#again my moodboard skills leave a lot to be desired

[frownyalfred]

soooo I have not watched BvS, and so when you mentioned the lake house in the Coral series, I was picturing a traditional lake house, like maybe a log cabin structure with some traditional furniture and so on. Partly why I was confused when you said Bruce pushed up the mattress against the windows to create some privacy and a “den” of sorts.

I finally googled it today and realized WHY it felt so exposed. Like, it’s literally a glass house. Like Phillip Johnson’s Glass House. I felt so dumb for not looking it up beforehand to understand what it looked like. When I googled it, I had to remind myself that the Glass House is in the middle of an open field of grass, not on the edge of the lake because they are so similar lol.

Don't feel dumb! I've been getting a lot of asks about that series and I've realized that I haven't been adding as many visual cues as I could for those who haven't seen BVS. I know it's kind of fallen out of style, but I sometimes debate just cobbling a moodboard/manip together just to prep people going in (for Lex's appearance, the lake house, etc).

The lake house itself is fascinating to me. There's a lot of symbolism wrapped into its appearance in BVS and what it says about Bruce, where he is, and what he's left behind.

I know my sketching skills leave a lot to be desired, but I've been thinking about creating a rough diagram of the nest as I envision it to help folks when they're reading ASOH. But again, my sketching skills need some more development first...

[darkcivet]

Of Unsound Mind

A GaaSaku Fanfic

Alternate Links: FF.net & AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Gaara. Summary: It's only when her life has crumbled down around her that Sakura finally finds some kind of peace. GaaSaku. Modern AU. Rated M just in case. Warning: Psychologically dark elements. (No blood or gore.) Sexual themes.

There were many words used to describe Sakura Haruno during her fall from grace.

Anti-social. Cynical. Violent. Bossy. Obnoxious. Friendless.

And those were the friendly examples.

There was also, whore, bitch, psycho, tight-arse, freak, and various interpretations of the hysterical woman stereotype.

It was depressing enough to be called these names, and more heart breaking to embody them. But the worst part was that they came from people she’d never have suspected. From people she loved and had trusted for years. Some hadn’t even waited until her anger had reached its crescendo before writing her off.

She’d lost her cushy office, her friends, her aghast family, and all hope of returning to her former life; Sakura was at least grateful that her OCD meant she had a decent amount of money saved up for this seemingly unending rainy day.

It was in moments like this, that she took pride in her tight-arse ways. It was a cold slap in the face in the wake of the reality of her responsibility to clean up her mess.

And somehow, sitting on a chair, next to others arranged in a dysfunctional, sparsely spaced circle and being lectured on the meaning of her anger issues did not strike her as particularly constructive. But Sakura had no intention of reacquainting herself with her inner demons, so she had to try to put it behind her.

For years, she’d built a damn in her mind to keep her inner, sanctimonious persona quiet, but it had all come crashing down several months ago when she’d been tossed aside for a more available girlfriend. A seemingly innocuous event that many others went through and came out the other end unbroken, but not Sakura Haruno. She snapped like a proverbially twig over a roaring fire. It was like letting a beast out of a cage that had been perfectly crafted to contain it. White hot rage; she had no control of herself, and for a short while, all Sakura knew was the burning, angry harpy that lay within her mind.

The need to make someone bleed for it.

Now, she had no-one. No friends. No family. No glimmer of a hopeful future. Her inner had driven them all away.

That was why she was here of all places. A group anger management session; the judge had been clear that evading these weekly torture sessions would land her back in Konoha Psychiatric Hospital. She couldn’t go back there. Everyone there was crazy. It would drive her insane.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

Doctor Kato – possibly the hospital’s most likeable tight-arse. She was always friendly enough to Sakura, but the pinkette could never fully respect someone who played by the rules so religiously. Squashing herself inside a tin can and answering, “how high?” whenever her superiors said, “jump”. It boggled the mind.

She sighed, sitting up straight in an effort to not be called out. Again. Today was her first session in a group and this whole anger management thing was just another part of her community service – though the question of who she was supposed to be helping right now, was anyone’s guess.

She forced herself to listen as Shizune Kato started her morning sermon.

“Anger management is the process of learning to recognise your anger for what it is and control it. Anger is an emotion we use to mask feelings of fear, inadequacy, guilt, confusion, depression, hurt, or loneliness. It is not uncommon for us to fall into this trap when we feel too helpless to do anything else.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and regressed to slouching in her chair. Shizune tended to drone on about the definition of things. As both a Clinical Psychologist and a nationally recognised motivational speaker, she was the enemy of succinctness

Sakura smiled at that.

She’d been acquainted with the brunette for years, but never truly known her. Despite her pleasant yet oddball nature, Shizune wasn’t the most charming person Sakura had ever met, especially one-on-one. They’d both been mentored by the great Lady Tsunade Senju – an actually motivational person who didn’t like to get up on podiums and talk about it.

Sakura interned with Tsunade straight out of high school; she’d been interested in psychology for years, because of her inner, fascinated with the inner workings of the human mind. Keeping her inner quiet helped her pass as “normal”, but she always got the impression that Tsunade knew her favourite protégé had issues.

Their bi-weekly “let’s build a snowman” sessions were a dead giveaway.

“Sakura?”

The pinkette snapped out of her internal musings and rattled off a few facts about herself while keeping it impersonal. Shizune gave her an odd look and Sakura sat up straight again, suddenly self-conscious.

But she couldn’t help but lose focus again as the brunette pointed to each of her patients in turn, asking for introductions. Even though this was her first group session, she knew some of these people anyway, from her time in hospital. There was the girl who’d run over her boyfriend when she found out she was pregnant. The older man who beat up the teenage boy who was screwing his trophy wife. Another girl who blamed God for her voices and repeatedly stole from and trashed her family Church. Not to mention the guy who attacked a mime because he wouldn’t give him directions.

Some Sakura knew only by face, but it was a safe bet they were all violent in some way.

But there was this one guy that everyone seemed to be giving a wide berth. He had this dark aura around him, like a solid barrier made of hate and bloodlust. His blood red hair seemed to finish off the look of death and wrath nicely. Not to mention that he was the only person she’d ever seen with a kanji tattoo on their forehead of all places.

“Gaara?”

Sakura watched the others suddenly become uninterested; she imagined Shizune only called on him because those were the rules.

The redhead grunted out his name and something inaudible; she caught the words, “temper”, “family”, and “fucking”. Shizune didn’t press any further.

Sakura couldn’t take her eyes off Gaara as the introductions continued – some clearly more enthusiastic than others.

Based on appearance alone, she gathered he fit into the goth stereotype, but she’d never been much of a profiler. Her field of study was psychiatric rehabilitation and Sakura had just been promoted before her life went to shit. She was rising fast for someone her age. And enjoying the perks that came with a higher paying job.

‘I miss my office.’

She blinked heavily as Shizune started talking again.

Gaara swivelled in his chair suddenly and unintentionally caught Sakura’s eye. Though clearly startled by her attention on him, he didn’t look away. She felt her face warm under his stare. She’d heard that, during his first therapy session, he threw a chair out the window and broke the psychiatrist’s teeth when the man had tried said “hello”. They said the shrink needed counselling after that. Though plausible, she highly doubted that had happened – he wouldn’t have been considered for group sessions, if he was that easy to rile up, surely.

“Who wants to talk about why they’re here, first?”

Shizune’s voice snapped Sakura to reality and she tore her eyes away from Gaara to listen to the pregnant girl whine about men and how unfairly the “quacks” had been treating her, but she could still feel his eyes burning a hole in her.

His dark aura shifted, and he seemed a bit content then, to Sakura. She chanced a look at him; he didn’t look ready to kill her. His reputation had to be wrong, then. She had to remind herself how easily rumours could get out of hand.

Unlike her therapy companions, Sakura had a degree in psychology. She had a many great deal of things that were no longer important anymore. Like people in her life.

“Sakura?”

She mentally cursed herself for not paying attention and sat up straight, realising she’d slumped again. “Y-yeah.”

Shizune smiled at her. “Why don’t you share something more in depth with the group.”

She wasn’t here for her health, that’s for sure.

Sakura cleared her throat, avoiding Gaara’s gaze; it was getting unnerving. “Um. I’m doing these sessions as part of my community service.” At Shizune’s insistent look, she added, “I... uh, had a breakdown.”

“That blows.” One of the girls gave her a sympathetic look.

Sakura just stared back at her. The old her would’ve smiled back and maybe engaged her in conversation; the new and improving version didn’t have the energy for that shit.

“Moving on.”

Shizune rounded off the session and they started to file out. Sakura noticed that Gaara wasn’t asked to add anything more in depth. She sighed and stood, stretching out her muscles and keeping her attention settled solely on herself; a certain redhead was still staring.

“Same time next week!” Shizune called.

Sakura hurried out, unwilling to remain under such close scrutiny any longer.

This group therapy thing was going to be exhausting.

 .:.

 “Got a light?”

Two weeks later, Sakura decided to bite the proverbially bullet. He’d been staring at her on and off, and she had finally worked up the nerve to approach him. In between bouts of self-loathing and therapeutic jogs along the beach, she’d been keeping up-to-date in the world of mental health. Call her an optimist, but she figured it would help her get back into it once all this community service was over.

It beat picking up rubbish – that was on her morning schedule.

Gaara was Shizune’s problem case, but Sakura wanted to reach out to him. She wanted to see if anything she did or said could make a difference. This would go a long way to seeing if she still had what it takes to be a Psychologist. Obviously, it would be in a non-professional capacity, so she couldn’t be reprimanded for it.

In her planning stages, Sakura noticed he took the time to smoke both before and after the sessions, like he was bolstering himself for battle and then rewarding himself for not annihilating everyone. That was a start. So, she used their common ground to start a dialogue.

Without removing the cigarette from his mouth, he looked up at her question, stared at her for a second, and then nodded his head. She swore to herself up and down that she would quit these disgusting things one day. But that day was not today.

He tossed a red lighter at her and grunted out, “this is going to kill you. You should give it up.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes until after he turned away. “I will if you do.”

He didn’t respond.

They’d just spent an hour in a gruelling session, so he clearly needed to unwind.

Sakura took a seat two feet from him, overlooking staff parking; they were far enough away from the front doors of the hospital to not be called out, but she somehow figured Gaara was less concerned with that rule and more concerned with solitude.

She stayed quiet, settling in and lighting up. He didn’t ask for the lighter back straight away and she waited until she was ready to leave before returning it. Gaara’s pale fingers stretched out to grasp it, and she made a note of how he deliberately avoided her touch, before standing to leave.

Slow and steady; she didn’t want to startle him. It was a good start. His moods during the sessions was always dark, but some days he was clearly holding on by a thread. For all the darkness and chaos that stormed inside Sakura’s head, she had a feeling what he kept bottled up inside was worse.

 .:.

 The following week, Sakura beat Gaara to his usual smoking spot, prior to their weekly torture session. She didn’t light up during the six days they had off and felt no urge to do so until she drove into the Konoha Hospital parking lot and remembered what she was about to do.

Yeah, the dark aura around Gaara still intimidated her. And the mindless prattling of her fellow therapy inmates made her want to slap their heads together and tell them to grow up. The redhead continued to stare at her during the sessions and then ignore her when they fell into silent, mutual cancer inducing stupors. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself.

One month on from their first interaction, she decided to finally break their monotony of silence.

And then chickened out when his head snapped around and he stared at her, suddenly, like he knew it was coming. Jade orbs stared blankly at her and she summoned her courage, mentally berating herself. She’d come this far.

“I was thinking...” Sakura drifted off; his eyes widened, and lips twitched. The cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth jerked with the movement. “...of smoking something a little stronger next week.”

He blinked slowly, almost owlishly, and then looked away from her. She almost continued talking several times, waiting for him to respond.

“Don’t do that.”

“I just–”

“You’ll just get sent back to the loony bin.”

And that was the end of that.

Sakura felt herself flush with anger; she wanted to rant and rage at him, tell him he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing instead. It wasn’t her intention to fly off the handle at him. She just needed to focus. The object of her rush of anger sat quietly as she calmed herself.

And just like that, she was calm again. She sighed, put out her cigarette and turned to face him. He was looking back at her, those intense eyes curious; she almost forgot what he’d said to annoy her. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

It took a few seconds to sink in, but before she could formulate a response, he stormed away from her and back toward the front doors. A full ten seconds later, Shizune’s voice drifted over to her and Sakura knew she’d lectured Gaara on the rules involving smoking near government buildings. There was no way, however, that Shizune was brave enough to confiscate them.

