#copings and tiles. Great

[amaranthineghost]

ahh!! i think i speak on behalf of a lot of people when i say i need a part two, because that was so amazing and so beautifully written 🫶🏻🫶🏻

| I CAN'T NOT HAVE YOU, I'LL TRAVEL THE SOLAR SYSTEM TO MEND OUR STARS ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairings: lando x reader

ꕥ parts: 1

ꕥ tagging: @gulphulp

ꕥ summary: they hadn't seen each other in months after their breakup, which left them in more misery than they thought. because now they'll do anything to make it work.

ꕥ authors note: I've been planning this in my head while writing the first part to this and i really like how this came out! going to work on christmas imagines and also finish up a request that I've been meaning to write!

ꕥ warnings: smut (at the end if you don't want to read that part), heavy angst (wanted to break some hearts), mentions of alcohol abuse and heavy drinking, mentions of eating struggles. not proofread the end.

IT'D BEEN MONTHS. months since he last abandoned her in their old apartment. since he drove off in his mclaren, punched the rearview mirror because he couldn't take it. to this day, he regretted it with every fiber of his being. he tried to convince himself for days on end, it was for the better. but was it really?

he was struggling. he couldn't sleep properly, staring at the dark ceiling, feeling beside him in the bed for another warm body, breaking his heart more every time he reminded himself that she wasn't here. it was cold.

it was cold despite the blistering summer heat of monaco, windows open to let in the heat. max swore at him every time because despite being rich, he was letting out cool air. but lando couldn't stand the cold. without her, his heart was frigid.

it worsened as the months grew colder and races passed him by. he was peforming fine, for now, but he'd reach his limit soon enough.

he hated when the air got bitterly frozen because this year, he wouldn't have her. he wouldn't have the heat that radiated off her to keep him warm.

he'd waste himself away with alcohol to forget the memory of leaving her. it turned his stomach in knots everytime to think of her watching him leave because they didn't know what to do to fix them. he wish he knew, he should've.

more often than not, he'd spent his nights on bathroom floors of the club, puking his guts out into the toilet, or sitting on the kitchen floor belonging his temporary roommate, max fewtrell. he sat against the tiled floor and wooden cabinets with a half-emptied bottle in his hands, tears on his face.

he'd sit there for hours, wasting away with every sip burning at his throat. he hated alcohol, but it was the only way to cope because he didn't want to remember any moment without her.

when he was nearly passed out on the floor, max would drag him up by his arms, forcing more than a few glasses of water down his throat. he'd grown familiar with his friend's new sulking.

max threw him on the guest room bed he didn't bother to make because he was miserable. he made it everyone's problem then. he'd leave his passed out friend a concoction of medicines to help with the hangover, he'd gotten used to this routine for the past couple of months.

when lando would stumble his way down the stairs, hands wrapped in his curls with a splitting pain through his head and a grimace on his face, all max would comment is "well, aren't you a pitiful sod."

lando rolled his eyes, groaning at the pain as he did so, sitting on a chair at the table across from his best friend, cringing at the resemblance of dinners with his girl—who wasn't even his anymore.

"jesus, mate, maybe you do need an intervention." he'd push his bowl of oatmeal towards lando, watching the expression on his face closely.

"I'm fine."

"clearly not," max scoffed, "mate, it's great havin' you here, but y'need to sober up."

"I will."

"you've said that last month, and the month before that, and the month before that." he shook his head, "I don't even get why you guys broke up."

lando groaned, rubbing his fingertips to his temple and chugging the water before he spoke, "it wasn't working out, 'ts for the best."

"for the best? are you kidding me?" he scoffed his friend's words, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

to max, breaking up was for the worst. he could tell lando was in misery, and he'd guess she was the same, maybe worse. maybe he didn't know much, but he knew enough to know that they were meant for each other.

"I'm not kidding," he muttered, pushing the oatmeal around the bowl, his spoon clinking against the sides, "besides, we tried to fix it, 'n it didn't work."

he paused, "fix it 'ow?"

lando rolled his eyes, feeling the consequences of his actions through his head, mumbling under his breath, "we went out to eat."

"you're jokin' me?" he leaned forward, a look of disbelief and disappointment on his face, "you went out to eat? how's that goin' to solve anything?"

lando shrugged again, refusing to look max in the eye as he pushed the mush around in his bowl, picking out the bits of fruit throughout.

"you're a real geezer, y'know that?" he sighed deeply, leaning back into the stool as he sat looking at his idiotic friend, "it was a perfectly salvageable relationship, mate, and you just threw it away." he shook his head, his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned his head on one hand.

"you gonn' call me a muppet next?" he aggressively bit into the small strawberry.

"might as well because you're acting like one. now why did you break up with her?"

"she broke up with me." he quietly corrected him, though it didn't seem to shed light on the fact that they didn't try as much as they thought they did.

"then fight for your relationship!" max exclaimed, throwing his hands up in response, "did you ever talk about what was wrong?"

"we didn' have time to," lando admitted, "and we didn't know what to do." he pushed aside the bowl, having barely touched the food residing in it. it's gone cold now, just like him.

"make the time!" he suggested, jabbing his finger into the counter to make a point, "when was the last time you were alone together?"

"when we had dinner together."

max groaned, shoving his face into his hands, rubbing his closed eyes on his palms. lando was starting to give him a headache, "when was the last time you were alone together, no people, no cameras, no fans, just you and her doing something?"

"i 'ont know."

"jesus, man." his voice muffled into his skin as his face remained in his palms because of the idiocracy of his friend.

"well, what do you suggest i do then, max?" lando's tone got seemingly more aggressive and annoyed, the volume of his voice raising slightly.

"actually spend time with her! take her on holiday!" he suggested, matching energies.

"mate, I can't just ask her after months of not speakin'," lando's stool pushed against the floor as he stood up, he was agrivated. he harshly grabbed the bowl with the cold food and shoved it in the sink.

max turned in his seat, "right, so just give up and go back to drinkin' then?"

lando ignored the comment, it infuriated him because max was right. if he didn't find the solution to his problem, he probably would go back to getting blackout drunk. all in hopes that'd help forget his misery

he leaned against the sink with his arms, his head hung between his inner biceps with his eyes closed, taking deep breaths before asking, "how should I ask her then?"

"you truly are a muppet."

"christ, just help m'out here!" lando pleaded because he couldn't take it anymore. he'd been losing himself to however many bottles of alcohol that'd stacked in the bin and the amount of over-the-counter drugs he'd force down his burned throat. all to forget what seemed like an impossible fix, but all he needed was another person. just because they didn't know what to do doesn't mean others wouldn't.

and of course max would help. he just had to give lando a hard time for screwing up so badly because he would've never expected him to show up at his front door midday, stumbling drunk and muttering slurred phrases about her.

his first thought when he saw his disoriented friend was to wonder if something had happened, the obvious answer being, obviously. because lando barely drank. max knew how much he couldn't stand the taste and chasing burn so it wasn't often you'd catch him drunk, much less to this extent.

he knew it had to involve his girlfriend by the here-and-there words he could decipher from the rest, but he couldn't expect to get the full story from the utter nonsense his friend spewed.

it wasn't till morning max discovered the extent of lando's stupidity.

" 'ts your relationship," max sighed, "and you realize she might not be so accepting to see you."

it hurt to think about. he didn't know what was worse, for her to be in such misery like himself or for her to not want him back. his stomach tied itself in knots to even think about, but he was the one who left her in the first place.

