#benefit of the doubt possibly obscuring it as anything else.

[eldragon-x]

revolutionary girl utena 🤝 in stars and time

some of my favorite pieces of media that deal with heavy subjects which I objectively believe are worth talking about, however sometimes a part of my brain goes "oh I cannot talk about this on my tumblr blog"

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 5

Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman)  Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)

Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst

Chapter Warnings: mentions of physical and emotional abuse, murder planning

Word Count: 2490

Read on AO3: here!

Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist

False masterlist

Roman was not used to feeling small.

He was used to standing out, being loud, and carrying his shoulders with a confidence worthy of the title he held and the company he was expected to keep. Wherever he went, he knew he could always hold his head high.

Staring at his reflection now, he had to fight the urge to duck his head. His face was, quite simply, a mess. The cut from Lord Howard’s ring was small enough that Roman didn’t feel the need to bandage it, but the wound was slightly swollen, and his cheek was a truly shocking shade of purple.

Swallowing, Roman picked up a small compact that had been left on his vanity. He wasn’t in the habit of applying makeup, but when the supplies for doing so had appeared in his room overnight, the message he was being sent was quite clear. He wasn’t even sure whether he was sickened or relieved by the act, at this point. In some ways, it felt like another mark of ownership; the earl wanted him as perfect and pristine as ever, no matter what happened. But on the other hand, Roman wasn’t sure if he could stand to walk about the estate with the mark on full display like a brand.

Roman winced as he gingerly applied the powder to his face. It didn’t completely erase the injury’s appearance, but if he added some blush to the other cheek and styled his hair so it hung lower than usual, obscuring the bruise from the side...it was almost enough.

It would have to do for now.

Taking a deep breath, Roman exited his room and quickly made his way through the halls. He’d told Patton that he didn’t feel well this morning (which was not entirely untrue), and so he wasn’t expecting anyone to wonder where he was. After a few turns, he found himself standing before a door that he had never actually gone through before: the door to Logan’s office.

The office’s large door glistened with fresh wood polish and gave a pleasant, welcoming smell, though the scent actually only succeeded in making Roman’s nerves worse. He knew Logan would be on the other side, working on managing this set of numbers or that pile of letters even this early in the morning. Lightly touching the bruise across his cheek he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It had to be Logan- no one else. He trusted Patton with everything he had, but there was no telling how the loyal attendant would react. He knew Patton cared about him, but as kind and caring as he was, he was hardly a good actor. And Virgil was far from a snitch, but he was so wary of any sign of trouble that Roman didn’t want to burden him with this...at least not yet.

He had to be sure...he had to know he had even half a chance before letting the others in, and to have that chance, he needed Logan.

If Roman listened closely, he could hear him on the other side of the door, muttering softly to himself as he ran through whatever calculations he was scratching out with his favorite pen. Paper rustled every now and then and Roman could tell by the coolness of the hardwood floor just in front of the door that the window must be open. He stood a moment more, letting his mind’s eye follow the thought, picturing Logan’s long hair blowing softly across his shoulders as he sat hunched over his desk, glasses sitting just so on the bridge of his nose that Roman could probably reach forward and straighten them if he was quick enough.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he took a breath and knocked quickly, then without waiting for an answer, pushed the door open before he could lose his nerve.

Logan glanced up from his work, frowning slightly as Roman entered. His eyes widened when he saw Roman, and he stood so quickly that his chair screeched across the floor. Wincing at the sound, he smiled apologetically and gestured for Roman to take the seat in front of him.

“Roman, to what do I owe the pleasure this late in the evening?”

“I-” Roman’s throat ran dry, and his thoughts along with it. Logan was looking at him, worry etched across his brow and work forgotten, and Roman swallowed. “I need your help.”

“Certainly,” Logan said immediately. “How can I assist you?”

Sitting across from Logan now, Roman almost changed his mind. It seemed absurd to think that Logan would agree to what he had in mind...what if he had misjudged him? What if he had misinterpreted the withering looks Logan shot the earl when he thought no one was looking, what if he had placed too much faith in their budding friendship, and if Roman so much as breathed a word of his plan, Logan would be the first to warn Lord Howard?

“Roman? Are you alright?”

Logan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Roman looked up. Logan was sitting patiently, nothing but concern and quiet understanding marking his features, and Roman suddenly didn’t know why he should be worried at all. He could trust this man- he was sure of it.

“I need your help taking control away from Lord Howard.”

Logan binked once, then twice, fiddling with a pen that lay in front of his hands before setting it down firmly and leaning forward. No sound came from his mouth when he opened it at first, snapping it shut to blink a third time, slow and deliberate while he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry?”

“I- I need your help, please Logan.” Roman leaned forward as the other man straightened back up, his attention fully caught. “The earl has his fingers in far too many pies...and I’m not even sure he remembers what all the flavors are. If last week's meeting was anything to go by he disregards anything that doesn’t directly benefit him and only him and I’m sure land isn’t the only thing he’s notoriously stubborn with. Look at the way he treats his staff, expecting them up day and night to serve him and his entertainment of the day, extending that to you and all the responsibilities he shoves to the side in his confidence that you’ll pick up the slack. I haven’t even been here for very long but I know you hardly sleep for all the work you do in his stead. He expects everyone around him to be the perfect picture of their roles to mask the fact that he cannot play his own and I cannot continue this betrothal and eventual marriage in a state of constant anxiety and silence. He isn’t...he isn’t a good man Logan.”

Pursing his lips, Logan held up a hand. “Roman, I still don’t know that I understand what you want me-”

“He isn’t a good man, Logan,” Roman interrupted. “You must see that.”

“Yes, but Roman, he- I don’t know what you’re asking of me. He has more power than he knows what to do with, true, and he certainly abuses it, but I’m not certain what you expect me to be able to do about taking it away. I manage his finances and remind him of meetings; I hardly have the reach to do anything substantial.”

“For people like him, money is his power, and you’re the one that takes care of that. How many times does he actually ask you about anything official? Does he ever want full accounts of where anything goes? You sign documents for him of all things because he believes himself too important and you’re going to sit there and say you have no weight to throw?”

“But I-”

Seeing the doubt, Roman was quick to lean forward. “What if we could control the estate? Actually control it, and make smart decisions for it and know what’s going in and out of it? Surely you of all people would jump at the opportunity to make the changes you know need to be made here.”

“Roman.” Logan fixed him with a stern look, and Roman snapped his mouth shut. “It’s a nice thought in theory. I’ve spent many nights worrying over things that truly should not be my responsibility, and have done enough research to present to the earl a myriad of solutions to his problems, should he ever decide he actually wants to listen to my counsel. But for us to be in control of the estate, the earl would have to be deceased.”

Roman stared at him blankly.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Roman that is not-”

Taking a deep breath, Roman brought up a hand to wipe at his face, the flesh colored powder smearing his sleeve to reveal the dark purple and red underneath. This time it was Logan that snapped his mouth shut, with an audible click. Horror, anger and worry flashed across his face, and Roman winced.

“It’s going to get worse. I know it and so do you. This is how it starts, especially once he has someone who officially belongs to him, and especially when that someone doesn’t just lie down and take it. I won’t. And so it will keep getting worse, and he will never be accountable until one of us finally has an accident. I am not going to let that one of us be me.”

Logan regarded him sadly, sighing as he lowered his gaze. “What you’re suggesting is extremely risky. Even if we could do something after you marry him, the fact of the matter is that this is the Howard family’s estate. And I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that the earl isn’t exactly...interested in making you an official member of the family in any capacity. If he were to pass away, the estate wouldn’t be bequeathed to you. You’d still have no control, and might honestly end up with less if his other family members decide not to tolerate your presence.”

“That’s where you come in.” Roman smirked, and Logan’s head snapped up. “I need your help to forge the will.”

--- --- ---

“Well that’s-”

“Excuse me, what?”

Roman fidgeted with his sleeve as Logan attempted to sooth Patton and Virgil long enough to allow them to explain. After getting Logan to agree to help him, Roman had immediately requested that they bring Patton and Virgil into the scheme. Roman was certain he could trust them, and Logan seemed to agree. They certainly wouldn’t be able to pull their plan off with only two of them. Getting Patton and Virgil to see the necessity in it, though...well that was the first hurdle they were trying to clear.

“It seems like a drastic measure to take, even with the lord’s uh...mood as of late.” Patton squirmed on the haystack he was curled up on, pointedly ignoring the baffled expression Virgil threw him.

“A drastic measure? You think? This is treason, Patton! We’ll be hanged!” Virgil turned to glare at the two men across from him. “We will be hanged. There has to be a better way.’

“We will have the will forged and officiated before the wedding, and then arrange it to look like his death was natural. As long as we can figure out a way to do that it’s a fairly simple process.” Logan held his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture. “Even if we can’t find a way to make it look natural, I assure you Lord Howard has enough enemies grabbing at his various businesses and properties that it’d be anyone’s guess who tried killing him off. Half of them would end up paying investigators off just to avoid any public suspicion, it is almost guaranteed that no one would expect Roman to be the culprit.”

Virgil stared at him. “You’ve thought this through. Logan, why have you thought this through?”

Patton reached over and grabbed Virgil’s hand, rubbing soothing motions against his knuckles while humming softly. Virgil’s shoulders remained tense but he leaned against the attendant's shoulder, taking a shuddering breath as he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“I think...” Patton said slowly. “I think that maybe while we have this opportunity we should take it. Not that I take any pride in using you Roman!” He was quick to assure. “But- I’ve seen the way he gets...and how he is getting. People like that only worsen with age, and I’d rather not see any of us hurt...more.”

Roman touched his cheek self-consciously, trying to subtly cover up the spot where he had wiped the make-up off, but of course fooling no one. Patton glanced away but Virgil’s gaze only hardened, squeezing the other man’s hand and swearing under his breath.

“I guess....I guess all of us here- everyone at the estate really- would benefit from him not being in charge. It’s still incredibly risky.” Here Virgil glared daggers at Logan and Roman specifically. “But I think with the right people...the right poison maybe, it could work.”

“Do you have a suggestion?” Logan asked curiously.

“Not me, but I know people that might. What are we thinking the time table will be for this?”

Roman perked up as they all looked at him. “Well...it might be a good idea to carry it out a good while after the wedding. If it happens immediately after, it would look a lot more suspicious than if we waited.”

Logan frowned.  “But Roman-”

“Logan, you know I’m right.” Roman startled a bit at the sheer amount of concern he saw in Logan’s eyes, but gave him a small smile as reassurance. “I’ll be fine until then.”

“Well,” Both of their heads snapped around to face Virgil again, neither acknowledging the slight pink in their cheeks. “If we’re waiting that long that’s plenty of time for me to get in contact with my guys and figure something out. Really it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Patton made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Um, exactly what kind of guys, Virgil?”

Virgil laughed outright. “Oh, total degenerates for sure! But they’re also both idiots, and that didn’t change when they set up their apothecary, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“So it’s set then? We’re doing this?” Roman couldn’t help the hopeful edge to his tone, and he immediately felt a stab of guilt.

What would his friends think of him now, so eager to take such a drastic measure? But a quick glance at their faces revealed only sympathy and determination, and he forced himself to breathe. There was a reason he’d come to these three specifically, and now he had to trust that he’d made the right call.

“Yes.” Logan said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, and Roman felt himself relax. “We are.”

First Previous Next

[astrologanize]

*this is about your next mutual romantic connection - it could be that you both like each other but nothing may come of it, it could be someone you choose to date casually or not, or it could be someone that you go on to enter a serious relationship with. it’s a ‘connection’ for a reason! what you make of this connection is your choice, this is just the next mutual romantic connection that is coming towards you (yay for free will)

please take a moment to take a deep breath, ask yourself the above topic, and select the icon you are most drawn towards

pile 1: this person is not the most forthcoming with their emotions and i wouldn’t say that they’re cold but they are emotionally constipated. you’re showing up as closed off though so both of you are hesitant when it comes to romance, or at least for this romance in particular. it could be possible that when this connection comes around you’re still not entirely over someone else which is why you’re not as quick to get attached to this person. you’re going to need to decide whether you are going to move on from the previous person and pursue this new connection wholeheartedly or, if that doesn’t apply, then you’re going to have to work through the emotions of discomfort with this person by sharing your worries and concerns and make a more conscious effort to bring that sense of togetherness. to be fair this person reaaally needs to learn how to be bolder with you anyhow because they aren’t very expressive about their feelings for you so you’re both needing to learn how to open up in different ways. as your icon, the north star, suggests - it’s a time to figure out where you’re going! will you move on? will you make the trek towards opening up? something has to bring brightness! 

pile 2: this person has been through some things but they’re overcoming those issues or have already overcome those issues so this person doesn’t want to allow for anything to knock them down again Or this person has not properly dealt with past woes so they struggle with having healthy connections. for the former it will seem at times this person can shrug things off or have the mentality of “like water off a duck’s back” and it’s not from a lack of caring but because they’re trying to avoid pitfalls. for the the latter, this person shrugs things off because they genuinely don’t have the will to deal with it. this seems like a connection where neither of you expected to like the other because they aren’t your usual type at all and you’re not what they were looking for but somehow a romantic connection formed. i don’t see this as being a long-term connection because neither of you are heavily invested but if you both wanted to invest in it then the expectations would have to change (lol aka there would have to be some) and there would need to be quite a bit of effort put into this. honestly i think you both kind of like the freedom that the connection grants so idk how well the transition to a relationship would go with the workload it would require. your icon is the plum and a plum is great for keeping things in motion; it’s important that in this connection you remember to keep things regulated and adaptable because the best thing you can do in this connection is remember that this is uncharted territory so do your best to stay nimble without losing yourself 

pile 3: this person is spacey and they’re not what you think they are (which doesn’t always have to be a bad thing), its a tip of iceberg kind of person where there’s an internal jumbling under the surface so it may take awhile to feel close to them. this could be a connection that becomes a serious relationship because it seems that you’re both rather committed towards the long haul and there is a good level of reciprocation happening in the connection. kind of not surprisingly enough though, you do need to work on intimacy issues when it comes to this connection because it seems like you have some emotional distress due to past attachment issues and you could be the type that gets uneasy when things are too settled. this person’s biggest enemy is themselves and they easily feel like they did something wrong and get caught up in negative mental patterns so they have to learn to inject more positivity. your icon is the cupcake so when it comes to this connection you need to take a bite and enjoy the sweetness; like the “cupcake phase” of a relationship you have to make sure you continue to keep that lighthearted, saccharine quality so that the relationship doesn’t become stale or make you feel trapped. embrace this connection in spite of fear because love will always be a gamble and there will be rough patches but if it’s worth it, it’s worth it

pile 4: this person radiates youthful energy so they may seem immature or naive but they’re a joy to be around. you will feel like the mature one between the two of you and i am seeing that the connection is more in your hands than theirs so you’re the one who is initiating most of it. this person takes on a c’est la vie attitude so i wouldn’t count on this person being the best at serious conversations or being the type to face things head on. this connection will take both of you out of your comfort zones - you’re going to have to work on your tendency to play things too safe and this person is going to have to be more willing to demonstrate substantial effort instead of flying by the seat of their pants all the time. with your icon being (blue) crystals i feel that this connection is an important experience for you in teaching you how to find relief because there’s both a liberation and an acceptance that’s needing to take place. there is emphasis on this being a connection to experience above all, i’m not seeing any definition so i doubt this will become anything serious but it’s a connection that could alleviate something that has gone repressed for a long time

pile 5: this person is all over the place. the icon of the car is showing through right from the get-go i guess lol. you’re not in the clear though either because you’re seeming like you’re trying to control the connection out of fear and there is a concerning lack of accountability on your part. neither of you have a clue what to make of this connection, there is emotion and attachment to each other but too many mind games are taking place and intentions are obscured. this person is going to feel iced out by you with the way you’re behaving, like they’re way in over their head because they aren’t feeling that support from you - it’s mostly just you asserting harsh boundaries that make them feel like they don’t have a say. it’s okay for you to take the lead in this connection because this person does have problems with focus but it’s not okay for you to be so heavy handed. when it comes to this connection you’re going to need to keep things light and open and the car icon may also suggest that this connection could benefit from some adventuring/traveling (covid safe pls). this is not a connection that fits into a box so don’t try to force it to 

pile 6: this person tends to fight the tide in life and it seems like they attract hardships because of it - they may seem like they can never catch a break almost. they might be older than you or more experienced because you’re showing up in this connection as being juvenile and using this connection as a way to bide time. this person has fixed energy though so despite the fact that they are the committed type, it’s also them having issues with taking things too seriously and not wanting to change their expectations. as your icon suggests, there is cyclic behavior happening from both parties and within this connection and both of you are needing to learn responsibility in different ways; you’re needing to learn to be more practical and heedful while they’re needing to learn to not take things so seriously and be more responsible in the sense that their expectations are unrealistic and unfair. you should let this person care for you, i gotta be honest and say that i’m not seeing this connection as necessarily equal but it does very much seem like this person is wanting to give and it can be a lesson of you learning how important it is to have someone that does ground you. this connection is specifically beneficial for you, not exactly a symbiotic connection, so if you’re wanting to learn about priorities and follow through then this person/connection will provide the opportunity to do so. since this person is pretty set in their ways i’m not seeing a loss or a gain on their part, it’s like you have a tree (them) in front of you and whatever is growing on it you can choose to take it or leave it. this one was interesting because i was like ??? is this manipulative??? but since this person is lowkey trying to have the upper hand and does prefer being the provider i don’t see the problem in you accepting what they offer - do still be aware though and don’t let this become a dependency or about power plays

[pocket-void]

A Cup of Coffee

A/N: I am so incredibly relieved to have finished this, but anyways! This is the second fic for Smaller Sides to Life, and I hope it’s alright. (Might make a mini list for that eventually) ^///^ I feel better about this story after thinking about it, and honestly I’m pretty content! Thank you and I hope you have a lovely day/night. u///u

Pairing: Loceit Words: 3596 Content: Flustered Janus because it just kind of turned out that way akjefabekf, it’s mostly Janus’ POV, there’s like a handful of swear words, it is fully light hearted u///u Summary: Janus and Logan always share the kitchen in the morning, being the earliest ones to rise. They never really talked, nor were they ever close, but it turns out that maybe they both have wanted to be.

Google doc if you like reading Cambria font or something, since I haven’t quite figured out Ao3 and don’t know if I ever will. >///< Also I believe uh, @sophiexteresa you wanted to be tagged...?

“Tssss...ouch.”

Sometimes a morning is about as good as a cup of coffee.

Some days it’s rich, fulfilling, and satisfying; a perfect and refreshing way to start the day. A cup that wakes you up with a gentle spreading warmth and wraps you in its delicate aroma that soothes your mind.

Other times however, it’s bitter, bland, and too watered down to really be properly enjoyed, resulting in a disgusting aftertaste that lingers just at the back of your throat; a constant reminder of what could’ve been, a better cup of coffee. It’s doubly worse when the coffee is not only bad, but also way too hot. The only possible benefit of the harsh sting that comes from the first sip is that it completely numbs the taste buds, effectively nullifying the admittedly awful flavor of the beverage, which of course will inevitably come creeping back regardless because there never truly is an escape from the shame and disappointment that is failing to make something as easy as a cup of joe. 

Perhaps the simple truth was just that Janus was not very good at making coffee. He was never going to admit that, obviously. Heavens no, he’d rather down another cup of scalding bean water before that ever happened. It’s not like he’d be able to taste it right now anyways, with his stupid numb mouth and all. Still, the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep something as simple as coffee consistent was definitely an odd flaw that weighed heavily on his stubborn pride, much more than any petty insult ever could. Perhaps it was the simplicity of it all that made it feel like such a thorn in his side. Hypothetically, one should be able to follow a procedure each and every morning and end up with a, if not identical, similar tasting brew each time. Well evidently that was not the case with Janus, much to his chagrin. Out of the seven days in a week, he could maybe make a decent pot only during two of those days; maybe three if he was lucky. Over the course of a year he has drunk more overheated, burnt, and under extracted cups of coffee than he could even bother to count, which he didn’t, because it was frankly beyond embarrassing at this point. If coffee wasn’t such a crucial part of his morning, he wouldn’t hesitate to label it the absolute bane of his existence. Curse those pesky grounded beans.