Sakura joined them and was both annoyed and confused when Gaara pointedly ignored her for the first time in weeks.

‘Men.’

 .:.

 Sakura arrived early the following Wednesday, and sat in her car, writing in her journal. She wanted to get down everything she was feeling before heading in there – last week, Shizune had suggested this when the pinkette let it slip that she’d almost lost her temper again. She hadn’t had a black out in almost two months. She was getting better.

But Gaara’s attitude was not conducive to her mental health.

The worried look on Shizune’s face bothered Sakura too – she’d figured out that two of her patients were smoking together, outside the hospital and wasn’t amused. That dark aura around Gaara was more powerful than Shizune’s disapproving glare, but the brunette’s made Sakura feel guilty. That was nothing, however, compared to how Sakura was feeling now.

Tsunade’s car was in the lot, today. She was here.

‘Did Shizune go running to shishou about my fascination with Gaara?’

Sakura was torn between annoyance and happiness; it wasn’t their business, but it had been too long since anyone cared if she got herself hurt. Was she supposed to feel angry or comforted? Maybe both? She was a red-faced child wrapped in a warm blanket brandishing a bloody knife with one hand and nursing a cup of hot cocoa with the other.

She wasn’t crazy. She knew she wasn’t. The dark voice inside of her was quiet and she hadn’t lost control in so long. Sakura felt like everything was falling into place. The only hiccup was where Gaara fit into everything. Anyone with eyes could see he was worse off than her – he may never get better – but she didn’t know his history. She didn’t know how bad off he was.

She had to find out, if she had any hope of putting her fascination with him in the proper context.

The tap on her car window startled her, but somehow, she wasn’t surprised to find Gaara’s questioning stare on her; rugged up against the cold, his red hair poking out from under a black beanie, and his breath fogging up her window. She took a moment to truly appreciate how good he looked before he indicated wordlessly behind him – toward their usual smoking spot – and she nodded in acquiescence.

Sakura smiled after he turned to lead the way. It seemed she wasn’t the only one that look forward to these morning rituals.

 .:.

 An hour later, Sakura was trying to sneak glances at Gaara while pretending she wasn’t interested in doing so. Tsunade had taken over the group today, with Shizune nearby taking notes, and the busty blonde was currently questioning Gaara – in a way that no-one else had the balls to do so.

Everyone else normally avoided looking at the emo boy who had a reputation for trying to kill people for looking at him wrong, but today they were staring unabashedly as he was questioned. Like he was an animal in a zoo. His simple, clipped responses delivered in angry undertones that promised pain and retribution didn’t deter Tsunade; his audience was hooked on every word.

When the blonde finally relented, everything went deadly quiet and Sakura found herself alone in watching him. Shizune and Tsunade conferred as the session came to an end and the pinkette forced herself to not get up and follow Gaara as he stormed out.

Murmuring broke out, but she ignored them, making her way over to Tsunade. The blonde hugged her.

“Sakura, it’s been too long.”

She smiled. Her first real smile directed at anyone but Gaara for a while. “Yes, shishou. I’m glad to see you.”

She wanted to question Tsunade – she undoubtedly had information on Gaara that she needed.

Shizune would be against it – that girl had never met a rule she didn’t worship – but Tsunade was the type to indulge her pupils, be they present or past. During her internship with the busty woman, Sakura had often had access to information she wasn’t supposed to know. She trusted her. She knew she wouldn’t repeat anything she read or heard. It was a level of trust Sakura had never had before and was sorely missed in her life.

That “I have no-one” voice in her head was sounding further and further away the longer she felt the warmth of her mentor’s smile on her.

‘How could I ever think shishou would turn on me?’

They both understood mental illness and didn’t judge it.

Tsunade spoke before Sakura had a chance to ask her; that mind reading thing of hers was still annoying, after all these years. “If this is about your sudden interest in a certain redhead, you know I can’t tell you anything.”

A bubble of annoyance swelled in Sakura’s chest, but as her mentor made a show of shuffling her papers, the pinkette forced herself to calm down. Shizune sat nearby, finishing off a few notes; when she was done and left to find something to eat, Tsunade indicated to Sakura to take a seat.

“I want to preface this with I understand,” Tsunade said. “Gaara’s a good-looking boy and you’ve always had a thing for the emotionally closed off type.”

“Shishou–”

“Let me finish.”

Sakura nodded her head, admonished.

The blonde pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’ve been through so much lately and your life has become a black sinkhole. You’re so cut off and confused; you know you are,” she added, when the pinkette huffed in annoyance. “It’s understandable to find comfort in a kindred soul. But Gaara’s different than you. You should be more careful with him.”

Sakura frowned. “Why?”

Tsunade lowered his head to whisper and the pinkette leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s in his file, but you didn’t hear this from me.”

Sakura nodded; her heart pounding in her chest. Doctor-patient confidentiality was still a thing between doctors, but Tsunade loosening her tongue was motivated purely on a personal level. She’d always thought of Sakura as the daughter she never had.

“What he has is a touch disorder; his anger manifests similar to an extreme case of Skin Hunger.”

Sakura nodded, understanding. Skin Hunger was a yearning to touch, basically; if Gaara’s anger was connected to this, she assumed it meant he lashed out when touched. All awhile craving that touch.

It was interesting.

“Don’t set yourself up for failure with him.”

Sakura frowned. “What do you mean?”

“All I’m saying is that whether your interest is professional or personal, don’t get your hopes up. So far, all observable outcomes from people trying to get close to him have resulted in some form of violence.”

“I already understood: you’re saying he always attacks people who touch him.”

“Or it manifests itself sexually.”

Her eyes widened. She didn’t need to know that part.

Sakura was already checking Gaara out every time he passed in her field of vision. She didn’t need to know that an accidental touch on her part could end with her flat on her back and screaming his name.

She was definitely going to make a point of not touching him.

“He is not a rapist, Sakura, I assure you.” Again, Tsunade was reading her mind. “I spent six months working with him after I was asked to profile him; he’s capable of a great many things, but he isn’t capable of that.”

‘No... he’s not going to force me.’

Sakura knew that, despite her initial concern. He was the type to make her want it. Badly.

‘He already has.’

She closed her eyes for a second, just absorbing everything Tsunade had told her. Her attraction to the redhead had started without her really noticing and escalating into full-blown, make-out session with herself.

It gave her goose bumps and made her never want to go to bed fully clothed again. And strangely, gave her a desperate craving for cheese and ice-cream.

It boggled the mind.

“Then why is he here, among people?” Sakura realised the answer the moment she’d finished asking but had to hear it.

“This is the only thing keeping him out of jail.”

Anger management for most people was a program with steps and slogans and learning about yourself.

And that annoying prayer circle thing.

For people like Gaara, it was avoiding the worst-case scenario of getting locked up and never seeing the light of day again. She felt sorry for him, though she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate it.

Sakura was torn between continuing her curiosity driven desire to crack him open and give him his space, so he could get through these sessions untouched. She really wanted to pick his brain.

(Must be the therapist in her.)

“Lady Tsunade!”

“That’s my cue.” Tsunade hugged her former apprentice. “Just be careful, Sakura.”

“I will. I promise.”

Sakura stayed in the chair for a few minutes before remembering she was technically standing Gaara up and rushed out to find him. He was leaning against the building, his hands in his pockets, eyes closed, and no cigarette to be found.

She hesitated to disturb him, but as her feet carried her over to the enigmatic redhead, he seemed to come to life and turned to face her. The look he gave her was new; she wasn’t sure if it was calculating or distrustful.

Had he heard her conversation with Tsunade? No... he’d have been too far away, and they were whispering. But her shishou had questioned him pretty intensely and Sakura stayed behind to talk with her afterward. Perhaps he just put two and two together. Her mind went back to what Tsunade had said about being his therapist for a while.

‘They already know each other.’

Maybe he wasn’t as bothered by the questioning as she’d thought.

“I’m not a good person,” he said gruffly. “But I won’t hurt you.”

‘Is there anyone around here that can’t see right through me?’

“Okay...”

He sighed.

They shared sessions once a week, and every time, Sakura followed him outside afterward to ask for either a cigarette or a light. He would grunt one-word answers to her questions and then take off on his Kawasaki without so much as a glance in her direction. But today had gotten under his skin, apparently.

He watched her, waiting to see if she would flee from him.

She gave him a small smile. “I was thinking...”

He scoffed. “You do too much of that.”

“...that maybe we can do an experiment.”

He didn’t ask for clarification, but the question weighed heavily in his eyes.

“I... think maybe we could do that thing Shizune suggested last week. Together, I mean.”

She was too cowardly to put it into words, worried he’d hear the hope in her voice. Basically, Shizune had suggested to all her patients to let their anger out on something constructive – kind of like kickboxing or tae kwon do – in a controlled environment, with a partner. Sakura tried to school her features so Gaara didn’t think she was excited by the idea of getting hot and heavy with him. His calculating stare pierced right through her and he raised a non-existent eyebrow.

“If I let my demon out, it will break you in two.”

He really knew how to end a conversation.

 .:.

 “You ever tried to kill yourself?”

Every week she asked a question, he answered it, then he asked her something, and the cycle went on. It was the only experiment she suggested that he would go along with. Now, with only one more shared group therapy session left, Sakura was feeling the deadline to break through him fast approaching; the end of having him in her life.

She thought of the craziest question she could conjure; the rumours of his violence having escalated to murder lingering on the edge of her mind. And the question blurted itself out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Gaara didn’t look offended though, just nodding his head slowly. After a minute, he asked “you ever killed anyone?”

“No.”

She came close once, though. It wasn’t something she was particularly proud of. It was a line she didn’t want to cross. Even in her darkest moments while her inner was in control, that last breath and final punch to the gut never came. She never did it. It was why she’d been carted off to the loony bin rather than jail.

Sakura was not grateful to her inner, but rather grateful it at least wouldn’t do that.

“It’s almost the same thing,” Gaara said. “Except the pain isn’t yours.”

Her heart was racing now, but she just had to know. “What does it feel like?”

Sakura had no idea what she was expecting from him – perhaps, “horrible” or “it feels like dying”. She held her breath, waiting.

“Only an idiot would ask that.”

She seethed. “Fuck you. It was just a question. Why are you such an arsehole?”

He reached over to her and she stiffened. Gaara gave her a wry grin and plucked the unlit cigarette from her fingers without making physical contact; so absorbed in their game, she hadn’t remembered she was still holding it.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.”

She huffed. “So, ask.”

“Why are you such an arsehole?”

Sakura sighed. She rubbed her forehead and groaned. His light chuckle startled her. “What’s so funny?”

He waved her cigarette at her patronisingly. “I don’t think you understand the rules of this game.”

“I don’t like this game anymore.”

“You don’t like to lose.”

“What? I’m not losing.” She frowned, realising her slip. “This isn’t a competition.”

He just shrugged.

Sakura glared at him; as usual, he was unfazed. The nerve of him! When he continued to ignore her heated glare and put her smoke in his mouth, she growled. “Fine. I’m an arsehole because it keeps people away who I don’t want to deal with.”

He stopped flicking his lighter to stare at her. “And that’s all?”

“No.”

He gave her a Cheshire grin. “Why else?”

“Why else?”

Gaara nodded and inhaled; shuddering and closing his eyes for a few minutes. He looked like a satisfied cat that had just dismembered a bird. Or maybe a whole flock of them. She could just visualise the speck of blood on the corner of his mouth while his tongue darted out to taste it again.

She shuddered, then shook herself, almost forgetting to answer his question. “I don’t like that goody-two shoes act. I used to play it all the time. It’s annoying. Why are you so pushy?”

“It’s fun. Why were you in the loony bin?”

Sakura bit her lip to keep from snapping something inappropriate at him. It wasn’t until she regained control from her inner that she’d been locked up. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t a game. She’d have thought he, of all people, wouldn’t make light of that.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She offered a small smiled. “No, it’s no worse than me asking you what it feels like to kill someone. I shouldn’t have asked it. I just...”

“Wanted to know.”

“How do you read me so well?”

Gaara shrugged. The truth was, it was like looking into a mirror – one with pink hair and a cute little nose, but a mirror nonetheless. She was a version of himself without the need to tear things apart. He loved that.

Sakura fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She wanted to avoid that murder question, but she didn’t want to ask anything trivial. Everything seemed bland by comparison.

“Why... when did you start smoking?”

He snorted. “Lame.”

“Stop telling me how stupid my questions are and answer me.”

Gaara stared at her blankly. “I was thirteen.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “My turn.”

“Sorry.” Again.

He nodded but said nothing. After a few minutes, she started to fidget. As soon as she opened her mouth to tell him to ask her a question, he spoke.

