it. I’m terrified of losing the memories. Time keeps going on, and that’s always fucked with me.

I want to be back in the old house, in the old neighborhood. I want her to be alive again. I want him to be hurting me again.

I dropped out of school at the beginning of October.

I went to the concert at the end of October. A few days prior, I went to a concert from a band he was really into, as well. It was at this latter concert that my altered states seemed to go away / merged into one/me. I didn’t realize that at that time, but looking back on it, that seems to be where it happened.

Then there was Halloween. I let him dress me up and apply my makeup. He helped her with her makeup. She was cute and having fun and taking pictures and posting them to facebook. He and I wandered around outside and talked about The Devil’s Carnival, and we compared ourselves to the Painted Doll and that angel dude who betrayed her, because I was dressed as a devil (and there was already a comparison between me and her before this), and he was dressed as an angel.

Early November, he physically assaulted me.

Early November, the elections happened. Trump took executive, and the other two branches turned red too.

Mid November I vented to my best friend six hours straight about everything he was doing and had done to me. I about had a panic attack when I recalled the physical assault, not having realized just how bad things were. I started really being able to put into words everything he was doing, and started really figuring out that it was abuse.

Shortly afterwards, I had a two and a half hour talk with him about everything. He understood and admitted to fault and apologized and talked things through with me. The next day he was so gentle and careful and I became more terrified than ever because it felt like walking on eggshells, when before it would just be constant stress but I KNEW when he was getting aggressive. I was terrified for months afterwards.

Three of my cats had to leave. We took them down to my grandparents’ house, but they weren’t allowed to go indoors because the cat they already had hated other cats.

The next day or so, we moved out of the house and into the new one; a few weeks prior she had received news that the rent was rising and we couldn’t pay it (and I heard her crying on the phone on her bed), so we had to find a new place. 

She went into the hospital not long before my birthday, as her mental state was getting to that point again. Although I wanted her here when I turned 18, I worried for her safety and valued her health. 

My 18th birthday was miserable, made better only through the fact that a mutual of mine drew my self-insert.

I soul-bonded with my self-insert.

She was still in the hospital by Christmas. Christmas was awkward. It was held in our house like my mother wanted--we’d been excited to finally have a big enough place to host Christmas this year--but she wasn’t there. My grandparents were, and my fiance and I were, but he was so awkward with them. It was all-around awkward and I wished it could have been happier and closer, but that’s hard to have happen when your fiance is secretly abusing you and is uncomfortable with most of your family and your mother is in the hospital being court ordered and otherwise abused by medical “professionals”.

I was crushing on a mutual, and it was getting more and more intense by the day. I was falling in love with him.

January, my mom got out and we held our own Christmas, even though it was late. She was so excited and bouncy.

My fiance raped me.

Later in January, she took my fiance and I to my birthtown. It was so nice visiting. We wanted to see snow, but most of it was hardened and we couldn’t really play in it, but I loved it anyway. We broke some random person’s sled because my fiance was insensitive and decided to coerce us to go on property that turned out to be private property. We had Wendy’s.

February, my mutual and I confessed our feelings for each other, and came so close to dating. And then the very night before Valentine’s Day, he bailed on me for some other girl. I spent all of Valentine’s Day crying. I made vent art of my self-insert being abandoned by his love interest, to be left with his abusive boyfriend.

Sometime in March, my mom went in for surgery; her boyfriend was getting out of prison soon and she didn’t want the possibility of having more kids because although she would love that, she knew she wasn’t capable of raising any more children. Then she got the flu. Despite this, she was relatively happy because for once, the people in the hospitals were treating her with relative dignity and respect because it was clear physical issues she was in for, not mental health or “something is wrong with me physically and I don’t know what please help”, and because her boyfriend was getting out of prison soon.

The beginning of the week. Her boyfriend got out of prison. She was so happy. So so happy.

Monday. I finally had a long talk with my fiance about everything. It was finally to the point where I had a chance of breaking away from him, safely, without losing the support I still desperately needed. Things were going to finally be okay.

Tuesday. My grandparents’ cat died. She was as old as I was. We’d had her since I was two years old. Everyone’s pets were dying that week...it was incredibly strange.

Wednesday. I woke up at around 4 AM to go pee. I heard soft talking and crying at the bottom of the stairs. I consider going back to bed, but I go down to find my fiance talking with my mom, who’s crying on the couch. She hadn’t gotten to see her boyfriend. She had sent him messages saying that she felt hurt that he kept brushing her off and wasn’t even talking about making time to see her, and he responded by being extremely cruel, sending awful messages--”it was like he took everything he learned about me during our relationship, and he used them all against me”. 

Thursday. My fiance and I contact an abuse hotline together, loveisrespect, which I’d contacted secretly twice before about him. He was looking for help and counseling, as an abuser, to learn how to better himself and not be harmful. Not much seemed to come of it, especially as the connection kept shutting down for some reason.

Friday. I went to my grandparents’ for the weekend, to visit an old friend and hopefully meet up with a potential hookup. 

Saturday. Saturday. Saturday. I didn’t know. I was ignorant what happened, what was happening at the same time I was meeting with my friend. Saturday. Saturday. Saturday.

Sunday.

I can’t.....

Sunday.

We went to church.

She was supposed to pick me up.

She wasn’t even answering the phone.

My fiance had messaged my grandpa, saying she wasn’t answering her door in the morning before he went to work, either.

Sunday.

My grandparents drove me home.

Sunday.

My grandfather ran up stairs.

Sunday.

He pounded on the door. Called her name. I pounded on the door. Yelled her name.

Sunday.

He finally managed to break down the door.

Sunday.