"yeah, I know."

he was lost without her. everything seemed so meaningless without her by his side, though she hadn't been for months, even when they were together. but the idea of her presence somewhere in his vicinity was all he needed.

she was like a drug he tried so hard to quit because it seemed to be getting him no where. but he was addicted. all he thought about when he wasn't drunk was her. every single dollar wasted on booze was drank to forget her. the lack of her in his life.

so when he showed up at her doorstep, it was more than just a shock. she'd opened the door, the last thing she expected was to see him, standing with an expression that seemingly matched hers. the smell of booze wafting from his clothes and the bittersweet smell of his cologne she had long forgotten about. smelling it again brought back everything she tried to learn to forget about him.

she wanted to be mad, to push and kick him away, but she'd been waiting for months for him to reappear into her life. for him to come back to her, the anticipation built in her body every time the door bell echoed off the walls, or knocks that pounded against the door.

but instead she slammed the door almost immediately, and he didn't blame her. how could he when he'd been the one to leave. because on the other side of that door, her heart was pounding.

she'd been wanting to see him for so long, so badly wanted him back in her life, but what if they made the same mistakes? she couldn't take losing him a second time because she'd already lost most of herself when he drove away the first time.

because she'd watched her future slip through her fingertips and there wasn't anything she knew that would make her catch it.

she knew she was to blame for breaking them up. it was for the best, she told her guilty conscience, but it didn't change the heart-wrenching want to have him back.

she'd spent months in the cocoon she made of their cold bed, ultimately settling on his side to feel closer to him. but what was the point? he hadn't slept in that bed in months, the sheets that reeked of him faded, and even more so when he left her, for at the time she thought, forever.

"love, please," he pleaded against the door, his forehead against the cold metal, "I screwed up, but please, let me fix this, us."

she hesitated. she knew she was the type to let people who hurt her back into her life so easily, as if nothing happened, but she was the one who forced him out. she knew that.

so when the door creaked open, he pushed himself away from the door as fast as lightning. her doe eyes peaking around, staring at his chest before they found their way to his face. he'd changed. he looked tired, unkept. she'd be lying if she said she looked the same as she did months ago because she honestly looked worse than him.

because being apart brought out their worst qualities in themselves that they'd helped the other through, but it resurfaced.

when he'd gotten a good look at her, he realized she definitely wasn't the same girl she was months ago. he'd notice the dark circles under her eyes, half-lidded and puffy, begging for sleep. the oversized hoodie he left her, though surprisingly clean, was well-worn by her. through the baggy cloth, he could tell her physique was slimmer, he felt nauseous.

she couldn't stand the silence between them even when they lived the last months of their relationship filled with it. they were both hurting and they both knew it, but they'd assume the other would be the one to patch it up. that's where they messed up, they seem to do it a lot.

"so why now are you here?" she'd cut through the silence with a butter knife, sawing back and forth as she stumbled where she stood. she struggled to keep her balance, lack of energy will do that to you.

"I realized how much of an idiot I was," he stepped closer, bringing his hand to hers, pressing her fingers between his. he trailed the pads of his fingertips down her hand and to her wrist. he'd latch on, caressing the soft skin, he'd remember the feeling.

"but I was the one who broke you with you."

he didn't mean it like that, to insinuate that she was the idiot for breaking them up because in no way did he blame her. he put the blame all on him for not fighting for them.

" 'nd I was the one who left."

she stared up at him, her big eyes doing things to him, he shouldn't feel it in a moment like this, but he did. he just wanted her back, to feel her lips on his, her smooth skin under his soft but callused hands.

her lips parted when she'd realize the feeling of warmth against her face, his hand running along her jaw to her chin. though she was already looking up at him, he pushed her head up further, but so softly.

his voice was raspy and deep, pleading, "please, darlin'." she couldn't say no even if the voice inside her head and the feeling in her heart told her to.

"just don't leave again."

he could never, not after the misery he'd been through without her, blackout nights to forget everything that had led up to their break up. he couldn't imagine the anguish he put her through.

and at those words, he couldn't hold back anymore, his lips colliding with hers so desperately, like he needed her to survive. he kind of did. he tasted faintly of alcohol and fruit, she tasted like mint. her lips moved softly against his passionate kiss because he was acting like she was his oxygen, his water, his everything because she was.

his hand tangled in her hair, the sounds of their breaths between their lips, the heavy heat that surrounded the air as they separated.

"let's go somewhere," he'd suggest, his chest rising and falling more noticeably now.

her lips became a swollen pink as she looked up at him, dazed as her eyes flickered between his green eyes, "where?"

he shook his head, smiling. god, she missed that smile. he spoke so softly now, "anywhere, you pick. it'll jus' be us."

money didn't matter to him. if she wanted to travel to the moon and back, he'd make it happen because he wanted to make things right. he wanted to show her he was all in now because he would never take another step out ever again.

so they'd travel across the world. he'd rent out hotels, restaurants, amusement parks, anything she'd want. like max said, he wanted this between the two of them. no cameras, no fans, no public. just them enjoying their time together and alone at the most beautiful places she could think of.

she'd end up on an island with him, the only other people being the employees of the resorts he'd rent out. he did everything with her.

they went on yachts around the crystal waters and coral reefs surrounding the beaches that they'd later lay and tan on. they'd talk as they bathed in the sunlight. snorkeling while holding hands and pointing out various species that inhabited the waters.

candle-lit dinners sitting across from each other, though their hands never left each other. they'd been offered fancy wines, lando ultimately opting out. she understood. they tried the exotic foods and other virgin drinks the resort had to offer.

they had long runs along the beach, heavy makeout sessions on stranded towels where they couldn't take their hands off the other, deciding to take the trip back to their hut over the waters.

when they'd make it back, he wasted no time because he missed her, the feeling of her around him, the taste of her.

as soon as the hut door slammed shut, his veined hand would be pressured on her neck, pushing at the skin under his fingertips to pull her into his lips. he was desperate, she knew that.

his lips were harshly against hers, she could feel the vibrations of his groans against her flesh, feeling his working hands across her chest, having left her neck temporarily to undo her tied bikini top. it was discarded onto the wooden floors with no further regard. they'd separate, foreheads pushed together and their noses clashing as their breaths mixed in the middle.

his head dipped below her jaw, biting at the skin of her neck. whimpers left her lips and she felt his smirk on her skin while she grasped at his curls. he slowly pushed their bodies towards the open laid bed behind her, her calf's meeting the mattress. he tugged at the elastic of her beach shorts, though deciding to take his time, which made it all the more agonizing for her, she needed him.

his lips trailed her body, leaving trails of his saliva and marks where he nipped at her skin, from her neck down to her chest. he groped her tits, earning a low groan from her as his tongue swirled her areola. she tugged his hair, his curls between each of her fingers as she bit back the sounds that forced through her throat. he was starved of her, which only turned her on more. she felt the heat between her thighs.

he'd kneel on his knees in front of her as he'd continue to leave a string of dark hickeys down her skin as he'd continue to her stomach, and just above her panty line, pulling the elastic of her shorts down. she'd almost just rip them off because she couldn't take how slow he'd move compared to when they first ended up in this situation.

his finger wrapped around the band, slowly pulling the material over the curves of her body, but he'd left her panties, which infuriated her. he did it all while looking straight up into her eyes, the glint in his eyes filled of lust and mischief. he'd lift her leg with his hand wrapped around the back of her knee, helping her kick off the clothing.

he'd kiss the skin just above the side of her knee, his lips glued to her skin as they traveled higher up her thighs, as well as his hands, sliding under the side of her panties. his nose brushed against the cloth of her cunt, ghostly stimulating her clit. it provoked a reaction out of her as she whined, and he'd continue to kiss along the line of her undergarment.

he may have started off desperate, but now he was taking his sweet time to take care of her. she wanted to badly for him to just hurry it along, wanting to feel him, but he'd rather enjoy the moment he had with her, like it was his last.