“When did you start smoking?”

“Talk about lame questions.” She giggled when he glared at her. “Fine. I was nineteen. But I don’t smoke often. Never have. Uh... why–”

“No more simple questions. I’m bored.”

She bit her lip. “I noticed you don’t touch people.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Can I touch you?”

He didn’t stiffen like she thought he would, just stared at her – almost unseeingly. “No. Why do you want to?”

She blushed. “Uh... because...”

He rolled his eyes.

“Craziest place you can imagine having sex.”

“On a plane.” Gaara held her gaze unblinkingly. “The last time you had sex?”

“Uh.” Her face must look like a tomato by now. “Um. Maybe... a year ago.”

Gaara had put out his cigarette (her cigarette, the thief), and was leaning closer to her. She could feel his breath on her skin. She had to get the topic away from sex before she touched him and let him crawl inside her. And die. She would literally die.

“Uh...” She cleared her throat. “Where else in the world would you rather be right now?”

That was a safe topic, surely.

“Inside you.”

‘Fuck me.’

She stuttered. “What happened to you not wanting to touch me?”

“I never said I didn’t want to.”

“I thought–”

“Doctor Senju filled your head with the he can’t touch people routine?”

Sakura growled at him. “Are you accusing her of lying to me?”

“Just skirting around the truth.”

“She warned me to be careful with you.”

“Kittens aren’t supposed to be masochists,” he snarled.

“I’m not a cat.”

“Yes, you are.”

She frowned at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

Gaara smirked devilishly, his fingers now tugging at the top button of her shirt. She made no move to stop him, but Sakura had gone stiff, terrified of the animalistic look in his eyes.

He stood, leaning over her, and shoved her backwards; she’d been sitting on the edge of a concrete garden, hedge flowers at her back. Gaara held her down, climbing over her; she spared only a momentary thought for the fact that her shirt was getting dirty and was laying at an odd angle before gasping. His hand was on her throat; his body encased hers. Fingernails scraped along her neck; not enough to bleed but enough to hurt.

“Do you ever dream of me?”

Gaara was continuing their game, even as he nipped her throat and settled between her legs.

“Y-yes.”

Gaara shifted his weight on her to kick her legs apart. “Is this what you wanted?”

She licked her lips. “Y-yes.”

He chuckled when she groaned. There was a sharp pain along the back of her legs from being held down like this, but she ignored it. What she really wanted suddenly scared her. “Wait.”

Gaara growled; his grip on her throat tightened and Sakura gasped for air. “No more waiting. He wants you.”

Sakura coughed and spluttered. “He?”

He added a little more pressure but eased enough to allow her airflow. “Yes. He’s been thinking about you hot, wet, and wriggling underneath me.”

“Are you...”

It suddenly clicked. Sakura had an inner – a voice that spoke to her and lashed out. A female voice. It wasn’t inconceivable that Gaara had something similar. From her one-on-one sessions, she’d begun to unravel her inner; to see the reflection of her psyche for what it really was. But clearly, Gaara hadn’t made that leap into redefining himself. He still thought of his inner voice as something separate from himself. Something that can’t be overcome because it had a mind of its own.

She pushed her pity down and shifted into medic mode. He needed her more than she needed him, right now.

“You can pull away if you want.”

It pained her to deny herself something she had grown so desperate for, but maybe taking it slow and letting this come more naturally would be good for her, too. Sakura had no doubt they would progress that far eventually, but in the bushes, just out of sight of the hospital entrance, was not the place to have sex with him for the first time.

They had time.

“Gaara.” She reached up and touched his forehead. The complicated kanji felt just as smooth under her fingers as the rest of him did. Almost like it wasn’t even there. “Push him away.”

He growled down at her, almost like that persona was speaking through him. “I will fuck you. I don’t play games and I don’t fuck around. Next time you push me, I’ll push back. This is your only warning.”

He shoved her again, and then jumped up, moving away from her. But he didn’t go far before half turning to frown at her. “If you do that again, he’ll kill you.”

She swallowed heavily, watching him through her blurry vision as he limped away from her; whether he was in pain from something he did to himself or being so turned on, she couldn’t tell.

She’d pushed him too far. She knew it.

And if it wasn’t for the fact that he had already proven himself to be possessive, Sakura would worry about never seeing him again.

No.

He wasn’t done with her yet.

[nasty-psd]

Texture Collections (unsplash.com)

Hey everyone ! Back at it again with the resources recs, with a whole bunch of textures this time 💚 All the pics are from Unsplash, so everything's free for personnal use, comes with instructions for professional use + with ways to thank the photographers 🥰 

I've sorted these first 12 collections to show you the kinds of textures i like the best in my own edits & even professionnal works - with categories either being the medium that they're made with, or an abstract concept they fall under. Click on the names below to access the collections, on the source to access all my collections, and on the read more for quick summaries of how/when i use these !

🎨 Links 1) Photographs | 2) Clouds | 3) (dry) Paints 4) Oil | 5) Typography | 6) Mineral 7) Vegetal | 8) Liquid | 9) Paper 10) Lights | 11) Space | 12) Plastic

Detailed descriptions & how to use under the cut ! (obviously, i do not claim ownership over any of these pictures)

1 - Photographs | link here This collection gathers textures that aren’t the easiest to use, but please don’t be scared by them, the following . How i use them : You can use the mockup type of pictures and “insert” your own pics of your friends, characters, etc - which means you must know how to create a basic mockup file (creating fake polaroids is a great way to learn or to train on your mockup skills by the way !). For the scanned images of films, you can also paint over them to integrate your own pictures. What i prefer to do though, is to create a mask layer around the burnt areas with a soft-edge brush, and then copy and paste it onto my edits. It allows more room for creativity but requires quoi color correct the burnt areas so they fit perfectly onto your edit’s colour scheme.

2 - Clouds | link here These one are simple ! I love them as background on edits, as overlays to bring out a little How i use them : With layer modes, as colour palettes references, as backgrounds with a collage of pictures on top - you can go ham with these. They’re also perfect for complex photomanipulations as Unsplash photographers offer multiple sizes options when downloading their pics.

3 - (dry) Paints | link here These paintings are not all necessarily "dry" paints, but rather artworks that show of their painting mediums' natural textures. They're "grungy" in an acrylic's or in a gouaches way. Some may be oils too but i'm not sure. The textures are created with brushes or painting knives, sometimes with spray paints. How i use them : So, as they're pretty dense, i prefer them in backgrounds, or as barely visible overlays. Once again, they’re great for photomanipulations, but you might need to edit them a little so they’re usable or repurposable.

4 - Oil | link here "Oil" is pretty straight forward : these are either oils (liquids with rainbow gradients/reflections) or very liquidy paints. The focus on this one is colours mixing with more or less of success, the "brutal" contrast between them, and the movement they create. (And also : ios background bubbles.) How i use them : they make for perfect overlays, background, references for color palettes or bases for a dispersion filter. They’re complex though, and you might want to stay careful to not go overboard with them, as they can tend to make your edits unreadable.

5 - Typography | link here Typography, yay ! It’s something many of us avoid in edits where it’s not a dire necessity - but growing as an adult into a graphic designer’s world, i learnt to love it. Every character has its own character (lmao geddit) personality, which can be of great support in your edits :) How i use them : as background, as “overlays” in collages or to simply get the inspiration going. You could also reuse the quotes in your edits with different fonts, or the panels in you photomanipulations.

6 - Mineral | link here Minerals & rocks are essential if you plan on editing complex stuff, like photomanipulations in the outer world, in space, or whatever your heart desires. That’s why i tried to gather as many diverse resources that fell under that category. For a finer research, i’d recommend finding one picture approximately resembling what you want, then checking out the recommended pics that will appear under the share & info buttons, or visiting the photographer’s profile as they may have multiple pictures of varying angles of the same object. How i use them : The pics with perspective i’ll use as elements in photomanipulation, while the “flat” pics will be used as overlays in elements to bring out more textures - the possibilities are endless, what you want to do you will be able to !

7 - Vegetal | link here These one aren’t especially complicated to use, but will require a little bit more work. Most of them are on plain background so it’s easier for you to cut them out and insert them in edits or photomanipulations. There’s tree, branches, mushrooms, leaves - everything i could think of that might be useful in edits. How i use them : The “flat” textures could be used purely for “aesthetics” or to add textures in edits, but the “full objects” pictures are mainly there for photomanipulations purposes.

8 - Liquid | link here Anything that has to deal with water, bodies of water, or overall liquids. Landscapes, also, that include lakes, seas, ocean, waterfalls, etc - always a need in photomanipulation. How i use them : as always, it depends on the nature of the texture itself. If it’s flat, i could be used solely for aesthetics, or as a way to add texture to a plain surface in photomanipulation. When it has some perspective, or shows a complex scenery, they could be used in photomanipulations & edits of all kinds.

9 - Paper | link here This collection has some of the most diverse pictures : it can be old papers with or without writing on it, sceneries of "blank" papers for you to put your edits on, or decorative pages/maps. How i use them : For the "flat" textures : these are mainly for overlays (all over you finished edits sir it looks like it's printed) or in some cases, for mockups. For the pictures with a bit of "scenery" : these would be great for background, but absolutely perfect for mockups. For the pages with maps or texts on them, it can be used as your usual textures/background.

10 - Lights | link here This collection includes every kind of body of water (or other liquids) i could find. You'll find waves, lakes, rained on windows, bubbles, watercolours, etc. Anything for your edits or photo manipulations. How i use them : Most of them will look their best as overlays put on top of all your other layers (or not, depending on the nature of your edit obviously). They get also easily be animated for gif, or colour corrected to fit your aesthetic.

11 - Space | link here A really specific collection ! This one will mainly be useful if you plain on editing space-ish photonapulations, moodboards, etc. Combined with the others collections, you could create a whole other worldy edit :) How i use them : Mostly how they’re logically used. Stars textures will mainly be editing onto a sky (but could also be useful to create “grunge” textures”), planets will, etc. But always think creatively, and outside of the box ! For example, these circling stars could be used as the texture of a vinyl record.

12 - Plastic | link here My personnal faves, the tricky & busy plastic textures. Plastic is a pretty broad name, and most of the pics aren’t technically plastic, but they have the same folds, turns & reflections. How i use them : mostly with a dispersion filter (which makes everything awesome). They can be overlays, or blurred to create pretty interesting gradient textures. They could also be used as background in your collages - you can basically do what you want with these. They’re awesome.

bonus 13th for the curious ones - Urban & Cities | link here Silly didn’t add the thirteenth collection on the preview, so here it is as a surprise ! This collection is the most diverse of them all, with lots of architectural elements, grungy walls textures, graffitis, etc. How i use them : Mostly as background

That’s all for today, hope you’ll enjoy using these ! please give lots of love to these photographers, and see you soon 💚

[alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom]

Chapter VI: Blurry truth

This moodboard is just woww! Thank you to the moodboard-goddess @flowers-in-your-hayr.

a/n: This is the last and also the longest chapter.I want to thank everyone who read, liked and reblogged Hidden Desires. It was my first time writing and I really enjoyed it. THANK YOU so much for the great feedback, that motivates me a lot.

Pairing: ALEX x Reader x MARCO

Spotify: Kiana Ledé & Jacquees- Only Fan

Words: 5541 (omg, I hope you read it anyway haha)

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, smut & dom/sub in the middle, again fluff and a lot of sadness in the end.

Tags: @heavenly1927 @ivarhoegh

Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV - Chapter V

Summary:

Marco disappoints you again, Alex takes advantage of the situation and you doubt if you really know them. Will you give them another chance or leave Denmark forever?

You had your last day of work before your holidays and could leave earlier. You were very happy because you knew that the boys would also have free time the next week. You were hoping for a trip through Denmark.

You nervous and opened the apartment door, excited about their reactions.

"Hej, surprise, surprise, I'm at home." You said almosr singing it. You immediately noticed the beautifully set table. The white candles and gold-colored cutlery sprayed a romantic touch. The boys are usually very simple and plain, so this creativity really impressed you.

"Elskede, how nice that you are already here." Alex came out of his room. He always kissed you so soulfully, even when the kisses were short. You hugged him and put your arms around his neck and looked into his blue eyes, which enchanted you every time. He pressed your hip against his and rocked you slightly.

"I missed you. The table is so nicely decorated...-” You started but were interrupted.

"Hey Y / N, I didn't even know you'd come so early." It was a female familiar voice. Alex rolled his eyes and was clearly annoyed. You turned your head slightly and saw her from the corner of your eye. Clara. You were seething with anger. She was like a fly that keeps coming and you can't get rid of it.