She was gone. She appeared to be there, but she wasn’t. Not really. she was gone. the medics came. they confirmed it.

we knew what she’d done. it was an overdose. she was gone.

time stopped the moment i saw her. it hasn’t progressed since. it’s still april 2nd, a little past 2 pm. it’s still april 2nd. it’s still april 2nd.

may. we moved to this new state. my first time living out of state.

june. apparently i’m a butch lesbian.

july. i have a radfem blog now. i’m a radfem, apparently.

sometime around this time, my soul-bonded self-insert left me, as connecting to me was messing with him and affecting his ability to survive in his own life.

late july. her birthday. her birthday.

august. i belive it was early this month, either that or late july, that my relative showed her colors and abusively screamed at me. later i come to the conclusion that my fiance had raped me back in january. i figure this out either the day before, or the day that we move into my first apartment that i have to pay for with her money, that she isn’t around to see. 

september. idk, don’t remember.

october. it’s october now. fiance turns out to be a radfem, too. comes out as a lesbian. my grandparents are making preparations to move up here too, and to sell the house they’ve had since before i was born. the house i grew up in.

[queenlupitajones]

Becoming Lynette

“Models! Models! Models!” 

Shouts the floor manager in precise conviction as he ran around the corners of the fancy room where long-legged fashion entities dressed themselves in their most daring and unapologetic Twinkie tops and lace garments that draped their sun-kissed perfected nature. The boudoirs were lighted in incandescent luminosities reflecting beauty in gesticulation. Shades of luminous pink and high profile beige painted to hide freckles and the dark circles of the cruel world. Permed and ironed hot blondes and auburns and the plain dark waves arrayed in diversity as the music bombarded the runway with its beat and melancholic grace. Euphoric and agitated, fashion monsters sat still and spotted on the next big thing in the fashion world.

“Models, ready! In 3, 2, 1!..”

I walked towards the light, smiling with delicate consistency and vigor. My insipid legs swathed with sweat and the sparkling gems they pasted on me. I saw no one but myself in that moment. It was my moment. It was Jamaica Santorini’s magical moment.

Then I reminisced, in every pace of my Jimmy Choo stiletto, comes the flashback of a distant memoir. The echoing cheers were the roars of poverty that struck me pale and hungry for some dreadful nights, my girlfriends turned their backs and looked at me in the eye, their biting grin and scary scowls reminded me of the people who once challenged me and my dreams, stepped on me at times, and discouraged me a thousand fold.

“My catwalk was a killer, I did the Naomi Campbell twist with the Tyra Banks ‘smize’,” as my assertive mind exclaimed.

Another step to the aisle of fame and luxury, when I heard a gentle tick coming from the bottom of my tip-toed 6 inch heel. I tripped, and saw myself already on my knees, helpless, and nobody cared. Like a waterfall, my tears dropped to the floor and all the blinding lights went out, the crowd disappeared and I’m back to my dainty, old, pitiful self. The Jamaica from the hood, who counts stars and creates her own constellation out from the oblivious dots of her ambitious soul.

There I was, staring blank to the ceiling of my small space, enduring the redundant buzz of my dilapidated fan, blowing the sticky notes posted in my “Bucketlist Wall.” I stood and started picking the notes I have written religiously for the past 4 years. One by one, I contemplated the inspiration behind each note; “I will go and study in a prestigious university in the city.” I smiled, and realized I was already in it, studying in Crimson University was a privilege that won’t measure to any material bribe. That was my dream. I studied as an academic scholar grantee, after I graduated valedictorian in high school. I need to get a scholarship since my parents won’t be able to send me to college, I still have seven other siblings who will depend on the success of this journey. Yes. I am the family’s breed winner--a typical plot in our village.

It all started when mom passed away when I was five. I was playing with my friends in the neighborhood when I found out she had already gasp for her final breath. I knew my mom has an ailment, she was already bed-ridden for the past 6 months, I knew how much she wanted to stay and live long, because my mom was a fighter. She would always defend us when the bad guys come around, and she’s talented too, she sings her favorite song “Paper Roses” until we fall asleep, she’s the woman I adored so much, who won’t like to see us weak and weeping. She aspires her children to become strong and sensible men and women in the society. But I guess, she won’t be able to see us achieve our dreams for her.

Tears rolled from my eyes, the moment I started imagining her face. I snapped and scolded myself for being a melodramatic. “Positivity.” I uttered, and exhaled with enthusiasm. Another note, this time the purple one flew and landed on my side table; “Make my dad proud,” it read. “Oh, my dad,” I sighed.

Dad remarried 2 years after mom died. Instantly, my stepmother bore our youngest sibling. I knew how much dad would have wanted a complete and happy family. I would want that too. But, soon after he got married to that mischievous woman, his eyes withered and forgot all the emotions his children deserve. He’s always upset and frustrated. Like any man, he never spoke to us with such endearment, no “I love you’s,” just silence. No birthday parties, but early sleep roll calls. My dad has always been like that, strict, hushed, insensitive, and passive.

It was during my high school graduation that I felt all the world’s boulders wedged on my shoulder. He didn’t show up. In fact, I dedicated my speech to him, thinking that he’d be happier if he will hear all the beautiful words of gratitude that I toiled with the night before. I was such a cry baby, a weak spirited lass. But I never hated my father after what he did. I have to understand everything has changed. I am no longer his princess because he found her evil queen.

I came to my senses when I heard my phone rang. It was my best friend Lynette.

From the other line she said, “can you come to my apartment? It’s kind of boring here, I need someone to talk, and guess what? I bought you’re favorite Dunkin Donut, Bavarian Supreme!”

“I knew you’re gonna call. I’ll be there in a bit, I’m gonna claim my Bavarian Supremo! And one thing, I’ll sleep over, okay?”

“That would be great! See you because I missed you,” then she hanged up.

I immediately packed my things, my two-day-not-yet-ironed school uniform, my three year old black flats, my thesaurus, toothbrush, and a pair of fresh clothes. I walked from my dormitory to her apartment not minding the danger that could commence in this wild city street. There were prostitutes flaunting their flesh to the blind drunkards across the road, I couldn’t dare to watch the lewdness of the scene, nor the cat-calling and the obnoxious whispers of bigotry. I walked as fast as I could, and saw bunch of beggars asking for alms, children fighting over a piece of Chicken Joy. It was a dead end for them, and I felt scared thinking if such would happen to me.