he pushed aside the cloth barrier, licking his lips as he eyed the wet patch caused by him, his warm breath panned across her cunt and she pleaded, "lan, please." god, he loved to hear her beg, it was music to his ears, but her moans were a symphony.

his two fingers slowly parted her folds, feeling her pulse under him as she moaned against the contact, he 'tsk'd at her reaction, "so wet for me, darling." his voice was raspy, deep and she cursed under her breath as she watched him lick her off his fingers.

the taste of her brought him back, he'd savor it because he hadn't before, not when he didn't realize it could've been the last. she was sweet, her skin smelling of vanilla as his nose brushed against her.

he'd had enough teasing for now, and gently he'd pull down her panties. she'd be fully exposed, but he was still dressed, his clothes feeling tighter around his body, specifically his swim shorts.

he didn't care. he'd thrown one of her legs over his shoulder as he flattened his tongue across her, feeling the tremble in her standing leg. he'd bury his lips in her cunt, vigorously tasting her like he hadnt eaten in weeks. his tongue lapped at her heat and she let out strings of curses interrupted by moans as she'd tug him closer to her by his hair.

vibrations of his groans stimulated her clit as he softly nipped at the sensitive flesh. he'd lapped at her cunt for not long before it became overwhelming, her moans growing high and squeaked as her legs nearly buckled.

he kept going, looking up at her with massively dilated eyes, half-lidded and seductive. her jaw went slack as she stared into his eyes, she felt the crescendo of her high and she'd nearly scream out his name as she came on his tongue. he'd lick up any remaining juice of hers.

his tongue left one long trail over her cunt, pressuring on her sensitive before pulling away, a trail of saliva connecting to his mouth and her slick glistened on his lips and chins. she panted heavily, he watched the rise and fall of her chest, felt the shaking of her knees as they nearly gave out under her.

he'd smile up at her, his goofy grin greeted her after her hazed high calmed. she'd roll her eyes at his light-heartedness after she'd just came on his tongue.

but it was moments like those that'd bring back the spark of youth and naivety to their relationship. because it was what they'd needed all along. all they needed was each other.

[diazsdimples]

🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Please ignore that I'm doing this several months late 😬

🤠 - 24 for Ranch AU!

But that did leave him with an awful lot of time on his hands. Bobby and spare time have never been great friends – the last time he was left to his own devices for more than a day, he’d ended up knee deep in planning a lavish wedding that had ultimately been chucked out the door when he and Athena realised, they really didn’t need anything more than themselves and the kids. All that to say that it isn’t really surprising that Bobby downloads the Sims 4 onto his ancient laptop and creates a full-scale version of the ranch. He gets the dimensions off the listing, and with the help of a convenient floorplan and google earth, he manages to make a rather convincing version of the home. He does up the exterior to look just like the ranch house, complete with the large veranda and the ornate trims around the spandrels, and even manages to find a tile that looks exactly like the path leading to the front door. The interior is a different matter. Bobby doesn’t love the colour scheme either, and he can’t see himself coping with an oven as miniscule as the one that comes with the home, so he allows himself a little creative licence. It’s just a video game, after all. He’s not seriously planning it out. Several hours later, Bobby sits back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. Blessedly, Athena still has a job, which means Bobby hasn’t needed to worry about her finding out his momentary lapse in sanity, but it also means he hasn’t got anyone to show off his creation to – a thought that upsets him a little more than it should, were he being normal about the whole thing. He’s fiddling around with some of the furniture in the master bedroom when the front door bursts open and a furious looking Buck stalks over his threshold, followed by a harried Eddie. “What’s going –” “Bobby, you wouldn’t believe what that man made us do!” Buck explodes as he starts pacing the kitchen. Eddie leans against the countertop, running a hand over his face. “I know you said I shouldn’t let him get to me but I can’t, he’s just so –” Buck trails off, looking over at Bobby. His eyes flicker from Bobby’s patient expression to the open laptop, still displaying the Fake Ranch. “Are we… interrupting something?” “No.” Bobby goes to shut the laptop but Buck is quicker. “Is that the Sims?” Buck asks incredulously. “Man, you must be bored, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play video games.”

❄️ - 24 for Frostpunk AU!

“You did it,” he repeats, praying his voice won’t betray him. “You’re safe.” At his words, Eddie’s eyes shut, and his brings his hands up to his face as he lets out a deep exhale. His fingers shake as he wipes a tear from his cheek. “I didn’t think we’d – I thought -” Eddie swallows thickly. He looks around the tent, eyes wet, and his gaze falls on a familiar mop of brown curls. “Is that – is that my son? Can I see him, please?” Buck squeezes Eddie’s shoulder again, offering him a smile. “Of course.” When Buck reaches Christopher’s bed, the kid looks up at him quizzically. It’s clear that he wasn’t as blissfully unaware of his father’s event as Buck had hoped, despite the small crowd of medics around him, all intent on distracting him. “Is everything okay with Dad?” he asks Buck, without preamble. Buck crouches down to Christopher’s level and brushes a loose curl out of his eyes. “Yeah bud, everything’s okay. Better than, actually – he’s awake.” Buck holds out his hand for Christopher. “Want to come see him? He’d like to see you.” Christopher throws himself into Buck’s arms, taking him by surprise. Buck catches him around the middle and hauls him up, carrying him to Eddie’s cot. The moment Christopher sees his father, sitting upright, awake and breathing, a great sob escapes his lips. Buck lowers him into Eddie’s waiting arms and pauses, not sure what to do as he watches father embrace son. Fat tears roll down Eddie’s cheeks as he holds Christopher as tight as he can, muscles shaking after weeks of no use.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (14) (End)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, fluff, angst, trauma, panic attack, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous chapters: Masterlist

_____

After everything that had happened between them, he needed a moment to put it all together in his head, to realise that he had crossed a line, that from now on he was not a slave to his trauma. He got close to the girl he desired, experienced fulfilment with her, and although he wanted more he knew this was a good start.

For the next few nights, they only kissed and cuddled, however, her constant presence calmed him, when he fell asleep snuggled into her, no more nightmares woke him up. Finally, he slept peacefully through the nights, realising with relief that the worst was behind him.

Or so he thought.

And then he saw her.

She almost bumped into him running out of his workshop, apparently trying to escape before she met him, but it was too late − he stood in front of her and just froze, her scent, the same one he had smelt then filled his lungs again, and he felt small again, felt like a nobody.

Her look of terror and uncertainty, her pale face told him at once that she remembered that night perfectly − she passed him quickly, and he felt as if some circuit in his brain had stopped working, his heart pounding like mad.

He could see her, he could feel her, he could feel her everywhere, as if she had coated him with her essence, like a sickening slime that he couldn't wash away.

Then he felt the same twitch in his stomach and he understood, understood that his body reacted this way because when she did this to him it was the fact that he vomited that saved him.

His body identified this reflex as protection, wanting to disgust him in the eyes of the other in case of danger, to deprive anyone of desire towards him.

Everything that was happening to him, everything he was experiencing, everything he couldn't cope with, only came from the fact that he was perpetually afraid that someone would touch him again.

He literally ran into the bathroom, barely managing to kneel in front of the toilet before he vomited, feeling the tremors and the cold sweat on the back of his neck, the convulsions that shook his body and the emptiness in his mind made him realise that this was the strongest panic attack he had experienced in his life since he was raped.

He was scared, scared like a child and he thought with shame that he wished he was in his mother's arms, that this time again no one would save him, no one would come.

He shuddered when he heard her desperate voice.

"Professor."