“...Are you alright?” A voice calls out from the other side of the kitchen. Seated at the dining table just a few feet away was Logan, halfway through a book just like he was on most days. His own empty mug casually placed atop a scattered collection of papers that no doubt contained endless notes on various facts, vocabulary words, and details of the coming week’s activities.

Of course, how could he ever forget the second most embarrassing part of his already lackluster mornings. The fact that the only other intelligent person in the living space had to watch him do this ridiculous charade every day. They’re the only ones who’d ever be awake at this time of day, as such is the fate of two people with actually proper sleeping habits. He has no clue how Logan manages to bear witness to this laughable display with a straight face, though perhaps the man was just not really paying attention. As he was, more often than not, too absorbed in hastily scribbling down notes about whatever topic had caught his attention that week to probably care about Janus constantly burning his delicate tongue over and over again. Which, to be fair, was a good thing. Wasn’t it? Totally. Right. Of course he wouldn’t want Logan to see him act a fool, why was he even asking. It’s not like anything he was doing was ever going to be as interesting as whatever the man was reading up about, as disappointing as that was. Not that it mattered currently, seeing as how for once he did manage to notice and- Aw shoot he completely forgot about that didn’t he.

Janus simply makes a face and squints, lips still slightly parted as he held his tongue between his teeth. He sighs and, with a mildly sarcastic gesture of one hand, replies with simply “Yes”.

Logan responds by raising an eyebrow, gaze still remaining firmly upon him.

Now maybe it was the way the gentle sunlight filtered through the slightly fogged up windows, or the way the dust danced under those soft golden beams, but the sight of Logan seated at the table somehow seemed to shine with an almost unfair ethereal glow. Now if only the reflection of his glasses didn’t also obscure his eyes...

Janus blinks. “Oh it’s just great.” He finally complies, rolling his eyes and ignoring the fact that he was probably just blankly staring for the past few moments. You know, like a fool. Which he was not. “Nothing big, just the usual.”

“The usual.” Logan repeats, sounding rather unimpressed. To which the snake reacts to by immediately placing a gloved hand over his heart.

“What? Don’t believe me?”

“Quite the contrary,” The other shuts his book. “I am well aware of the fact that you tend to make this mistake on a nearly daily basis.” 

The record scratch was almost audible.

“You-” Janus practically stumbles at the revelation that Logan was, in fact, actually aware of his struggles with the abominable coffee machine and its products’ disastrous burning touch. Memories of his daily mishaps slowly begin to flood his mind, and as he recalled each and every previous morning, the sound of nails being hammered into what might as well be the coffin of his tattered pride echoed louder and louder in his ears. Well it was either that, or the blood that was currently rushing through them from his suddenly racing heart. For a moment he wasn’t even sure how to respond, but the creeping heat that soon invaded his face was all too prevalent to ignore; a burning sensation rivaling even that of his tongue. 

In hindsight, he was perhaps the foolish one to not expect someone as perceptive as Logan to notice such things. Maybe it was wishful thinking at best. But surely nobody could’ve foreseen Logan ignoring the mistakes he was making even after taking note of it, right? Logan, who’s known to instinctively attempt to remedy mistakes when he saw them. Logan, who gets way too caught up in silly errors and misunderstanding figurative statements. Surely he would’ve said something, anything. But he knew? He knew and he didn’t say anything? He knew and he just watched as he made a fool of himself every day? What would’ve been the purpose of that? Was he secretly mocking him? Did he find this amusing? Janus winces. That thought perhaps stung more than it should have. 

He quickly turns away with a flick of his capelette and pretends to occupy himself with cleaning up the counter. Focusing his attention to the obnoxious yellow of his gloves rather than the gaze he still felt on his back. “Ah, so you knew.” Janus mumbles, managing to muster up his best attempt at remaining casual. “Did you even need to ask, in that case? Didn’t think you would be paying attention to whatever I was doing.” Honestly—now ain’t that a joke—he wasn’t really even sure what else he could say to that. “You have better, less mundane things to be paying attention to, no? Surely I’m nowhere near as interesting as the books you oh so love to stick your nose in.” The soft chuckle that emanated from behind just made him want to coil up into a ball and dissipate even more, but he stands his ground. He’ll just...get through the morning and subsequently try to never think of this moment ever again. He’s totally fine. 

“I wouldn’t say you aren’t interesting, Janus.”

Ok nevermind, maybe he isn’t-

“I beg your pardon?” Janus almost instantly snaps his head back towards the man at the table. A decision he immediately regrets as he locks eyes with a softly smiling Logan—gently leaning forwards as his chin rests upon crossed hands—and Janus feels his composure once again fly right out the window. 

“I said I find you interesting.”

He takes a deep breath. “Don’t repeat that, I didn’t hear you.”

“I said-”

“No no, I didn’t mean that, actually stop.”

Logan quirks his eyebrow yet again, in the snarky yet triumphant way that showed when he knew he was right about something. While the confidence was admittedly charming, Janus for one really wishes he’d stop doing that. Especially right now.

“Would you like me to elaborate?”

“As a matter of fact, I would.” No he fucking didn’t, why the hell did he say that. He nods curtly, setting his coffee cup aside as he awkwardly leans against the counter for support more than anything else. Ignoring the fact that he wanted nothing more than to leave this current predicament, he hoped to god, the bastard, that the panic settling in his bones wasn’t showing on his face.

Logan smiles a little. “Well personally, I rather enjoy our time in each other’s presence during the morning.”

He enjoyed his company? “Well I certainly wouldn’t have guessed.”

“I’ve also observed that you tend to have great difficulty making your preferred morning beverage the way you like it, correct?”

Ouch. “No?”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Logan replies without pause. “While I find your persistence admirable, I think we’ve reached the point of reasonable doubt a good while ago.”

“Mhm, yeah, great. Great. And are you just going to sit there and humiliate me, or are you actually trying to make a point?” Suffice it to say, he was not a big fan of hearing about it.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to offend or belittle you in any way.”

Janus scowls. “So what? Have my mistakes finally bothered you enough to actually speak up about it?”

“Well, I had anticipated you asking for assistance one of these days, but it seems like I have underestimated your tenacity.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he opens up one of his notebooks. “Truly a miscalculation on my part.”

“Miscalculation?” He gives a weary glance at the notebook. Logan had tons of them; each one having a different color or pattern that denoted their specific purpose. A sudden realization hits him as he gets a brief glance of the yellow cover. “Have you been observing me??”

“For the past few months, yes.” The man looks back up with a click of his pen. “Is there a problem?”

Is there a problem? How the hell does he just say these things? Of course there was a problem! How in the world was he supposed to live this down knowing that Logan didn’t just notice him every morning, but also was most likely taking excessively extensive notes? He was beginning to think that his attempts to make himself less conspicuous in the morning had subsequently led him to be less perceptive about what the other was doing instead, and that was an irony that he did not want to think about right now.

“Well I simply don’t see any benefit for you in doing that.”

That actually seems to make the other take pause. “There is no benefit.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“There is no benefit.”

“You really need to stop repeating things when I-” Deep breath Janus, deep breath. “I’m not actually asking you to- Nevermind that, why are you doing this then?”

Logan lightly taps his pen against his chin. He shrugs. “I just wanted to figure out the best method of assisting you.”

“Oh and why would you ever care to do that?”

There wasn’t an immediate answer. Just a quiet, all encompassing silence interrupted by only the occasional distant chirping of birds, as the two remained where they were in the kitchen on what was supposed to be a typical Tuesday morning.

Truth was, he didn’t want to hear it. And for one moment, just that moment, time seemed to slow. As Janus stands by the counter, with the bittersweet smell of his still cooling cup of coffee gently wafting his way and his eyes still focused on the twinkling starry blue that was Logan’s eyes, something within him was absolutely terrified. And the worst part was that he didn’t even know why. Or perhaps he did, but for the sake of himself he had never dared to acknowledge it. He couldn’t. How could he? His world sat upon an ever delicate balance, and he was not one to step towards any risk of tipping that scale. So he never did. As much as he wishes he could. To be important. To be just a few feet closer. To be just one seat away. To be sitting at that table, silently listening to Logan rant about the latest book he oh so loved to stick his nose in, and to take a sip out of a cup that was not his own. As much as he wishes he could. But no, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

Yet a part of him still hopes, and he curses himself for it.

Every part of his body is telling him to get out right now. To run. To spare himself the agony being here instead of literally anywhere else. To save himself before whatever words that were about to leave Logan’s mouth completely shatters the status quo that he was already accustomed to. He knew he was hoping for too much, it was too late to take anything back, and at this point even if it were just a kind hearted gesture from a well meaning acquaintance, he didn’t think his currently pounding heart could bear the affirmation of what he already suspected. It was frankly a lose-lose situation. A situation he should’ve known better than to get himself into. A situation where he knew the best solution was just to leave.

Which is why within that moment, just one moment in which time had seemed to slow, when Janus is suddenly pulled back into reality as he now finds himself glancing upwards at Logan, who was now standing a mere two feet away. He instinctively attempts to take a step back, but his heel taps against the counter, clearly surprised at the sudden shift in positioning. Had he really been that lost in thought? Janus finally breaks away his gaze to look to the side, holding his breath as if he were bracing for whatever the other had to say next.

“Am I not allowed to?” The unexpected softness in Logan’s voice was so incredibly unfair, and it obliterated any guard that he could have ever possibly put up. 

“I- No, you just...” He inhales rather sharply. Get a grip. “Just why would you-”

“Janus.”

He looks back and suddenly they’re face to face, barely a few inches apart, and within moments he completely forgets how to breathe.

Logan laughs. He laughs. With a tenderness he has never seen etched across the man’s typically serious face. Janus stares, completely mesmerized by the beautiful yet admittedly confusing sight, and forgetting about just why he was so flustered not too long ago. He feels his hand be slowly taken into another as Logan lifts to hold it within both of his own.

“Would you mind if I made your coffee tomorrow morning?” He asks, voice barely a whisper and lips still curled in an enchanting smile.

It was a request that barely registers itself in Janus’ mind, but he quickly manages a nod after swallowing practically nothing; his mouth suddenly dry. The only thing he could focus on was just how darn close those lips were, or how deep his eyes were, or how he still smelled faintly of chamomile tea, or- “Please.” He states, with whatever remaining dignity he had left.

The other seemed pleased with the answer, and the silent understanding that was present between them felt almost too nice to be true, yet it managed to put all of his worries to rest. Part of Janus wishes time could stop right here, with his hand delicately held between Logan’s and his heart quietly swelling within his chest; the other part promptly snaps him out of that ridiculous fantasy to focus back on what was actually happening. Logan hadn’t yet moved from where he was.

“Uh…” Janus lightly bit his lip, the next thing almost paining him to suggest. “Could you perhaps...let go now?” 

“Of course.” Logan says, loosening the hold on the other’s hand. An admittedly disappointing gesture, but it’s not like anyone was going to admit that. “There are still tasks that we must both attend to.” But before he steps back to return to his seat, he gently leans in to lift Janus’ hat and plants a soft kiss upon his forehead. The expression Janus showed as a result is surely priceless as his eyes grow wide and heat instantly flares across the rest of his face yet again. He couldn’t even get a word of protest out before Logan walks away after a small pat on his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“...Right.” He replies, and promptly excuses himself from the kitchen as fast as humanly possible. He genuinely didn’t think he could handle staying there for much longer. His head was still spinning from everything that had happened, and the simple promise that was to be fulfilled the next morning sat heavily on his mind for the rest of the day. Did he know what he was doing? Was it on purpose? Was he allowed to believe in what he hadn’t thought was possible before? Janus places a hand over his forehead, the feeling of warm lips touching against his skin still rather fresh in his memories. Maybe, he could allow himself to enjoy it? What a dangerous thought, but ever so enticing. Here he thought that he could avoid it forever, and eventually it would be forgotten. Like a fool. Which he just might be.

It was something he’d probably never escape, but was it a curse? Or a blessing? Or perhaps it was neither, since neither of those things exist. But alas these feelings did, and if he couldn’t throw them away, then he’d have to keep them.

The next morning inevitably came, and with great anticipation Janus pauses a few steps before entering the kitchen. He places a hand over his heart, as if the action would somehow manage to soothe its wild rhythm, and takes a deep breath. He enters, hesitant and still groggy from just getting up, completely not knowing what to expect.

Logan was there, as usual, sitting at the dining table, papers scattered all across the surface and eyes attentively scanning through the pages of yet another book. It felt almost like a crime to disturb his concentration, but a new detail catches Janus’ eyes. A second cup, placed but a foot away from the other on the table; the area around the mug being mildly less cluttered as if to make room. 

Janus finally steps forward to make his way to the table, his arrival being politely greeted with a “salutations” from the other, and immediately given an offer to sit.

“Here?” He gestures, giving a tentative glance towards where he was used to standing. A comfortable distance away, by the counter. But now that safe haven seemed so far away.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that he pulls out a chair and takes a seat. His eyes wander towards the various papers that cover most of the table’s surface. Notes, facts, and schedules, just like he always imagined. The confirmation of being correct about something never fails to amuse him. He sneaks a peek at Logan, whose gaze also shifts up from his book without lifting his head.

“Reading about coffee today are we?” Janus chuckles.

“There can be a surprising amount of depth to any subject.”

“Hmm.” Janus hums. “...Tell me about it.”

And so he does.

While the two sit in tranquil harmony, with Logan explaining the intricacies of coffee, from its history to its benefits to its various methods of consumption, and Janus patiently listening while staring down at the drink that was poured for him beforehand, in the cup that he has always used each and every morning before. Amidst the pleasant atmosphere and the comforting voice of another, he eventually takes a sip.

It was perfect.

“I’m pleased you like it.” Logan comments, noticing the content expression on his face.

“You really did your research huh.”

“It took a few months. It was difficult to gather data when there was no consistency in the methodology that you used.”

Janus coughs and glances away again, but he hears the small chuckle underneath Logan’s breath.

“I can walk you through the process one day if you’d like.”

“I think I’d rather leave it to you.”

“A wise course of action.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself.” Janus mumbles, smiling a little to himself and completely accepting defeat in that regard. 

Sometimes a morning is about as good as a cup of coffee. And now, sitting here at the table under the gentle light of the rising sun, perhaps every following morning could be similarly warm, fulfilling, and just as perfect as well. 

After all, every cup was now going to be just the way he likes it.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 9: House of Bangtan

“That won’t be necessary,” you immediately said.

Hoseok shook his head while smiling. “I think it’s about time we get to know each other. Or what do you think, Jimin?”

Jimin stood next to Taehyung, chatting quietly when he turned around. “Did we really buy enough food for all of us?” he asked hesitantly.

“We bought the amount we usually do,” answered Hoseok. “And I seriously doubt she eats more than Jungkook.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak but Hoseok stopped him. “You don’t get to say anything,” he interjected. “What do you think Jungkook would say or do if he saw the way you treated (Y/N)?”

“Nothing. She doesn’t even like us,” said Taehyung stiffly. “He told me she refuses to go to the concerts or support him. She wouldn’t even congratulate him on our first win.”

“Are you serious?” You couldn’t help but raise your voice. “He has never invited me. I only came yesterday because my best friend had a ticket available. Jungkook even explicitly told me several times that he didn’t want me to come.”

“I sense a liar.”

“Taehyung,” said Hoseok before you could respond. “I know you’re hungry, but let’s stop with the accusations. There must be a reason why you two disagree. Let’s just invite (Y/N) on dinner so we can talk about it and get to know who exactly Jungkook’s mysterious family friend is. You can get to rummage through his wardrobe as well,” he told you.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I have to get back to the hospital,” you lied. Okay, not completely since you had no idea what terror Jungkook might had spread among the hospital staff so far. But the first part was untrue. You were definitely not up for eating with six strangers, of which at least one was furious at you. “I only need his clothes.”

But then you got an idea. They had lived with Jungkook for the last couple of years, meaning they would know a lot more about him than anyone else, maybe even his parents. Perhaps a dinner wasn’t the worst way to get more information that might help you restore Jungkook’s memories.

Perhaps befriending the Bangtan Boys would benefit all.

“Besides,” you added shyly with this new plan unfurling in your mind. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please,” said Hoseok with a soft snort. “I wouldn’t invite you if I thought you would be intruding. Everyone has been curious about you and Jungkook ever since we first heard of you… what, five or so years ago? But I understand if you need to get back to the hospital.”

You checked your phone and pretended to contemplate whether you could stay or not. Jungkook would survive an additional hour or so. “I mean, I told Jungkook I would be back by six. School ended a bit earlier than I expected though, so I do technically have some time to spare...”

“Then you’ll eat. We bought too much food anyways.” He held out his hand. “I’m Jung Hoseok - J-Hope on stage.”

You shook it. “(Y/F/N).”

“I know.” He grinned.

Hoseok released your hand and walked toward the elevator doors. Taehyung pushed the button calling for the elevator, ignoring you as you approached the three guys.

“Park Jimin, but mostly just Jimin.”

After returning the grocery bags to Hoseok, Jimin held out his hand. You shook it also and repeated your name, then glanced at Taehyung. Jimin and Hoseok communicated wordlessly through their eyes when Taehyung refused to greet you.

“That’s Kim Taehyung,” said Jimin finally as he turned his focus back toward you.

“Don’t mind him,” said Hoseok. “He’s behaving irrationally, but only because he cares for Jungkook. He’s not a bad person.”

You nodded. It wasn’t as if you didn’t understand the guy. In fact, he was behaving much better than you would have should the roles have been reversed.

The elevator doors slid open and the four of you entered. Taehyung pressed the button for the ninth floor and the doors closed. He stood as far away from you as he could as the elevator took you up.

“So, (Y/N), how long have you known Jungkook?”

“Probably from the time I was born, since he was out in the world before me,” you told Hoseok. “What about you?”

“Since he was fourteen or fifteen,” he replied, then assumed a teasing expression. “He was shorter even than Jimin is now at the time he came to us.”

“Hey!” Jimin glared at Hoseok. “I have grown, too!”

“You have? I haven’t noticed.”

Jimin looked as if though he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself when he noticed you looking at him. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

“He still doesn’t remember us, right?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” you said, feeling responsible for the hurt in his voice, then guilty when he glanced at you with hope in his eyes. You should have formulated yourself better. “...in the way that he might have miraculously regained his memories during the day. But the situation seemed unchanging this morning.”

Jimin merely nodded and looked away again.

“But I do have news that I would like all of you to hear,” you said, suddenly realizing you held a piece of information they most likely didn’t know. “I don’t know if Sejin has updated you on the situation but, there is still something we can do in order to restore Jungkook’s memories.”

The elevator came to a slow stop and its doors glided open on the ninth floor. Yet none of the people in the small space moved, including you.

“What?”

Taehyung frowned at you. Hoseok and Jimin stared at you.

“There’s a way to restore him,” you clarified. “Jungkook might still be able to perform with you in Japan.”

“That’s not important,” said Taehyung.

“Who cares about that,” agreed Hoseok. “Are you absolutely certain, (Y/N)? Is there a way to return him his memories?”

“Yes,” you said with a smile as you stopped the elevator door from closing. “I would like to explain it to all of you, if it’s possible. Are the three remaining members at home?”

“I would think so,” said Jimin. “Or did Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung say they were going to the studio?”

“Not what I remember,” said Hoseok. “Namjoon is supposed to help Jin-hyung with dinner today. And Yoongi-hyung is probably asleep as usual the day after a concert.”

“Let’s hurry then,” said Taehyung and was first out of the elevator.

You followed them into their apartment. Now, you hadn’t expected a home of seven dudes to be the cleanest in the world, but this was far beneath your usual standard. What had probably been equipped to handle a family of four or perhaps five, had turned into a home for seven bachelors, to be frank. You could only imagine how often they ordered Chinese food or fought for dominion over the two bathrooms you spotted on each end of the slim hallway running through the apartment.

Taehyung was quickest out of his sneakers and hurried down the hallway, with Hoseok following closely behind. “Hello? Is everyone home?”