Finally, I am at the front gate of my best friend’s apartment and saw Lynette coming out of the door. She was wearing a loose flannel shirt and a panda-printed pajama, she always looks beautiful whatever she wears and was always the cheerful one, affluent, since her mom is an actress, and her dad is a lawyer. She’s intelligent too, and very good in literature. That is no question since she’s this year’s University Queen Ambassadress. She’s got the wit and the beauty in every little bit of her bone. And the ironic thing is that she has a friend completely opposite to her in every detail. That’s why in our Grammar class, when the professor asked me to give an example of an antonym, my hypothalamus would always say “Lynette is the antonym for Jamaica.”

Lynette hugged me, and whispered, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too Lyn,” I responded.

We went inside her room and started exchanging conversations. She would always ask me about school and how I dealt with the environment. Everything seems fine to me, especially when I met Justine. Lynette always loves to listen to my stories about Justine.

“Tell me about Justine today? Did you meet?” she asked.

“Yeah, we were on… I mean, on the same class. And finally I got the chance to talk to him, I know it sounds crazy, but our conversation lasted only for 2 minutes.”

I was not surprised when she gave me the loudest “O.M.G.” in the world. Then, it’s like her tongue was in total panic, asking me questions from one after another.

“You go girl! That 2 minute talk is a killer! I mean, it’s already legit. So, what did he tell you? Did he tell you you’re beautiful? Did he asked you for dinner? Or a date? A study out? Or did he share something intimate to you?”

“What are you asking me? Of course he won’t tell me that I’m beautiful because in the first place I’m not. Worse, no one takes an ugly duckling for dinner or a date. Study out? That’s too impossible for a guy like him, he’d rather play online games the whole night than be with me. Something intimate? Never! Can’t you see? I’m a hopeless case. I’m plain and unattractive to any guy. Lynette, I’m not like you. We’re way too different, and Justine is too handsome for me, just imagine those deep, brown, Turkish eyes, those sexy eyebrows, his red lips, not to mention the competition I’ll be getting from the Queen B’s, especially Rebecca.”

Lynette rolled her eyes and said, “So you are afraid with that Rebecca slash Queen of Goats? Did you see her new hair color and that afro-perm she did with her hair? She looked like a lamb, an old, cranky lamb. I don’t even get the idea why she became cheerleader, when she’s not even cheerful, she’s always mean and rude and selfish. The world is such an ironic place sometimes.”

Then, she stood and took my hand, “come here you drama queen, who says you’re not beautiful? You know what? You are. Come here, I’ll show you something.”

She let me face her vanity mirror and instructed me to close my eyes.

“I want you to close your eyes and imagine all of the beautiful things that happened to you. Take a journey back to your memory lane and gather all your happy thoughts.”

She continued.

“What can you see? Now, I want you to hug yourself and as you open your eyes, gently utter the words, I am beautiful.”

I did what she said. Then she looked at me still holding her hands with mine.

“What you just said is true. Yes, you are beautiful, not because you are attractive but because you have this brave heart that could break any wall that fate would build. As long as you believe in the beauty of your dreams and have the undying will to achieve them, then you are no different from the women you see in the magazines.”

I was inspired by her words that I instantly hugged her.

“Did you really mean that? How I wish Justine will see that. Anyway, thank you. Can I eat my doughnut now?”

She just smiled and nodded.

I was in an impeccable solitude, it was a perfect moment. The moon is beaming and deflecting its interminable vivacity. Fireflies are dancing with the sycamore leaves swaying back and forth as the evening zephyr blew their acquitted amalgamation. I saw Justine in a corner, on his left hand is a red box, and on the other is a bouquet of dandelions and garden-fresh hyacinth. I was delighted to see him, he came closer, and closer until his deep Turkish eyes met my innocent dark round irises. I could feel his scent touching my cheeks which made my heart skip a beat. As Justine was about to make his way and enter my guiltless lips, I heard a reverberating sound of harsh foot steps coming from somewhere. I scrutinized the blurry panorama and apprehended that it was Rebecca wearing her interstellar gear.

“What are you doing? You grotesque and boring woman?” she shouted in fury.

Slowly, her friendly chortle, turned to a sour and loud laugh. She transformed into an eight legged monster and devoured Justine whole. I screamed witnessing the hostility.

My resounding scream went weak and what I heard next was the loud buzzer coming from the university corridor. That’s where I realized I was having a nightmare in broad daylight. Some of my classmates noticed how my body awkwardly reacted. Then I saw Lynette who was seated next to me, then she whispered, “Are you okay?” I only responded with a gentle nod.

I saw Rebecca and her girlfriends giggling, with their eyes jammed towards my direction. I didn’t pay attention to what they’re doing or even to what they’re saying because I know it’s not worth it.

There goes the last subject of the day. It’s going to be a long weekend since there will be no class on Monday. I am now receiving calls and text messages from my clients, one of them asked me to go to their house and do laundry, another client asked me to write a poem for her son’s school assignment. The most common task they usually ask me to do is to write reflection papers, and since I am a writer, writing about the same theme for 12 people is quite a tedious job. I did make a petty kind of living out from such minimalistic resources. It is my only way to survive in this money-matters-most urban state most especially now that my dad has less financial support for my school allowances. From once a week, it was reduced to once a month. It would really starve me. There would be nights where I have to sleep with an empty stomach and skip meals just to save my money up. It wasn’t easy negotiating with your feelings and at the same time tame the monsters inside your intestines. The act alone immunized my system, and it seems like my body just adapted to the drastic changes the situation has set me in.

As the academic stages ascended to its harshest adversity, my situation went from worse to worst then even worse than the worst. I couldn’t believe I will experience eating once in a day, consume left-overs from nearby bakeshops. Sometimes, I have to go to fast-food chains and apply as a dishwasher, just to get free food as a compensation for my labor. I remembered the beggars asking for alms in the streets.