He vomited again, feeling the spasm in his stomach, his trembling hand leaning against the cold tiled wall, trying not to fall over, feeling the hum in his head and the loud pounding of his heart. He heard her knocking firmly on his cabin door, breathing fast.

"Please. Please, please, open." He heard her pleading, heartbroken voice, but he was unable to rise.

He needed her, wanted her to come inside, to embrace him, to stroke him, to whisper that all was well, that she was there for him, but he was unable to move, trembling all over.

"Is it her? Just tell me, is it her?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and cried out loudly, lowering his head, covering his face with his hand, despairing that yes, yes, yes, it was her, his nightmare, his trauma, his grief, the reason for his unintentional suffering, his depravity, his aggression, everything he didn't want to be.

He drew in a loud breath when he heard her suddenly leave, turning over his shoulder, wiping his mouth with his hand, feeling a tightness in his throat.

"Wright?" He asked in a low, trembling voice, but only emptiness, nothingness, answered him.

She had left.

Why?

Why now, when he needed her?

He began to weep like a child, hiding his face between his knees, distraught, lonely, lost, not understanding how she could just leave him like that, unable to calm himself, knowing that only her touch, only her words would be able to soothe him, only her scent, but she was gone, she was gone, gone, gone, gone like his mother.

And then suddenly it dawned on him.

He got up quickly with a pounding heart, opening the door, turning on the tap quickly, rinsing his mouth and washing his face. He turned off the water and ran out of the bathroom, peering into the workshop and noticed to his horror that she was not there.

Cregan wanted to approach him, apparently expressing his displeasure at this unannounced visit from strangers, but he didn't have time for that.

"Not now." He said lowly and moved on, fearing what his imagination was telling him.

She followed her.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What for? Who asked her to do this? What was she trying to prove to herself?

Alys would find out they had something in common and destroy them.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

FUCK!

His thoughts were a conglomeration of chaos, horror, anger and madness, the students scattered to the side seeing the expression on his face as he left the building.

And then he spotted them. They were standing by her car.

He thought he was going to kill them.

That he would strangle them both with his own hands.

After a moment Wright turned and moved towards the entrance, her head lowered, she was pale. He pressed his lips together, reaching out to meet her, her surprised, terrified look betraying how afraid she was of his reaction, that she knew she had done something she shouldn't have, that she had crossed a line.

He gripped her arm tightly, squeezing her skin painfully hard.

"What have you done?" He asked low, coldly, threateningly, feeling that he could really do something to her now, feeling like he was more feral animal than human. She, however, answered nothing, merely shook her head, her lips trembling, her brow arching in pain.

He knew that look.

Always this crying.

"Who the fuck let you interfere? Hm?" He growled menacingly, wanting at last to squeeze any answer out of her, a reason why she felt she had the right to do so.

"Don't touch me." She mumbled, struggling to push him away and simply ran off, locking herself in the toilet.

Terrified students stood around them, whispering amongst themselves, but he thought nothing of it, looking over his shoulder at the door behind which she had disappeared.

Don't touch me.

He felt a tightness in his throat and a cold sweat on the back of his neck at the thought that she didn't want him anymore.

He loved her and she didn't want him to touch her.

He felt his anger turn into something else, overflowing in his heart into passionate grief and despair, a longing for her and for her touch, a need to feel her, only her.

He was a nobody and he knew it, but still he hoped he had a chance, that he had changed.

He moved to follow her inside, closing the door behind him, hearing her loud, anxious breathing in one of the cabins. He approached her and knelt down, seeing the outline of her shoes and her trousers, her hands hugging her knees. He could feel his heart pounding hard, how desperate he was.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry." He muttered helplessly, not recognising himself or his voice, sounding more like a boy than a man, a child who begged for attention, for comfort, for not to be rejected, to be given another chance, that he would be better, that he would be good now.

"− the sight of her − I − and you talking to her − I was furious − I need you − please −" He choked out in a trembling, breaking voice, thinking only of the fact that he had to touch her, touch her, touch her, slipping his hand under the door, and she squeezed it immediately, her soft fingers clenched painfully tight on his skin.

He felt relief, felt a pulsing in his trousers, felt that he wanted her, that he needed her, immediately, now.

He heard her draw in a loud breath, her voice trembling in the air as she spoke her words, terrified.

"− I'm sorry − I wanted to protect you − not to be that person who doesn't react − but I guess I just ruined everything − I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry −" She sobbed, and he clenched his eyelids, squeezing her hand tighter and crying himself, feeling some kind of relief.

She had done this for him.

I wanted to protect you.

I wanted to react.

Then, in his room, no one helped him.

But she followed her out, bravely trying to show him that she stood behind him, that she would not let this woman get close to him ever again.

He wanted to say something, to show understanding, that he appreciated it, but he heard suddenly, horrified, that someone had entered and realised that he had just knelt in the women's toilet. He was relieved when he heard Wright quickly open the door to her cubicle and let him enter, closing it behind him.

He looked at her for a moment − her soft face swollen with tears, her large, warm eyes filled with affection, concern and regret, her pink lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath. They were both quiet, listening as the girl who had come inside washed her hands, but his thoughts were focused only on her and what he wanted to do to her.

He wanted to feel her.

As much as possible.

When they heard the sound of the door opening and closing he approached her with a pounding heart, turning her lightly with her back to him, pressing her against the cold tiles, sliding his hands down to her trousers, undoing her button and zipper, feeling how hard his heart was pounding.

"Slide them down along with your panties." He instructed her in a low, hoarse voice with a kind of certainty and determination that shocked him himself.

He was not afraid.

He saw no scenes in his mind, no memories, nothing.

His mind circled as if looped around only one thought.

He had to feel her.

Now.

As deeply as possible.

He watched with slightly parted lips as she obeyed his command, trembling all over, and he undid the belt of his trousers.

"Lean forward." He said matter-of-factly and she obeyed his command without a word, her hands and cheek pressed against the cold tiles, her lips slightly parted.

He unzipped his trousers and lowered his boxers slightly, looking at her face, not at her buttocks or what was between them, not wanting to give this a purely sexual, fleshly, perverse overtone.

No.

He just wanted to feel her.

With his whole self.

"− I need it − okay? − fuckin' need it −" He muttered with some kind of embarrassment, knowing that this wasn't how it should go, but he couldn't help himself, he needed her, he needed her this way, he needed solace and relief, a refuge deep inside her.

That was why he clenched his hand on her hip holding her in place, the other directing his swollen, hard manhood to her wet entrance, feeling how hot she was, how much she wanted him.

He felt her body, her tight, fleshy walls resisting him as he began to push its tip between her slit − they both sighed low, trying to muffle the louder sounds, trembling and panting.

"− oh fuck −" He moaned low, surprised at how intimate and private it felt, how exposed and vulnerable he felt in front of her, suspecting that she felt exactly the same way. He could hear only the loud beating of his own heart, only his own breathing, no thoughts, no memories.

Now he was the one taking what he wanted.

At the thought of it, he grasped her hips in his hands and spread her thighs the way a fruit opens, seeing how sticky she was with her juices − he thought that she really was his Eve, that she was made for him to taste her in every way possible.

He slid deeper into her, wanting to experience her warmth and she mewled loudly, surprised that they were really doing this, that he had no intention of withdrawing.

He knew that she had given him the initiative completely, that he needed to do it the way he wanted, that only then would they both finally experience what they craved. He hushed her, listening with a pounding heart to hear if by any chance someone had come inside.

"− quiet − want to get caught? − hm? −" He asked lowly, sliding fully into her with a sigh of relief, finally feeling safe, her body wonderfully squeezing him from all sides and pulsing against him, making him feel pleasure even without any movement.