“We’re back!” Hoseok called cheerily. “And we have a guest!”

You tried not to stare at the floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with shoes and various beauty products that completely covered the eastern wall of the hallway. They were lucky no earthquakes occurred on the regular in Korea.

“‘A guest’?” came the muffled response, probably from behind a door.

“It’s a girl!” answered Jimin.

You tentatively zipped out of your boots, but kept your jacket on and the duffel bag still in your hand. Jimin had to unlace his shoes and leaned into the wall as to let you pass. You padded down the hallway, which opened up into a small dining room adjacent to a living room that was more like a storage room. Or actually, everywhere seemed to be the storage room. There were clothes and accessories and random items literally everywhere you looked. You weren’t a cleaning saint, but living even a week there would have driven you mad due to the disarray.

You didn’t know if that’s what made the apartment look much smaller than you initially had anticipated. Though homey, it felt cramped. Unorganized.

Frankly, it was a complete mess.

Around the corner of the hallway, almost like in a slim but deep alcove, was the kitchen. The mat-white glass separators had been pushed aside, allowing Hoseok to walk to and from the dining table where he and Taehyung had placed their grocery bags. He gradually filled the fridge and the tiny cupboards with their buys and smiled at you as he passed. “Anything to drink?”

You shook your head.

“Not even water?”

“No, thank you.”

“Have a seat,” he told you. “The others are probably getting dressed.”

You frowned, but his gaze was too knowing and his smile a bit too teasing for you to ask what he had meant by that. Taehyung stood alone by the small dining table, tapping impatiently with his fingers on one of the chairs as he looked from one closed door to another. He ignored you again, but his eyes narrowed when you chose a chair to sit on.

“Er,” you tried, knowing you and your parents had untold, designated places around your rarely used dining table. “Is this your seat?”

“That’s Jungkook’s.”

Great. If there was any kind of Jungkook-related gambling game out in the world, you would be its grandmaster.

Before you could come up with an adequate reply, however, one of the bedroom doors opened, revealing Rap Monster - or rather, Kim Namjoon - and Kim Seokjin, stage name Jin. Both looked as if though they had gotten dressed in a hurry: the tag to Namjoon’s shirt protruded from his neck and one leg was shorter than the other on Seokjin’s jeans.

Taehyung frowned at them as they exited. “You don’t usually hang out in hyung’s room,” he stated, nudging his head toward Namjoon to signify whose room it was.

“We were discussing whose socks these are,” said Namjoon as he held up something white. His eyes found yours and rounded in surprise.

“We figured they were Jungkook’s,” added Seokjin and nodded, also looking at you instead of Taehyung. “Besides, he is sleeping in our room.”

“Not anymore, I’m not.”

Jimin and the last remaining member of BTS emerged from the obscurity of the hallway. Suga, whose real name you had learned was Min Yoongi, regarded you with the same expressionless eyes he had when you first had met. His voice was low like Taehyung's, but whereas the latter’s voice was breathy and admittedly felt like soft, warm velvet, Min Yoongi’s voice was raspy, hollow almost.

“Well then, we’ve all gathered.” Hoseok crumbled up the plastic bags with one hand and gestured toward you with the other. “Guys, this is (Y/F/N). She has some news we all need to hear regarding Jungkook.”

“Hoseok-hyung also invited her on dinner,” said Taehyung sternly.

“Which she agreed to stay on,” said Jimin.

“Er, alright.” Namjoon approached you as he tossed the socks sideways behind him. He held out his hand. “I’m Kim Namjoon,” he greeted.

Seokjin stepped forward after you had shaken hands with Namjoon. “Kim Seokjin,” he said as you took his hand. “I hope you like your ddukbokki extra spicy - Kim Namjoon doesn’t know when to stop seasoning. And did you finally buy the right kind of gimbab, Hoseok?”

“Of course,” replied Hoseok. “Everything’s on the counter, it’s just for you two to start cooking.”

“We should take care of (Y/N)’s business first.”

Min Yoongi didn’t offer you his hand. You tried not to think about what that meant, but since Taehyung had disregarded introducing himself to you as well, you had an idea. Yoongi went past you, took a chair and gestured for everyone to do the same.

You did your best to avoid Taehyung’s face as you sank down on what you now knew was Jungkook’s usual seat. You moved to scratch your arm when you realized you were still wearing your jacket. It was fortunately warm inside their apartment - the floor heat soothing your usually cold feet - but rapidly getting a bit too hot for comfort inside your winter jacket. Still, it felt odd to spare a moment to shrug it off when the topic you would touch on was so urgent.

“So…” you began in a quiet tone. Their attention felt like bright spotlights on you and you fidgeted nervously in the chair. “There might be a way to restore Jungkook’s memories.”

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Worthy (pt6)

A/N: once again - just keep poking me until I start tagging you if you want tagged. @rampant-salamander​, @bolontiku​

...

I looked from Tony to Thor and back to Tony.

“I don’t understand your question,” I responded, and threw back the drink. To hell with being moderate. I was pretty sure I was about to lose my dream job on my second day, I may as well go out with a bang.

“Ella, there has to be something special about you to allow you to lift that hammer,” Tony spoke slowly. That was probably a bad thing. I suspected slow speech meant a really active brain. I was now a mystery that needed to be solved.

“There is nothing special about me at all,” I argued.

“You can lift Mjolnir. That is special.” Thor was like a sage who spoke in riddles.

“But being able to lift Mjolnir isn’t what makes me special enough to lift it. That’s a redundancy.” I, like Tony, was slipping into scientific method in order to try to sort things out.

“Do you have Aesir blood, Ella?” Thor asked.

“My family is from Washington. By way of Wisconsin,” I replied. Tony snorted and Thor shot him a dirty look.

“Before this Wisconsin?” He pressed. The way he said Wisconsin made it sound unfamiliar and strange.

“Norway and England.”

“Norway. That is where the Northmen resided.” Thor looked thoughtful. “In the time of the Vikings, the Aesir traveled on Midgard much more frequently than they do now.”

“Are you suggesting that some ancestor of mine got knocked up by a god?” I could feel my eyebrow rising. Tony smothered a smirk behind his hand. My tone was lost on Thor.

“We are not gods, Ella,” Thor corrected. “And I am unfamiliar with knocked up. What I suggest is that your ancestor was impregnated by an Aesir.”

“But in order to lift your hammer, wouldn’t it have to be you that got this mystery ancestor pregnant? I’d have to be your descendent?” I could feel the blood draining from my face. It would be just my luck that the hottest guy I’d ever seen would be related to me. Thor’s smile was mischievous.

“Not necessarily. I would have discovered offspring of mine on Midgard by now, and I know left none. But I think it reasonable to consider you may have Aesir blood in your veins,” he explained. “Which makes you very special indeed.”

“Can everyone in Asgard lift your hammer?” I asked. Thor shook his head.

“None but I.”

“Then I don’t buy it. I keep telling people, I’m nothing special.” I was getting frustrated with the scrutiny. I never thought I would be desperate for a cute guy to stop paying attention to me, but in that moment, I would have given anything to be able to just go hide in obscurity in the lab, building my washing machine.

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Ella,” Tony interrupted. I’d nearly forgotten he was there, Thor had such powerful bearing. I didn’t think it was possible to lose track of Tony Stark, but I guess in the presence of not-actually-gods… “You are something special. That’s why Pepper and I lept on your application like we did. How did you make it through university with such a bad self image?”

“I don’t have a bad self image. I know I’m a fucking amazing engineer. I just fail to see a correlation between my ability to understand math and build things and my purported mystical ability to lift a magic hammer,” I snapped. I turned back to Thor. “You’re sure no one else can lift it?” Thor glanced at Tony, almost as though he was looking for approval. Tony gave a slight nod.

“I believe that Captain Rogers would be able to lift it, should he have the opportunity. But that remains untested,” Thor admitted. I sighed.

“Of course. He’s a legit hero. Full of righteousness and honour and nobility.” My tone was more sarcastic than I’d intended.

“Yes, intangible and arbitrary measures of worthiness. Who is to say you don’t meet the parameters in some way?” Thor shot back. I looked into my empty glass, wishing it were still full.

“Did you not see me level that d-bag in the elevator?”

“Tis nothing I would not have done myself, and yet I am still worthy,” Thor shrugged. Pepper had walked in at some point during the conversation, and Tony turned to her expectantly. She sighed and blinked slowly.

“We’ve had a discussion about appropriate professional behaviour. He is aware that if there are any further incidents he will lose his internship.” Pepper reached out for the glass of wine Tony was offering her.

“It’s a bit of a PR nightmare if we lose a second intern in as many days, Pep,” Tony commented.

“It’s a worse nightmare if, right as we’re rolling out a gender equality program and girl’s STEM mentorship program, the media gets ahold of information about how we’re allowing someone guilty of sexual harassment to remain in a prestigious and competitive internship,” she retorted. He pursed his lips and paused. After a moment he nodded in agreement.

“What do I know? You’re the boss.” His acquiescence was met with laughter from Pepper.

“What do you know, Tony? How many times did you attend the SHIELD seminar again?” She choked on her wine. “Trust me. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s a smart guy, and I’d like to think he’ll be respectful from now on.” Tony responded with some other comment and I slumped back into my seat, watching the show. If you didn’t know they were stupidly in love with one another, you might assume they were on the verge of war. But I think Tony liked to goad Pepper, and she rose to the bait. Not because she was gullible though. At least, I didn’t think it was because she was easily duped. I think she rose to the bait because it was how they clicked together. I looked away from them and over to Thor, who was sitting back on the couch, completely relaxed. The hammer was propped up beside him, handle leaning against the bolster. It was uncanny how powerful he looked, even in jeans and a t-shirt. I relaxed a little and just enjoyed looking at him, taking in the contours of his biceps, and the definition of the veins in his hands. There was a lot of him to look at, and it was all very pleasing to the eye. At least, everything I’d seen thus far.

I didn’t realize how overt I was being until he smirked. He turned to look at me, and nodded.

“Is it not considered poor manners on Midgard to stare at others?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, but I blinked and looked away, feeling my cheeks colour.

There was really no way for me to deny that I was staring at him. The only blank wall in the entire place was right behind him. I couldn’t even beg being distracted by some of the weird art that seemed to be all over the building. 

“I, uh, well,” I stammered. “I was looking at the hammer?” It sounded like bullshit, even to me. I heard a stifled laugh from Tony and shot him a filthy look. I pushed myself to my feet and glanced at Pepper. “If you don’t need me, Pepper, I’m going to try to catch up with Angela. I have some things I need to pick up for my suite.”

“You can order anything you need from distribution,” Tony offered.

“Except, apparently, towels bigger than a postage stamp,” I retorted. My ears were burning and I was having a really hard time not looking over to see if Thor was following the conversation. He probably was as there was no one else for him to pay attention to.

“You are aware there’s varying sizes of towel?” Tony’s tone was sarcastic. I rolled my eyes.

“Not that this is really a conversation I feel I want to have with my boss, but I grabbed the biggest one. It still barely covered me.” I was ready to pray for a hole to open in the floor and swallow me.

“Well, you’re not exactly supposed to be lounging around in your tow –“

“I wasn’t!” I interrupted. “I was just getting out of the shower when Thor showed up and I didn’t have time to be getting fully dressed before I answered the door, and then the towel slipped and oh my god I cannot believe I’m telling you all this.” I took a deep breath and looked back to Pepper. “Can I go? Please?”

“Let me walk you to the elevator,” she offered and led the way. As we walked away, I heard Tony clear his throat.

“You’ve seen her naked already, you sly dog?”

“That is enough, Stark. How you have lived so many years on this realm and not noticed how modest some of your women are, I have no idea. But you embarrassed her. Like many Midgardians, she lacks comfort with the physical form.” Thor’s words were a chastisement, and I somehow felt even more embarrassed about him having seen me naked. Because now, not only was I naked in front of the freaking Norse god of thunder, but also he took more notice of what a prude I am than that I was naked. I leaned against the wall and banged my head against it.

“That’s not how you call the elevator,” Pepper teased. “I know we all collectively keep telling you to relax, but, yeah. Relax. If Tony is already giving you a hard time, he’s assimilating you into his world as a permanent fixture. This will be something you laugh about in future years.” Her eyes were warm with empathy and it was so reassuring.

“You seriously need to do something about the towel situation, Pepper.” I stepped onto the elevator and pushed the button for my floor. Once the doors shut, I texted Angela to see how far she’d got without me. I didn’t have to wait long. I was swiping my passcard to get into my room when she stepped off the elevator.

“So, towels? Maybe a beer?” She followed me into my apartment.

“Yes. To both.”

XXX

For whatever reason, I expected getting beer with Angela would be more Sex-in-the-City than it was. She pulled me into a quiet bar after we’d found appropriate towels, and we ordered wings from the kitchen and beer.

“So I did some research today while you were meeting with Markus,” she volunteered over a heap of wing bones. I made a noise that was easily interpretable as curiosity and she continued. “I might have hacked some of Tony’s files about that hammer. Thor wasn’t kidding around when he said you shouldn’t be able to lift it. It was apparently forged in the heart of a dying star, of some crazy space-metal. And the Odin enchanted it so only Thor could lift it. Which is clearly a broken enchantment because apparently you can lift it too.”

“It says right on it that if you’re worthy, you can lift it,” I corrected her with my mouth full.

“Obviously it doesn’t take table manners into consideration!” She laughed. I hung my head in mock-shame, but made sure my mouth was clear before I spoke again.

“I don’t know how it determines worthiness. Honestly, isn’t that a little creepy? Is the hammer sentient? Does it consider the merits of each individual that touches it in that split second between grabbing it and trying to lift it? Or does Odin have some sort of approval system for worthiness, and he gets interrupted from whatever it is he’s doing to approve people in that same fraction of an instant?” I pondered.

“Way to ruin magic with science,” she groaned.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. That’s Clarke’s Third Law. The other two are pretty good too,” I shrugged.

“Oh, that was a kill shot! Come on, let me have some sort of fantasy about the mystical powers of the damn hammer, Ella!” Angela threw her hands up in frustration. I smiled and nodded.

“Of course. The hammer is mystical and powerful and absolutely should not be questioned,” I acceded. Angela swatted at me and flagged the waitress over for another round. I felt myself relaxing and forgetting about the overwhelming stress of the past couple of days as we decompressed over a second beer. When Angela dropped me back at the tower, I realized she may very well live on-site as well, but I was tired and had a bit of a beer buzz and forgot to ask before stumbling through my door and crashing on the sofa.

[mingkily]

｡☆✼★━ “friends with benefits” | s.mg ━★✼☆｡

navigation

starring: mingi x reader

fsk-0: fluff | language

volume: 5.5k words

vip access: @midnightseonghwa​ & @treasure-hwa​ & @barsformars​ !

the label that fit best would probably be friends with benefits, because much like with friends with benefits the two of you had become close first after the benefits were added. the only difference was that your benefits weren’t sex, they were him playing with your hair at any chance he got.

“shit!”, you cursed, “shit, shit, shit!”

several other people were looking at you concernedly, but you paid them no mind, instead desperately tried to fix your hair because you’d managed to entirely ruin the hairstyle by accidentally pulling out one single hairpin, and now your incredible amounts of hair were going wild, something that wasn’t at all possible considering your texture, because while straight hair being left unstyled or put in a basic ponytail might look cute and endearing your curls very much did not, not after the stylist had brushed them - you’d look much like you managed to get a severe electric shock, something that wasn’t exactly the desired look to represent your school at one of the more prestigious dancing events in your area.

“can i like… help you?”, one brave soul dared to approach you, and this guy had balls, you had to admit, because even though you were technically just any other dancer everyone in the team knew about your fire, especially when you were angry. and looking up you knew that he must have known that, too, because he was your team’s vice captain, mingi, but maybe he hoped this position would get him mercy. it wouldn’t.

“unless you can fix my hair, you could help by leaving me alone”, you hissed, anger seeping out through every pore, but he just smiled at you in a way he hoped would be calming or reassuring, and then did something you had not at all expected.

“i could try? i can’t make promises, but we’re up in ten and the stylists are who knows where, so i’m all you got”, joking to hide his own annoyance at your stylists just having run off when this had very much been a possibility, and also annoyed that your hairstyle had been so easy to ruin when you were supposed to dance, something that everyone with a little common sense knew required people to move, and quite a lot at that.

“fine. i hope you know if i'm ruining the school's reputation because of a bad hairstyle i'm taking you down with me.”

you really did have fire, but mingi found it weirdly endearing - both of you were well aware of the height difference, yet here you were threatening him if he messed up your hair. and from the way you sounded he didn't even doubt that you'd manage to go through with that threat.

"i'll try my best. now stay still, we don't have too long left", starting to remove all the pins and whatnot from your hair in record speed because he'd need a clean canvas, so to say, and then his hands were in your hair and it didn't at all feel professional, you highly doubted that it would look professional, either, but he was right, he was all you got right now. so you just let him do his thing, hoping he'd get done before you needed to go on stage.

“two minutes!”, one of your teammates told you in a slight stage of panic, but right after that the tall vice captain seemed satisfied with his work, telling you: “try to shake your head, like, really hard, so we know it's going to work even when you're dancing.”

you did as asked and to your surprise it did hold up, much better than your stylists' attempts at a hairstyle ever had, theirs leaving you constantly scared that your hair would suddenly explode into a mess of curls as an unplanned special effect because you could feel the hair move along with every little movement; that wasn't the case with whatever he had done. your hair felt cemented into place, and while the tug at the roots was a little uncomfortable it was nothing you wouldn't be able to deal with. in fact, you preferred this over the constant fear that came without the tug at your roots.

“how's it look?”, he asked both you and the teammates, them approving before you turned to look for yourself.

it wasn't anything fancy, but it looked as professional as could be considering it was a hairstyle created in the span of maybe seven minutes by a layman, a bun that looked like it was a casual, loose one but that you could feel very much wasn't, and if you said that you'd wanted to make the two main centres (which, funnily enough, were mingi and you, him because he was vice captain and the actual captain was more of a trainer and organiser than part of the performing team and you because the fire you had when you were angry was a fire you shared when dancing and really no one else even wanted the main centre position, not when it came to competitions) look rather casual in terms of styling maybe you'd be able to pretend it was on purpose.

and it survived the entire performance, it felt like it hadn’t moved at all, leaving you able to give your all even with your upper body for the very first time ever since you started performing and your school had decided to give you stylists because you’d finally managed to be prestigious enough for that. you were happy that you could afford the stylists, even though it was only one for hair and one for makeup for the entire team, but they apparently had never had to deal with curls before, and most definitely not with thick, waist-length curls, as proven by the fact that they insisted on brushing your hair out every single performance, no matter how often you told them that that wouldn’t exactly make anything better.

after the performance, while you were waiting for the other teams to finish, mingi came up to you, and the two of you started talking at the same time.

“was dancing like that okay for you?”

“can you do my hair from now on?”

then both of you burst out laughing, the tall boy being the first to speak again.

“i take that as a yes?”, he asked you with a slightly teasing grin.

you rolled your eyes at him, but you were still grinning anyway, and then nodded your head wildly in confirmation, the bun still staying right where it was supposed to be.

“literally i’ve never felt this good during any performance. i usually try not to move my head too much because i can just feel my hair waiting to explode into everyone’s faces, but today was… heaven.”

maybe you were being a little dramatic, but your hair and the lack of expressiveness of your upper body that came with having to be careful so you wouldn’t obscure several people’s view with your unreasonable amounts of hair had actually made you dislike public performances or competitions, and being able to perform without holding back had been a nice change, one you weren’t sure you were willing to give up on again. so you asked him, again: “can you do my hair from now on? i’d do whatever it takes and if that should be the issue i’ll deal with the stylists too, just please”, so much desperation in your voice that he was about to start laughing, but then he remembered the amounts of hair he’d had to fit into the bun and stopped himself because if that did explode on stage he could see how it would be quite… unfortunate, and how feeling like it constantly might added unnecessary stress during every performance, which were already stressful enough. maybe that was why he agreed, or maybe he just liked how soft your hair had been.