“What if I join them? In that sense, I won’t be hungry, and eating less in a day won’t hurt because I’ll get used to it eventually,” as I spoke to my mind. But I realized, “No, I’m more than these problems, I am not a quitter who dwells in shortcuts, I am more than the hunger I feel, I am more than my own loneliness and the pain that succumbs my faith. I have friends, I have Lynette, and we will graduate together, I will become a teacher, and Lynette will become a supermodel. Yes, I’ll call Lynette, and tell her that I haven’t eaten lately and that I missed her.”

I tried to reach her phone. No one answered. I did it again, now for the tenth time, my fingers were tired, I think I should go to her and make it more personal. I reached her apartment at exactly six in the evening. I noticed her apartment was all dark.

“Is she home?” I asked myself.

I called for her name, but I heard no one but silence. I felt cold and forgot I was hungry. I’m puzzled and I want my question to be answered, “Where is my best friend?”

The mysterious disappearance of my best friend that day made me think, “I’ll be on my own now.”

“Rain and dust blurring the busy streets. Umbrella of lovers embracing the thin cool air. Grey, gloomy skies sauntering over and the sun in its slightest shimmer winks to the warm clouds. I cried stones over the lost of a friend, when will this sadness come to its end? But, I have to breathe for life and break free, I know our roads will cross soon and so I start anew.”

I was awaken by the loud and excited sound of foot steps in my dormitory, I checked my phone, it’s five in the morning. I opened my window and the warm breeze of March kissed my cheeks, I could see the half-risen sun emerging and devouring the city with its glorious emissions. The silhouette of the tall skyscrapers surrounding the city were a magnificent sight to contemplate. The scent of freshly baked pastries in the nearby bakeshop seems to invite me for a cup of warm chocolate. Everything looked perfect. I rushed to the shower room and pore over how this day will turn out. Then I remembered Lynette and the day she disappeared. It’s been two years and still my question is not yet answered. “Where is my best friend?”

Here I am, on my graduation day. Half excited, half so-so. I still missed Lynette. I climbed to the stage and faced the crowd on their special day and had my valedictory speech as this year’s batch Summa Cum Laude. Everything was normal, like how the early birds catch their early worms. I thanked my dad who, for the first time attended my graduation. I thanked all of my contemporaries, the school, and myself. I thanked myself because I remained brave for four years and I remained Lynette’s best friend even if she’s only a memory.

After the celebration, I went back to my dormitory alone and did looked at myself in the mirror.

In a gentle whisper I told myself, “I am beautiful.” Then the words ran from my mouth again and again, until tears dropped like dimes, I missed Lynette so much. My tears lead me to my slumber and dried on their own.

The next morning, I knew exactly what I want to do. I will become a fashion supermodel. I will take the path Lynette dreamed and take with me the idea that she has inculcated-- I am beautiful.

I cancelled my state board examination and pursued modelling. It’s like back to square one, but simply in a different direction, with different people, and a different goal. I went to go-sees and came across people in all walks of life. There were those who appreciated my efforts, commented on my weaknesses, and envied my success. I thought the road to the top of this industry is difficult, but the truth is, it’s only a walk in the park. It doesn’t require good looks nor a beautiful personality. I have met models with bad character, spreaders of negative rumors, and the insecure ones, and I don’t care much because at the end of the day, you don’t sell yourself, you sell clothes and promote them to the public. That’s what I understood.

In every fashion show I get booked in and in every camera that flashed me in candid, I realized I’m becoming more Lynette. In every Versace that I unzip I’m becoming more expensive and sophisticated. In every Gucci, or Prada I use to pack my clothes in, the more it defines my socio-economic status and in every country that I visited for my fashion shows, New York, Tokyo, Rio, Paris name it, the more I realized that the world is seeing me like how I wanted it to be. I was in the limelight, and I’m loving the pleasure that comes with it. I met gentlemen whom I danced and flirted with. I fell in love with the scent of money and fame. I had boyfriends and girl friends, enjoyed their company and hated their sympathies. I’m becoming more of Lynette, the envious, discontented and anorexic Lynette, who drugged herself to death.

The lights breathed back and the audience were still, as if they’re waiting for a quick recovery and without qualms, my overflowing confidence told me to stand from the fall. I picked myself up and faced the inaudible spectators with my convincing smile and poise. No one will stop me from where I am heading. This is the most beautiful accident that happened to me and its wounds are engraved in my soul and this, I will own forever.

I finished my walk and drowned with the crowd’s applause. I went backstage to change on my final look, with the same old routine, a dab of powder, and swipe of lip gloss to add to my shine.

“Models, in 3, 2, 1…” as the floor manager instructed.

I came out wearing Lynette in my core. I felt the world in my shadows, and the crystal embellishments singing in its melodious grand—the tune of victory.

In every step I take on that runway, I knew in my blood it was Lynette walking inside me, It was Lynette smiling and airing every single fierce mien, and the Lynette I envisaged of becoming.

[whathappenedtomeisreal-blog]

My Cats.

Tw; abuse and neglect of both animal and child, loss, mention of partner abuse and substance abuse

Batman is a good boy. A very loving cat who I did what I could to protect.

He was born on my foot by my previous cat Pastry, nearly 7 years ago.

I think Pastry came from abuse or a rescue. Dropped off by my aunt, we were asked to baby sit for someone else.

When they gave her to me I sat on my bed, I just petted her until she purred, and that was it, she was my best friend.

They never told us her name and they never came back. I think my aunt stole her from a bad home. She was very thin.

Her name came from the many amounts of food oriented nicknames.

Many cats had been given away on me, Pastry, my love and soul buddy was one.

It took 3 days of me searching, with the other cats, around the property, to try to find her, before my dad admitted to getting rid of her.

The cats were more of my family then my human family. I learned to understand them because they were all I could talk to with out fear.

(I even have some personality traits from the cats)

It was over a pork chop bone. Because she found a cool food and decide to bring it home with her. I think it was meant to be a gift. Cats are known to bring things to eat as gifts.

He had a cat die of a chicken bone and didn’t want a trash picker.