"So nice that you can celebrate with us." She offered you a champagne.

"Thank you" You accepted the glass out of politeness.

"And what do we have to celebrate?" You asked confused and had to force yourself to smile.

" Our engagement, of course." You raised your eyebrow and had absolutely no clue what she meant. But you pretended you did, because you wanted to know what she had to say.

"Oh, exactly your engagement" Alex giggled. Your fake smile went away when you looked into Marco's face. He saw your anger, but didn't comment on anything.

,, Marco said he had already told you two about that. Don't you dear?” She looked at Marco with full conviction. You would have loved to tell her the whole truth and tell her what an asshole he is, but you kept silent and kept lying.

"I must have forgotten, I'm sorry. I congratulate you on your engagement. It's a shame I didn't notice anything about your deep deep love. But…you don't always have to be able to see everything. or not Marco?” You put particular emphasis on the word anything Your gaze was full of irony and you wanted to embarrass him.

Alex patted his shoulder and grinned. "You finally made the right decision, brother. Now everyone has what is theirs." Alex seemed to be enjoying the situation. He realized that your relationship with Marco was finally over. It was never the intention that Marco would fall in love with you. You put your hand on Clara's upper arm but kept distance.

“I wish you the best. But be careful sweetie, you know how charming our boys are. That would be tragic if he suddenly has another girlfriend and you don't even notice it.” You wink.

“I'm very lucky with Alex. He never lied and was always loyal.” You cuddled up to him and stroked his chest.

"I love you so much elskede" You kissed him deliberately, slowly and long, so that Marco sees it.

"I think we should sit down and eat." Marco felt uncomfortable and wanted to change the subject of conversation.

The mood was tense throughout the evening and Alex couldn't stand Clara talking anymore. He never liked her. Her childlike behavior annoyed you too.

Alex slid backwards with the chair and patted his thigh. "Elskede come and sit on my lap, I miss you when you sit so far away." You didn't have to think about the answer. Alex put one hand on your butt cheek and the other hand slipped under your skirt and placed it on your thigh.

,,So Clara you could stay here for the next few days. Y / N and I will go to see my parents tomorrow. " Alex smiled at you and stroked your cheek.

“I want to introduce them to this wonderful woman, my woman" He kissed you and his tongue gently brushed your lip. You didn't know anything about this plan, but the idea was great. Marco looked frustrated. He knew if his parents met you, you would become part of his family. And he ... he would lose you forever.

"You didn't tell me anything about your trip" He said briskly to Alex.

"It's not that relevant. We just tell each other the important things, right brother?” Alex looked at him angrily because he didn't know about the engagement either. Also, because Marco has never mentioned her lately. He didn't even know they were still together and now they are suddenly engaged. Alex looked at you like you were a goddess.

"I hope you are happy to see them too, elskede"

"It would be an honor." The joy could be seen in your face. For the first time you had the feeling that Alex was really serious about your relationship.

"Let's go into your room, I want to prepare my things for tomorrow and choose my clothes.” You drew circles on his chest with your finger and your gaze was directed to his crotch.

“Maybe we can spend a little more intimate time together.” Your hand slowly slid down his abs and your teeth sank gently into your lip.

"Can you remember the surprise when you blindfolded me? Maybe you can show me more of it." Your hand slipped under his shirt. It was a long time since you last felt his warm skin.

“Maybe you can tell me more about Ivar. I heard he is dominant and a little rude." Your lips were like magnets that attracted each other.

"He is much more than that" He whispered into your mouth. Clara moved closer to Marco.

"That seemed to have been a great surprise.”

“Oh yes, it was. It was very intense, I liked it. But Alex was definitely the best part of the whole surprise, I assure you sweetie." You looked briefly at Marco and noticed how he actually wanted to say something, but he couldn't.

"Honey, ask Alex what surprise that was, I want one too." She looked at him hopefully.

"Oh Marco knows exactly what surprise it was. He was there. You could really do that brother. You know how it works and you can definitely do it without me." You had to pull yourself together so that you didn't start laughing. Marco noticed exactly how malicious you were but did not allow himself to be provoked. You got up and leaned against the edge of the table.

“Let's go and leave them alone" You pulled his hand to make him stand up. He stood in front of you and and spread your legs with his thighs. Your skirt slid up. He grabbed your ass cheeks. He wanted to pick you up and carry you into the room.

"I think we should eat the cake now." Called Marco to stop him.

"I have another better candy in my room." Alex didn't look away from you and bit your lip. You had to giggle.

"We don't mean to be rude. Let's share a piece, okay?" You took the plate that Marco gave you. Your finger ran over the cream and made sure that Marco is watching you. Your lips wrapped around your finger licked the cream off.

"This taste reminds me of something." You said provocatively. Alex wanted to kiss the cream that fell on your thigh away, but you lifted his chin and rejected him.

"Not here, I can do it myself, thank you elskede".

You walked to the kitchen where Marco was standing. You hiked your skirt up and stretched your leg forward so that he could see your black lace panties and slowly wiped the drop away. You let your skirt down again and went close to his face, almost like you wanted to kiss him.

"You like to watch when I touch myself or not?" You whispered and touched his earlobes with your lips. You walked back to Alex and took him by the hand without a word and pulled him into the bedroom. You thought about whether you should close the door or whether you should leave a crack open. But you wanted to enjoy the time with Alex alone, so you closed it. You pushed him and he fell on the bed. You let your clothes slowly flow over your skin onto the floor. You removed your hair clip and your hair fell over your shoulder, lightly covering your nipples. Alex propped himself up on his elbows and admired your beautiful curves.

"So dear Ivar, show me your skills". You said demanding.

"Lie down here." He patted lightly on the middle of the bed.

"Put your arms up and stretch your legs" You followed all of his orders. He pressed his knees between your thighs. He took off his shirt and undid his zipper. You splayed your hands across his abs, feeling every single muscle. He lay down on you and pinned your wrists against the mattress.

"I said you should keep your arms up". He said firmly. His hand slid down your arm across your breasts and over your navel. He bypassed your pussy and touched your inner thighs. He reached around the back of your knee and knelt up your leg. You automatically lift your other leg and hooked both around his hip. He put his hand on your neck and gently choked you. His lips touched yours, but he didn't kiss you.

"Did I tell you to lift your leg?" He whispered against your lips. You tried to shake your head, but you couldn't.

"Lie face down and keep your arms up" You obey his orders without contradiction. Your pussy started to tingle. Not knowing what he was going to do, turned you on.He took your hair aside away from your face, so he could see your expressions. His warm skin on your naked back felt like a blanket.

"Say my name, slave!" His lips brushed your ear.

"Ivar" You mumbled against the pillow.

"Ivar what?” He said in a stern voice.

"My king Ivar"

“Good girl" He liked the way you submitted.He marked a trail of kisses on your back and bit your ass cheek. The slight pain made you moan briefly. Alex took off his pants and lay naked on top of you. His tongue ran over the back of your neck while his cock slide slowly up and down between your ass cheeks. You wanted it to slide into your pussy, so you lifted your ass up. Alex pulled your hair with one hand so that your face rose from the pillow.

"Are you disobedient again?"

"Fuck me". You begged him. He got off you and you thought it was over. You really wanted to have sex after the drama with Marco. You turned around and try to convince him, but he was faster. You felt the force of his hands on your ankles. He pulled you down until you were bent over the edge of the bed. You trusted him completely, so you were only frightened for a short moment and then immediately relaxed again.

“Now I have to punish you, slave” He knelt behind you and slapped your right butt. Your adrenaline level rose. He stroked your pussy with his cock and only sank the head of his dick into you. You closed your eyes and got goose bumps when it touched your entrance. You would cum quickly if his cock touched your walls. He wanted to tease you but actually he also teased himself. Alex bit back his moans every time when he felt your wet pussy. You tilted your head to one side, but he didn't see you. His gaze was directed up to the ceiling. He closed his eyes and bite his lower lip to control himself, at the same time he pressed his fingertips against your hip. You lowered your head and felt the tension in your muscles even more, it was so strong that it almost hurt. You just wanted to feel him, now, right now. You pressed your ass against his hip and his cock disappeared into your body, Alex groaned briefly but intensely. He held your hip firmly so that you couldn't bounce.

"I know you want that too." You reached under his palms and took his hands away from your body. He hardly gave any resistance. You knew if you stayed in this position, he would keep control of your movements. You turned around and pulled him back onto the bed. He leaned against the headboard and rubbed his dick. You crawled on the bed until you sat on his lap. You moaned at the same time as his cock stretched your walls and you began to ride him slowly. You hold on to his shoulders and tried to set a rhythm. You got warm and started to sweat but you didn’t care. Your ass cheeks pounded on his thighs and your pussy pulsed. Shock waves hit your body and you cried out his name like you never did before. You tried to keep the pace to made Alex cum too. You raked with one hand through his hair and felt his hard breathing on your throat. Your legs started shivering and you were slowly getting dizzy. His hands on your waist helped you keep the speed. His tongue brushed your hard nipples and you noticed how his moan got louder.

"I'm cuming" He mumbled softly against your chest and you increased the pace. He flooded himself into you. Your knees were already grazed and hurt a little. You stopped moving. He leaned his head on your chest and gave you a little kiss. You stroked the back of his head and gave him the kiss back.

You got off him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Where are you going? Come back here!" He patted his chest muscle.

"I'm all sweaty" You were ashamed.

"I don't mind, get here immediately and show me that you love me too." He grinned and held out his hand.You lay down again with your head on his chest as he wanted. You were tired even though it wasn't late. You could have fallen asleep easily, but there was something you had to talk about.

"Can I ask you something?” You stopped caressing him.

“Yes of course, always” He was still drawing circles with his fingers on the back of your hand.

“Did you plan the trip to your parents in advance? Or did you decide that spontaneously today?" You were very happy about the idea, but at the same time it made you feel as if Alex only wanted to take revenge on Marco. It confused you and you needed to clarify it. You didn't want to stand between them and even less be the reason for arguing.

"You know, I've thought about this several times, but I never dared to ask you, because of Marco. I didn't want to be rejected, so i didn't bring it up. I already told my parents about you when you were in Copenhagen for the first time and they keep asking for you too. Marco is my best friend, but you belong to me and I don't want to share you anymore. I want you to be happy and I want to be the one who makes you happy.” A tear ran down your cheek and you were just speechless.

Alex noticed the silence.

"Hey elskede, why are you crying?" He wiped away the tear with his thumb and kissed your forehead.

“I love you” You were touched by his honesty. Would your relationship have been different if Marco hadn't been there? How would it have been if you hadn't had sex with Marco? You remembered as Alex looked you in the eyes for the first time, you were immediately enchanted by those piercing blue eyes and after the first kiss you felt a firework of emotions. You just never admit your feelings. Maybe the situation with Marco blinded you, maybe… But now…you were quite sure…Alex is the man you love, and nobody will be able to change that.

"I love you too" You smirked, and it went quiet for a few seconds.

"Ah elskede, one more thing…” You looked up at him.

“That was a very gentle and empathic Ivar" You giggled.

********

His parents lived in a small village outside of Copenhagen. The way there wasn't too long, but you got up early because you decided to have breakfast out. You already knew Marco's trick. As soon as you are alone, he would jump at you like a hungry lion. You didn't feel like seeing him, nor did you want to hear his excuses again. Alex couldn't stand Clara anyway, so you left the apartment quickly.

You arrived at your favorite coffee house. You always got your caramel-chocolate capuccino there before your shifts.

"I think we should move in together; we should have an apartment to ourselves. We could live a little closer to the hospital. The airport would also be closer." Alex commented with his mouth full.

"You know apartments are more expensive in this area, but we could have a look at a few when we get back, if you want to" You were a little skeptical, but it would be the best you could do to strengthen your relationship.

"Elskede, I've been crawling in the mud for years now and I didn’t do it because I was bored and you have one of the best paid jobs in Denmark. You know we can afford it". He raised his eyebrow and hoped you meant that as a joke.

You were never cocky, on the contrary, you were humble before you met him and wanted to stay that way. You were proud of Alex and what he had achieved, but you never bragged. There were few people around you who knew who your boyfriend was and that was on purpose.

Alex paid the bill, just like he always did when you were out together. You got in the car and drove off. You drove through a cute village with small brown houses as he slowed down.

"Our house is up there." Your heart was pounding and your ears whizzed. He parked in front of the entrance and got out. Since you arrived, he couldn't stop grinning, his joy was huge. Alex opened the car door for you. Your legs felt like jelly and you didn't dare to get out. You were sweating even though a cool wind was blowing.