“i mean, i can try? but i guess uh, i should probably practice before the next public thing, just so we can be sure it works?”

that was a good point, but after a few seconds’ thought you’d found a solution.

“you can do it after dance practice? if you have time, i mean. i usually stay longer to practice a few times by myself anyway, so we’d see if it holds up without risking anything for anyone but me.”

mingi didn’t even need to think about it before agreeing, smiling at you happily because even while he didn’t really know you yet - you barely ever talked, and if you did you only did so during dance practice and about dancing - he always loved making new friends, and it wasn’t too unlikely that he’d manage to befriend you if he got to be your personal hairstylist from now on.

first, however, you had to see if he had genuine skills when it came to taming your hair or if that one time had been sheer luck, which you did a few days later after group dance practice, when you as promised stayed longer so you could go through the choreo a few times by yourself again, having enough space and time to really do all movements, as slow and as spread out as you needed, because you’d found that it was easier to do them right in the team when you’d perfected them by yourself first, without having to take care that you wouldn’t accidentally kick anyone in the face.

“wait, your hair looks super different today”, your vice captain told you once you freed your hair from the constricts you had put it in before team practice, and you rolled your eyes, not at him but at the lady that insisted she had to brush your hair to style it when that really only made it worse.

“yeah, i didn’t brush it. makes it easier to handle.”

mingi nodded in understanding (though he really didn’t understand, because the most he’d ever dealt with on his own head was straight hair but styled to look voluminous and wavy rather than like limp noodles), examining his new canvas before asking: “do you have hair bands or something?”

at that you went over to your bag, rummaging in the front pocket and pulling out scrunchies, regular ties, those spiral hair ties that had started becoming popular, bobby pins and hairpins and the tall boy was left staring in wonder at just how many different kinds of hair taming products you carried with you on the daily.

“go wild. i have a brush too, if you really need it, but i’d rather you didn’t.”

“got it”, and with that he sat down next to your bag, patting the space in front of him so he’d have good access to your hair without having to move all your things around, trying carefully to twist your hair into different shapes just to see what might look good before he’d figure out if the laws of physics would allow for that to work.

“tell me if it hurts, okay?”, he told you quietly before looking at the - to him - huge array of different hair ties, a little overwhelmed and very inexperienced when it came to knowing in what way they differed from each other except for looks, so he asked your advice.

“which ones should i use? or are they all equally good or..?”, an open question so you could tell him whatever there was to know, which you did, and eventually he managed to replicate the bun that had made you so happy during the performance, and that made you so happy now, too, because it held up for the entire practice, a practice mingi joined because he wanted to see if he’d done okay and because he was curious and because he wanted to confirm next week’s hair styling appointment.

“you’re really good”, was the first thing he told you once you were done dancing, a comment that made you feel a little shy and flustered because if anything he was a really good dancer, and apparently really good at sensing when people were embarrassed, too, because he immediately continued: “and seems like i’ve figured out some magic trick for your hair. can i join again next week?”

you weren’t at all opposed, but worried a little that he didn’t actually want to, was just doing this to enhance the team’s performance as a vice captain should, so you wanted to be sure you weren’t wasting his time with your horrible hair that you were thinking of chopping off anyway because it was annoying.

“only if you have the time and if you really want to. i’m probably going to cut my hair soon anyway, i could just do it a little earlier and then the problem’s gone.”

as much as he knew he didn’t have any say in what you did with your hair, that thought made him just the tiniest bit sad, just because he’d found quite some enjoyment in doing your hair - it was soft, it was pretty, he liked your curls and you had a lot of it for him to style. so to think that he’d have to give up on his new hobby so soon again wasn’t exactly a thought he liked, and if there was any way he’d be able to prolong your makeover just a little longer he’d take it.

“no, i actually like it. your hair’s really soft too”, embarrassed as soon as he’d said that because you were acquaintances at most, yet here he was telling you that you had soft hair. at least he hadn’t told you that it smelled nice, because if he had he’d probably have to change schools.

in an attempt to distract from what he perceived to be a mess-up he then curiously inquired: “why do you want to cut it?���

you sighed out in a mixture of frustration and annoyance and resignation; you didn’t actually want to cut it, but you’d grown tired of having to take care of it, so cutting was really the only other option if you didn’t want a large dirty mess on your head.

“it’s just so much work, just brushing and washing and all that. takes ages and i don’t want to spend hours a week making sure i look acceptable, even though i really like my long hair. but that’s how it is sometimes”, a small, bitter smile on your face at that last sentence.

mingi’s inner monologue was one big chain of don’t embarrass yourself don’t embarrass yourself, but of course he failed.

“i mean, as i said, i like doing things with your hair. you could hire me as your stylist, so you wouldn’t have to take care of it and i’d get to play with it some more. win-win?”

then, because you didn’t immediately reply, were somewhat dumbfounded at his offer, he continued rambling.

“i wouldn’t wash it of course, that’d be weird, but i could brush it sometimes in school or i could learn how to braid or something, and then i’d actually be able to style your hair different ways for the performances and all, and-”

“you really wouldn’t mind?”, you tried to make sure, not because you didn’t enjoy the idea but because you didn’t want him to feel weird, since you were still well aware of the fact that him doing your hair when you barely even knew each other wasn’t exactly the most natural way for things to go. but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t love having people do your hair for you, both because it meant less work for you and because you just really liked how it felt.

“i really wouldn’t mind. if it’s fine with you, i mean. if it’s not weird.”

it was obvious that both of you were embarrassed, but in a way that was what made you believe him; he wouldn’t be embarrassed if he didn’t think he was being weird by genuinely wanting to do things with your hair. so your bitter smile turned into a genuine one as you accepted his proposal, mingi smiling, too, and that was how you found yourselves in the weird relationship you were in now.

the label that fit best would probably be friends with benefits, because much like with friends with benefits the two of you had become close first after the benefits were added. the only difference was that your benefits weren’t sex, they were him playing with your hair at any chance he got. he really liked it, you were able to tell after maybe two weeks of being slightly awkward still, and by now the two of you regularly alternated between sitting with your friends or his during lunch because neither of you wanted to waste time that could be spent with his hands in your hair, both friend groups quite surprised at the sudden addition, but everyone got along well so it wasn’t a problem.

“i really didn’t expect you to have this much hair”, was one of the first things mingi had told you once your little agreement had come to be, you chuckling because that didn’t even surprise you - you usually kept it up or had it braided or really just anything to control it just because that was so much easier. but now that he was regularly running his hands through your mane it was revealed regularly to not only him but also people at school just how much hair you actually had. and while you didn’t know about your fellow students you could tell your by now rather good friend was delighted.

he’d surprised you when one day he’d gotten out a brush from his own bag rather than using the one you always carried with you, and surprised you even more when you realised that it was one of the fancy curl detangling brushes that you’d never cared enough to buy, surprised both because he’d spent his own money to get you a brush and because he’d obviously spent time researching your hair type to know what kind of brush was good for curls like yours.

“you really didn’t have to, mingi”, you told him when he started brushing your hair with his newest acquisition, feeling a little guilty because part of you was still convinced he secretly hated having slid into the position of your personal hair stylist, but he gave your head a reassuring pat.

“i know, but maybe i’ll get to brush your hair twice a week now.”

and how were you to say no to that, really? he was so gentle whenever he brushed your hair, had much more mercy with your scalp than you did, had learned how to do different kinds of braids and updos so even when your hair looked like it had exploded he managed to make it look good until you’d wash it again and it would return to its original state, so of course you gave in, the wide smile on his face more of a reward than even the fact that he’d now spend even more time with his hands in your hair.

it wasn’t like that was the only kind of affection the two of you had started displaying, though, a couple weeks after that first period of being awkward had ended, him regularly pulling you into his arms or his lap by now because the closer he was to you the easier access to your hair he had, and he’d found that your hands were equally as soft as your hair that one time you’d repositioned his hands positioning a hair band, your small palms on top of his much bigger hands and he was about to melt because your hands were so soft and small and warm and now he’d be unable to stop himself from holding your hands unless you told him not to do that.

which you never did, though, so handholding was added to the benefits of your friendship, as was cuddling, neither of you uncomfortable with incredible amounts of pda because really, it couldn’t get weirder than how this friendship had started out, so in a way it felt like you were way past being embarrassed about anything. he was sweet, he made sure to never make you uncomfortable or hurt you, and spending time with him was incredibly fun, sometimes practicing your dance routines together but more often just watching movies or going on picnics or other low-key things like that.

maybe all that should have been enough to make mingi realise that he had developed feelings for you at some point, but it wasn’t, the realisation hitting when one of your friends spotted a bug in his hair during lunch and you moved to carefully removed it, having your hands in his hair rather than vice versa for the very first time, and you were both delighted and offended.

“you never told me your hair is so soft!”, you told him accusingly, a sheepish grin and the words “sorry, i didn’t even realise it is” your reply, and then you caused his brain to entirely crash because you pulled your knees up on the bench, then moved your body so you were decently kneeling next to him, your body pressed to his side and your chest way too close to his face while you rubbed your cheek against his hair, enjoying this new experience of you being the one to play with someone’s hair for once while your incredibly overwhelmed best friend was determined to look straight ahead and straight ahead only, because he knew if he were to turn his head toward you he’d faint or cry or both.

he’d probably never been more relieved than when you dropped down to your butt next to him, though his brain did buffer a little again when you moved into his lap. it wasn’t even like you didn’t usually do that, but now in this situation it was a little much for his poor hormones, you in his lap with your face in the crook of his neck and if he didn’t have your hair to play with this would probably be the death of him. and when you whined out: “why are you so perfect, it’s not fair! you’re perfect boyfriend material. you’re funny and pretty and you’re kind and you smell good and now you even have soft hair, can you give the rest of us a chance?” he knew he was done for, because the butterflies in his stomach weren’t the kind of butterflies you were supposed to get around someone you only saw as a friend.

he didn’t tell you, though, was scared of making you uncomfortable and was scared of getting his heart broken and was convinced it was just a small crush anyway so there was no need to, especially when you were such an important part of the dance team and awkward tension between the two of you would affect the entire team and every performance. so he stayed silent, determined to ignore his feelings until they went away by themselves.

then, however, you brought him a shampoo, blueberry because you figured that was a rather neutral scent for a guy and you hadn’t wanted to get one of those three-in-one shampoos, mingi looking at the bottle wide-eyed and surprised because he hadn’t expected that even when he’d gotten you some shampoo in the past as well, along with hair accessories whose purchase he excused with “i mean, in the end it is me who gets to use them, it just happens to be on your head”, and because this wasn’t technically anything odd you got insecure about the fact that this technically was “girl shampoo”, even though you found the distinction stupid and useless.

“sorry, i should’ve guessed you won’t like that. i just heard that those hair ass and balls shampoos” - with which you meant the typical three-in-one shampoos - “aren’t actually good for the hair so i figured this might be better, but it’s technically women’s so of course it’s not really good either, i kind of just wanted to get you a little something because you always get me so much and-”

your anxious rambling would probably have continued for another hour if he hadn’t interrupted you, hands enveloping yours that still clung to the shampoo anxiously, trying to smile in a way that would seem reassuring to you too, rather than mocking which you probably assumed would be the case.

“thank you, really”, voice soft and appreciative and you finally calmed down a little, “but are you saying i can’t use this on my ass and balls?”

he hoped that joke would make you smile again, and it did, such a beautiful smile that he really wanted to kiss you right now, but he wasn’t going to. not when he really couldn’t be sure you felt the same.

what he was going to do was confess to you, though, just because he might explode if he didn’t, so now it was his turn to be nervous.

“uh, but also, i kind of… probably have a crush on you. just so you know.”

that most definitely was unexpected, and you wouldn’t be able to give him the reply he was hoping for either, your smile falling a little because you didn’t want to hurt him but knew that no matter how kindly you reacted it would hurt at least a little.

“mingi, i’m sorry”, you started, “i really am”, enough to let him know that you didn’t reciprocate, but at least you were being nice about it, weren’t making fun of him for thinking you might ever care about him that way.

“no, it’s okay”, he tried to reassure, even though it didn’t really feel okay in that moment. but he knew it would be once a little time had passed.

“i didn’t really think you’d like me back anyway. but are we still friends? or would i be making things weird?”

his hands had fallen from yours by now, his eyes trained on the shampoo bottle so he wouldn’t have to look at your face, anxiety replacing the blood in his veins as he waited for your reply that he half expected to be you telling him to leave you alone from now on, no matter how close you’d been up till now. for some reason he was convinced this was going to ruin your friendship, was scared of that until you grabbed one of his hands with your free one, trying to get him to look at you again with that so he’d see that there was no negative emotion except for maybe guilt between the two of you.

“you’re not making anything weird, i promise. and if you want we could like… go on dates too? and see where that takes us. if that wouldn’t make things unnecessarily hard for you, i mean.”

that most definitely got mingi’s attention, his head jolting up to stare at you in disbelief. were you implying that you’d maybe be willing to give him a chance?

“wait, you… mean that? really?”, hopeful but still scared, because he was putting his heart out in the open right now and he couldn’t know how you were going to treat it. yes, by now he’d found out that the fire you held when you danced or were angry was never used against the people you cared about, was only used to protect them, he’d found out that you were the softest, sweetest, kindest person once you’d warmed up to someone, but maybe what he was most scared of was that he’d lost his spot among your friends now. that he’d been demoted to dance team vice captain again, an acquaintance at best. that would be much worse than the rejection.

but that wasn’t the case. you weren’t sure if he even had it in him to do something that would genuinely make you want to cut him out of your life. you did want to give him a chance, even when you didn’t really reciprocate his crush right now, because he actually was perfect boyfriend material, was gentle and understanding and you knew that even if you’d end up never reciprocating he’d still be just as sweet to you. but you didn’t want to reject him right away, or at least not fully, wanted to give both him and yourself the option to maybe eventually date; sure, your answer right now wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. your heart was saying maybe. so, in a way, you wanted to offer yourself a free trial period to tip your uncertain feelings over to either “we’re just friends” or “there’s something more there”.

“yeah, i mean that. if it’s fine with you. i don’t want you to get hurt if it doesn’t end up the way you hoped.”

to your tall, sweet best friend any chance was better than no chance, even if he wouldn’t manage to win your heart, because at least he’d tried. at least he wouldn’t have to beat himself up over the fact that he’d never actually tried winning your heart. but now that you’d told him that you’d be willing to give it a try he was going to do all he could to woo you, starting with complimenting you whenever he could, about everything, about your smile and your eyes and your hands and your outfit and your laugh and your passion and your hair and-

really, you were convinced that if he were to paint your fingernails he’d probably tell you he’d never seen prettier fingernails ever before in his life.

it was cute, though, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it adorable how he’d get so flustered whenever he’d compliment you but would do it anyway. would always get you small gifts, too. most of the time it wasn’t even anything fancy, more often than not he’d spent at most a thousand won on whatever he got, but that made it even more endearing. you’d never expected to swoon over a rock that glimmered in the sunlight, or some random black rubber that he gave you as a ring (and then drew on, smiling proudly at his creation), or over a pokémon sticker from his childhood collection that he owned in triplicate - or now in duplicate, you guessed - because it had been his favourite pokémon back then, but you did. these weren’t no-brainer gifts, you were able to tell he really put thought into them, and they were absolutely adorable.

with mingi going all out like this it was impossible not to fall in love with him, really, though you still hadn’t figured out how to let him know because while it was obvious that his feelings for you hadn’t changed you were shy to tell him that yours had, had no idea how to even start that conversation in the first place. you didn’t exactly go up to him randomly and say: “yo, mingi, i actually wanna date you now.” you couldn’t do that.

so you continued as you’d grown used to, being best friends except now you were also going on dates, but it actually was a regular best friends thing that gave you the opportunity to update him on how you felt, the regular private dance practice after your team’s one where mingi would wait for you and do your hair before you’d start dancing, and then un-style your hair once you were done, except today he was feeling particularly affectionate, holding you close to his chest as he untied your hair and then, with all the confidence he’d been able to gather while you’d been dancing: “i kind of want to kiss your neck right now. you smell really nice”, something you were half convinced was a lie because all you could smell was your sweat, but you weren’t going to call him out for that when he’d offered you an opportunity to confess on a silver plate.

“why don’t you then?”, nervous but somewhat excited at the prospect, and before he was able to change his mind or be too anxious about it the tall sweetheart pressed a small kiss to the juncture between neck and shoulder, another one first when you hadn’t moved away at all, careful and shy because with every little peck he was convinced you’d suddenly push him away and decide that it was actually weird and gross, but that didn’t happen, and it was actually him who decided to push you away slightly because he noticed you were starting to get cold, still drenched in sweat but no longer moving so of course you’d start freezing sooner or later.

“you should take a shower, i don’t want you to get sick. i’ll wait here”, a nervous smile because he wasn’t sure if you’d let him do that again after your shower or if this had been a one time thing, but he got his answer when you smiled back, nervous, too, and asked: “can i get a kiss to my mouth first so we can make it official?”

his answer was an obvious one and his smile when you came back from the shower and grabbed his hand brighter than you’d ever seen.

[harish78]

Eliminate Negative Thoughts And Lose Weight

You think thousands of thoughts each day. You talk to yourself more than anyone else. You are your most trusted advisor and confidant. Many of the conversations that you have with yourself you would never share with anyone else because to do so would expose the “real” you. The you that is filled with self doubt, worries, sadness, guilt, hurts and disappointments.

But this is not the “real you” at all. This is the you that your ego and belief systems have constructed. These negative beliefs have been constructed by you, and accepted by you as truth. The sad thing is that nothing can be further from the truth.

                                  Click here more details

Where did these false ideas about you originate? They mostly came from others; parents, teachers, co-workers, and friends. They might have planted the seed by saying something like “she is fat” and you have cultivated those comments to the point that they have become your truth.

You are allowing your entire life to be controlled by some obscure comments made years ago. Nobody has the right or power to dictate who you are. Only you know who you truly are and what’s in your heart.

When you were born you entered this world without the burdens of you current negative belief system. You entered this world as a beautiful bundle of joy filled with unlimited potential and possibilities.

I’m here to tell you that you have not changed. You are still and will always be a beautiful bundle of joy with unlimited potential and possibilities.

The only difference is what you give your attention to. Let me ask you a question. If you stopped all the negative talk that you currently have with yourself such as;

– I’m too fat

– Why would anyone want to love me

– I will never be thin

– I always fail

And the list can go on and on… How would you feel ? Do you think that you would feel emotionally lighter ? Do you think that you would feel happier ? Do you think that you would feel more confident ?

Now how do you think your life would change if you were to go one step further and modify your self talk by only speaking positively about yourself. If you take some time and focus on what you like about yourself and focus on only that your emotional state will become positive to the point that you will be able to accomplish anything.

Once you begin looking for the positive things within you, you will be surprised to realize your magnificence has always been there just below the surface. You have never been anything other then that shining bundle of joy that entered the world years ago. It’s easy to uncover positive aspects of yourself by asking some questions.

– What am I good at?

– Who has benefited by me being in the world?

– Who am I, what is in my heart that only I know?

– What do I like about my body?

Your goal is to feel good now. How do you feel now? If you only observe what you feel is positive about you, you will feel good, you will be happy. Decide right here and right now how you want to feel. Decide that you will always look for the good within you and appreciate that goodness.

So what does all of this have to do with losing weight? Everything!!! Your emotional state is the control valve that determines what you draw into your experience. How you talk to yourself creates your beliefs and programs your subconscious. So you need to ask yourself do you want your beliefs and subconscious programming to be based on false negative thinking. Or do you want your beliefs to be based on the truth, that you are and always have been a perfect being.

Begin today to love and nurture yourself. Allow the joy, playfulness and enthusiasm that you naturally had as a child begin to flow into your everyday experiences. Allow yourself to celebrate each and every success no matter how small. Love and appreciate yourself every opportunity you have. Do this everyday and watch your weight begin to dissolve just as your old negative beliefs about yourself begin to dissolve.