It hurt so much. I often thought about going to the humane society to get her back. I still do, but I know she’s gone.

My dad told me I could keep the last kitten of the litter and that he wouldn’t let this one be taken away from me like the rest.

One of the few things I truly am grateful to my father for.

Belle was one kitten I had while I still lived at my moms. I loved her. She woke me up in the morning around the same time. I called her my alarm clock.

I let cats have their own space but after 2 days of not seeing her I became concerned. I asked if she had seen her and my mother acted like I neglected her. “Oh! you finally noticed did ya? About time!” I cried for days.

I recently learned they dropped her off at a random farmland to live on her own. She likely died of starvation or from farm equipment. I’m sorry my baby… I hope you knew I loved you so much, you never should have been alone like that. 💔 I try not to think of what might have been the screams and cries

But abuse has to limits to who and what.

That’s kinda of the point of this post I suppose.

Returning to Batman;

I did my best to hide away with him. I refused to allow anyone to hit him. He was there for me while I hid in my room and cried. He came when I called no matter how far from the house he was. He was my best friend. I screamed at them when they pointed a loaded drawn back bow at him. I’ll likely edit and add more to this.

I ended up dropped off at my moms (no cats), then my dads again to sleep on the couch, and then later my moms, which was deflected, and I was dropped off at a homeless shelter. Leaving batman alone and unprotected with nowhere to hide, in my dads care.

I ended up in another psychosis while under the thumb of an abusive manipulative gas lighting drug addict. I admit I didn’t see batman often or pay him much attention. I hate myself for it and I regret it.

I still don’t know everything that happened but this is what I found.

Batman had been peeing on things and my dad flipped shit every time. Screamed, yelled, chased, hit, even ripped a cat house in half that batman was hiding in, from him.

“Fuck batman” “I’m going to kill your cat one of these days” “your lucky I don’t break his neck” “throw him off the balcony” and many other threats. Sometimes he'd say he was only joking. but I don't know how much of it really was just joking.

He peed on paperwork, his spot in the couch, his bed, and other things my dad took personally offensive

The day he ripped the cat house in half a had something to say. I told him batman was likely was peeing on things because he didn’t like my dad. Passive aggressive behaviours are something they’re sensitive to, which he’s bad for, and traumatizing him by chasing him and ripping his favourite hiding place in half wasn’t going to help. Then I said that I no long wished to talk about it to keep him from arguing against it.

My last roommates refused to let me have my cat. I hated them because they triggered huge amounts of trauma for me and couldn’t care less. I even tried to say some about it and said it wasn’t their problem. Tried to get me evicted. But that’s a huge story for another time.

When my current boyfriend (Sean) got a place and I stayed with him. He wanted to help me get batman back and even pushed for it. I’m glad he did.

A few days before I noticed batman had a pot belly. He’s never had one before, maybe he was depressive eating?

When we picked him up, my dad said I was lucky he didn’t give him away, that he had many chances to do so. I ignored him and lost some respect that he would even say that to me.

It wasn’t long before I noticed he wasn’t the same.

It took us 3 days. 3 days to figure out something was seriously wrong.

When batman first peed on the bed Sean yelled at him thinking my dad was right. (Don’t worry, He got a literal bite in the ass for it later.) honestly, I was worried the same. Maybe it became a habit.

When it happened again, and I brought batman to it to make sure he knew what he did wrong. He was curious about it. Like it surprised him it was there. It was small, it wasn’t a full pee. Then I realized he hasn’t peed much in the last few days…

Fuck.

I knew what it was. My dads cat had it too. He had a urinary blockage. That’s why he was peeing on things for the last few months.

MONTHS.

Cats can die from it in 3 days.

I panicked. All those meows were cries for help. I had to watch him lay in his litter box and strain his whole body to try to pee.

I cried. I might lose him. I had just lost one of my birds to my dads neglect and my other bird and my snakes were in bad shape for the same reason. Now batman.

We got him to the vet giving them all I had just to get the appointment. $1200, surgery is the only option for him to live. Half to start, half when I pick him up in 3 days.

Shit.shit.shit.shit.shit.

I’m on welfare. Vet needs an answer in an hour to start surgery asap and I have 12% battery.

I called everyone. My mother told me no, said everything was maxed, and it’s just a cat. My family ignored me. My dad finally answered. My dad said my family had apparently collectively agreed and sneared that it’s just a cat, get over it, it’s a waste of money. “Dog people.” After making me feel bad for even asking, he agreed to pay the initial payment knowing, that cat is my life. Gave me his rent money and said we’ll figure out the rest. Pushed heavy guilt on me but I don’t even remember it. I just wanted batman to be okay.

I took my last months rent (paid the last month at the old place, and was moving to where I didn’t need to pay it) and my boyfriend used his credit card. I didn’t want my dad to pay all of it because I’d never hear the end.

Surgery went well, had some scares but it all worked out. He was on drugs for 2 weeks and now eats prescription food.

I got a call from my dad later talking about how he ‘knows he raised me not to worry about money but I had asked a lot of him’ and other things. My boyfriend watched as I shook in anger and stayed silent only giving uh huhs as he lectured me. I wanted to lose my shit. But didn’t because he just saved my cat.

Financial abuse was a huge issue with him. that his time was money and I couldn't afford it. There was so much to it but it’s not today’s topic.

I have now moved and have batman home with me.

I think he has ptsd from my dad.

If you walk close to him while he’s laying down, he’ll meow at you like he’s afraid you’ll step on him. If my dad would step on him, too stoned to bother paying attention, he’d blame and yell at the cat.

He comes outside to the porch of the condo and he has limits to how far he can go. When he goes past them we follow him herding he back to his ‘zone’.

However if we nudge his butt with our foot he’ll make an unhappy meow. If we do it enough or rough by accident in any sort, he loses it and will attack our feet. I realized my dad did it to him to torment him.

Once, he did it, and I grabbed him to pick him up and bring him inside. He SCREAMED, like I was going to hurt him. It broke my heart.