The sensation was something completely different from what he had experienced then; she was tight, hot and sticky, inviting, desired, his.

Being inside her seemed strangely natural to him.

They both started moaning and panting when, with involuntary, subconscious movements, he began to rock his hips, with sure, rough thrusts pushing her tight insides apart, as if he wanted to make her feel that this was where he belonged, deep inside her.

He conquered her, stretching her, fitting her to him, feeling waves of pleasure surge through his body.

"− oh, yes −" He heard her quiet sigh and felt his cock pulsate hard at the thought that he wasn't like her, he wasn't like Alys, that he wasn't taking her against her will, that she desired him and wanted to feel him deep inside her.

That thought made him start to slam into her faster and more confidently, taking more and more pleasure from this close-up, just thinking about the fact that this was really happening, that he was doing this, that he was fucking the girl he loved, whom he desired.

"− do you like it? − like it when your professor fucks you good? −" He hissed out, tightening his fingers on the soft skin of her hips, wanting to hear more of her sweet sounds, more of her helplessness, a sign of how utterly vulnerable she was against him, with deep, brutal thrusts opening the way to his own fulfilment inside her.

"− yes −" She mumbled with difficulty. He involuntarily grinned hearing that she was barely able to get the words out − he slid his hand between her thighs, his fingers easily finding her puffy little clit, with sure, circular motions rubbing her folds with the quiet click of her moisture. He heard her squirm loudly, a shudder went through her whole body.

"− yes, what? −" He growled, wanting to force her to give him what he wanted. He knew she was only teasing him and it turned him on even more, the pounds of his hips into her weeping cunt seeming more natural to him than breathing, as if taking her, fucking her, was written into his very being.

"− yes, Professor −" She gasped out, and he groaned low, feeling her words in his cock, knowing that just a few more pushes and he would come, do what he thought was impossible for him.

He was panting loudly along with her, feeling how from the motions of his hand around her bud her insides clenched against him, sucking him inside, her hot, wet muscles refusing to let him go, their naked bodies slapping against each other quickly with a sticky clicks.

"− that's what Adam did to Eve − his sin − then, under the Tree of Knowledge − he fucked her −" He breathed out into her ear as he leaned over her, as if he had experienced a daze, as if it was obvious that the first man had discovered pleasure in the first woman, that it was his destiny to have to unite with her, to feel her, to take her for himself.

He heard her struggling to stifle a moan of delight at his words, her fingers clenched tightly on the cold tiles, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a sweet, quiet sob, so wonderfully innocent. He felt like a man in paradise who discovers for the first time the meaning of pleasure, the meaning of the forbidden fruit, that which was never meant to be his.

In that moment they were both nothing more than a panting, hot, sticky mess chasing their fulfilment, her rough, slick core clenched tightly against him driving him mad, giving him sensations more wonderful than he had ever been able to give himself with his own hand.

He thought she was made to take him in, to have him inside her.

"− made to warm my cock −" He cooed tenderly with some kind of awe and affection, feeling those wonderful spasms in his lower abdomen and parted his lips feeling that it was coming.

"− fuck − m' gonna cum − where I −" He mumbled out horrified, realising that there was such a thing as pregnancy, awareness and responsibility.

"− inside me − m' takin pills − please −" She mewled, and he breathed a sigh of relief, allowing himself to finally feel the wonderful relaxation and pleasure, simply coming deep inside her as if it was the most natural, ordinary thing in his life.

Stunned by the sensation, he didn't understand much of what was happening, moving mechanically inside her for a long moment, moaning embarrassingly loudly, able only to thank God that no one had entered the toilet at that moment.

"− God, yes − baby − oh, fuck −" He mumbled, feeling the relaxation, the pleasure, the fulfilment wonderfully rippling through his lower abdomen, calming him, silencing all the voices in his head, leaving only the emptiness in his mind that he so desperately needed.

He moaned low and gasped when he heard her sobbing, and her walls began to squeeze against his still hard cock in orgasm, her whole body trembling before him, his thighs all sticky from her moisture running down her legs.

He stared at the spot where they were joined, breathing unevenly, realizing at last what he had actually done, only now coming back to earth. He swallowed loudly and licked his lips feeling his mouth go dry, his heart starting to pound like mad.

He felt terror and euphoria at the same time, but he didn't panic because he couldn't really see or feel anything that reminded him of that state.

She was not naked, her body was still covered by her T-shirt, the only thing he could look at was where their bodies met. He could feel her insides with all of him, but it wasn't like her insides, back then − she was tighter than her, her warm muscles enveloping him on all sides, making him feel safe.

It wasn't she who took him, it was he who took her, he forced her body to surrender before him, he forced himself deep into her like an animal, taking what he wanted, stretching her with himself, filling her with his seed.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that this time he might have been the one to hurt someone and felt a shudder run through his whole body.

"− are you okay? −" He asked quietly in a trembling voice hearing that she was merely breathing with her eyes closed, afraid that she might be about to burst into loud sobs or pretend that nothing had happened so as not to aggravate his condition even though she herself felt bad.

He heard her mutter quietly, parting her eyelids as if he had awakened her from a half-sleep.

"− yes − and you? −" She asked softly, and he breathed a sigh of relief, leaning down, resting his forehead against the top of her head, pressing his nose into her coconut shampoo-scented hair.

He had become addicted to that smell and told her to only buy that shampoo now, he associated it with her so much.

The moment she walked into his office for the first time and stepped uninvited into his heart.

He pressed his lips together, ashamed that it felt good, that he felt safe and at peace at last, that here, in this cramped cubicle, being deep inside her, no one could hurt him.

"− I − fuck − it feels so good to be inside you − doesn't want to take him out −" He muttered in embarrassment, dreaming only of staying inside her for a while longer, of not returning to reality, to what awaited him outside the door.

"We can stay like this for a while longer if you want." She whispered, and he just leaned in and kissed her neck, trying to calm his breathing.

He swallowed loudly feeling that he wanted to tell her.

That he hadn't done it out of a pure, animalistic need to spill his seed in some woman.

It was something caused by a feeling that almost overwhelmed him, filling his chest with heat.

"I love you." He whispered softly into her ear and felt her tremble all over, her insides clenched tightly against his half-soft manhood. He licked his lower lip, feeling a cold sweat at the thought of what he should do.

"Will you come with me to the rector?"

The rector of the university greeted him coldly in his office, unhappy that anyone had paid him an unannounced visit, however Wright's presence at his side piqued his curiosity.

He knew that sooner or later one of the students who saw their aggressive exchange in the corridor would report to him that he was harassing a female student again, only making the whole affair worse.

He thought about all this for a long time, and even though he decided that he would only do it as a last resort, he felt that there was no going back, that it could only get worse.

"I came to give my resignation." He said as soon as the three of them sat down, Wright and he threw him quick, horrified glances.

"I am in a relationship with my student and I do not want to violate the good manners of the university in light of the events that have taken place here recently. I am submitting my resignation in person, I have also emailed it to you from my phone." He muttered lowly, letting the air out quietly, feeling his heart pounding hard.

The man seemed completely shocked − he shook his head, looking at him then at Wright.

"Is this some kind of unfunny joke?" He asked, but his cold, resolute gaze told him it was sadly not.

He was deadly serious.

"I want to end this amicably and leave without scandal." He said softly and glanced at his student, who covered her mouth with her trembling hand, looking at him with big eyes, tear after tear running down her rosy cheeks.

She didn't want him to do this.

But he was already tired.

He didn't have the strength to hide.

The man grunted, twisting in his chair.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked dryly, and he glanced at him with an indifferent expression on his face.