"Come on elskede, they don't bite." He held out his hand to you.

"Oh, my boy, haven't seen you in so long." His mother came out of the house, she saw you through the window. She hugged him tightly and gave him a kiss on his cheek. You didn't know how to greet her, so you remained silent and waited for her to speak to you.

“Mom, this is Y/N.” He spoke in Danish, but that didn't intimidate you. You took his hand and got out of the car. You saw in her face how she considered whether she should speak English to you.

"We usually speak English, but if you speak slowly, she understands Danish very well.” She looked relieved. She hugged you and welcomed you. Your hands were still shaking and sweaty. She accompanied you into the house and you met his dad too. A very warm man with a lot of charisma. Now you knew where Alex inherited it from. Alex took the bag from your hand and carried the suitcases inside. His sister wasn't home. You felt good and your nervousness slowly disappeared. Alex went to his room to deposit the bags and you followed him. You were still too shy to stay alone in a room with his parents. There were a few photos on his desk when he was younger. Always these beautiful blue eyes, you thought.

"How long are we going to stay here?"

"Do you want to go again? Don't you like it?" He grabbed your chin and stroked it with his thumb. He looked sad.

"No, not at all, I didn't mean that. I want to see everything. Where you went to school, where your favorite places are, just everything." You approach him without leaving a centimeter free between you, your lips almost kissed.

"I told my best friend that we would be arriving today. He has invited us to his place tonight. What do you think?" He grinned at you.

"We'll be there. I love you." You gave him a quick kiss before you heard his mom calling.

"The meal will be ready soon." Your lips almost kissed. You went the stairs down. Alex was holding your hand, but you weren't too comfortable with it, so pulled it away before they could see it.

"It smells lovely, thank you for having me" You smiled at her. You all sat at the table together and you got a little homesick. You missed your family and your friends, but the warmth of his family covered that feeling for a brief moment.

"And how do you like Vikings?" She asked and was curious about your answer.

"So ... uhm ... shall I be honest?" You looked at Alex. You were hoping for a sign from him, but he was only focused on his food.

"I only watched a few episodes.” You blushed.

“But Alex told me what the series is about." You commented and hoped that they are not disappointed. You wanted to make a good impression, but you didn't seem to succeed.

"Really? So, you don't know him because of the show?" She seemed surprised.

"No. Maybe I really have to watch the series."

"You have to know that he kisses other women on the series. So, if you get jealous you have to skip those episodes." Her honesty intimidated you. You knew from Alex that his previous girlfriend couldn't handle his fame and they often argued because of it.

"I think I should get through that; we didn't know each other at that time." You said confidently. Alex told them, how you met each other and how you emigrated to Denmark. Of course, he skipped the Marco-part.

His dad patted Alex's shoulder. "She is a tough woman. I like her." You blushed.

The conversation was cut off by Alex's phone. You were relieved because his mom's questions made you more and more nervous. They got more personal and you didn't want to say anything inappropriate.

"I said we'd be there in an hour, is that okay for you?" asked Alex, who had previously spoken to his best friend on the phone.

"Yes sure." You hadn't heard Alex speak Danish very often, only when he was alone with Marco. Hear him speak longer sounded very erotic. His voice was just perfect for this language.

"Maybe from now on we should always speak Danish, even when we get home.” You were ready to fully integrate into the culture, you wanted to feel like a Dane and act like a Dane.It would probably be weird at the beginning, but Alex seemed enthused about it and that made you feel good.

You helped clear the table and clean up the kitchen. His father stood with you at the sink. He put the clean glass in the cupboard and stepped closer to you.

"You are always welcome here, consider us as your second family. Alex is a good man, treat him well." He spoke in a low voice. It seemed important to him to tell you that in private. You looked into his eyes and realized that Alex means a lot to him. A tear gathered on the edge of your eyelid.

"Tusind tak..." Your voice was suppressed by your emotions so you couldn't pronounce it clearly.

"Elskede, are you ready, shall we go?" His father smiled at you one last time. You took a deep breath, nodded slightly and left.

"Have fun and drive carefully." His mom stroked Alex’s back and closed the door behind you.

******

Alex had such a big smile on his face when he saw him standing at the front door. He got out and they hopped towards each other. They hadn't seen each other in months. You didn't dare to join them, so you leaned against the car door and waited.

"Heeey, who is that?" He leaned back slightly. He patted Alex hard on the shoulder once, that made him take a lunge.

"That's Y / N, my girlfriend" He waves for you to go over to him.

"She's really hot, good choice"

"Nice to meet you". You shook his hand and ignored what he said.

"Dude, why don't you tell me that she understands Danish." He said grumpily to Alex."I'm sorry for my rudeness, my lady, please come in." Alex laughed. "He has always been a very honest person". Alex put his hand on your hip and let you go first.You sat on the sofa and he brought beer. You're going to drive back, so you just drank a coke. You didn't say that much during the evening because they talked about video games or about other friends you didn't know or about things from the past."Let's have a cigarette." Suggested his friend. Alex was a casual smoker, so he went with him on the balcony. You didn't like the smell, so you went to the bathroom. You didn't hurry, so you checked your cell phone and saw a message from Marco."I know you're mad, but I can explain it. Everything I've told you is true, please believe me." You deleted the message without replying and walked out of the bathroom.

You went back the corridor and noticed the beautiful pictures on the walls. The drawings were silhouettes of naked women. You stop at each picture to look closely; they were very aesthetic. The guys hadn't closed the balcony door completely so you could overhear the conversation, while admiring these pictures.

"... maybe; but believe me she's not the right one. I know you Alex. Talk to Alicia againand the problem will be resolved. Alicia loves you, she was here once and asked for you.” Your heart started pounding, and you didn't want to believe what you heard. You were frozen and couldn't move or say anything. Tears ran down your cheeks without you being able to control. You felt a pain in your chest and a pressure in your stomach. You were determined to confront Alex with it, but when you stood in the room and saw them outside, you got scared. You tried to listen carefully again.

"You once told me that your kisses on set were real. Then go and show her that." His friend continued to encourage him.

It got worse and worse with every word. You took your jacket and ran out of the house. You don't know where to go but you just wanted to get away. A bus drove to the bus stop. Maybe that was a sign.

You got in and bought a ticket back to his parents' house to pack your things. Your eyes were red from crying and your scarf was wet from the dripping tears. The knot in the throat kept pressing and you felt like you were suffocating. You rang the doorbell and hoped that they wouldn't ask any questions.

"Hej Y/N, come in, where is Alex?" His mom asked surprised and looked over your shoulder.

"He's not there. May I go into the room for a moment?" You answer briefly without looking her in the eye. She took a step to the side to let you in. You quickly tossed your clothes in your bag and walked back down the stairs.

"I thank you so much for your hospitality, I felt very comfortable. It was an honor meet you." The tears in the eyes made you see blurred. You remembered his father's words and worried about what he would think now.

"But dear, where are you going? What happened? Why are you crying?" His mom stroked your arm and was concerned about your miserable emotional condition.

"It's time to go back home…my real home." She knew immediately what you meant.

You went out and looked back one more time. Her sad face made you intensify your feelings and feel worse. A taxi picked you up and drove to Alex's apartment. Fortunately, you had the key in your handbag. You went in and tried to ignore Marco, who was having sex with Clara on the sofa. You packed the rest of your things. Marco followed you through the apartment and tried to stop you, but you didn't want to talk to anyone. You left the keys on the kitchen table and closed the door behind you.

You wanted to get to the airport quickly, so you paid the taxi driver to wait for you. On the way there, you tried to cover up your grief with make-up. Your fingers feel paralyzed, you couldn't hold the brush properly.

You were standing at the check-in when Alex tried to call you for the fourth time, you ignored every single call, but he kept trying. You passed the passport control and you knew it was over now. It was a good time in Denmark, but you couldn't take it anymore. They both lied to you, several times. You never loved anyone like you loved Alex, but you just seemed to be his time- waster to forget Alicia.

Someone knocked loud on the glass partition. Since everyone was looking there, you had to turn around too to see what was going on.

“Y / N don't go! Please come back! Y / N! I love you! Do not get on the plane!”. It was Alex. He knocked the pane so hard that it could easily break in. It was difficult for you to just walk away and ignore him. The desperation on his face could not be overlooked. You sat down in the waiting area in front of your gate and watched how he tried to gain access to you. But it didn't seem to work. He argued loudly with the security guard and saw how he often pointed to the departure screen and tried to explain something to him.

The man stayed relaxed and that seemed to work.

He went up to you. “Excuse me ma’am. There is someone who needs to talk to you urgently. He said he won't calm down until you go to him. Do you know this man?" You didn't want to attract more attention and followed the security guard.

"What are you doing? Where are you going? Why are you leaving me?" He wanted to take your hands, but you pulled them away.

"Ask Alicia". You said it callously. You wanted to start crying again but you had cried so much before that you didn't have a tear to spare.

"Forget what he said. He likes Alicia, that's true. But HE likes her, not me. Yes, we had a relationship during the shoots, but that's history. I don't have any feelings for her anymore. She wanted to be with me again, but I didn't want to. Believe me, if I had wanted that, I would have done it a long time ago. " He wanted to stroke your cheek, but you turned your head away. You didn't want to be blinded by lies again.

“Well she’s still asking for you”. You insisted.

“Yes and after that she fucked with him.”

"When I saw you in the pub for the first time, I immediately had the feeling that you were special. There was another completely empty table that night, but I wanted to sit next to you. If you get on that plane now, I'll follow you. I'll go to the counter and buy a flight ticket. And if I have to sit on the floor, I'll fly with you. I can't let you take my heart with you. I love you. Please, we can build a new life together." He held back a tear and it was the first time you saw him cry.

He took your hand and bowed his head. "Please.." He said weakly as his tear fell on your hand.

You turned away from him and took your suitcase and Alex realized how you had made up your mind. He covered his face with his hands so that no one could see his sadness.

You took Alex’s hand to look into his icy blue eyes. “Let’s go home.” You squeezed his hand and he understood that you will never let him go again.

[mopeytropey]

a beer buds series: chapter 4

Author’s note: my moodboard skills are not what they once were ... let’s just pretend that Lincoln’s head is shaved and that they aren’t sitting in front of a giant drop screen, shall we? The point is, this photo 100% encapsulates apu!Lincoln + Lexa energy. Cheers! 

Update available below or on AO3: here.

Timeline: the opening scene is a rewrite from Lexa's POV of a scene in chapter 4 of 'a pleasant undoing' as Clarke and Lexa discuss an upcoming day on Clarke's boat in a completely platonic, casual and cool manner, completely devoid of any sexual tension ...

Beer: Heady Topper DOUBLE IPA (DIPA)

The Alchemist IPA contains a proprietary blend of six different hops and has an International Bitterness Units (IBU) value over 120, but it doesn't have an excessive, overpowering bitterness. You'll smell or taste hints of spices, pine, grapefruit, orange and tropical fruits. Even though you'll notice a slight note of malt, hops are still the protagonists.

ABV 8%

Heady Topper: The Alchemist (Stowe, VT)

::: “So, we’re on for Saturday?”

Lexa slips her hands into the front pockets of her well-worn jeans as Clarke opens the front door at Dockside. She extends her arm, holding it open so that Lexa can walk through.

The scent of Clarke’s subtle perfume hits Lexa as she passes by, and she exhales in an anxious puff of air. “Yes. What time?”

There’s an unfortunately adorable twist to Clarke’s mouth as Lexa watches her contemplate. “Want to meet at the coffee shop at nine?”

The seaside port to which Lexa is still acclimating hosts several independent coffee shops. To Clarke, there is only one.

“Sure.”

“Okay, cool.” Lexa has potentially never felt more uncool in her entire life.

She returns Clarke’s smile, easing her nerves by squeezing her hands into fists within the confines of her pockets. She takes another breath while rising onto the balls of her feet and lowering back down. Lexa finds comfort in the sensation—a habit formed long ago to help calm her during overwhelming situations. She feels grounded by the crunching gravel beneath the soles of her sneakers.

“So, what should I wear?”

Clarke leans into the door at her back while they are still stood at Dockside’s front entrance under the soft glow of gas lamps above them. “I’ll double-check the weather, but it’s supposed to be warm. Cooler on the water by a few degrees, but you’ll be fine as long as you dress in layers.”

“Layers,” Lexa nods. “I can do that.”

There’s not much else to discuss. They’ve sat and ate, shared harmless barbs at the other’s expense, and told stories of their reckless youth. At this point, Lexa should be saying her brief goodbye and walking away. Except what should be a simple act, has begun to wind its way around her limbs, pinning her to this spot. Her desire to spend time with Clarke is unrelenting.