Im still working to recognize his triggers.

He’s still loving and affectionate.

it upsets me greatly that I let it happen for so long.

The other day my dad helped me bring some things into my apartment. He went to pet batman and he ran, hid under the table and hissed, and hissed, and hissed. Terrified. And my dad was surprised, like he didn’t understand why.

We’re both working on our trauma together. Victims of the same person. Knowing I'm not the only one makes it a little more real. But he never should have had to go though it with me. We survived. and one day we might be okay.

[moiraineswife]

16 and 23 for ACOWAR asks.

16) Mor’s power - what would you like it to be?

I’ve made a theory about this before but I like the idea of Mor having some kind of foresight. The truth magic is more complicated but also interesting. Feyre has a few superstitions about the fae in ACOTAR and I think most of them are foreshadowing:

‘That was the first rule we were taught as children, usuallyin songs or chants: If misfortune forced you to keep company with a faerie, younever drank their wine, never ate their food. Ever. Unless you wanted to windup enslaved to them in mind and soul.’

This bit obviously foreshadows the mating bond and the way that it’s sealed - the female offers the male food and this seals the bond. So this superstition is definitely rooted in fact. 

‘And faeries couldn’t lie.’

I think this part might hint at the Suriel and its truth when captured (something Lucien mentions as a throwaway comment in ACOTAR before we see it) but I also think it speaks to Mor/the Vertias’ truth magic. There are a couple of ways I could see this manifesting - she can’t lie to humans if she’s invoked a certain piece of magic ‘You know I speak the truth’ OR: 

“You try to break the bargain, and you know what willhappen,” 

[…]

“He said there were consequences for breaking a magicalbargain.”

There’s quite a palava made over bargains in this series, specifically magical fae bargains. Rhys mentions several times the consequences of breaking a magical bargain - Tamlin seems incapable of breaking this one or finding a way to break it (apart from going through the King of Hybern) and Amarantha we saw was compelled to hold to her bargain - the magic broke when Feyre answered her riddle as she had no loopholes worked in there to save her. 

I wonder sometimes if Mor’s ability is something along the same lines - if she can compel people to hold to their truths, even if it’s not made in the form of an official bargain, or if breaking a bargain bonded by her carries even stronger penalties than Amarantha breaking her word. In that case the magic simply circumvented her will and granted what she had promised. 

I don’t think she can compel others to speak the truth to her (otherwise she’d probably have Azriel’s job tbh, magic is a heck of a lot easier and more reliable than torture) but maybe she can sense lies? Or maybe she can see/sense other people’s truths (the Bone Carver can do something like this so we know it’s possible) Or maybe she can state things/people exactly as they are - and the people she speaks to really do know that she’s telling the truth and that she isn’t lying to them. ‘I am the Morrigan, you know I speak the truth.’ maybe she’s literally told us what she can do. Or maybe she can compel people to believe that she’s speaking the truth even if she’s not (though I doubt that - she gets called out on lies and too much stock is placed in the Veritas which is said to carry a similar kind of magic to Mor) The truth is (ha) that SJM is so vague about this that tbh she could do pretty much anything even remotely related to truth, we don’t have enough to properly guess, or even have a reasonable stab at it. 

She probably also has a serious amount of power there too, beyond her truth magic, given that she survived a fight with Amren and that everyone was so desperate to breed said power into their bloodlines (ugh). And she’s a war veteran, she actively fought in the war and she’s more powerful than Cassian and Azriel and...entire armies of Illyrians SO. Someone give me the goods, please and thank you. 

23) Babies - yea or nay? If you had to pick one couple to have a mini, who would it be?

No. I have Strong Opinions on this topic. You didn’t ask, but you’re getting them anyway: 

Moriel: No. None. Never. Not now. Not in ten years. not in a hundred years. not in a thousand years. Never. A)- I don’t think either of them would actually want them? They want to be free, they want to just be with each other and enjoy each other and just be allowed to do what they want and neither of them really feels that urge. B)- I don’t think Mor actually can have children. (This is one of those headcanons were at this point I don’t care what canon does because this makes too much sense to me for me to let go of it.) But it just..it’s horribly fitting in a twisted way - she took away her value to Keir, her ability to marry Eris and gain him wealth and power by association, so he took away the only thing he saw as giving her any value or worth - her ability to bear children. Which probably upsets her a little bit when others start having smalls but...She and Az are quite sure. They are enough for each other, they don’t need children to be happy or to love and want and need each other. So. No babies here ever. Moriel are a baby free zone on this blog. 

Feyrhys: tbh....I can go with them never having any really easily. Like...they’re immortal?? They don’t need them in theory? I mean...Tarquin inherited his position as High Lord as the cousin of the previous one. So the previous one died without issue so it just jumped to the next suitable dude in the family. It’s not essential is what I’m saying. Rhys would never pressure Feyre into having them and to be honest...I can’t see Feyre wanting them. She parented her family for most of her childhood and every time she’s considered pregnancy/children it’s been a case of ‘do not want them’. She makes it very, very clear she’d have nothing to do with Isaac without a tonic ensuring that she can’t get pregnant; she implies she was taking a tonic while she and Tamlin were together (she tells Rhys at the cabin that she isn’t taking one anymore - implying that she was) despite Tamlin’s mentioning them having children/heirs some day. She deliberately speaks to Rhys about it after their sex marathon chapter 55 and makes it clear that the only way she’d thought about having them would have been as an obligation. If she’d been obliged to provide him with children as his mate which Rhys shuts down. She then admits that she wants Rhys to herself for a good few centuries. 

This is not a girl who can’t wait to have children and honestly, I’d like it if she never did. Yes, yes she might change her mind but tbh I hate that line of thinking the ‘oh you’ll feel incomplete without them some day!’ Fuck that. A woman can be entirely complete without children and without the societal pressure/expectation to have them..I honestly don’t think Feyre would fancy it. (They will probably have a baby in canon but in my head...they’re baby free.....at the very, very, very, very, very least for like 500 solid years. Maybe more. Probably more. But not like 50 years after the war just N O. Let the girl live.) 