"We've been together for about a week." He replied truthfully. "It's a fresh case and I don't want it to affect my testimony in court."

The man gave him a stern, warning look. He pointed at him with his pen, which he held in his left hand.

"I can agree. But you will not say my name during the trial." He said coldly. He furrowed his brow, tightening his lips in fury.

"I'm supposed to protect you even though I've reported Jason's behaviour to you several times? They'll be asking me why I didn't say anything to the rector. They'll know someone is lying." He growled, unable to believe that his own boss, the head of the university had just blackmailed him.

"Say the word and everyone will know why you left. They'll find out how your student earned her place in your workshop." He said warningly, not taking his eyes off him, and he swallowed loudly feeling a squeeze in his heart.

He could hear Wright breathing loudly beside him, terrified, and he thought he couldn't do that to her.

"I won't mention you."

His students and Cregan took his decision with disbelief. They asked what had happened, why such a sudden decision.

He explained to them that he had long intended to open his own private studio, to operate on his own in a place where no one would judge him, and that he would be happy to invite them to work with him once they had graduated.

Cregan took it the worst − he took him aside and locked himself in the office with him, standing in front of him with his hands shoved in his pockets. He did not look at him, thoughtful, biting his lip.

"You and Wirght are together, aren't you? Is it because of that?" He asked lowly, glancing up at him, and he felt a tightening in his heart at the thought that he really had been his friend all these years, that he knew him like no one else. He nodded, not wanting to lie to him.

Cregan grunted, massaging his chin with his hand.

"I'm glad. She's a good girl. You both deserve to be happy." He said and held out his hand to him, which he shook gratefully.

"Thank you for everything."

It was the rector's decision that he would supervise them until the end of the semester so that they could hire someone to replace him from the new academic year, however, unofficially the workshop now belonged to Cregan and he was the one who would grade the students.

As a result, Wright was able to stay with them and although she cried loudly in his arms that evening, they were both relieved too.

"How do you feel? After what happened between us." She asked quietly, lifting her gaze, clearly wondering if he regretted what had happened. He swallowed quietly, considering her question.

"Fine, though I regret doing it this way. I think our first time should have been more tender and thoughtful, that I deprived something of myself and you. On the other hand, I don't know if I would have been able to break through if I had planned it. Because of what happened I wasn't thinking soberly and it happened…naturally. No less, I'm not sure it was a good thing. I feel that I took it out on you and used you." He whispered and kissed the top of her head, nuzzling his cheek into her hair, stroking her back steadily. He felt her snuggle into him tighter, the warmth of her body calming him.

"It was unexpected, but I needed it too. I think that although it may not have been ideal, it helped take away the tension at the thought of not knowing if we'd ever make it or break through. Now that it's behind us I feel like a big stone has fallen from my heart." She said quietly, and he hummed, playing with strands of her hair between his fingers.

"Yes. So do I."

He felt excited when he and Wright went to see the place he wanted to buy to set up his studio. It was located on the ground floor and looked like a small hall, there was plenty of space − with his eyes he could see where he would put the glass firing furnaces, where the tables would be and where the grinding machine, glass dividers, cabinets and chairs.

Wright approached him and he felt her slip her hand into his, which he squeezed gently, stroking her palm with his thumb.

"What do you think?" He asked low and heard her smile.

"I like it. It's bright and spacious here." She said lightly and he murmured under his breath, putting his arm around her and kissing her hair.

He felt warm at the thought that, above all, they were friends.

That he could talk to her about anything.

The interrogation in court by Jason Lannister's lawyer had been as nightmarish as he had guessed. Jason made sure to pull all the cards from his sleeve to discredit him as a credible witness.

"Is it true that you used physical violence against one of Professor Lannister's students?" He was asked by a young, deliciously confident man in an expensive suit lifting his chin as if he was sure he was going to destroy him, that he had him in a huff. Aemond looked at him impassively.

"Yes." He replied matter-of-factly. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Please explain to the High Court what you did, Professor." He said.

"I slapped her."

Several people in the room moved, exchanging words in whispers − he saw Lyanna's sad, guilt-filled face, a few benches away sat Wright, scared and devastated.

"How come you weren't expelled from the university after this incident?" He asked lightly, circling in front of him like a vulture, but he decided he wasn't falling for this cheap manipulation.

"That's not a question for me." He replied coolly. The lawyer bit his lip.

"You are testifying against my client today, however, you yourself were in a relationship with one of your female students. Isn't that right?" He continued, pulling out his strongest card. He pressed his lips together, feeling angry that he was dragging her into this, but he had expected this question too.

"We're still together and I resigned my position as soon as we decided it was something serious."

"And how long did you sleep together before you decided that it's something serious? Was it how your student secured a place in your workshop, where up to that point you had only accepted men?"

"Objection." He heard the prosecutor's voice on the other side, behind which the victims sat. "This is not relevant to the case."

"Of course it, after all…" The lawyer started, but the judge interrupted him.

"I sustain the objection, please ask the next question."

Lannister's lawyer swallowed loudly, furious.

"You said that you perceived some disturbing behaviour towards Professor Lannister's female students. Why did the you not report this anywhere?" He asked him ironically, and he thought he didn't give a shit.

Wright told him she wasn't afraid, that people could say whatever they wanted about her, as long as the people who allowed it all to happen were punished.

He thought that, for once, justice had to be done.

"I have reported these behaviours to the rector of our university many times, but he has done nothing about the matter. He and Professor Lannister are good friends from back in their university days." He said coolly and heard the commotion in the hall again, this time greater, and smiled with satisfaction to see from the look on Jason's lawyer's face that he did not suspect he would say that, that the rector must have assured them he would not mention him.

"Are you suggesting that the rector of your university knew about these situations and did nothing about it? Am I understanding correctly?"

"I am not suggesting that. I know that."

When it was all over Wright fell into his arms and they stood like that in the corridor for a while, his face pressed into her hair. All he could focus on was her pleasant scent and the warmth of her body, feeling his hands tremble, his heart pounding like crazy.

"You were so brave."

They had to wait until the next hearing for the court's verdict, but he knew he had done what he could. Afterwards, Lyanna approached him and thanked him for his efforts − they shook hands and he thought that he had finally atoned for what he had done, for his thoughtlessness.

They decided to loosen up that evening and just order a pizza, not having the strength to cook or clean up, tired after a day full of emotions, feeling at last that they had this difficult phase behind them.

From that moment when he took her in the toilet they had not had this kind of sex − he was satisfying her with his hand and she was satisfying him with her mouth.

He touched her more and more boldly, his hands slipping under her T-shirt to clench on her soft breasts or buttocks, sometimes pulling up her top just to suck and lick her hard, swollen nipples, covering them back immediately.

He couldn't break through to undress each other, to see her completely naked.

He wasn't sure he would be able to overcome the sight of her in his mind, he knew it would probably end in a panic attack.

He had an urge to feel her again, to be inside her again, but his fears were confirmed − when he thought soberly his mind was filled with unpleasant memories and he lost any desire.

He preferred not to do this to them and to provide a form of intimacy that did not evoke any of his negative thoughts.

Her mouth was able to do wonders − he trusted her completely and relaxed, allowing her to suck and lick his cock, all swollen with desire, her hand squeezing with a sure motion the part of his manhood that couldn't fit down her throat. He then looked at her adoringly, stroking her hair, breathing loudly with pleasure, coming wonderfully hard every time.

He decided one day to finally taste the forbidden fruit.

"Today, I'm the one who wants to kiss you there." He muttered one day, turning her on her back, meeting her surprised, embarrassed gaze.

"− I − you don't have to −" She mumbled, and he hummed under his breath, slipping the material of her panties down, her thighs covered from him only by the material of her Tshirt.