[hrodvitnon]

Post-Abraxas timeline GvK scenario - Continuity and thoughts

Continuing from my review of ‘Abraxas’ new chapter on FF .net; I thought I’d just contribute some thoughts I’ve had about how 'Abraxas’ would affect events, mythos and continuity (ways in which Abraxasverse has already deviated and diverged from Monsterverse��s post-KOTM canon and how that would impact on GvK, that sort of thing), if the GvK crisis DOES occur in some form or another canonically in Abraxasverse. Sorry it’s late, it took a lot longer to write this than I thought it would. ^^’)

This post by me is for making pointers for consideration about diverges from Monsterverse canon that the main 'Abraxas’ story has already made and how they’ll impact if a GvK scenario occurred in Abraxasverse, though I’ll also take this opportunity to share some of my own thoughts and ideas about it beyond that. :)

So, down to it:

—-

(1) Where/How/Would a Ghidorah skull come in in regards to Mechagodzilla? It’s been established in 'Abraxas’ that Abraxasverse Ghidorah’s severed heads will fight off necrosis with their healing factor and will just slowly regrow the rest of Ghidorah; that severed heads can suck the power out of any electrical systems they come in contact with to feed themselves; and that humans being too close to Ghidorah heads’ telepathy for too long is a bit like mixing lead poisoning with an over-winter stay in the Overlook even if you don’t actually sit in the head’s skull. All three of which are divergent to the implications of the Ghidorah-skull in GvK. Maybe there’s adaptation deviation in the Abraxasverse GvK scenario, where Apex use the Children of Zmei instead of a Ghidorah skull to pilot Mechagodzilla and it’s them that makes the Mecha become a sentient psychopath?

(1.5) This is just my thoughts and ideas: if it’s still a Ghidorah skull piloting MechaG instead of some of the Children of Zmei: maybe in the four years after 'Abraxas’, Ghidorah comes back again and is killed again and the skull comes from this most recent defeat, with Apex using a chemical to suppress the skull’s healing factor and assuming that was enough for them to control the evil triple-mind inside the bone. (Although after how big and dramatic that climax chapter was, I like to think that Ghidorah is now either gone for good or it’ll be a very long time, as in at least a decade in-universe, before Ghidorah ever resurges directly.) Or, maybe there’s a creepier origin story for Apex’s Ghidorah skull: Apex unearthed the skull in a dig which reveals it to be thousands of years old, and when Monarch find out after everything, they’re puzzled about why a decapitated Ghidorah head just decomposed and became a semi-sentient hunk of bone, instead of regrowing the rest of Ghidorah like San’s old head did or re-attaching itself to other severed pieces to speed up Ghidorah’s resurrection from a pre-Antarctica ancient battle. Godzilla doesn’t know anything about the skull, and neither does San. What’s creepier, Monarch’s analysis of Apex’s Ghidorah skull indicates that while the skull’s structure is the same, its DNA actually isn’t entirely identical to Ghidorah’s, as if the skull encountered something which changed its genetic makeup. A thought occurs to Viv 'n’ San: San’s decapitation at Isla de Mara probably wasn’t the first time a shed skin got split off from Ghidorah, in fact San remembers that when there was more than one shed skin each time Ghidorah died in the past, they would usually signal each-other and combine to speed up Ghidorah’s resurrection… but there were times, on alien worlds that Ghidorah conquered, when it just wouldn’t care for these shed skins before returning to space since it wouldn’t be around on the planet for them to challenge it. What if more Ghidorah clones grew from the severed pieces it left littered on the dead alien worlds once the main Ghidorah left? Godzilla, San or other Titans would surely know if a Ghidorah-clone ever set foot on Earth while they were alive - does that mean the Ghidorah skull’s owner came to Earth and died before the still-living Titans were born and before the main Ghidorah that San came from arrived on Earth? And what killed the skull’s owner? Why is it’s DNA altered: did it encounter something, on ancient Earth or in space, that changed its genetic makeup? :o Does this mean there are more creatures like it, born from Ghidorah’s remains littered on dead alien worlds, who are still amongst the stars and who might one day find their way to Earth?

(2) I’m wondering who will be in charge of Monarch when Godzilla starts rampaging. If Mark rejoins Monarch and it’s still him who’s in charge, hopefully his character development during 'Abraxas’ will mean that even if his role doesn’t change much, he’ll be a lot less of an ass now than he was in GvK, and he won’t be the same fantasy-forbidding father that he apparently was to Madison in the GvK novelisation.

(3) One major thing that’s on my mind every time I think about this: in GvK, a lot of the conflict came from the humans not understanding why Godzilla’s attacking; and Viv 'n’ San as a Titan with EVP can communicate with both humans and Godzilla. So the only way I can imagine the whole Mechagodzilla crisis wouldn’t be over in time to prevent MechaG’s activation with Maia never getting near the Hollow Earth energy source, (unless there’s more adaptation deviation) is if Viv 'n’ San are on vacay in the Hollow Earth when the Titan rampage kicks off, and therefore aren’t topside to explain to Monarch and the world that Godzilla can hear Ghidorah’s call at every place he attacks. (Who knows, maybe in Abraxasverse, Viv 'n’ San will run into Kong and Team Kong in the Hollow Earth, then follow them topside in time for Mechagodzilla’s emergence - heh, I can imagine Viv 'n’ San’s “Oh, for fuck’s sake!!” reaction to a big, cybernetic Godzilla-Terminator bursting out of a mountain with Ghidorah’s bio-acoustics howling out of it.) And on top of this, there’s also the main 'Abraxas’ story hinting that the old Bone Singers’ ways of communicating with Titans are going to start coming back soon in Abraxasverse among the human population, making it less likely humanity will be as completely in the dark about Godzilla’s rampage as they were in GvK…

(4) I’m not sure where the internet rumour that Godzilla in Monsterverse canon sent the Titans back into hibernation because he sensed the Ghidorah skull came from - from what I’ve read, in 'Godzilla Dominion’ and the GvK novelisation, Godzilla explicitly sent all the Titans back to stasis because keeping them in line while they were awake was too much for canon-Godzilla to keep managing in the long-term, unlike with Abraxas-Godzilla. Maybe the other Titans will globally participate in Godzilla’s rampage looking for the Ghidorah-piece that’s calling out to any Titan listening, and the fact it’s every benevolent Titan that’s rampaging instead of just Godzilla will proportionately fan the flames of public panic and enable Apex’s role to go unnoticed. This could actually go quite a long way to make it understandable why the public are so blind to the pattern with Apex-facilities that Godzilla is attacking; if over a dozen Titans rampaging on humanity’s cities has the public too whipped up into a panic to think straight - especially since from what we’ve seen in 'Abraxas’ so far and from what TVTropes says about the GvK novelisation’s expansion, it looks like the public generally in Abraxasverse are a bit more humbled and concerned about the Titans’ environmental importance and a bit more common-sensed after KOTM’s events than they were in GvK’s continuation. Anyway, frankly I’m hoping an Abraxasverse GvK scenario will retcon or at the very least downplay the KOTM Titans going back into hibernation - I’m in agreement with TVTropes that turning KOTM’s humans-coexisting-with-awakened-Titans setup into an aborted arc and largely letting the Titans-environmentalism thing fade into obscurity was a crappy move on the Monsterverse writers’ part.

(5) Mechagodzilla’s pilot. With how Abraxas-Ren has already interacted with the Titans and shown his father’s respect for nature, I can’t see that character going down the same path as the Monsterverse-canon Ren did. There’s that idea a Nonnie suggested that Ren could get mind-raped by Ghidorah if it comes back (or maybe by another psychic evil Titan like Gigan ;)) so Ren becomes like canon-Ren - but after Chapter 17, I feel it would be better if canon-Ren, who’s stood apart from his canon counterpart and become his own endearing character in 'Abraxas’ already, goes down his own unique path. There’s also the possibility that Abraxas-Ren could be an unwitting pawn to Apex who doesn’t know what they’re really up to, but I doubt Simmons, if he’s anything like in Monsterverse canon, could ever fully pull the wool over nature-respecting Abraxas-Ren’s eyes. If MechaG still has a pilot with a relevant role, I think the pilot should be someone else. Maybe it’s Maia, who has a bit more brains in Abraxasverse than she did in GvK. Or maybe it’s an OC.

(5.5). An idea in the latter camp I had: maybe, as a mirror-world like flip to canon-Ren; whereas in Monsterverse canon it was Serizawa’s son who was MechaG’s pilot, in Abraxasverse it’s instead the OC son of Admiral Stenz - the son who agrees with his late father about killing the Titans to prevent human casualties, but who is much more willing to murder thousands for the so-called greater good and is crossing lines that his father never would’ve crossed. Or alternatively, maybe Stenz Jr. is a bitch-in-sheep’s-clothing; he expressly disagrees with his late father’s approach to handling the Titans which almost handed the world to Ghidorah on a silver platter in 2019, and he believes humans and Titans should live together… but instead of seeking a fair coexistence, Stenz Jr. thinks the Titans should be humanity’s slaves and Sentient Batteries, replenishing the world to benefit human civilisation whilst being penned by humans who dominate them with MechaG and being harvested for any resource goodies their bodies hold.

(6) Continuing from my pointer about how the human public in Abraxasverse seem to be a bit more common-sensed generally in Abraxasverse: I’m guessing this means Apex probably won’t have the military’s under-the-table support that they had in the GvK novelisation (according to TVTropes), and instead Apex’s corporate conspiracy will rely more on underground paramilitaries and other illegal groups - including groups with anti-Titan sympathies - to get the materials and resources they need to build Mechagodzilla. OR: maybe in Abraxasverse, MechaG wasn’t built in secret by Apex; maybe in reference to your old Tumblr shenanigans about Vivienne and Serizawa using MechaG, Monarch started building MechaG so humanity could contribute in a fair and meaningful way to fate-of-the-world Titan brawls alongside Godzilla and Mothra, but Apex stole MechaG (maybe Apex used the havoc and confusion of a Titan rampage instigated by Ghidorah-remains or the Children of Zmei calling out) and they installed the Ghidorah/C.O.Z.-parts into the Mecha thinking they could control it.

(7) If this scenario does occur, considering how awesome Monsterverse-MechaG was; maybe in an Abraxasverse scenario, instead of being killed fifteen minutes after he’s born, MechaG will have the smarts to flee once Kong and Godzilla team up and the odds turn against MechaG, leading to MechaG being a longer-lived threat? Maybe he’ll even recognise Viv 'n’ San are part-Ghidorah and take an interest in the Ghidorah half of them, in contrast to Ghidorah’s interest in the human half during 'Abraxas’?

(8) The destruction of Skull Island. It was caused in Monsterverse-canon by Camazotz manipulating Ghidorah’s storm. Assuming this still happens in Abraxasverse, wouldn’t Monarch contact Viv 'n’ San and make them aware of what’s happened (if Viv 'n’ San don’t find out on their own) so they can use their Ghidorah-derived, storm-harnessing powers to try to reverse what Camazotz did? After all, Monarch would probably be thinking, since the storm will kill all non-protected life on the island if it stays that way, even if Viv 'n’ San’s attempt to change the change goes wrong, it can’t be any worse for the island than if they didn’t try. Of course, there’s still the real possibility Viv 'n’ San’s attempt could make no difference or even end up making the storm worse for the climate of places beyond the island.

So, yeah, those are just my thoughts on how a GvK scenario could occur in Abraxasverse, and the mythos and continuity considerations involved. :)

—

JAYSUS CHRIST LOOK AT THIS GOLDMINE!

Whew! So many possibilities and great ideas, thanks for sharing them! Who knows what the future brings, but what I can say is that, whenever the hell I start working on it, Chapter 18/Epilogue won’t be nearly as huge as 17 was (which was over 22 THOUSAND WORDS HOW THE FUCK), so if it’s okay maybe I’d like to leave one or two nods to this list for the AbraxasVerse take on GvK…

[selfcare2022]

This is the secret to loss weight

You think thousands of thoughts each day. You talk to yourself more than anyone else. You are your most trusted advisor and confidant. Many of the conversations that you have with yourself you would never share with anyone else because to do so would expose the “real” you. The you that is filled with self doubt, worries, sadness, guilt, hurts and disappointments. But this is not the “real you” at all. This is the you that your ego and belief systems have constructed. These negative beliefs have been constructed by you, and accepted by you as truth. The sad thing is that nothing can be further from the truth. Where did these false ideas about you originate? They mostly came from others; parents, teachers, co-workers, and friends. They might have planted the seed by saying something like “she is fat” and you have cultivated those comments to the point that they have become your truth. You are allowing your entire life to be controlled by some obscure comments made years ago. Nobody has the right or power to dictate who you are. Only you know who you truly are and what’s in your heart. When you were born you entered this world without the burdens of you current negative belief system. You entered this world as a beautiful bundle of joy filled with unlimited potential and possibilities. I’m here to tell you that you have not changed. You are still and will always be a beautiful bundle of joy with unlimited potential and possibilities. The only difference is what you give your attention to. Let me ask you a question. If you stopped all the negative talk that you currently have with yourself such as; – I’m too fat – Why would anyone want to love me – I will never be thin – I always fail And the list can go on and on… How would you feel ? Do you think that you would feel emotionally lighter ? Do you think that you would feel happier ? Do you think that you would feel more confident ? Now how do you think your life would change if you were to go one step further and modify your self talk by only speaking positively about yourself. If you take some time and focus on what you like about yourself and focus on only that your emotional state will become positive to the point that you will be able to accomplish anything. Once you begin looking for the positive things within you, you will be surprised to realize your magnificence has always been there just below the surface. You have never been anything other then that shining bundle of joy that entered the world years ago. It’s easy to uncover positive aspects of yourself by asking some questions. – What am I good at? – Who has benefited by me being in the world? – Who am I, what is in my heart that only I know? – What do I like about my body? Your goal is to feel good now. How do you feel now? If you only observe what you feel is positive about you, you will feel good, you will be happy. Decide right here and right now how you want to feel. Decide that you will always look for the good within you and appreciate that goodness. So what does all of this have to do with losing weight? Everything!!! Your emotional state is the control valve that determines what you draw into your experience. How you talk to yourself creates your beliefs and programs your subconscious. So you need to ask yourself do you want your beliefs and subconscious programming to be based on false negative thinking. Or do you want your beliefs to be based on the truth, that you are and always have been a perfect being. Begin today to love and nurture yourself. Allow the joy, playfulness and enthusiasm that you naturally had as a child begin to flow into your everyday experiences. Allow yourself to celebrate each and every success no matter how small. Love and appreciate yourself every opportunity you have. Do this everyday and watch your weight begin to dissolve just as your old negative beliefs about yourself begin to dissolve.

CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFORMATION:  

[gtdanganronpa]

3,5 Kirumi x Kiyo

Prompt: Kirumi and Ryoma switch heights. That's it. Kirumis 3'5.

Beauty, elegance, grace, determination. The ability to be able to complete any request that anyone asked of her. Her face looked smooth, and she had beautiful pastel green orbs for eyes. Her lips weren't too plump, but weren't thin either. A nice shade of pink that matched her skin. She seemed to almost always wear a smile on her face when around others.

The determination the woman had, combined with the beauty and elegance in all of her movements, all compressed into... 3'5.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't just as judgmental as everyone else about the female's height at first. But- he quickly changed that. He knew first hand that you couldn't judge someone by how they look. The female was surprisingly motherly, and often seemed to intimidate the others as well. It was admirable.

"You want me to do what?" Kirumi frowned. It felt wrong. Very wrong.

"...look, we don't like it anymore than you do. But someone's gotta do it. He's admitted to slipping food poisoning into both Shuichi and Himiko's drink." Rantaro crossed his arms, speaking seriously.

"Awe, come on Kirumi." Kaede knelt down, giving her a reassuring smile. By God she hated that. 'Awe, come on Kirumi.' Kneeling down, talking to her as if she were some child. A child that needed to go to school and didn't wanna leave her mommy and daddy. She hated that. So much.

"Don't talk to me that way." Her anger and frustration wasn't visible in her words. It was just plain and simple. She hated it.

"...any one of us could kill." Ryoma mumbled, kicking his feet up on the table. "I don't think some food poisoning is enough to send someone into their room to spy on them." He huffed, seeming incredibly calm. "I'm a murdered. But there's no suspicion on me."

"But you don't have any murderous intent. At least here, right now." Kaede sighed, standing up straight. Insensitive. "Kiyo... has brought up many times about how he himself seems like a killer. And he's brought up many different murder methods he knows. Even if that is how he is at times, we don't know what could happen next. Please- just..." Kaede looked down at Kirumi.

While the taller male was (probably) peacefully asleep in his dorm, everyone had gathered at the dining hall. They wanted Kirumi to spy on him. Sneak into his room. She was picked because of her size no doubt. Either way, she didn't like it. Not one bit.

But... she felt she really had no choice. It was a request, in a way. And she always fulfilled almost every request of her.

It was very simple. The next morning, the tiny female stood beside Kiyo's door, to where when he opened it, he wouldn't see her since she was on the other side of it. It wasn't that hard to sneak into his room. He opened the door, and walked out, clueless to the fact she was there. Before he closed the door, she slipped into his room unnoticed.

"..." the male's room seemed identical to hers, though less tightly and more books, papers, and pencils laying around everywhere. She had the sudden urge to tidy everything up. But, she knew she couldn't.

She sighed. What was she supposed to look for in here, anyways? After glancing in some of the books, a lot of them seemed to be diaries of his travels. Interesting. She didn't read through all of them. She needed something from the here and now.

By now, the others and him should be in the dining hall, just saying that Kirumi wasn't feeling well so wasn't attending. She should have a solid 15 minutes before she'd have to hide again and slip out. A lot of food poison, blunt objects, but overall nothing that was actually lethal to anyone. Huh.

What did the male even do in here all the time? If he spent all his time writing down his experiences, he should have it in a journal somewhere. But there was no pattern to the dates of the journals. They were just scattered everywhere, disorganized. It was driving her crazy. She suddenly heard the door knob turn. What-? How was he back? There's no way it could've been more than 5 minutes.

Kirumi did the first thing that came to her mind and dived under the anthropologist's bed. She fit fine enough. Being small had its benefits, though she'd never imagined she'd have to worry about this. The door opened, then closed. Footsteps. She could see him walking over to his desk, seeming to move them aside. He simply took one out of the seemingly chaotic pile.

How did he just- know where it was? Unknown to Kirumi, there actually was a subtle system and pattern. She'd assumed that they were all chaotically and randomly placed, even though she should've realized Kiyo wasn't the sort to just toss stuff about.

Because of this, Kirumi misplaced certain things when she put journals back. They looked untouched, but once the dates were checked it was obvious they had been moved.

"...hm." The anthropologist let out a light hum. This wasn't his present day journal. This was something from the two years prior November. "....." he frowned. No, he most certainly wouldn't mix up anything like that. He liked to think he had a system and stuck to it. "That's odd..." he murmured.

What was odd? Did she mess up something? Crap...

He sighed. Perhaps... he just misplaced them. Sure, yeah. He quickly realized simply checking the spots where the books would be switched wouldn't work. Oh, wonderful! Now he'd have to reorganize all of them again. How frustrating.

"..." he murmured to himself as he sighed, deciding he should probably start by reorganizing everything. He gathered his books which were obviously weren't in order anymore. The neat chaos Kirumi thought she'd not have to worry about wasn't so chaotic after all. She'd messed it all up.

After realizing just how many were mixed up, though. He seemed to start to get suspicious. He let out a slight chuckle as she saw him lean down taking a bottle of food poisoning in his hands. "..." Kirumi froze. She was holding her breath. There's no possible way he'd know she was there, right? Maybe he thought someone snuck in and out and that was it. Why would he assume anyone was hiding under his bed?

What if he did find out it was her? That she messed up everything and snuck in his room? She knew she spoke of not assuming he'd kill someone because of food poisoning, but she couldn't help but worry herself.

His feet were turned in her direction. No, he didn't know. There's no way. Just calm down. If she didn't, she'd give herself away for sure.

He took a few steps towards the bed, before kneeling down. She watched as he just picked up some journals. Ah... ah... ok... she was safe. She wished she could sigh in relief, but him being right there, she couldn't. She just kept quiet, and kept still. She completely froze up once she saw his bandaged hand reach under the bed. She didn't even notice that some journals had been pushed under with her. He took out one or two, without coming into contact with her.