Nessian: Nessian are funny. I can see them going either way but...I think I’d like them to have maybe one or two, actually. I think Cassian would be pretty up for it, with some proper talking and planning. It’s not something he’d rush into impulsively but...I think he would get quite broody and I think this would happen before Nesta. I think Nesta might feel a little guilty almost that she doesn’t want this at all but Cass, like Rhys, is very firm in that he’s not pushing her into this at all and that she has absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. He’d like kids, maybe, some day, but they are not necessary at all.

 I think Nesta has a bit of a turning point with them and she genuinely goes from ‘over my dead body’ to ‘Cassian knock me up immediately’. I think maybe elucien are onto their third, maybe fourth, and she holds this little one in her arms and she just...bonds with it. And then she starts feeling things that she’s never, ever felt before and she looks up at Cassian and she knows that she loves him so much and that....She wants this. She really, really, really wants this. She wants a baby. She wants to be a mother.  

I think the thought of it still kind of terrifies her and she bottles this up for a while thinking it might go away (it doesn’t. It just gets worse.) Finally Cassian coaxes it out of her and she admits she’s been thinking about it and he’s overjoyed and they agree to start planning and preparing and then trying. Nesta is probably quite insecure once she does actually get pregnant but Cass is very gentle and reassuring and it’s just something they both want so desperately after a few centuries together. 

Elucien: Probably get pregnant during the mating bond sex marathon tbh. No, no not quite but I do think they talk about it early on and both agree that they want it. They probably, very sensibly, agree that they have plenty of time, no need to rush anything, they can wait, just enjoy themselves, they don’t need little ones, they should just calm down. They probably give themselves a time restriction of like a century to just be. I don’t think they make it through half of that before they’re actively trying because they just...Need to be parents, it doesn’t feel right otherwise. 

They have a large brood, they just keep having more, it just feels right. And then once they get to the point where they stop having little ones of their own they just start adopting other little ones. (Right, listen, I’ve definitely talked about this before but I love the heck out of this headcanon so have it again: Azriel is grudgingly in the war camps for some time and while he’s there he finds a little baby girl being mistreated by her family. Obviously given Azriel’s history and his general...well self he’s not too happy with this so he just. No. I am taking her away (he really doesn’t think this through at all, bless him, but he’s trying to do the right thing) So he scoops the little one up and takes her away and basically Mor comes home like.........Azriel.....why exactly are you trying to quieten a screaming baby?? So Az explains and Mor is very touched but also a bit o.O Az we cannot keep her, this is a child, not that stray cat you adopted last week, okay, it’s a bit different. So, naturally, they do the only sensible thing and they send for Elain. Elain who has only recently found herself with an empty house that just feels entirely too empty and too quiet. She goes to see them and within seconds the baby is quiet and happy in her arms and she’s in love and taking her home. (Lucien is a little bit !!! about this plan because ‘uh, dove, she has wings.’ but Elain insists happily that they’ll just have to figure it out because they simply must take care of her. This sparks a little tradition of them taking in unwanted little ones from all over Prythian and taking care of them.) 

So, to summarise and actually answer the question: Moriel: no. Feyrhys: if you put a gun to my head. Nessian: after many, many, many centuries. Elucien: why do they not have babies already!? 

[dailyaudiobible]

09/13/2018 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 12:1-14:32, 2 Corinthians 13:1-14 , Psalms 57:1-11 , Proverbs 23:9-11

Today is the 13th day of September. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I’m Brian. It is a pleasure and a joy and an honor to be here with you today. How? We’re getting pretty close to the middle of the month, the middle of another month, but we’re not there so let's not get ahead of ourselves. We are here, September 13th and this week we've been reading from the New International Version. So, we’ll pick up where we left off yesterday. Isaiah, chapter 12 verse 1 through 14 verse 32 today.

Commentary:

Okay. So, when we finish the letters found in the Bible, often w’ll find a closing benediction. And, ya know, it feels just like it's a just a word of encouragement, a little pat on the back, a little blessing, but these benedictions are so rich and so full of instruction for life that we shouldn’t blow by them. We should actually receive them, allow the words to wash over us as a blessing because they will speak volumes into our lives. So, for example, the closing benediction to second Corinthians is, “brothers and sisters, rejoice. Strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss. All God's people here send their greetings. May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” Doesn't that just lift you inside, that blessing pronounced thousands of years ago, washing across history, and encouraging us today. Paul, of course, was blessing the congregation at Corinth and inviting them to be together in unity. So, it's certainly an encouragement for us to do the same in our faith communities, but also in all of our communities, including the community of our home, including the community of our marriage. So, think of this blessing from the perspective of your marriage. Brothers and sisters, rejoice strive for full restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss. You see, follow that today and tomorrow and into next week consistently and watch what happens because you might bear witness to the miraculous in some of your relationships.

Prayer:

Holy Spirit, we invite you into that. We have just taken this through our minds and it is seeping into our hearts but we need you to cultivate and plant it in our lives so that it may be the fruit of the Spirit within us. Come, we’re listening, and we see, wow, here it is in black and white, very very simple to understand, things that can practically change the atmosphere in our relationships. Come Holy Spirit we pray. Lead us into all truth. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what's going on around here. So, like always, be sure to check in and check it out.

 Check out the resources that are available in the Daily Audio Bible shop for the journey through the Scriptures this year. Visit the Prayer Wall and pray for your brothers and sisters encouraging them in the same way that we were encouraged by the apostle Paul today. Shoulder one another's burdens and stay connected.

 If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible in the mission that we all share to bring God's spoken word fresh every day to anyone who will listen anywhere on this planet any time of day or night, and to continue to build community around it so that this rhythm isn’t a solitary one so we know that we're in this together with the thousands and thousands and thousands of our brothers and sisters around the world, we’re in this together, encouraging one another, striving for full restoration, encouraging one another, being of one mind, living in peace so that the God of love and peace will be with us all. If that brings light and life into your life then thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial. 