The notion of parting ways, of spending time away from her bright eyes and warm smile (and even, though Lexa would unequivocally deny it, her terrible jokes), swarms a heavy dread at the pit of her stomach.

“Okay, I’ll see you Saturday,” she forces herself to say after a rough swallow.

And Clarke smiles again, as if encouraging Lexa to do the right thing. Whatever the hell that is. “See you then.”

Lexa moves across the gravel lot quickly, putting distance between them at a clip. She heads onto the paved walking path that follows along the harbor, breathes in the sea air, and is swallowed up by a darkening sky.

:::

“Someone’s in a better mood than when I saw you last.”

Lexa ambles into the bar with a half smile. She’s only just left Clarke, and there’s a residual adrenaline still prickling her skin.

“I just ate dinner. Well-prepared food generally puts me in good spirits.” She finds Lincoln at the only pool table near the back. He has ordered for them both, and two pints of light golden beer sit on the table in front of him.

“Oh, okay,” Lincoln grins, eyeing her strangely.

Lexa practically hops onto one of the stools at Lincoln’s table and slides a pint closer to her. She’s in a good mood, a little buzzed from the beer she’s already had at dinner, but too proud to let Lincoln feel justified in his assessment of her demeanor. “I wasn’t in a bad mood this morning.”

Lincoln watches her sceptically, amused. “You looked like you were ready to drop kick someone off a very tall building.”

During a meeting with Lincoln and Indra at Trikru early that morning, before Lexa’s delivery shift officially started, she had perhaps been less than chipper. She has no interest in currently dissecting the reasons why and shrugs it off.

“I didn’t sleep very well,” she justifies vaguely. Lincoln looks as if he doesn’t entirely believe her, but she’s enjoyed too good an evening (and one too many beers) to linger on the sour way her day had started. Lexa lifts the pint to her lips before asking, “What are we drinking?”

“It’s a German pilsner. I wasn’t sure how lit you would be leaving Dockside so I ordered lightly.”

For reasons she is not yet ready to admit, Lexa feels entrapped by Lincoln’s assumption. “I’m not—how did you know I was—”

“Octavia told me you’ve been hanging out down there more often, grabbing food and whatnot.” Lincoln shrugs, draining at least a quarter of his own pint. “I made an educated guess.”

First Clarke had questioned her and now Octavia—who wasn’t even working—has noticed an uptick in her patronage as well. Lexa tries not to feel exposed.

“I hate cooking for myself.”

She can hear the vulnerability in her own voice, and she wishes Lincoln weren’t looking at her like that. It’s not pity. He wouldn’t dare pity her. It’s the look of someone who shares an intimate knowledge of Lexa’s life and how much of it she has spent feeling lonely. She wills him not ask any further, urging him to change topics with a kind of hopeful telepathy.

“Can’t argue with you there. The food down there is addictive,” he finally says. Lexa looks up at him to see his face much lighter, matching his easy tone of voice. She relaxes again and is grateful for Lincoln’s perceptive kindness. Then he winks, and she regrets any platitudes she’s ever bestowed on him. “Company’s not bad either.”

“Don’t start,” she warns, already feeling a jolt of panic at the insinuation.

Her cheeks flush, remembering the meal she’d shared with Clarke not an hour before—the easy conversation, sidelong glances, and soft smiles.

“I was talking about my girlfriend. Why?” he smirks, looking all of sixteen and full of mischievous charm. “Who did you think I was talking about?”  

Lexa groans into another sip of her pilsner and jumps off her stool in two quick motions. “Did we come here to play pool or so that you could interrogate me?”

“Who says we have to choose one or the other?”

Lexa ignores him and walks towards a rack along the wall where the pool cues are stored.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says, his voice following her across the small, mostly empty room. “If I win, you have to tell me why you were so angry this morning.”

When Lexa has selected a cue from

the wall, she spins to inspect it for bends and warps, arching an eyebrow challengingly. “How about I annailate you handily and tell you nothing?”

Lincoln laughs as he stands from his own seat and begins setting up the table by racking the balls.

“What exactly did they serve you down at Dockside? You’re feistier than normal.”

Lexa pauses, quietly debating whether or not to show her hand before conceding with a grin, “Clarke has that limited-released from The Alchemist on tap.”

“Oh boy,” Lincoln chuckles, his eyes widening. “That’s kind of a heavy hitter.”

“I know. I drank two.”

Lincoln braces himself against the pool table in another burst of laughter, and Lexa resumes her bright and cheerful mood.

:::

After Lincoln starts their first game and breaks the balls across the table with a loud crack, he misses his second shot and Lexa steps up. Brightly colored balls have scattered across the green tabletop, and she carefully examines her plan of attack. She clears half the table before narrowly missing a long corner, and Lincoln grimaces into the last dregs of his beer.

“I always forget how good you are at this game.”

Lexa grins at the reluctant compliment. “You can blame Anya for that.”

“Oh, I blame Anya for almost everything when it comes to you.”

Lincoln squares up to the table and Lexa leans against her stool without actually sitting down. Watching him hover over the cue ball, lining up his shot, gives Lexa an idea and she pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” Lincoln asks after he’s sunk the four ball into a side pocket.

“Yes. Anya is convinced I have obliterated any chance of a social life by moving into the heart of Red Sox Nation. I’m proving her wrong.”

“You’ve known me since I was eleven. Does that even count?”

“Semantics,” Lexa responds, eyes trained on her phone and the scathing message she’s composing to her sister.

“Your social life is fine. Clearly Anya isn’t aware you recently hosted a wildly successful game night.”

As she waits for the photo to send, Lexa sips at her beer. “She would probably be horrified at the thought of so many new acquaintances in her personal space.”

“She is suspiciously private,” Lincoln contemplates. “Secret life in espionage?”

“Entirely possible.” Lexa’s phone buzzes and she looks down anticipating a snarky response from her sister, only to see a message from Clarke instead.

Clarke Griffin (9:00pm): just checked again, forecast for Saturday looks perfect

There are smiley faces and random nautical emojis and bursts of sunshine, and it’s more-or-less everything that Lexa hates about text messages. Except—

“That is not a smile I have ever associated with your sister.”

Lexa nearly drops her phone.

“Oh, it wasn’t—I was just—“

“I’m just kidding,” Lincoln grins, clapping a hand to Lexa’s upper arm. “You’re up.”

Lexa shakes her head, brushing off Lincoln’s curiosity as if her heart hadn’t violently knocked against her sternum. “No, it’s fine. Clarke is taking me fishing on Saturday—she was just texting about the weather.”

“Ooh, Clarke’s taking you on the boat?”

Lincoln looks practically giddy as Lexa finishes her beer and pushes away from her stool to examine the pool table. “Yeah.”

“She must really like you.”

Leaning into her shot, Lexa pretends her stomach doesn’t feel hollow. “We’re friends.” She keeps her focus and sinks her final ball seamlessly.

“Yeah, I know,” Lincoln shrugs with an easy smile. “That’s what I meant.”

“I’m about to end this game by placing the eight ball in that corner pocket. If that’s okay with you.”

“Perfect,” Lincoln laughs with a clap. “I’ll get us more beer.”

:::

“I’m walking with you.”

“You’re being absurd.”

“I’m walking with you,” Lincoln reiterates while signing for their tab.

“Lincoln, I can practically see my doorstep from here.”

“Do I think you’re going to get mugged on State Street at eleven pm? No. Do I think you’re entirely capable of walking 600 yards on your own? Absolutely. Do I worry for your safety anyway because I love you? Fuck yes I do.”

Lexa’s small chuckle is concession enough, and Lincoln slings an arm around her shoulders as they exit the bar. “You’re an imbecile.”

She thinks, by the adoring look on Lincoln’s face, that he understands she also means: I love you, too.

They cross over State Street and turn onto a smaller, darker street with less foot traffic. Not entirely residential but quieter than the city square. Ducking into the alcove of Lexa’s building, she reaches into her pocket for her keys.

“Tell Costia I said hey … and sorry for getting you drunk,” Lincoln tacks on a second later, and not looking entirely apologetic.

Lexa screws up her face and lightly shoves his broad shoulder. “You didn’t.” She exhales and jingles the small ring of keys in her hand. “Costia is staying in Boston tonight anyway.”

“Oh.”

“When she works late and has early classes, her friends from the program let her crash at their apartment in the city. The train can be exhausting.”

Lincoln massages the back of his neck, and Lexa wonders why her pulse has started to thrum. “That’s tough. Are you … okay with that?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Lex—“

“Her friends are impossibly nice people, and Costia is doing what she loves. I’m happy for her.”

The sentiment is not disingenuous; it just says nothing of Lexa or her role in Costia’s new life.

“Okay,” Lincoln shrugs, his hands deep in his jeans pockets as he gives Lexa an easy smile. “If you ever need to talk about any of it, though.”

“I know. Thanks, Linc.”

“All right, get in here.”

Lexa is wrapped up in a smothering hug, bound by Lincoln’s hulking arms before she can react. She exhales against his chest, relaxing into the embrace a moment later. She’s still a bit tipsy, feeling vulnerable from talk of her relationship, and savors the warmth of Lincoln’s arms holding tight.

“Do you want me to come up? Stay the night for a sleepover?”

“No,” Lexa laughs as they gradually release from the hug. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to crash the second I hit the sheets.”

“Okay good, because Octavia is meeting me at my apartment.”

Lexa frowns, landing a soft punch to Lincoln’s abdomen. “Get out of here, jackass.”

Lincoln feigns injury and falls backwards off the steps with a laugh. “Hey, you’re gonna have the best time on the boat on Saturday—send me pictures if you catch anything, okay?”

“My expectations are relatively low.”

“It’s not really about the fish anyway. It’ll be great either way. You’re gonna love it. Trust me.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Lexa says, channeling casual indifference instead of the anxious uncertainty she has felt since agreeing to Clarke’s offer.

As she keys into her building and jogs up the narrow staircase, she lets herself imagine, even briefly, what it might be like if Clarke were there on the couch in soft clothing, waiting for her to come home.

:::

[justimajin]

Catching a Case of the Doctor Blues ⌠Part 4⌡

⇢ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (2.8k) Doctor/Surgeon AU, Enemies to Lovers AU

⇢ Summary: When asked about Dr. Kim, a string of beautifully aligned words are ready spew from your lips. You could possibly go on and on about how his wonderful stubbornness wasn’t similar to talking to a brick wall, or how his observation skills were especially great in preparing your blood vessels for a drastic rupture or even how one gracious stare of his nearly had you on the verge of ripping your essential documents in half. But it seems that, perhaps, there was a lot more to Dr. Kim then what meets the eye…

⇢ Warnings: graphical descriptions of surgery (i’ve tried to dim it down a little), descriptions of character death

⇢ Moodboard Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

⇢ Next Update: Tuesday, April 23

Raising a hand, you carefully knock against the wooden door. Seconds pass by as you shift from foot to foot, but the door eventually opens and you paint on a professional smile instantly.

“Dr. L/N. Come in.” Namjoon greets you and then closes the door behind you. Your eyes land on the patient you will be operating on and your heart sinks.

“H-hello.” The same girl that questioned you about her mother speaks to you and your eyes flicker to the woman currently lying in bed behind her.

“D. L/N, this will be our patient for the operation. We will be doing a pancreatomy.” Your eyes widen when he announces the last syllable and you suck in a harsh breath when you become aware of the operational situation. A pancreatomy was by far, an extremely risky surgery to go through and usually was conducted only on the means of being a last resort, which meant…

That there were no more options left. This was going to only be one slim chance for the operation; be it success or failure.

“Will my mother get better?” The small girl’s voice brings you out of your twisted thoughts and the need to answer completely wafts away. Her eyes expectantly bore into your own and the mere presence of them is so dauntingly familiar that you want to automatically nod. You want to tell her that you’ll optimally work to your own personal best and be able to grant her the relief of attending to her mother no longer. You want to say those hopeful words, emphasize them with such care as you were already accustomed with your current patients.

But the words remain deeply lodged in your throat and there is no amount of sheer strength to pull them out.

“Y/N?” Namjoon whispers, wondering why you’ve gone considerably pale from the simple interaction. Your physical reaction to the question sets the girl in her own dismay, conjugating endless scenarios in her mind about the future end results from your own uncertainty of the matter.

“I-I’ll do my best.” You state, attempting to resume back into the professional state you needed to be in so that your own actions do not affect the patient.

The girl nods – pleased with your answer when Namjoon guides you outside into the hallway.