That was until she was practically poked in the eyes. Even if she didn't help, the fact he seemed to just poke something even though his hand wasn't even on the floor, so it couldn't be a journal, screwed her over entirely. On top of that, she'd jolted, hitting her head. W o w . Very nice.

Kiyo blinked a few times, kneeling down and peeking his head to look under his bed. "...." The small, tiny maid, rubbing her eyes which were watery from being poked. Once her vision cleared, she could see his surprised face staring back at her. Before it seemed his eyes curved in a smile. She couldn't tell what type of smile it was, or what the male was thinking.

"..." he let out a soft chuckle. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. He carefully wrapped his slender fingers around her small arm, pulling her out from under the bed. "..." awe, look at her. He just- he couldn't even be mad at her.

Oh, it was so obvious but so obscure at the same time that the male truly adored the smaller female. He admired every bit of her being. So what if she'd literally snuck into his room to invade his privacy? Lmao who cares lol?

"...may I inquire as to why you're here, exactly?" Well, of course he actually did care about the fact she'd snuck into his room. She messed up his stuff, after all. He wasn't as upset with her, though, as he would be if it were any other human being hiding under there.

  "..." Kirumi couldn't come up with any excuse. She wanted to, she was trying to. She didn't want him to think she would spy on him, and it wasn't out of fear.

  "Let me guess. The others asked you to spy on me, didn't they?" He turned to her. She still wasn't able to read his expression.

  "...yes." She nodded, knowing it was pointless to lie.

  "Well, I suppose the deed is done and there's no point in my getting angry with you about it." He stood up. 2 feet taller than her. "You will help me reorganize all of my journals." It wasn't a question, and it wasn't something Kirumi had a problem with. She messed them up, she'd fix them.

  There were quite a lot, and the male wanted to go through some of them a little, and such. It ended up taking most of the day. Once they finally finished, Kiyo checked all around his room for extra journals. "Well, it seems that's all. Hm?"

  He blinked in surprise. He'd merely turned his back to the female for maybe a minute, and she seemed passed out on the floor. Unknown to him, the female hadn't really been sleeping well, and had been overworking herself for everyone else's sake. So, naturally, she'd pass out. Someone at such a small size shouldn't be overwhelming themselves so much anyways.

  He didn't have her key to her room, and no idea where it would even be. He simply lifted the female up in his arms, and laid her down in his own bed, pulling the blanket over it. She seemed quite comfortable. It was nice to see the female relaxed and asleep. Ah, he probably shouldn't watch. That's weird. He simply went and got ready for bed himself. He normally didn't sleep with a mask on but given the fact there was another person not only in his room but in his bed, he put on a more comfortable cloth mask.

  He sighed as he laid down in the bed, his soft golden eyes resting on the peaceful female. He admired her, greatly. Such elegance, patience, capability, determination, beauty. Perfection. All in a singular being. She really was perfect. "..." he knew his sister was angry with him about how much he truly did care for Kirumi. But he didn't care.

  He frowned her out, closing his eyes, and slowly falling asleep.

[00179]

Eliminate Negative Thoughts And Lose Weight | Permanent Weight Loss Solution

There are many people who attempting to lose weight, some will succeed and others will fail, however the biggest battle for people who are able to reduce their weight, is often to keep to their ideal weight. Many people will find that they have soon returned to the weight that they were before they went on their diet or even that they are actually fatter. This can of course be very depressive and can result in them losing a lot of their self-esteem. What is needed is for a permanent solution to their weight problems.

 You think thousands of thoughts each day. You talk to yourself more than anyone else. You are your most trusted advisor and confidant. Many of the conversations that you have with yourself you would never share with anyone else because to do so would expose the “real” you. The you that is filled with self doubt, worries, sadness, guilt, hurts and disappointments.

 But this is not the “real you” at all. This is the you that your ego and belief systems have constructed. These negative beliefs have been constructed by you, and accepted by you as truth. The sad thing is that nothing can be further from the truth.

 Where did these false ideas about you originate? They mostly came from others; parents, teachers, co-workers, and friends. They might have planted the seed by saying something like “she is fat” and you have cultivated those comments to the point that they have become your truth.

 You are allowing your entire life to be controlled by some obscure comments made years ago. Nobody has the right or power to dictate who you are. Only you know who you truly are and what’s in your heart.

 When you were born you entered this world without the burdens of you current negative belief system. You entered this world as a beautiful bundle of joy filled with unlimited potential and possibilities.

 I’m here to tell you that you have not changed. You are still and will always be a beautiful bundle of joy with unlimited potential and possibilities.

 The only difference is what you give your attention to. Let me ask you a question. If you stopped all the negative talk that you currently have with yourself such as;

 – I’m too fat

 – Why would anyone want to love me

 – I will never be thin

 – I always fail

 And the list can go on and on… How would you feel ? Do you think that you would feel emotionally lighter ? Do you think that you would feel happier ? Do you think that you would feel more confident ?

  Click Here To Get It From Official Website & Get Discount

Now how do you think your life would change if you were to go one step further and modify your self talk by only speaking positively about yourself. If you take some time and focus on what you like about yourself and focus on only that your emotional state will become positive to the point that you will be able to accomplish anything.

 Once you begin looking for the positive things within you, you will be surprised to realize your magnificence has always been there just below the surface. You have never been anything other then that shining bundle of joy that entered the world years ago. It’s easy to uncover positive aspects of yourself by asking some questions.

 – What am I good at?

 – Who has benefited by me being in the world?

 – Who am I, what is in my heart that only I know?

 – What do I like about my body?

 Your goal is to feel good now. How do you feel now? If you only observe what you feel is positive about you, you will feel good, you will be happy. Decide right here and right now how you want to feel. Decide that you will always look for the good within you and appreciate that goodness.

So what does all of this have to do with losing weight? Everything!!! Your emotional state is the control valve that determines what you draw into your experience. How you talk to yourself creates your beliefs and programs your subconscious. So you need to ask yourself do you want your beliefs and subconscious programming to be based on false negative thinking. Or do you want your beliefs to be based on the truth, that you are and always have been a perfect being.

 Begin today to love and nurture yourself. Allow the joy, playfulness and enthusiasm that you naturally had as a child begin to flow into your everyday experiences. Allow yourself to celebrate each and every success no matter how small. Love and appreciate yourself every opportunity you have. Do this everyday and watch your weight begin to dissolve just as your old negative beliefs about yourself begin to dissolve.

[bexterbex]

Masking the Heart

A new galactic war was forming, and your star system needed to create an alliance. Your father, the king, made a deal with the First Order in a promise of protection for guaranteed trade. You are arranged to marry the Commander Kylo Ren, apprentice of the Supreme Leader. A man who is hidden behind his mask. Will your husband show you his heart? Or will it be forever hidden behind a mask?

PLEASE NOTE: This work has many dubious/non-con consent scenes, it is an arranged marriage AU that plays off of many issues women face in arranged marriages. The author of this work does not condone arranged marriage practices, domestic abuse, or non-con sexual encounters, this work is for fictional uses only. 

There will be no tag lists on this work. Masterlist with Upload Schedule.

Chapter 1

Pale grey sky was outside your window this morning, it had been raining for weeks. Foreshadowing some impending doom, that you had yet to see. But you could sense a change coming–soon. You could see it in the face of your father, your mother, and their advisors. You weren’t stupid, you had heard the rumors of another galactic war. Once much like the last one. Where millions of poor souls would die, and the galaxy would be in shambles afterward, because no one could just win. Both sides would be brutally beaten and crippled by the end.

You got yourself ready in the morning, your father had always told you that a proper princess should have servants doing things for you, but you enjoyed being independent. Born into a life of luxury, a life of nobility, was something you never wanted. You had dreams of being someone who could make a difference, the ability to make changes, but alas you were not in the position to do so.

Yes, you were the daughter of a king who ruled over not just the planet you lived on, but those in your system. Five planets. Five planets that were rich in resources. In the last war, your people had remained neutral, under your grandfather’s rule. Something your father tried to follow, but this time the war seemed to be different. This time everything seemed to be bigger.

You finished getting ready, your hair done, your usual daily gown on. One of the few things you allowed servants to do was clean and bringing in your food. You ate breakfast quickly, something simple and light before you headed off down the hall to start your day.

Your father’s personal attendant caught your attention, “Your highness your father requests your presence in his cabinet room immediately.” You followed him through the palace to meet your father.

Entering the room you noticed a few things. First, you noticed that it was unusually full of people, most of the time when your father requested your presence here it only had a handful of advisors. Your mother was present, which was unusual in itself as your father did all the political dealings of your planetary system, your mother mainly handled charities. All of your father’s cabinet members were present, which did not happen often, because this included the governors of each planet and their aide’s. And lastly, there were people you did not recognize, a ginger-haired man, a male dressed all in black who donned a black helmet that obscured his face, and several white armor-clad soldiers who you knew to be stormtroopers.

Your father stood as you entered, but no one else. “Ah, my dearest won’t you join us?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was an order. You could tell he was wearing his fake political smile, the one he wore when dealing with foreign dignitaries and the like.

You bowed your head to the others in the room, offering a small smile as you took your seat next to the governors. In this room, you were ranked below them, but above the rest of the cabinet. You knew something was in the works. Your father never usually received guests in this room, that was left to the throne room or a parlor, or on rare occasions his own private study. You couldn’t read the datapads, but you could tell something major was in the works.

You heard the crisp accent of the ginger-haired man speak, “It is a pleasure and honor that you could join us, princess.” His voice was exact and his pronunciation defined.

You were taught propriety and etiquette. “As it is to make your acquaintance.”

He gave you his name, “General Hux.” His steely teal eyes analyzing your every movement, almost like you were a target in battle.

“General Hux,” you repeated the name sticking to your frontal cortex. Why was a general of a foreign army sitting in your father’s cabinet room? So you glanced back at your father.

“It is an honor to have the First Order join us on such an occasion. I believe an agreement can be made between our peoples. One that will benefit us all.” Your father’s words clanged like a bell. He spoke to the General but you could see his eyes dart to you.

Your face scrunched momentarily in confusion before your royal training kicked in and your face became your usual mask. The mantra of ‘royalty never wears their hearts on their sleeve’ played in your head.

You then turned your head to the General as he spoke, “It is a pleasure to be here. The Supreme Leader would be most pleased with an agreement. But as we have spoken, there must be something to bind the deal. We both have a problem that needs to be solved.” He was like your father, speaking to him but his eyes darted to you.

You then realized most of the attention in the room was focused on you. Something you were and weren’t used to. Your mother was the only other woman present in the room, the male gaze was crushing. But you knew it was better for your father to explain things than to speak out of turn. You were a guest in his cabinet room, as were the First Order, but you had little right to speak even as the princess. Unless you were spoken to or the floor was open, you were to keep your mouth shut.

Your mother and you were not like the women of your planets, you were not ‘free.’ You were expected to abide by tradition, to let men lead. You would never have the crown, that would always go to your husband since your father failed to produce a son. Or if your father were to die before you got married, the crown would go to some distant cousin of yours. You were born to serve your people and to serve the crown. That was your duty, and one day your duty would be to your husband.

Your father spoke again, “Yes, I agree with what the Supreme Leader, I believe he has agreed to the offer I have given him. Has he not?” Again his eyes darted to you as he spoke to the General. You watched as your mother failed to uphold the mantra, her mask breaking, her brow worried.

Hux lifted his chin in agreement, “He has. And he has requested that the binding be done as soon as possible.” His face then turned to you, but it was your father that called your attention.

“Ah, yes my dearest this involves you. The First Order has agreed to give us much needed protection in exchange for a portion of our resources. In order to conclude the agreement I have offered your hand in marriage.” His eyes were watching you as the news sunk in. He was handing you off to them, in exchange for the safety and future of your people. A sacrifice you knew you may one day have to make.

Your mask remained as you nodded to him, “And who am I marrying?” Your mother looked worried, her mask fractured. She only married into this life, she wasn’t born into it, she wasn’t trained from birth. Your father had the privilege to marry for love, something you might have been able to do if they had a son as well. But you were their only daughter, so you were going to have to marry someone that could one day become king, someone who would rule your people, something you couldn’t do.

Someone new spoke, a distorted and haunting sound said, “Me.” You turned your head to look at the man clad in all black. His helmet, his mask, obstructing any and all view of who he may be. The visor was so black that you doubted that there were even eyes behind it.

You heard the General clear his throat, “You will be marrying Commander Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, and the Supreme Leader’s apprentice,” but your eyes did not leave the concealed man beside him as he spoke.  

‘Royalty never wears their hearts on their sleeve.’ You tore your gaze from the Commander to return to your father’s face. “When will the wedding be?” Your voice was calm to those who did not know you, but you knew your parents could tell otherwise. As your mother’s face was painted with disdain before she tried to conceal her emotions.

Your father held your eye, “Tomorrow.” You could tell that if he were to speak any more than one word that he would have failed the mantra. This wasn’t something he wanted to do, but it was something that had to be done.

You quickly blinked a few times while taking one deep breath, all eyes in the room were still on you. You could not fail your people, you always knew your freedom was the price for theirs. A sacrifice you would always have to make. You turned your head back to the obscure man, “I would be honored to be your wife Commander.”

You watched as he lifted his chin in acknowledgment of you, but didn’t say anything. You could not tell what he was thinking behind that mask. It was like staring into the cold void of space, just as haunting, but somehow more forgiving.

Your father stood in fake excitement. “Then it is settled. We will have a small ceremony here tomorrow and then we will bid the happy couple goodbye.” You could tell this wasn’t something he wanted, but he had your people to protect, and this war was not the same one your grandfather saw.

Again it was General Hux that did the speaking, “Yes, shall we finish the rest of the agreement now?” It seemed apparent your presence was no longer needed. You were there just to be told you were to be married and that was it.

Your father nodded at the General, “Yes,” he then turned to you and said, “You can go now my dearest, you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

As you stood up to leave could have sworn you could feel the Commander’s gaze as you left, but as you shut the door behind you, you could see that wasn’t true. His helmet facing forward to your father. He looked like a stoic statue, unmoving and menacing. Once the door was shut you practically ran back to your room, well, moved as quickly as you could because you were still in the presence of others. The staff couldn’t see your emotions falter, they were your people and your duty was to them. The mantra played on repeat as your feet carried you down the hall and eventually into your room, the door shutting behind you.

You crawled up into the large sitting window that you usually read in, the one you often played in as a child. As the tears began to fall from your face and as your vision began to blur you looked outside. The pale grey sky was now dark, and lightning sparked overhead. But what good would tears do now? Your duty was to your people, to keep them free. You always knew you would never have freedom, so what were you mourning? You blinked away the tears as fast as they started. You watched the brewing storm while your body felt numb. You had two mantras, ‘royalty never wears their hearts on their sleeve’ and ‘your duty was to the crown and its people.’ Two halves to the mask you had to wear.

Your tears were long dried up as you heard a knock on the door. You got up to answer it, your mother’s seamstress came bustling in with a rack of dresses and fabric behind her. “Up in front of the mirror your highness.” She was an older woman that didn’t take any nonsense or anything from anyone. You did as you were told and she immediately threw fabrics against your skin analyzing how they would look. You didn’t have much say in the matter, you almost never did unless it came to your daily gowns. You liked being as independent as possible but most of the time choices were made for you.

You were with her alone for a few minutes before your mother entered the room. She looked like she had been crying more than you had. Her mask always failed as she was too sentimental. She stood back for a few moments as the seamstress continued to work. She seemed to be unsatisfied with just the fabric as she pulled off pre-made dresses.

“No, she should wear something proper, something made for her. She is a princess after all.” Your mother pleaded with the seamstress. Her voice also reflected that she had been crying.

“I wish it were that easy your highness, but the wedding is tomorrow and she needs a dress. None of these fabrics work well against her skin or her body type. However, this dress does.” She held it up to you.

“But is it something a common girl can get? I don’t want her wearing something off of the rack. She only gets one wedding for crying out loud.” Your mother was on the verge of a meltdown. She was taking all of this much farther than you were, and it was supposed to be your wedding. But you felt as if it had yet to sink in properly, you wondered just how long she had known about this whole arrangement.

The seamstress shook her head, “No, it is a dress that I had designed for the both of you, I had the intention of dying it with an ombre effect but as of now it’s our best bet as a dress.” She was right, none of the other dresses on the rack seemed like a wedding dress, and as amazing as she was you doubted she could make a whole new one in time.  

Your mother still didn’t seem convinced, but you just wanted this all to be over with, “I will take this dress. You are right, I do need a dress, this is a one-of-a-kind dress so it will work. There is no need to fuss over anything.” You wanted them both to leave, the reminder that you would be leaving tomorrow after the wedding reminded you that you needed to pack. Something that could be quite an ordeal for a short trip let alone picking up and moving your whole existence.

Your mother let out a huff of frustration but relented to your will, and she followed the seamstress out of the room. You were alone again, but before you let any bad thoughts in your mind take over you began to pack. It felt odd, packing your life up, the only life you had ever known. Especially within a few hours, you were going to have a new life as someone’s wife, a life of the unknown. A man you could barely even say that you had met, was going to be the one dictating your life and eventually one day your people.

You were midway through packing all of your summer/spring dresses when you heard another knock on the door. Opening the door, you were met with the face of your father. You let him in. As he entered, you could see that his hands were folded behind his back and his attention was focused on the floor. His usual contemplation walk, something was weighing on his mind.

“You know I had no choice,” he finally broke the uneasy silence between you. His eyes still cast down to the ground, his voice sounded as if he was between a hard place and on the verge of crying. His usual almost invisible cracks in his mask.

You faced him squarely, “I know.” It seemed as if both of your parents were taking this harder than you were. Your mask hadn’t faltered since the meeting, you only removed it when you were alone.

He brought his eyes up to meet yours for a second as he stopped pacing about, but then he resumed his contemplative walk. “I know it isn’t the decision my father would have made, but the Supreme Leader made an offer I couldn’t refuse. In many ways we are the ones winning in this deal, you are the only sacrifice.” You watched as his fists clenched and unclenched as he spoke. His vision always keeping you in sight but never looking directly at you. You knew he feared your reaction.

“My duty is to the crown and my people, and I will do whatever is asked of me. I have known this day would come since I was a little girl.” Your voice was firm and sure, you did know what your duty was. Yes, you had a hope that you might have been able to fall in love with someone, but you knew realistically that it would not happen.

Your father completely stopped pacing, standing before you with his fists now at his sides. He flexed his hands twice before his palms laid flat against his thighs. “I know, and I will be forever grateful for this. As will be our people. I just wish it could have happened under better circumstances. A war like no other is brewing, and we need to protect ourselves.” He held your gaze firmly, you knew he meant every word he said. He was speaking as the king now, and not your father. His mask is now perfect and rigid. He nodded once to you, before turning and leaving.

You were left alone once more as you continued to pack, later a servant came and delivered your lunch. Something that was rather unusual, but you wondered if the negotiations were still happening. Your father on a rare occasion would host an official luncheon to make deals like this, and that is when you usually had meals in your room. This is what you assumed was happening, you didn’t want to know all of the details even if you weren’t privileged enough to know them.

The hours ticked by as you finished packing away your life, the already gloomy light from your windows dissipating with each passing hour. There was a knock on the door, only this time it was a servant informing you that dinner would be ready in an hour and that you would be joining the guests from earlier.  

This meant it was a formal dinner that you had to prepare for, something you hadn’t exactly planned on. This meant you had to wear one of the dresses you planned on leaving behind, one of the ones you would not prefer to wear, but it left you no choice other than to unpack what you had just packed. You put on the most suitable one you could find, one that had a lower neckline than you preferred as an unwed maiden, but you figured if your soon-to-be husband would be there that it wouldn’t be the worst option ever. You finished getting ready, putting more effort into your appearance than this morning. Hair done, makeup on, accessorized, and ready to face the music.

You walked down the long corridor to the formal grand dining room. Usually, your parents and you would use a small dinette area to eat as you preferred to be together that was versus the large airy and rather empty dining room. When you entered you noticed that your father’s cabinet and governors were also staying for the meal. You were greeted kindly as you sat down.