"− I know −" He said softly, sitting down between her thighs, gripping them in his hands, spreading them out as if he were tearing the flesh of a fruit.

He didn't think much about what he wanted to do, enthralled by this ungodly sight, her moisture flowing from her puffy slit down her buttocks to his bedding.

He sank his face into her hot flesh, hearing her loud moan as soon as the tip of his tongue ran over her throbbing, soft folds. He was breathless with pleasure, feeling the taste of her wetness spilling over his palate, something so forbidden.

"− oh, God −" She mumbled out, her hands involuntarily reaching into his hair in an attempt to push him away, his motions and caresses clearly driving her mad.

He tightened his hands on her plushy thighs, pressing his face harder against her hot flesh, his nose teasing the bud hidden between her folds.

"− fuck −" He exhaled, thrusting his tongue deep inside her, delighted at how intimate the sensation was, that he was literally eating her and what flowed from her body like sweet nectar, feeling her muscles clench around his tongue.

He ran his tip over her upper wall, right where he squeezed and massaged her with his fingers, bringing her to the state where she was just a babbling mess begging to be fulfilled.

"− yes − please, Professor, right there −" She exhaled delightedly, her body arching backwards like a string, loud, pathetic whines ripping out of her throat each time he rubbed the sweet, rough spot hidden in her flesh with his tongue.

He murmured lowly at her words, with the loud, slurping sound of her wetness rubbing his tongue against her walls, pleased that she had learned to address him properly in bed − he could feel that his cock was completely hard, pulsing painfully in his sweatpants.

"− that's it − that's my good girl − c'mon, your Professor wants you to cum on his face −" He cooed softly, and his words were apparently enough to make the tension in her lower abdomen peak, because he heard her loud, surprised cry, and then she came hard, her opening leaking from her moisture that ran down her thighs.

He licked up everything that flowed out of her as if he hadn't drunk anything for months, thirsty, delighted at how intimate and intense this sensation was.

He rose up on his knees, panting heavily along with her, wiping his face with his hand, looking at her with satisfaction − her eyes were closed, her lips parted in accelerated breathing, her hair spread around her head in disarray.

She was so beautiful.

He licked his lips, thinking about the fact that he felt like it.

That he wanted to cum inside her.

She opened her eyes when she heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and swallowed loudly as she saw him slide his trousers and his boxers down a little, revealing what was underneath.

She thought he wanted her to take care of him now and tried to sit up, but he pushed her down onto the bed again.

"− no − keep your hands on either side of your head − just like that, good girl −" He praised her, brushing her lips tenderly, one hand having a tight grip on her wrist, the other guiding the fat head of his cock, already dripping from his precum to her hot, sticky entrance.

They both moaned as he pushed himself into her and slid in a little, his hand from his manhood instantly clenched on her other wrist giving him the reassurance that she would not touch him.

"− spread your thighs wide - yes, just like that, let me in −" He murmured in a trembling voice as he felt her legs open in front of him, allowing him to slide right into her with one smooth, steady thrust of his hips.

They both groaned, feeling how much they both throbbed, her insides oversensitive and slick after her orgasm.

He began to move inside her slowly, looking down at her beautiful face, her cheeks red from exertion, her swollen lips parted in sweet, innocent moans from which his heart squeezed. He intertwined the fingers of their hands, leaning over her, their tongues meeting each other in a sticky, wet dance.

"− just like that − so warm − so tight −" He exhaled, unable to stop himself, slamming his cock into her more violently, faster and deeper, his naked thighs slapping loudly against her buttocks, wet and sticky from her moisture, making just one big mess of them both.

"− please, Professor − please, cum inside me −" She mumbled into his mouth between one loud kiss and the next and he groaned low at her plea, so arousing and kinky, stemming only from her natural instinct.

"− have no fear − your Professor will fill you with his seed − such a dedicated student −" He muttered delightedly, speeding up his pace, clenching his teeth on her lower lip, feeling his fulfilment approaching, his cock stretching her tight muscles with each brutal thrust, tearing her flesh apart, her fingers clenched painfully tight on the skin of his hand.

"− please − please − please −" She begged and finally he sighed wearily, feeling his body refuse his obedience − he felt relief and heat surging through his body as he cum at last, his warm semen spilling deep inside her little cunt.

"− fuck yes − God − so fucking good −" He mumbled out delighted by the sensation, by the fact that they had really done it, this time the way it should be, the way he wanted it to always be.

Only when he calmed down did he let go of her wrists and lay down on top of her, still deep inside her.

"Can I embrace you?" She asked quietly in a trembling voice, afraid to move. He nodded and she immediately enveloped him in a hug, one of her hands in his hair, the other stroking his back.

He hummed with contentment when he felt her warm lips on his temple.

"I love you. I love you very, very much." She whispered and he opened his eyes as he lifted his head to look at her. They kissed tenderly and gently, his hand trailing down her cheek, his heart filled with nothing but peace, nothing but affection.

"My Eve."

______

This is how I end this series − probably one of the most important for me. The problem I discuss in it, the problem of dealing with the effects of rape or sexual harassment after many years, is something extremely difficult and tedious, with no simple answers or easy solutions. Will Aemond be able to look at Wright naked? Will he ever let her ride him? In my opinion − no. Some things are too difficult, too painful and you don't want to experience them again. However, would this be a reason for them to despair? I don't think so − that their joy will be an intimacy that is unique to them, their own, with their own rules that suit them, that make them feel safe and comfortable. I don't know if it's possible to heal from trauma − this is a question for experts, which I am not − but I know that it can be alleviated, with the help of a loved, understanding person, to push it so far to the back of the mind that it will finally stop interfering with everyday life, to regain balance.

So despite the fact that Aemond remains partially powerless about his own weaknesses and memories, I consider this ending to be very happy, because in my opinion he is like that too − before Wright he was unable to bear the thought that any woman could touch him in any way, and there comes a point where having sex with her is something pleasant, wanted and safe. Full of respect and love.

Thank you all for such a warm reception of this series.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

[probablyasocialecologist]

The full text of White Mourning is painful: You see yourself from above. You’re passed out on the blue tiles of the hostel room floor. Even from this distance you can see your eyelids flutter — at the mention of what? A great white object, letting out its sweet smell, like a Lily of the Valley. The little man’s forgotten its name, but he still remembers the feeling. And look, he moves! The feeling animates him. He instinctively reaches out for the feeling’s best friend — a bottle of Commodore Red. He puts on his disco clothes and gets smaller and smaller… …and the little guy gets smaller and smaller as you rise above the doll house world. You see him out in the snow, on the streets, in the shop on the corner, and, finally, in a matchbox house. Sitting by the window, white flowers on the windowsill. You can smell them from up here: it’s awful. A white mourning. A modern death. Divorce, or something similar. All you can do is put more distance between you and him, make him smaller. Make him less you. Internalizing White Mourning pulls the camera back. Harry’s body, on the screen, becomes literally smaller and the world so much bigger. He takes in as much stimulus as he can in order to dissociate from his own personhood. This is one way of coping.

[astralis-is-typing]

⚝fic type: one shot as part of the weeknd series

⚝genre/contains: choi yeonjun x gn!reader, angst, fluff ending, heartbreak, yeonjun was a rebound

⚝word count: 4k

⚝synopsis: yeonjun was simply supposed to be a rebound to help you cope with the breakup you'd just gone through. when your relationship with him blossomed into more than that, you abruptly cut him off in a bid to protect yourself from any more possible hurt. you ended up hurting him instead, and as time went on you realized what a huge mistake you'd made by letting yeonjun go. perhaps you'll be able to salvage what you two had at the party tonight...