“Hey, are you okay?” Namjoon hurriedly questions, bending down to see your expression but you plaster on a forced smile.

“I-I’m fine. But why do you wish to do a pancreatomy…?”

Namjoon deeply sighs, “Her pancreas is too heavily infected with the cancer. It’s heading into the stages of no repair so removing it is the best procedure to use.”

“What are the circumstances?”

Namjoon gnaws down on his lip and the one crucial factor of this operation finally arises, your own perception of it being confirmed.

“A success means we can sustain her without a pancreas, through there is a strong likehood of diabetes and pain, but it can still be manageable underneath extreme care. A failure and….” He trails off, not quite wanting to say the dismaying fact.

“And we lose her.” You complete – attempting your best at trying not to think about what would happen to her small daughter. The pressure is always horrific to cope with, but the stakes of the surgery, rather the small reason sitting beside her mother’s bed side in hopes is perhaps even more nerve racking to handle.

“Do you…want to pass out on this one?” Namjoon hesitates for a moment, but he continues on when he can clearly see how nervous you were about this, “I know I wanted all of us working on this surgery, but if its too much for you then Dr. Kim can take over.”

“N-No.” You shake your head, “I can do this. Thank you for the offer, Namjoon.” Although you were extremely appreciative for his considerate suggestion, you didn’t want to allow yourself to be uncapable of doing in this to any extent. That girl inside the room was trusting you with this and it wasn’t right to back away from that.

Namjoon nods in confirmation and heads back to his office, leaving you on your own way. The jittering spikes and shaky breaths don’t desire to leave you alone just yet however, wondering to yourself over and over again.

Can you actually do this?

You have to, no, you need to.

Walking silently back to your office, you take a deep breath. An abundance of hesitation is still flourishing from within you but you disagree with the fact that it continues to loom in there, long needing to have been ridden of.

You were going to do this surgery. You were going to succeed.

The blue clothing drape over you when you reach out to carefully grab any remaining strands of hair and pull them back. You wrap the similarly coloured mask around the lower portion of your face and patiently wait to sterilize your hands. However, your eyes remained glued to the floor while your thoughts constantly flicker back and forth like a seesaw; still trapped in the decision you had taken that you don’t even notice the man currently situating himself behind you.

“Did you meet them?” He asks and your eyes finally remove themselves from the floor.

“Meet who Dr. Kim?” The station clears up and you begin to sterilize when he trails alongside you.

“The patient and her daughter.” He states, starting to clean his own hands.

“I did.” You pause, rolling your eyes, “You could have joined us.”

“I prefer not to.”

“Of course.” You bitterly scoff.

Brief silence passes between the two of you as you mindlessly follow through with your cleaning, but then his voice injects through it.

“Listen.” You turn around unamused, facing him when he continues to clean. “You’ve met the patient’s family, so make sure to stay on top of yourself during that surgery.”

You raise an eyebrow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He finishes up and turns to look at you, “that your self-proclaimed speeches of hope aren’t going to work in there and that you need to be prepared to produce results.”

“I’ve done surgeries before. And your the one that always chooses to ignore things like meeting the patient anyways.”

“This is the first time you’re doing a pancreatomy. On a patient you’ve met.” He reaches over to your side and you immediately flinch, but he still manages to latch onto your hand.

“This is not going to be acceptable.” He states, showing to yourself the faint tremor lodged into your hands when they alarmingly shake right in front of you. You instantly retract your hand back, fire blazing in your eyes.

“That is none of your concern.”

“It is if you’re doing a surgery with me.” He turns to leave, “Stay on top of yourself.”

The fury in you only bursts out when you clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut. Out of all people, he was the last person you wanted finding out about the current situation you were dwindling within. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you finish up and walk into the same hallway he had entered minutes ago.

The entire team resumes their previous standing positions when the room is soon covered with bodies of blue; surgeons and nurses both present. The black monitors are turned on and freshly sterilized surgical tools are pulled out and placed near a close working space. Immediately the room fills with a tension laced silence once preparations have been completed and the thin blue layered sheet covering the patient is moved so that her torso is visible to you.  

Namjoon reaches out, beginning to carefully make an incision on the lower abdomen where the pancreas is located. The incision is several inches long, giving enough room to conduct the surgery thoroughly and granting direct access to the pancreas.

Namjoon finishes and soon the inner flesh is exposed to your eyes, ranging from thick layers of pink mixed with angry specks of red. The nurse beside him continues to hand him tools as he dig deeper into the flesh to reach the target destination.

Upon viewing it, you can comprehend why Namjoon had made the final decision of taking this approach – the pancreas not looking healthiest in the least. Instead of finding clear patches of smooth brown you find blotched and aggregated shades of an alarming orange-yellow, mixed in with hues of light red. It’s appearance only renders the situation to be considerably difficult; the cancer leaving any part of the pancreas untouched and spreading the inflammation throughout like wildfire.

Namjoon navigates around it with uttermost perfection before Dr. Kim steps in and grabs a surgical tool to hold a largely infected area in place.

“This,” Namjoon whispers, “This is where we need to drain the fluid.” He points to the area and its sheer size would only lead to further complications for all of you, so you carefully take a tool out and create a small puncture. The overwhelming size decreases exponentially and Dr. Kim takes over for Namjoon whose eyes remained glued to the spot you were occupied with.

“You see this?” Namjoon points to a newly visible part and you nod.

“It’s healthy so it remains untouched.” You mutter, fully reading his mind when your eyes trail to the infected area conjoined with it.

“And this needs to be removed.” Namjoon hums and you ask a nurse to pass you a scalpel to make an incisions.

Seconds turn into minutes and minutes spin into hours when the three of you gently maneuver with precision around the infected areas in which they are remoted promptly upon discovery. A stern glance is kept on the monitor when the rates begin to increase and the contained fluid is continuously inspected for any concerning leakages – but the surgery runs according to plan as the three of you begin near the end. Obscene drops of sweat have already clung to the surface of your forehead and a quick glance at the surrounding members near you tells you that the demanding work was not only affecting you.

The procedure is almost complete and Namjoon finds himself impressed with how well you and Dr. Kim are able to work together in the stress-filled silence with only the rigorousness of your calculated movements being shown.

However, your thoughts begin to swirl elsewhere and they seem to only land on the small girl with hope reflected in her eyes. Your mind sways to the accomplishment of the task before it has been completed, wondering to yourself about the gracious chance to present yourself to her with a content smile. That you were able to dismiss her concerns and her frantic worries from your own previous silence when you greeted her within the confines of her mother’s room.

You were going to save her.

The monitor rings.

The sounds runs a jolt through you at its sudden appearance; being thrown into a silent room and causing everyone’s eyes to blow up in alarm.

“Heart rate is increasing.” Namjoon hurriedly states, glancing over to the area you and Taehyung were working on to notice the smallest patch of blood beginning to pool. His eyebrows furrow together when he sees the red intermingle with shades of yellow and instantly he knows what’s wrong.

A leakage.

The remaining parts of the pancreas begin to seep through, coating the areas you were focused on and Namjoon alongside the nurses are quick to resume back into action. The area is soon filled with an endless streams of blood and pancreas fluid when the monitor beeps again, before the sirens start to blare.

The sirens blare, the terrifying deep red signals flashing to you that something was wrong and that you only had seconds to find it and initiate repair.

“W-where is the blood coming from?” You question, letting Namjoon operate when you absolutely hate not being able to trust the tremor in your hands and the shakiness that escapes your throat.

“A blood vessel ruptured. It isn’t going to be difficult to repair but-“ Namjoon abruptly stops when a different fluid coats the outside of his blue gloves, its sticky appearance alarming him.

“This is…” Namjoon trails off and the realization sinks in.

“The bile duct.” Dr. Kim speaks and you look at him for the first time throughout the entire surgery. His disheveled physical appearance mimics your own exactly, but unlike you he isn’t shaken up from the chain of reaction events and instead hold the same stern stare he usually had when working. “It’s leaking.”

“Leaking…” You whispers, eyes flickering all over the opened flesh. The pancreas wasn’t the only organ being infected, but the bile duct as well, which meant that in the specific patient’s case-

“The cancer had spread.” Namjoon dreadfully concludes, completing your thoughts.

The only course of action left was to be haste – the bile duct needed to be sealed off before its fluid reached any parts of the bloodstream, but there was no telling if there was enough time to do the process when the pancreas was so close to being completely remov-

The sirens increase their blaring screams.

And they continue to dramatically fluctuate when all three of you push your own limits.

Before there screams come to their own abrupt and hast demise – cut off and completely silenced.

The flat line and the buzzing sound accompanying it latches onto the ears of the three surgeons and the fellow nurses, declaring the final stamp of judgement onto your circumstance and serving you the result on a dreadful platter.

“Surgery unsuccessful.” Namjoon breathes out, shutting his tired eyes, “Time of death,” He states, glancing at the nurse who records it down, “11:54 pm.”

You sterilize your hands and remove the blue clothing, peeling away from the mask that covered your face and letting your hair set free. The undeserving white coat is pulled onto your arms and the horrible laminated card hangs on your front pocket when you dismiss yourself to exit the vicinity. Your eyes remain void of any emotion at all, only the faint occasional of emptiness transcending throughout and filling them to the brim.

You couldn’t save her.

The words echo throughout your mind in a faint whisper when your feet shuffle across the empty hallway, before they come towards an abrupt halt.

The simple fact had never once disappeared, its solid foundation only constituting its own existence and yet as the few years since you had become a doctor passed by, it had made its everlasting point to you.

You can’t save everyone.

It was such a simple, stupid childish wish. One that you had been mocked by and one whose perception was completely unrealistic in the least, but yet it was a truth you were determined to create into a reality. It was terrible when you too had lost all hope encountering the sirens and flat line, helplessly watching it go straight and being accompanied with the faint buzzing that was faintly similar to the numbness you felt watching the last breathe being taken. 

And yet you did foolishly convince yourself that becoming a doctor would enable you with the granted hands to save others in exchange from being once utterly powerless…

What were you even thinking?

You can’t save everyone.

The tremor in your hands abruptly increases when water lines the outside of your eyes, the influx of tears threatening to flow out. The faint buzzing sound still rings in your head and it doesn’t just simply disappear with a mere covering of your ears; too deeply engraved inside you to fade away. The pointed finger of reality targets its rage at you when your legs buckle down from a loss of strength and a choked sob escapes you. You cover your own mouth when the tears continue to stream down, shaking your head that you allowed yourself to believe in the twisted lie you had been telling yourself.

You. can’t. save. everyone.

The words don’t refine from lashing out at you when everything crumbles down. You hurriedly get up, locking yourself in your office and wanting to be left unseen from your own vulnerable state.

However, unknown to yourself, a pair of glasses and brown hair remain silently in the hallway – witnessing your entire breakdown with his head slightly down casted.

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Jayne you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Marcus McKinnon!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

There’s a lot of people who are super excited to have your Marcus back in the mix! And reading over your application just made us really nostalgic and happy that he was coming back. It’s clear how much time and effort you’ve taken into developing his character, which really makes him jump out to us as someone we’d hate to do without in the roleplay -- and we’re so excited for you to explore some of the plot points that you’ve developed and take him further along in his journey! You’ve been missed!

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

My name is Melissa Jayne but I prefer to go by Jayne, I am 23 (blah - feel old), she/her pronouns please and I live in the GMT+1 timezone, United Kingdom.

ACTIVITY

I plan to be pretty active, keep up with activity requirements and interact with everybody. 7/10, because a girl needs to earn money and get her beauty sleep ;)

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

I was here before :)

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I don’t think I really connected or identified with any one character, I loved them all individually for different reasons and the books and characters were like a family to me. I loved Nymphadora Tonks the most, though I wouldn’t say I was anything like her - her ability to change her appearance seemed cool and she was clumsy just like me.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Marcus; /ˈmɑːkəs/; MAR-kuws Meaning>>  Dedicated to Mars - Ancient Rome        

Elliott;  /ˈɛliət/;  EH-lee-ət Meaning>>  With Strength and Right/ Bravely and Truly/ Boldly and Rightly

McKinnon; /məˈkɪnən/;  MUH-kin-on Meaning>> Fair Born/ Fair Son - Gaelic

FACE CLAIM

Garrett Hedlund!

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I have always loved Marcus, from the first moment I read his biography and realised that of course, Marlene would have siblings. I played Marcus as my first ever character here and I adored him, the character development and the interactions and the relationships I was able to create with him. I want a chance to work on him again, redevelop him and bring him into a new environment with a clean slate and a fresh start.