Your father sat at the head of the table, your mother beside him, and you beside her.

Directly facing your helmeted fiance and in between him and your father was the red-headed General. Your mother and you kept light conversation between yourselves as your father spoke to your guests.

But the General caught your attention, “The wedding will happen tomorrow early afternoon, both the Commander and I are now needed in the Hoth sector. So I do apologize for the rush.”

Your father chuckled and responded for you, “There is no need to apologize. It needs to happen either way, and this way both sides don’t get cold feet.” He then took a rather dramatic sip of wine. The General gave a small seemingly forced smile in kind.

Your fiance was the only one not eating, there was an empty plate in front of him, you supposed that it had something to do with the helmet. But his attention seemed to be on you the whole meal. Feigning to stay silent as conversation moved around him, his helmet facing you. Both your father and the General did not seem off-put by his muteness. You wondered if your whole marriage was going to be like this or would he eventually warm up to you?

Your father seemed to have a fake and dramatic jovialness to him the whole night, and your mother seemed to do her best to mimic this. The rest of the cabinet and governors did not seem to pay much attention, but then again they never really got to see who your parents were behind the mask of decorum and duty.

You were the first to turn in for the night; you didn’t have much conversation other than a bit with your mother. Your father’s cabinet and governors only tended to speak with you when they absolutely had to and your father was too wrapped up in conversation with the General, there wasn’t much keeping you here.

As you walked away, you could hear your father loudly say, “She needs her beauty sleep for tomorrow.” And you heard the laughter of men fill the room. And for some reason even though you knew he didn’t mean a word of it, it stung. You were about to be handed off like a piece of property in trade and none of them cared.

Getting ready for bed your brain was filled with questions that you knew you probably wouldn’t get answers to anytime soon or if at all. Would your husband keep his helmet on during the wedding ceremony? Would this be a normal marriage or just a marriage on paper? Would he expect you to do your ‘wifely duties’ every night or when he asked for them? When would children come into the conversation? Or better yet what was his first name or is it just Commander Ren? You knew absolutely nothing about the man you would marry in just a few short hours, and this kept you up through the night tossing and turning.

A maid came to wake you up or rather to tell you to get out of bed since you really didn’t sleep at all. You had barely started your breakfast before your mother’s lady’s maids pulled you into the refresher to start a bath and to get you ready; they were muttering something about the amount of work needing to be done to get you presentable. By the end of it all, you were as smooth as a baby and just as hairless too. One of the older women said that no man should have to wade through a jungle on his wedding night. They put you in a robe and dumped you in front of the vanity as they got to work on your hair and makeup. Never seeming to try to include you in any real conversation, after all, they weren’t your attendants, they were your mother’s.

By the time you were able to look at a clock, you could see that it was only an hour before your wedding. Around this time your mother entered the room, just as you were finishing up all of your extensive preparations. She put both hands on your shoulders as she looked at you through the mirror, choosing not to directly face you.

Her voice reflected her disdain about the whole affair, “I will tell you what my mother told me: when your eyes are open keep your legs shut, but when your legs are open keep your eyes shut. Remember your grandmother was in an arranged marriage with your grandfather.”

You didn’t know if she was trying to comfort you or give you horrid advice, “But I thought they had a good marriage?”

Your mother shook her head, “They did eventually, but that was what she told me before my wedding night, and your father and I married for love. You do not have that privilege so that is why I am telling you this. Love may eventually come your way but you will need to get over being strangers first. And unfortunately, if your soon-to-be husband is like most men you will be expected to consummate the marriage tonight. So remember what I said, keep your eyes shut, maybe persuade him to turn off the lights. If you do that, it will make everything a lot easier.” You didn’t really know how that would make things easier. You had yet to see this man’s face so how would choosing not to make anything easier?

“I will.” You wanted this conversation over with, you had been mulling over similar thoughts all night but none of your worryings would actually help you. You would do what you would have to do. In a little less than a half-hour, your soon-to-be husband would represent more of the crown than you did, and you would have to respect and obey that. You were both silent for a few minutes before your father entered the room.

Your parents just looked at each other for a few moments, having some sort of silent communication, before your mother left the room. Your father was here to walk you down the aisle. He seemed to be at a loss for words but he managed to say, “You look beautiful.”

All you could really do was look at him before responding with a quiet, “Thank you.” He then held out his arm, and you took it. Knowing he was about to lead you into the impossible unknown. Something you wished as a little girl would never happen, but here you were being led down the aisle in the throne room to meet your masked betrothed. That was one question that you had answered. Yes, he would be wearing it to the wedding.

Your father conducted the ceremony, which for a royal wedding was rather short. In the exchanging of vows, you learned that the Commander’s first name was Kylo. His voice was distorted and intimidating the whole time through his helmet. The kiss was awkward, you paused for a moment after your father said the famous words, “You may now kiss the Bride.”

You waited to see if your now husband would remove his helmet, but he didn’t. You were forced to inelegantly kiss the cold metal of his helmet. Something that did not reciprocate your warmth, something that blocked your ability to know who this man was that you had just married. But your father started the gaiety as you two broke apart, the room filled with fake joy. It made you feel for a split second that this was an actual wedding and not the sealing of a contract. Although you had the rings to prove it, you did not feel as if you had just been married. No you felt as if you were just traded away.

The ‘celebration’ moved into the formal grand dining room once more for a light luncheon, because soon you and now husband would have to leave so he could head off to who knows where to do who knows what. Your husband still refrained from eating as others seemed to mull about and enjoy themselves. Although you ate you stayed by his side throughout most of it, having to put on a fake smile, your own mask, as people congratulated you two. He still did not seem to speak, it was almost as if you had just married a droid.

It wasn’t long before your reception was over and you were being escorted to a shuttle. Your mother couldn’t seem to look you in the face as she hugged you goodbye, and your father’s mask was resilient at not showing you how he was truly feeling. But you could tell this wasn’t what they wanted, but it was what needed to be done. ‘Royalty never wears their hearts on their sleeve’ and ‘your duty was to the crown and its people’ were exactly what was chanting silently in your head as you walked into the shuttle after giving your parents hugs.

Your things had already been sent to the main ship, the Finalizer. And you felt rather out of place. Not only was the entire ride silent other than the pilots needing to speak to one and other and the space traffic control for landing. You also looked out of place, everyone else on the shuttle was wearing their uniform, but in many ways, you stood out with the Commander. He was not in any sort of similar uniform to those around you, and you were in a wedding dress. All in all, it made you feel rather exposed for the first time, even though you were modestly dressed.

When the shuttle landed you both unbuckled, you half expected him to hold out his arm to you but instead, he barely paused on the exit ramp before telling you to, “Follow me.” It wasn’t pleasant, it was quick and harsh. It made you feel as if you were an obstacle in his life, something he would have to deal with instead of trying to work with.

You followed him through the halls, your hands folded in front of you as you watched officers and stormtroopers dodge out of the way. This was the first time you ever felt like you were some sort of spectacle, you had always lived in the public eye, but now you could really feel the judgment. You were walking behind your husband, and you looked absolutely out of place on a military vessel. He walked like he belonged here, or rather this place belonged to him, whereas you felt as if you were trespassing on someone else’s ship, a frightful guest trying not to impose on anything.

He paused for a split second as the doors to his chambers opened, or rather your chambers. They felt empty. Nothing in them screamed that someone lived here. There were no personal effects, nothing to say that this was a personal permanent residence. You sheepishly followed him into the bedroom. Where you could see your luggage piled up into a corner.

There was no speaking, only uncomfortable silence before you heard his belt hit the floor and the order to “Strip.” He was planning on consummation then, with no prior discussion or preamble. Your hands shook as you tried to comply. Reaching behind yourself to undo the zipper. In a half of a moment, you were now in just your underwear before him, showing more of yourself to him at this moment than you had to any man ever. He was stripped down to just his pants.

Through the distortion of the helmet you heard your next order, “I said strip. Once you are, lie back on the bed.” So it was going to be closer to what your mother said than you had initially thought. You were going to consummate your marriage with less than a hundred words spoken between you two other than your vows. But you obeyed.

Now you were fully exposed to him as you lied back on the bed. You didn’t know if you should cover yourself out of embarrassment or if that would only result in further scolding. So you decided to keep your hands as fists at your sides. Just lying there naked for him to take in. So he was nude except for the helmet, but you felt as if you would be scolded for asking why it was still on.

He brought a hand in between your legs, touching the delicate folds there. You remembered what your mother said, and you screwed your eyes shut. His hand seemed to rub along your slit before a finger was thrust inside of you. Causing you to gasp and grab the sheets. “What are you doing?” Your eyes now open wide as you looked him in his masked eye.

You heard a modulated huff of frustration before he said, “I thought you would appreciate some preparation for your first time. Before I fuck you. You are a virgin are you not?”

Your lip trembled, out of both fear and light pleasure. “I am,” you said barely above a whisper. You could feel your body wash over with shame at the admittance. In this moment he made you feel as if being a virgin wasn’t enough, that somehow it wasn’t good enough. But you were taught to be a maiden until your wedding night, where your husband would claim you as his own. And now you felt as if, he didn’t want you. Something that struck you with humiliation straight to your core. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that it would be enough to mask your feelings.

“This will be the only time you get it, so relish in it, princess.” Your title came out as a harsh bite rather than a sweet gesture. He quickly inserted another finger, stretching you and then another. Preparing you for his cock, but there was little warning as he pulled his fingers out of you before he slammed himself fully inside of you. There was a loud perverted groan coming from your husband as he did so.

He did not even let you fully adjust to him as he began relentlessly assaulting your cervix. Your body clenched tightly around him, causing him to elicit another monstrous sounding moan. You had no idea how long you were there, under him as he indulged in his carnal desire. But you knew it was over after he filled you with hot cum. You received no pleasure from the exchange as he pulled out and got off the bed.

You tentatively opened your eyes as you heard movement in the refresher attached to the room. He came back with a wet cloth and rather roughly cleaned you up before pulling his pants back on. “This will be the only time you receive any sort of cleanup from me.” He was making his stance known to you.

You timidly watched as he redressed himself in the clothes that he had taken off. As you saw him prepare to leave you had a hint of courage to ask. “Where are you going?”

He sharply turned his head towards you, “To my room. This,” he gestured behind himself, “is your room. I should make it known that I expect you to perform your wifely duties whenever I want them.” And he stepped out the door which shut behind him. Leaving you all alone on your wedding night, freshly fucked, without an ounce of sympathy thrown your way.

A/N: https://www.unchainedatlast.org/about-arranged-forced-marriage/ National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 or TTY 1−800−787−3224.

[vj-affiliate]

The Smoothie Diet: 21 Day Rapid Weight Loss Program

You think thousands of thoughts each day. You talk to yourself more than anyone else. You are your most trusted advisor and confidant. Many of the conversations that you have with yourself you would never share with anyone else because to do so would expose the “real” you. The you that is filled with self doubt, worries, sadness, guilt, hurts and disappointments. But this is not the “real you” at all. This is the you that your ego and belief systems have constructed. These negative beliefs have been constructed by you, and accepted by you as truth. The sad thing is that nothing can be further from the truth. Where did these false ideas about you originate? They mostly came from others; parents, teachers, co-workers, and friends. They might have planted the seed by saying something like “she is fat” and you have cultivated those comments to the point that they have become your truth. You are allowing your entire life to be controlled by some obscure comments made years ago. Nobody has the right or power to dictate who you are. Only you know who you truly are and what’s in your heart. When you were born you entered this world without the burdens of you current negative belief system. You entered this world as a beautiful bundle of joy filled with unlimited potential and possibilities. I’m here to tell you that you have not changed. You are still and will always be a beautiful bundle of joy with unlimited potential and possibilities. The only difference is what you give your attention to. Let me ask you a question. If you stopped all the negative talk that you currently have with yourself such as; – I’m too fat – Why would anyone want to love me – I will never be thin – I always fail And the list can go on and on… How would you feel ? Do you think that you would feel emotionally lighter ? Do you think that you would feel happier ? Do you think that you would feel more confident ? Now how do you think your life would change if you were to go one step further and modify your self talk by only speaking positively about yourself. If you take some time and focus on what you like about yourself and focus on only that your emotional state will become positive to the point that you will be able to accomplish anything. Once you begin looking for the positive things within you, you will be surprised to realize your magnificence has always been there just below the surface. You have never been anything other then that shining bundle of joy that entered the world years ago. It’s easy to uncover positive aspects of yourself by asking some questions. – What am I good at? – Who has benefited by me being in the world? – Who am I, what is in my heart that only I know?

– What do I like about my body? Your goal is to feel good now. How do you feel now? If you only observe what you feel is positive about you, you will feel good, you will be happy. Decide right here and right now how you want to feel. Decide that you will always look for the good within you and appreciate that goodness. So what does all of this have to do with losing weight? Everything!!! Your emotional state is the control valve that determines what you draw into your experience. How you talk to yourself creates your beliefs and programs your subconscious. So you need to ask yourself do you want your beliefs and subconscious programming to be based on false negative thinking. Or do you want your beliefs to be based on the truth, that you are and always have been a perfect being. Begin today to love and nurture yourself. Allow the joy, playfulness and enthusiasm that you naturally had as a child begin to flow into your everyday experiences. Allow yourself to celebrate each and every success no matter how small. Love and appreciate yourself every opportunity you have. Do this everyday and watch your weight begin to dissolve just as your old negative beliefs about yourself begin to dissolve.

Now its your time to work hard and get your fitness goal in 21 days challenge program.

Click to the bleow link and start to achieve your fitness goal now-

https://bit.ly/3bws3Tc

[shireness-says]

Wherever You’re Going (I’m Going Your Way) [5/6]

Summary: 1952. A lost boy without a home, Killian Jones rides America’s back roads on his motorcycle, searching for a purpose that’s just out of reach. This pit stop was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but a pretty blonde waitress just might be his salvation. Is he brave enough to let her? Rated T for language. ~4.0K. Also on AO3. Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

~~~~~

A/N: Last chapter of plot - next week is an epilogue. Thanks for reading - let me know what you think!

~~~~~

The days to come are a kind of blissful in-between: after the date and the kiss that changes everything, but before  Killian’s tires have arrived and he’s back on the road again. The days are simultaneously too short and wonderfully long, the days too few and yet seemingly endless as Killian savors every moment together that he can. He makes a point to spend as much time with Emma as he can, knowing that their time will be far too short, taking her for ice cream and evening strolls and even letting Emma drag him down to the local bar and dance hall. He’d tensed as she’d pulled him onto the dance floor, far too aware of the many eyes around him — he’s far too aware that others think he’s trouble, and can only imagine what they think to see him arm in arm with the local golden girl — but the other townsfolk never show it. He thinks he might even see a few smiles among them, though that seems like it could be too much to ask for. As happy as he is to take Emma on the kind of dates she deserves, dancing and the like, he truthfully takes just as much pleasure in simply keeping her company during her late shifts at the diner, sitting in what is now his usual booth and flashing a smile just for her. There’s a gentle intimacy to this, being allowed to watch Emma in her own environment.

Still. As much he tries to revel in the moment, the future looms just ahead. 

“I don’t know what to do, Belle,” Killian groans as softly as he can manage into the phone. Granny’s back hallway probably isn’t the best place for this conversation, but it begs having, and Killian isn’t willing to drive up David Nolan’s long distance bill. The downside of the public pay phone is that it’s not exactly private; other customers pass periodically, searching for the bathrooms or winding their way back through to the attached inn. It’s odd to even think, and Killian isn’t sure how it truly happened, but he seems to have earned some level of acceptance amongst the locals, just by virtue of becoming a regular face at the garage and at Granny’s in the last handful of weeks. Most even nod a greeting, or offer him a brief smile. It’s jarring, in the most pleasant way, to be met with a kind of amiable neutrality after growing so accustomed to distrust everywhere he goes. 

That’s the benefit of staying in one place, he supposes: people come to know you, even just a little bit, even just enough to grow used to you and start to trust you. Those could be the seeds of a more settled life, if he wanted.

But that’s the whole problem — Killian isn’t sure he’s ready for that. Which brings him to this moment and this phone call, because it’s been nearly three weeks, and they’re expecting the replacement tires any day now, and Killian has a decision to make. Three weeks ago, there’d been no question — he’d be gone as soon as the tools were put down. Three weeks ago, however, he hadn’t yet met Emma — and Emma just might change everything.

The truth of the matter is that these last days with Emma have been the happiest that he��s lived in a long, long time, and he likes to think he makes her happy too. Her smiles and laughter and the way she chases after him for just one more kiss would suggest that to be the case. They went into this with open eyes, both knowing that whatever they became was subject to a ticking clock, but Killian still pauses when he thinks of leaving her behind. She deserves more than that; they both do. 

At the same time, staying still isn’t an option. Killian’s great cross-country trek has, more than anything, been a search for a sense of self, a sense of purpose; finding someplace to call home is a far distant third on his list of concerns. Ghosts still haunt him, and though he knows the wind on his motorcycle can’t permanently blow them away, it helps. It’s nice to just not think for a few minutes. Even hours, if he’s lucky.

(Then again, kissing Emma achieves much the same effect, in a much more pleasurable fashion.)

“I can’t stay. I really… I don’t think I can stay,” Killian continues. “But how can I leave, either? What if I’m throwing away my one real chance to settle down, and be happy like that?”

“But is that really true happiness, convincing yourself into something because it’s the smart or honorable thing to do?” Belle asks. “Or is that just a compromise?”

Killian stays silent, letting her words run through his head. This is why he called Belle in the first place: she has a way of pointing out the real questions he needs to ask himself without any judgement or demands. 

“You don’t need to have an answer now, and you don’t have to tell me when you do,” Belle continues, “but if you’re as taken with this girl as you tell me, it’s not fair to her if you stick around but constantly dream of leaving again. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Killian can hear the soft tenderness in his own voice; no doubt Belle can as well. “And that’s the biggest reason I can’t stay. She deserves more than a man who would always wonder what he gave up. It’s not just places I want to see either, Belle. It’s… at the risk of sounding like some terrible cliche, I’ve felt like a shell of myself for a long time. The words shouldn’t be me, but they were an important part, and I lost them. Flying down the highway, seeing all the wonders this blasted place has to offer… that’s the only time it feels like the words might be in my reach again. I deserve the chance to figure out who I am after all this, even as Emma doesn’t deserve a man who will otherwise always be a little bit empty.” Killian sighs. “That doesn’t make it any easier to think about leaving her behind.”

“You could always ask her to come with.”

Killian’s heart leaps in excitement at the very idea, but he quickly forces reason to tamp it down. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Whyever not? I thought you said she had a bit of wanderlust herself.”

“Yes, but…” Killian struggles for an answer, feeling like his brain is tripping over itself. “Storybrooke is her home. She’s got a family here, people who love her and would miss her. I can’t take her away from all of that.”

“Maybe that’s a decision she gets to make,” Belle replies gently. “Maybe she’ll surprise you. Maybe she wants the same thing, a chance to see what else is out there. You won’t know unless you ask.”

“Maybe.” Even as Killian says it, he knows that it’s a dream too big. He’ll never risk it — and Belle probably knows that too.

“It’s up to you, Killian,” she concludes, “but think about what’s best for you, now and later, okay? You deserve to be happy just as much as she does.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once Killian hangs up the payphone, he fights the urge to slide down the wall into a crumpled heap. Even after his talk with Belle, there’s still no good answers.

He’s got a lot to think about. 

———

As long as Killian doesn’t think too closely about their looming, unknown deadline, he can luxuriate in the sheer quiet joy of spending time with Emma. It’s easy to get used to her kisses and easy affection and the way that she has a special smile just for him when he walks into the diner. It’s a beautiful respite he didn’t know he needed and is certain he doesn’t deserve.

But far too often and too quickly, good things must end.

The new tire arrives on Thursday. Killian does his utter best to ignore it. As eager as he was to get in and get out of this little nowhere town three weeks ago, that’s all changed because of Emma. The itch under his skin is as strong as ever — the desire to blow all the dreams and pain away upon the winds — but his attachment to Emma, though new and young, is deep. She’s a balm to all his lingering wounds, a bright spot in his days that he never thought he’d find again, and the idea of leaving her is near unbearable, even if the idea of staying is just as suffocating. 