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for here is tomorrow. 

Community Prayer and Praise: 

Hey everybody it’s Margo from Australia. I’m afraid I have another break from my 30 day challenge of paying for mental health today. So, I would really love it if you could pray for me and my husband. I’m just…well…I want to be a bit real with you for a moment. Every now and then I think about going to Liberia next year and just have a little bit of a freak out…cause I’m just normal…I’m human. Sometimes I get a little bit scared. And I couldn’t sleep last night. Laying in bed awake. What if this? What if that? What if I hate it?  What if I can’t do any good? What if I don’t bring anyone to Jesus? What if, what if, what if? Anyway, I woke up this morning and texted a few people and my dad texted back and said, well, on the other hand, what if you didn’t go and you missed out on God’s best? So, that was some pretty good advice. I forgot to put my timer for this call. So, I’ll just have to guess. But I would love it if you would keep praying for us but there’s no doubt in our mind about what we’re doing. Certainly, would never question what we’re doing but some days it’s a little bit scary and it’s a bit scary to leave everything we know and all our friends and family and kind of think, oh my goodness, what if I hate over there? And I have to keep reminding myself…well…the happiest and safest place to be is in the center of God’s will. Anyway, thank you so much for your prayers. It’s so lovely to be able to reach out to you guys and know that you’re praying. Have a great day everyone. Bye.

This is Stephanie from Maryland and North Carolina. Long time DAB listener. I want to encourage those who are going through family challenges. Prayer changes family situations. Keep praying and standing on God’s promises. This year I witnessed restoration and healing in my family and members came back to the Lord. I want to pray for those who are grieving and mourning. And in Jesus’ name, I lift up all who have lost loved ones, whose fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, aunts, cousins, and friends have transitioned. I pray in Jesus’ name that you will send people to come alongside them, give them hugs, give them words of encouragement, that you would send Your love and demonstrate the love of God. Jesus understands our mourning and because He wept when His friend Lazarus died, but our hope and expectation is in Jesus and He will heal our broken hearts. In Jesus’ name. Amen. Shalom, and thanks for the Hardin family and to the DAB team and to my family and friends in Lawana. Shalom. This is Stephanie from Maryland and North Carolina.

Hi neighbors its Lisa the encourager. I hope you all are doing great. I just wanted to share with you something that I learned this past Sunday. And I just thought it was very…it was just a great thing that really sunk into my soul. And I just wanted to share with each one of you. It’s from John 15. It’s John 15:5 and a verse that we’re very familiar with but I…it was really talking to be at different ways. So, I just wanted to share that with you. It’s, I am the vine and you are the branches if you remain in me and I and you, you’ll bear much fruit and apart for me you can do nothing. And, so, we know that Jesus gave this message and that He was the vine and we were the branches and how each one of us are to be commended. So, I want to tell you all that you’re doing exactly what Jesus commanded you to do because you’re listening to the Daily Audio Bible. So, you are the branch that is sucking everything you can out of that vine because you’re listening to the Daily Audio Bible every day and trying to get the nutrients that you need. And it says, if you remain in Me and My words remain in you, ask whatever you wish and it will be done to you. The gospel says if you keep My commands you will remain in My love just as I have kept My Father’s commands and remain in His love. And just like we learned not too long ago that Jesus is praying for each and every one of us. I just thought this was so beautiful because I want to say to every one of you, great job, good job. And, you know, give yourself a pat on the back. And you know we always say that things we’re doing wrong, all the things that we haven’t done, and all the times that we screw up but you know what, you’re doing something great because you’re listening to the Bible every day. So, God loves that and you’re making Him smile and He is pleased with you. And I love you all….

Hi it’s Gloria from New York City. It’s just a few minutes after I called but I hope this gets played cause I hung up and I continued to listening to the community prayer line and the first call I heard after I just hung up after the last call to you guys was Kathy from Kentucky. And…oh Kathy…I also…I know Terry lost his dog a few weeks ago as well. Kathy, I heard you…and…it just made me think about how it’s tied into, you know, how many of us are lonely. You know, I’m still trying to go to sleep at night and I just say often to God, I’m just so lonely Lord. I’m just…I’m so lonely. I have a couple…three cats right now actually. But I’m so sad for you and am I’m praying for you tonight and I’m going to keep you in my prayers. So sweet and so special to have these wonderful pets that we get to have as companions. I believe that you did do the right thing. I had a puppy that got very sick once and I tried to save her and I regretted not actually putting her down sooner. And she suffered so much. It was so sad. I am praying for you that you will find companionship but mostly that you’ll feel comfort in all of your brothers and sisters out here, that the Lord has provided us. And I just want to and with…I don’t say thank you enough. I don’t thank Brian and Jill and your whole family and everybody who’s working on the Daily Audio Bible. It’s amazing, amazing, amazing that we get to do this, that you do this every single day. Thank you so much.

Good morning DABbers. I am a Burning Bush that will not be Devoured for the Glory of Our God and King. This is Walda calling from Charlotte. I am heading north this morning, it’s Sunday funday. Oh family, I need prayer for myself. I have been experiencing some anxiety over the past…I’d say…a week now. I’m not sure why. I know that God did not give us a spirit of fear but a spirit of love, boldness, and of a sound mind and I pray that over myself and anyone else that struggling with anxiety, that we do not have to believe everything we think. Family, please pray for my son Emmanuel. He lives in Wilmington and he’s trying to escape the storm. Please pray that he makes it home before the storm hits. Praise God for his journey, his sobriety. And he’s is tugging and tugging since his overdose last spring actually…he’s been sober for over six months now…praise the Lord. Pray for all those who are struggling with addiction problems __ and the list is long and I pray for deliverance in Jesus’ name and I praise God for just holding onto them until they reach what God has assigned them to reach. Well anyway, I am babbling. I love you all. I love you all. Brian thank you so much. God bless you and your family. I will be in touch. Bye.