Call to mind a man in a nice, crisp suit, leaning back in an office chair, one foot up on the desk in front of him as he nibbles absentmindedly on the end of a quill. This is the image of Marcus that comes to mind whenever I think about him. He is professional, intelligence and shrewd, however, he has a softer side of him. He doesn’t trust easily but once his trust is earned, he is at your disposal. He is loyal to his friends, putting their needs above his own and he adores his sister Marlene. He takes his job very seriously but he enjoys messing around with his colleagues and building good relationships with them.

In Hogwarts he was always one with the clear head. He made sure his friends kept out of trouble and that his homework was done at least two days before it was due. He enjoyed playing Quidditch and ate chocolate eclairs by the bucket load. He passed all of his OWLS, the majority with Outstanding grades, though he never bragged about them and instead, celebrated the grades of others and encouraged his friends out of their disappointment. He can be a little bit of a smart arse, which often gets him playfully punched or whacked with a pillow. He has also been known to sulk about little things and hold grudges unfairly.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Marcus is heterosexual and I have no preferred ships for him, I like ships to form through chemistry and good writing. He uses he/him pronouns and identifies as a male.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

A MOODBOARD [x]

AN AESTHETIC [x]

A PLAYLIST [x]

A FEW HEADCANONS

When Marcus was five, he fell into a lake on a family trip and almost drowned. His father dove in to save him. Ever since that day, he had been terrified of the water. he can swim, but if he can avoid it, he will do so with every fibre of his being.

Marcus has always been incredibly protective over his sister, and oddly, her friends. He saw them all as sisters that needed to be watched over.

Frank has been his best friends since they sat together on the train on their first day at Hogwarts. Despite their different houses, they remained close and by each others side. Marcus kept Frank out of trouble and Frank encouraged Marcus to cut loose every once in a while.

Marcus joined the Ministry because his father advised him to do so. He has never truly known what he wanted to do for a career.

A FEW POTENTIAL PLOT POINTS

Marcus’s old injury continues to cause his grief, effecting his combat skills and even his ability to tackle stairs. It isn’t until he collapses in front of Amos that he admits that something is not right.

Marcus tries to prove his worth and ends up making a deal with the wrong man, or the wrong Deatheater and he ends up in turmoil, struggling to get a grip on his life and career.

Marcus quits his job at the Ministry and lives off of his parents money for several months whilst he tries to scrape his life back together. A Ministry career had never really been for him anyway.

Marcus dies whilst fighting alongside his family, in the final weeks of the war. He dies knowing that he fought for the right side and as hard as he could.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

Marcus runs a hand through his hair as he ponders the question. His father is currently going bald because he runs his hand through his hair too often, especially, like Marcus, when he is deep in thought. “I honestly don’t know, every potion or spell I have ever needed has already been invented. Perhaps a charm to convert my thoughts into words without lifting a quill? Late night reports are a bitch for hand cramps”.

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“I would take Frank with me, without a doubt, partly because he is brave but mostly because if I didn’t, he would bitch and whine at me until I threw myself from the astronomy tower, simply to get some peace” he joked, though he sucked his lips as he thought hard on the next part. “A knife, probably, since there is some creepy shit in that place and if I my wand was knocked from my hand, I’d like to be able to defend myself”.

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Ones that compromise my character?” he half asked, shrugging a little. “I haven’t had to make too many hard decisions, but I suppose if I had to decide on who to save between two people I loved, that would be an impossible decision”.

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

He leaned back in his chair, clasped his fingers together on his lap and glances towards the ceiling as his mind repeats the question. “I… don’t know” he said quietly, his eyes slowly moving from the ceiling and back to the interviewer. “I guess I would hate for anyone to call me a coward… does that count?”

WRITING SAMPLE

He wasn’t entirely sure as to how he was keeping his eyes open, but he assumed it might have something to do with the three mugs of coffee that he had guzzled whilst changing into his formal wizarding robes. High Society, Pureblood gatherings were not his cup of tea, or coffee as it were, but as his mother had attempted to guilt trip him and eventually blackmailed him, he had had no choice in whether he attended or not. As soon as he had finished at the Ministry for the day, he had rubbed his tired eyes, groaned in annoyance as he had glanced at his calendar and remembered his obligation and headed home to his apartment to change.

As it always was, the social gathering was full of smartly dress men and elegantly dressed ladies, lavish surroundings that were no doubt decorated, polished and prepared by house elves and a banquet that was fit for kings, which many of those among the pureblood society believed they were. His mother and father had not wanted to attend and he had known exactly why - they hated these gatherings just as much as he and Marlene did. To make the night worse, as if that could be possible, he had barely slept in the past week and wondered several times if he was simply dreaming of being at a party, but every time he accidentally bumped into someone and they scowled at him, he was reminded that he was very much awake.

Nursing a glass of whiskey, he scanned the crowd for any signs of a friend, perhaps Frank or Lucinda, but neither seemed to have been invited or been inclined to attend that night. He wished he had been able to take his sister with him, though they would have likely been given the same glances that the Carrow siblings received any time they walked into a room together. Marlene had only recently been released from the hospital though and she was fragile in his eyes, so he hadn’t wanted to throw her into a room of stuffy Purebloods. When they were younger, they had sat in the corner and giggled as they mocked the other party goers, but it wasn’t the same when he was mocking them by himself and he suspected that speaking out loud to himself would only earn him a reputation of being ‘touched in the head’.

An hour passed by before he finally admitted to himself that he had had more than enough and it was time for him to leave. Finishing the whiskey in his glass, he placed the glass on a nearby table and headed for the door, swerving in and out of people as he did so, keeping his head down and his eyes averted. He could almost feel the eyes that turned his way and he moved through the crowd, but refused to look up until he had left the home of whichever Pureblood had thrown the party - he had completely forgotten and didn’t care in the slightest. Taking a deep breath, feeling the icy air fill his lungs, his head cleared and he breathed a sigh of relief, before taking out his wand to apparate home and share tales of his awful night with his sister.

Next time, he would let his mother post his baby pictures to everyone at the Ministry and be done with it.

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Jen you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Greta Catchlove!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Your application was such a beautiful thing to discover in our inbox! We’re so blessed that you found us in the tag and that you decided to apply because your interpretation of Greta was so wonderfully thought through and written. I loved all of the little details you decided to put in, from your head-canons about her childhood and family life, to the playlist and moodboards you made, expanding on her traits to fully flesh out her character and your interpretation of it for us! I was sold before I even got to the in-character questionnaire. And then with your para sample, I loved how you expanded on how how the war has changed her -- I think all too often the impact of war on a character can be glossed over, but you fully expanded on how it applies to her in particular, and that was beautiful to see! *your faceclaim change has been accepted!

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Hi! I’m Jen, I’m 22 and British so my timezone is GMT. I prefer she/her pronouns

ACTIVITY

I’m in two other roleplays but working days means I have my evenings to myself so it’s relatively easy for me to get on and do replies at least once every two days, so I’d give myself a 6 or a 7 for activity.

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

I search the lsrp tag every now and again and that’s where I found your promo!

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

This is such a tough one to me because they’re all so near and dear to my hearts. If you were asking me to pick a favourite then it would be a tie between the twins and Ginny but as for which one I relate to most I would probably have to go for Mrs Weasley. Family is hugely important to me and I think that being open and caring are two of the most important things a person can be and those are two things that she embodies and that I strive for.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nothing I can think of but I hope you enjoy my application!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Greta Elin Catchlove

FACE CLAIM

Zoey Deutch would be my preferred choice but if she’s not acceptable then I’d be happy to use Gabriella still.

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

When I first saw the characters I didn’t know how I’d be able to ever choose one, so many of them called out to me. So I slept on it and in the morning the one in the forefront of my mind was Greta. There’s just so much that appeals to me about her and I couldn’t get my thoughts off this wild girl with a heart of gold. But despite her good intentions she’s flawed: thoughtless and rash there’s no thought put into anything she does and logic never factors into anything she does. She’s all heart and emotion with her head never getting a look in.

I see a naivety along with all that courage and love of life. She’s an optimist and is skilled in fooling herself that things are better than they seem with her ability to find a silver lining in any situation and I would love to exploit that in her and watch the war slowly twist her world view as she sees more and more that there’s more darkness than she ever thought and even her light might not be bright enough to avoid being dimmed or extinguished.

In my opinion, she’s the youngest child with an older brother who doted on her and parents who loved her enough to dig her out of any trouble she caused with her wildness and mischief. She’s a girl for who there has never been any repercussions, always safe despite her daring and penchant for adventure.

Her stubbornness is a real draw, I love characters who make up their mind and can’t be swayed, whether they are right or wrong. I feel like she’s even stubborn in herself, refusing to let herself grieve for those she’s lost and who made the war seem like a harsh reality instead of abstract because if she does there’s a worry that’s all she’ll be able to do such is the depth of her emotions.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Greta is pansexual and panromantic. She falls in love quickly though not always deeply and her short attention span means that her relationships are often shortlived., though not from her lack of interest in the person when it usually has more to do with her restlessness than anything they might have done wrong.

When it comes to her and ships, it’s all about chemistry for me though whoever has her in their sights will have to be prepared to handle her energy in some form or another. She falls in love easily enough but it’s making her stay that will be the challenge.

Greta identifies as female and uses she/her pronouns.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

Anything I have done for Greta can be found on this little mock blog: gcatchlove.tumblr.com some of it is just reblog but there’s also things I have made specifically for her.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

“Something to dull fear. I feel like it stops a lot of people from living to the fullest and maybe with the edge taken off it they might be open to more new things. More daring.” There was a selfish edge to it too, when the girl who had been fearless was feeling a very real chill from the war that was going on around her. So much so that she felt the need to joke to lighten her mood again. “Or maybe something to do with cheese.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“Anyone who was up for the adventure!” There’s a pause while the girl laughs, entertained by the prospect of exploring with anyone else who had the same thirst for adrenaline, someone new to get to know along the way. “As for what I’d take, maybe some rope or something, reach more hard to get to areas.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Ones that involve others. I know I make rash decisions, act first think later, but I’m ok with that when I’m the only one dealing with the consequences. I’d hate for someone else to have to deal with my mistakes.” The girl couldn’t think of anything worse than having to live with any tragic effects her actions might have cause, the inevitable weight of guilt that would no doubt ground her usual buoyant self.

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

There’s a slight pause before she answers, frown furrowing her brow as she tries to pick just one thing that she hopes no one ever thinks or says of her. “That I’m cold or unfeeling. It always seems the worst way to be – like you live half a life at best or don’t live at all at worst.” Shrugging slightly “I always try not to be that so I think I’d offended if someone said it.”

WRITING SAMPLE

There’s flour on her nose again and her brunette locks look like she’s greying early from the powder that’s found its way there. The tickle of it brings her back to summers by the coast, warm days filled with running through forests or jumping off piers with cautionary calls of her parents and grandparents getting lost in the wind. The thought of it brings a little smile to her lips as she rolls out the pastry  that she thinks she could make with her eyes closed. Her grandmother had taught her the spells to make vaniljhjärta with magic but working the mixture with her own hands was what she needs to ground herself when another, more unwelcome memory surfaces to remind her that  it wasn’t that long ago that it was dust from crumbled bricks in her hair and blood on her nose from a curse fired in her direction.

There had been blood on her nose, foreign and uninvited the warmth of it anything but comforting. Red had long been her favourite colour, vibrant and bold, but the sight of it staining her fingertips after they’d been raised in a daze had made her stomach turn. It had been weeks since she’d managed to pick clothes of that colour from her wardrobe, settling for others that couldn’t possibly betray her in the same way. Yellow, blue, green, even white (though that in itself posed an issue when she no longer considered herself remotely clean or pure, too dirtied from war) had all adorned her but not red.

Once more she directs her short attention to the task at hand. Satisfied with the thickness, Greta uses a steady hand to cut the shapes necessary for the pastry. It’s always amused her the calmness that comes over her when she’s focused enough, so unusual to her and yet it’s also when she feels most at peace which is exactly what she craves when the world outside is far too chaotic for her. Adventure and excitement has always been what she craved, the things she was always searching for in her life, but she’s finding it harder and harder to let herself partake in such activities when the reality had hit far too close to home when she’d lost Max. The war had made her cautious when she’d never possessed such a trait before. She still wanted to take part, to fight for what was right, especially when she had time to make up for, but there was a fraction of a second more thought put into her actions now. While she might concede that she was rash and failed to factor others in to her impulses, Greta would never agree that she was knowingly selfish so she was going to do everything in her power to stay alive so as not to leave her parents childless, even if that care she was taking was at odds with every inch of her being.