There’s only so long he can pretend to work off a debt he’s long since paid, though, and while David will never say anything, Killian sees the confused looks that the other man sends his way each day those tires continue to sit on a shelf.

“You know, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” David mentions with an affected air of casualness as he works on the undercarriage of someone’s truck. Killian has been drafted to assist — though it seems to be just an excuse to trap him into conversation, considering that the only way he’s been helping is to hand over tools that David could just roll out and retrieve himself.

Killian braces himself against the truck’s bed, sighing heavily. He can’t help the exhalation; inside his head, all of Killian’s different desires war with each other — to stay with Emma, to leave for her own good, to leave for his own good. Underneath it all, though, is that same itch that’s driven him forward ever since he landed in this country, and it only grows stronger every day.

Staying was never really an option — not when he still needs wind whipping past his face to ground him every day.

“I know. But I can’t,” he finally replies, head bowed in a pointless instinct to hide his gaze from a man already obscured. 

David rolls himself back out to the light. “Why not? Has anyone made you think you couldn’t? Besides Graham, I mean, and that really was just a misunderstanding —”

“No, it’s not that. I’ll have to disagree about the sheriff’s intentions, but you’ve all been… wonderful. You, and Mrs. Nolan, and… Emma.” Killian stutters for a moment over her name; though they both knew going in that this wouldn’t end in anything lasting, it had been easy to forget that in a week and a half of bliss, and she’s the one who stands to hurt the most. Still, he must press on. “Better than I deserve, really. And I know you’d welcome me with open arms should I choose to make your little hamlet home. But it’s… I’ve got this compulsion to keep moving. Chasing something, or running away from something, I don’t even know anymore. But one day… I hope I’ll figure it out, and that feeling will settle.”

David hums, taking the time to replace his tools. If Killian’s not mistaken, it’s a stalling tactic. “You know, Emma has this theory,” he finally says, “that home is the place that when you leave, you just miss it. She and Mary Margaret spent a week — not even a week in Portland shopping for wedding and household things. And that was it for her. She and Mary Margaret were still in this terrible little apartment, but I’ve never seen her happier to be there. Gave me the biggest hug when she saw me as I came to pick up Mary Margaret for a date.” David smiles fondly at the memory. “I suppose what I’m saying is… maybe it takes some distance to realize what you want. And we’ll always be happy to welcome you back, if you choose to return. You’ve got a job here if you decide that’s what you want.”

It’s a lot to offer him, Killian knows — more than he expected. This entire town and all the people in it — especially the Nolans, especially Emma — are all more than he ever expected. “Thank you,” he says softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

David just nods before grabbing a different wrench and wheeling back under the body of the truck, but Killian thinks there’s an understanding there — that I can’t stay doesn’t mean not ever, just not now. There’s a time and a place for everything in life, and the place Killian’s at right now isn’t nearly settled enough for tranquil little Storybrooke.

He shouldn’t have counted on David keeping that information to himself, however. Half the reason he’d avoided the matter of the tire in the first place was his own uncertainty about how to broach the topic with Emma. She deserves to hear from him that he’s leaving again, but all attempts he makes to imagine that conversation feel inadequate — too flippant, too detached, too lame. Decidedly not what she deserves.

Trust his Swan, however, to bring it up all on her own.

“So,” she starts, arm linked through his as they walk down Main Street together, “what’s this I hear about a tire?”

Killian’s heart jumps into his throat; without even intending, he slows their pace to barely a shuffle. “So you heard about that, then.”

“David’s not great about keeping secrets from Mary Margaret, and Mary Margaret isn’t great about keeping secrets from… anyone, really.” Emma chuckles at her little quip, but it doesn’t hold the joy Killian’s grown accustomed to in the past weeks. 

(God, when did he allow himself to become accustomed to that — or anything? He was never supposed to stay longer than a few weeks, and this only makes it harder.)

“I want to tell you, but…” Killian trails off. But what? He was scared? He was conflicted?

“It’s alright, Killian,” she smiles back, albeit weakly. “We always knew this was coming.” Emma gathers a deep breath as if to steel herself for what else she has to say. “So how much time do we have left, then? I know the road must be calling you again.”

But you are too, Killian doesn’t say. 

“Two days,” he says instead. “Three at most. David and I got Mr. French’s delivery van settled today, so we’ll be able to put the bike back together tomorrow and I can hit the road the next day, or the one after.”

“That’s not much time,” Emma replies softly, looking down at their shuffling feet as if she can’t bear to meet his eyes.

“No.”

(You could always ask her to come with, whispers Belle’s voice in his head. He’s not nearly brave enough to listen to it.)

Killian feels Emma take a deep, strengthening breath before she lifts her gaze to meet his again. “Then we’d better make the most of it.”

———

The next evening, Killian takes Emma for a ride on the newly-functional motorcycle, trying the whole while not to think about how this feels like goodbye. He remembers how she’d asked, one of those first nights, flirting even though Killian couldn’t see it, didn’t want to see it. Emma had gasped in surprise and delight when Killian came to pick her up after her shift (an early one, today, that lets them take a little cruise as the sun sets before them), drawn out to the diner’s front windows by the putter of the engine. 

“Are we going to go for a ride?” she practically demands. Not that Killian minds, as long as he gets to see the grin that splits her face from cheek to cheek. 

“As far as you want,” he promises.

(It was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but ask her to come with echoes louder and louder in his head with each passing hour.)

Killian helps Emma onto the bike as best he can while straddling the seat himself, but she doesn’t prove to need much assistance, still steady even as she swings a leg over the body. It takes some doing, but he manages to crane his body around far enough to press a lingering kiss to her lips. 

(Not their last, not their last, his heart insists, but his brain still whirs in a panic of not enough time like another engine he’ll have to fix.)

“Are you ready, love?” he asks when they finally break apart. Emma nods enthusiastically. “Then hold on tight.”

It’s almost idyllic, cruising through Storybrooke’s back roads with Emma’s arms twined around his waist. She particularly seems to love the straight stretches of road where he can really test their speed. As the wind whips past their faces, Emma giggles and shrieks with glee behind him. Other women might have been nervous about the bike, or fretted about the number the wind will undoubtedly do to their hair, but not his Swan. It’s obvious she’s having the time of her life, and Killian feels grounded in a new way to feel her body perched behind his.

(Come with, come with, could come with…)

“God, I see why you love that so much,” she chuckles as they roll to a halt at the pier. Killian will never get back in the water, but there’s still something soothing about the endless horizon. “It’s exhilarating.”

And maybe it’s the joy in her voice, or the way she smiles as she swings off the bike again. More likely, it’s the result of the words that have been rattling around inside his skull ever since he talked to Belle. Whatever it is, it dissolves any filter between Killian’s brain and his mouth and the words come tumbling out before he can stop them. “You could come with me,” he blurts out in a rush, only to flush red as he realizes what he said. That was not remotely something he meant to say, but it’s out there in the world now, his heart dropped at her feet for her to pick up or kick aside.

Not that she’s done either, yet. Emma stands shocked and still in front of him, eyes wide like she can’t believe what she’s just heard. That’s a reasonable reaction; Killian certainly can’t believe that he just said it. 

“What did you say?” she whispers.

“Nothing, Swan, don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have said anything —”

“But you did,” Emma says, interrupting his backtracking. “Did you mean it?”

Killian sighs, sweeping his hand through his hair in yet another nervous tic. She probably knows all of them by now — the hand in the hair and the scratching behind his ear and all the rest of it. He’s a mess of a man, which makes him all the more certain that no matter what he might want, he can’t possibly deserve her. “Aye, I did,” he finally admits. “And I know it’s foolish, because I can’t possibly ask that of you, not when you’ve got a place like this to call home, with people who love you. Not when you’d have to put up with me. But it’s what I want.” He whispers it like a shameful secret. And maybe it is, a little bit — after all, he knows better than anyone that no matter how much he wants doesn’t mean it can ever happen.

“And why would you ever think that’s foolish?” Emma asks softly, stepping into his space to rest her hands on his shoulders.

“I mean —”

“I told you once that I wanted to be brave with you, and that it was my choice to make. I meant it then, and I mean it now, too.” As Emma pauses to stare into his eyes, Killian feels hope flutter in his chest, stronger and brighter than ever before, only to burst to glorious life as she finishes. “So ask me.”

It only takes a moment to swallow his nerves. “Come with me, Emma. Let me show you the world.”

Emma’s hands move to his face, stroking her thumbs along his cheeks to coax him into a smile to match her own. “Yes,” she says, softly, emphatically, lovingly.

And Killian finally allows his dreams to soar in flight. 

——— 

Their goodbye is sad, even though Emma assures everyone that it’s not forever. 

“I’ll be back, I promise,” she tells Mrs. Nolan, whose eyes brim with tears just waiting to fall. “We both will be.”

“I know that,” Mrs. Nolan insists. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t miss you! It won’t feel right, not seeing your face around town every day.”

“Promise me you’ll look after her,” David says quietly as Killian secures the saddlebags on the motorcycle. Emma has proved to travel light, just like him; she’d showed up with nothing more than a satchel, a tightly coiled bedroll, and a beaming smile. “Because Emma is special, and I don’t know what we’ll do if something happens to her. Or, more accurately, I don’t know what I’ll do to you if something happens to her,” he tries to joke, stretching a weak smile before falling back to something more serious. “She’s very precious to us — to all of us.”

“I know,” Killian replies, cracking a small smile as he watches Emma hug her friend. “She’s very precious to me, too. I promise that I’ll do everything in my power — everything and then some more — to watch over her and keep her safe.”

“Good.” David offers his hand to shake, and Killian grasps it firmly in return. Maybe it’s a sealing of the promise; maybe it’s a gesture of friendship; maybe it’s a little of both. Whatever the case, Killian feels something pass between himself and David: an understanding, almost a sort of peace.

Emma slides an arm around his waist, apparently done hugging and bidding farewell to her crowd of admirers. Killian could swear half the town turned up in front of the garage to send her off — Granny and Ruby, Sheriff Graham, Mrs. Nolan, and a whole slew of other people he only halfway recognizes. She’s obviously much loved; Killian could tell that even without David’s little speech.

“Ready to go?” she asks with a wide and happy smile. He’d understand if she was nervous, or scared, or sad, or anything else; that would be reasonable as she’s about to embark on a journey into the unknown with him. There’s only excitement in her gaze, however; it’s obvious she’s got a wanderer’s heart of her own.

“Whenever you are, love,” he smiles back.

It’s a matter of a moment to swing his leg over the body of the motorcycle and let Emma clamber on behind him with David’s help. As Killian starts the engine, the other man drops a kiss to Emma’s forehead that Killian pretends not to notice.

“Godspeed,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Killian to hear. “And you make sure to call and keep us posted, alright?” he concludes in a louder voice. 

“Of course, dad.” Killian can practically hear her roll her eyes, but he can hear the fondness, too. In a last gesture, Emma leverages herself off of Killian’s shoulders to press a kiss on David’s cheek. “Love you.”

“I love you too.” Tears gleam at the corner of David’s eyes, but he plasters on a grin anyways. “Now go on, hit the road before the sun gets too hot!”

Killian doesn’t need to be told twice. In a flurry of waves from Emma and her crowd of well-wishers, they slowly cruise back down Main Street, picking up speed as it gives way to a country highway.

“Are you ready for an adventure, Swan?” he asks as she twines her arms tighter around his waist, craning his neck to meet her gaze. 

“With you?” she smiles back. “Always.”

~~~~~

Tagging: @kmomof4, @aerica13, @thisonesatellite, @searchingwardrobes, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @ohmightydevviepuu, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @spartanguard, @scientificapricot​, @snowbellewells​, @welllpthisishappening​, @tiganasummertree​, @captainswanbigbang​, @snidgetsafan​, @thejollyroger-writer​, @profdanglaisstuff​

[lacommunarde]

Charity: Water’s Give Guide (including non-monetary generosity)

Supporters like you have been so generous all year long. Even in a year like 2020, you’ve continued to show up when we’ve needed you most.

Tomorrow, on Giving Tuesday, we’re asking you to show up again—but not for charity: water.

We know firsthand how incredible this community is, and if there’s anything the world needs right now, it’s the pure goodness we’ve experienced from people like you. So here’s what we’re thinking:

Pick one way—any way!—to be generous tomorrow. Our whole team will be joining in on the fun with generous endeavors of our own. Here’s a

not-so-short list

to help you get started:

THE SAFE-AT-HOME

GIVE GUIDE

Send your sibling a photo of a puppy and tell them its unbearable cuteness reminded you of them.

Your fridge could almost definitely use a deep cleaning. Be the one who makes it happen.

Curate a playlist and send it to someone you miss dancing with—make sure every song is a banger.

Take a virtual yoga class with your most-stressed family member.

Save energy! Turn off a few lights.

Your friend shared an accomplishment on social media! Celebrate their hard work with an enthusiastic comment. (Emojis are not optional.)

Leave encouraging comments on social media, news articles, or anywhere they'd cause a smile.

Sort through your books and gift the ones you don't need anymore.

Throw an unbirthday party for one of your housemates or family members, complete with an unbirthday treat.

Collect all of the best instrumental videos and throw an in-house or virtual karaoke party.

Using reusable masks? Gather everyone's and put them through the laundry. Goodbye, germs!

Rent some movies from the library (the more obscure, the better) and throw an at-home movie night with everyone's favorite snacks.

Write to a long lost friend.

Invite a friend to join you for a virtual museum tour (like the MoMA or Musée D'Orsay).

Set up a video chat with someone who lives alone.

Call someone you haven't checked in on recently.

Leave your USPS mail carrier a friendly note.

Leave a glowing review for your favorite restaurant.

Propagate a plant.

Clean the bathroom. Someone's gotta do it, and today, you are that champion.

THE NEIGHBORHOOD MVP

GIVE GUIDE

Put your child back in that superhero Halloween costume and go door-to-door delivering candy like it's a backwards Halloween (neewollaH?).

Take your neighbor's newspaper from the driveway up to their door.

Dial up the happiest playlist you can find and have socially-distanced driveway dance parties.

Rake your neighbor's leaves.

Volunteer to walk neighborhood pets whose owners could use a break.

Have a new neighbor? Share a list of all the amazing local restaurants they should try and what to order from each. Bonus: send a pizza from your favorite local shop.

Leave a box of cookies on your neighbor’s doorstep, ring the bell, and get the heck out of there.

Put together a Creativity Box for a neighborhood family with kids. Fill it with coloring books, games, puzzles—anything that gives parents 20 minutes to make dinner without interruption!

Buy a bouquet of fresh flowers and put a single flower on each of your neighbors' doorsteps.

Slip friendly notes into your neighbor's mailbox.

Visit VolunteerMatch.org to get matched with a local volunteer opportunity—anything from delivering meal kits to putting up flyers for kitten adoption.

Clean up your nearest park.

Walk the dogs at your local animal shelter.

Deliver flowers to your local nursing home to bring joy to the residents and staff.

Say hello to your neighbors when you pass each other on the street.

Hand out a flyer with all of the special skills you're willing and able to share. (A+ cookie baker? Star virtual math tutor? Pro headlight replacer? All valid skills!)

Order takeout from a local restaurant you've never tried before.

Start a neighborhood activity swap. Every week, rotate a new activity (like puzzles, board games, books, movies) from one house to the next.

Offer to go to the post office or the grocery store for your elderly neighbors.

Know a neighbor who can't be with family this year? Invite them to share one of your family's traditions, even if virtually!

THE MONEY CAN'T BUY HAPPINESS

(BUT IT CAN BUY PIZZA)

GIVE GUIDE

Venmo the student in your life so they can order delivery while they study for finals.

Buy coffee for the person in line behind you.

Pay for a stranger’s groceries.

Pizza. Someone in your life needs a pizza delivery.

Take care of your neighbors and donate to a local mutual aid or food pantry.

Deliver a round of hot coffees to the women and men working at a nearby construction site.

Help someone pay rent.

Does a teacher in your life need school supplies? Send that hero a gift card.

Your family member deserves flowers. (You know which one.)

Pick up a surprise dinner for your roommates (or your family!) from a local restaurant.

Need to purchase gifts this holiday season? Shop from small businesses.

Create an "emergency kit" for a friend with a few of their favorite snacks and a gift card.

Gift a book to a student.

Tip your delivery driver 40%.

Count the number of tabs you have open. Donate that number of dollars to your favorite charities.

Ask the florist for a bouquet that would make someone's day. Then, buy that bouquet for the florist.

Give a parent a well-deserved night off. Deliver pizza and a movie to their front door.

Send a friend an IOU for a hot beverage to enjoy the next time you're together.

Send donuts to a local elementary school faculty room.

Support a friend who is doing good work in the world.

THE BROKE COLLEGE STUDENT

GIVE GUIDE

Leave a life-affirming note on a stranger’s car window.

Give a friend or neighbor a coupon for snow removal. During the next storm, show up with a shovel and a smile.

Marie Kondo your pantry and donate the excess to a local food bank.

Donate gently-used clothing and give someone else a chance to love the sweater that lives in the back corner of your closet.

Plant a tree.

Write a bunch of hope-filled messages and deliver them to an assisted living home.

Volunteer your time to do whatever it is you do best: review resumes, help form a financial plan, design a logo, organize a pantry, take photos.

Share a list of your favorite recipes with someone who has made way too many meals at home since March.

Share a funny memory with a friend you haven't talked to in a long time.

Set up a themed video chat with people you've been meaning to get in touch with.

Help someone do something they've been avoiding: clothing repair, shipping packages, putting up or taking down decorations. Team work makes the dream work.

Write thank you notes to hospital workers and encouraging letters to patients.

Ask a grandparent/parent/sibling about their favorite memory. Then record it.

Give someone the benefit of the doubt.

Write haikus about your favorite people and send them throughout the day.

Respond to your favorite newsletter writer and tell them how much you enjoy their writing.

Become pen pals with a senior citizen.

Share a compliment with a coworker.

Channel your inner gameshow host and plan a virtual game night.

Text an encouraging note to a friend, just because.

THE CRAFT QUEEN

GIVE GUIDE

Bake some homemade pet treats and drop them off at your local animal shelter.

Create a Powerpoint explaining exactly why your best friend is awesome. Present it to them via Zoom.

Make an old-school holiday ornament for a friend with that picture you took together in 5th grade.

Give the gift of not having to look for boxes of gift wrap in the basement. Drop off homemade wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows to friends and neighbors.

Present handmade awards to your quarantine pod. Options include “Best Quarantine Haircut” and ”Most Likely to Selflessly Wash Our Dishes."

Make encouraging bookmarks and give them to your local librarians.

Print out old (we're talking waaaay back) photos. Send them out in the mail so everyone can remember and enjoy happy times spent together.

Make a family tree. Instead of pictures, use hilarious memories or quotable moments.

Send a scrapbook filled with inside jokes to your siblings or oldest friends.

Make a Snow Day box (candle, hot chocolate, a good book, fuzzy socks) and send it to a friend.

Invite your favorite 5-year-old to color with you on a video chat.

Keep a running list (or a wall of post-it notes!) of all the awesome things you've noticed people doing recently. There's so much kindness in the world when we're looking for it.

Give people who walk past your house a reason to smile! Put colorful art or encouraging signs in your front windows.

Draw portraits of your neighbors' pets. Deliver them with a few treats.

Spruce up your housemate's work-from-home station.

Make handmade cards for residents at a local nursing home.

Bake your favorite cookies, package them up, and ship them to your parents.

Send brand new crayons, markers, and coloring books to a children's hospital.

Make a scrapbook of your family's favorite quarantine memories. (You have more than one, we promise.)

Build a free community "library" box and encourage friends and neighbors to take a book or leave a book.

No matter how you celebrate Giving Tuesday,

know that we will be celebrating you

. We can’t wait to continue in our mission together—and can’t wait to spend Giving Tuesday being as generous as possible alongside you!

– your friends at charity: water