You chased after him in the sea of swaying bodies, weaving through the partygoers as deftly as you could manage while still keeping his raven coloured hair within your line of sight. It’s a good thing he was tall.

Your struggle in trailing after the sullen boy was eased considerably when you followed him onto a corridor with a thinner crowd. He didn’t look behind him or acknowledge your presence in any way before opening a door to his left and disappearing into its well-lit interior.

“Yeonjun, wait!” you pleaded, planting your palms on the bathroom’s door to keep him from shutting you– and the rest of the party– out. Your voice broke out from the confines of your chest all rushed and high-pitched, as if you feared you’d never be able to say what you needed to if you didn’t act right then. “We need to talk. I need to-”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yeonjun mumbled. His voice was gravelly, probably from lack of use. You’d noticed him falling quiet as the night wore on. His tone was firm, defensive, and it was a clear indicator that he wanted you to leave him alone.

“But there is, Yeonjun,” you insisted, just as firm. He sighed and held the door open for you, avoiding any eye contact as you walked past him into the small space. If you had to have this conversation in a bathroom then you would. The bright fluorescent lights left spots in your vision for a few seconds since everywhere else outside this bathroom was dimly lit. Yeonjun closed the door before leaning against it, black bangs falling over his eyes that were trained on the tiled floor as he waited for you to speak.

—

You and Yeonjun had broken up a few months ago. It really hadn’t been your intention to get into a relationship with him in the first place, heart still sore and mending from what your ex, Heesung, had put you through. But Yeonjun was like a treat that one stowed at the top shelf of their pantry for ‘emergencies’; vowing that they would take ‘just one more bite’ and they’d have had their fill... inevitably losing that war before they even realised it. You kept promising yourself that every date would be the last, and by the sixth one he had officially asked you to be his and you’d selfishly agreed. What you had meant to keep as a reliable contact for Saturday walks in the park had evolved into late night drives with a boy who held stars in his eyes.

You met Yeonjun at a dance studio a friend had been nagging you to check out. The place had a great reputation and you soon learned that Yeonjun spent a lot of his free time there. He was exemplary at dancing, much like anything else he really set his mind to. Like winning you over, for example. Something in his vibe was simply magnetic; he wormed his way into your heart quicker than you’d have thought possible. You knew what drew you to him… his infectious laughter that made his chest heave with the power of it, his attention to detail and how he expressed gratitude for even the tiniest of favours. Yeonjun never took anything for granted. He could also read you like an open book– always a step or two ahead of you in anticipating your needs and wants, and fulfilling them the best he could. Yeonjun was very convincing in his methods of winning you over, and before you knew it he’d reeled you in completely.

You’d let the affair get to far, both emotionally and physically, and when you eventually let him go you could see how heartbroken he was. It was insensitive of you, but the need to protect your recuperating heart had overpowered your empathy– at least at the time. The detachment was somewhat justified and easier to deal with when he’d seemingly moved on before you even had the chance to come to terms with everything. In any case, Yeonjun wasn’t one to dwell on things, especially outwardly. Once you’d ended things, he hadn’t stopped you to ask what had caused you to break him in the way that you did. He simply… moved on. You suppose it was selfish of you to want him to have lurked around for a while after the break-up, brooding over the broken pieces like you had with Heesung.

He didn’t even ask for his stuff back– the hoodies he’d left over at your place or the gifts he’d given you. Yeonjun wasn’t petty, and it sparked a newfound respect within you– because Heesung had been his polar opposite during your break up with the former. But without Yeonjun your days felt so long; without his cute texts to get you through your day the hours dragged on. It made you acutely aware of how Yeonjun had become your emotional support in so many ways. From his random check-ins to the silly memes he sent you… your life felt oddly empty in Yeonjun’s absence. It had taken some time to wean yourself off waiting for the chime of your phone every day at around lunch, which was when he usually spammed your line and reminded you to get something to eat.

The last time you’d seen Yeonjun was weeks ago. You’d ended up in the same restaurant late on a Thursday evening and you tried your best to ignore the forlorn gazes he not-so-subtly shot you every now and then as you directed your attention to the guy sitting across from you. He was a co-worker who’d been courting you for months and although you had no real interest in him, you decided to accept his dinner invitation with the hopes of getting Yeonjun off your mind. However, even while you weathered through the ups and downs of your own life, your nonchalance and indifference towards your breakup with Yeonjun was starting to wear off. Your true feelings within had inexorably begun to show themselves.

The nagging of your ever-persistent subconscious had caused that dam of emotions to break tonight.

He looked well, laughing with his friends and moving to the music as the party kicked up. He’d grown his hair out a little, black strands now brushing low on his neck. He was dressed as casually as everyone else, yet something about Yeonjun’s frame and stance made clothes sit on him elegantly.

When you’d first arrived, you caught sight of him as you and your friends milled through the throng of dancing bodies, stopping every now and then to greet someone you knew. Yeonjun’s smile had dropped once he turned around and saw you, the pain in his eyes evident as he tried to muster a smile back onto his face for the benefit of his own cheerful clique.

Nevertheless, he hadn’t spared you a glance as he breezed past your group of friends with his own gang. You knew this was all your doing, so why did it hurt you so much? Yeonjun was just supposed to be a rebound. A rebound that got out of hand, and you had ended things while you were at his place– in his bed, wearing his t-shirt. You still remember that Saturday as if it was yesterday. You’d had a fight the previous night, but he still convinced you to stay over and bargained that you two would solve your problems in the morning. In any case, it was late, and getting a taxi at that hour would be difficult. When you woke up your fight or flight instinct had kicked in when Yeonjun raised his voice a little as the two of you tried making amends. You were so scared that things would escalate the way they had with your ex, who would get so mad and say things he didn’t mean. He would then shut you out completely and for days it would feel like you weren’t in a relationship at all. That’s why you’d ended things with Yeonjun then and there; running away had always been your defence mechanism– albeit a shitty one.

After everything that happened with Heesung you had shied away from love, running away any time it knocked at your door. Your walls were high but Yeonjun had swooped in and made a hole in your defence, planting a seed of genuine care and affection that– through your haze of mistrust– you could only view as a weed in the carefully cultivated garden of your heart.

You’d uprooted him, and only then in his absence did you realise what you’d just given away.

What you didn’t know was how much Yeonjun was suffering without you; how much he’d cried after your fall-out. He’d taken your break up as a sign that you didn’t find your relationship with him valuable– that there was nothing to fight for between you two. That thought had spiked bitterness in Yeonjun, although it was largely clouded by the love he was starting to have for you that only grew bigger in your time apart. Perhaps absence did make the heart grow fonder. Yeonjun stopped frequenting the places you two would go together, trying to exterminate the sick hope in his heart that you would somehow bump into each other. He hated how cold his nights were without you. When you would come over you’d always offer to make dinner for the both of you as long as he was on dish duty. His apartment felt draughty without the calm and warmth your soft, sleepy laughter brought. The colours of his walls seemed washed out and Yeonjun’s general outlook on life had turned bleak. It had taken him forever to snap out of that mentally and find joy in what he liked to do once more.

His friends chastised him that it was foolish to have been so trusting so quickly, but something about you had drawn him in and taken a hold of him. You were diligent and quick witted, always eager to learn and open-minded in your ways of solving problems. Yeonjun had taken note of how weary you were heading into your relationship with him, how tentative you were in reaching out to him. He’d slowly unravelled the story of what had happened to you in your last relationship and did everything he could to make you more comfortable around him. A few weeks in and he had you smiling more, laughing more and sleeping better. He didn’t want any repayment for it, other than your time and affection… and when you had taken that away he’d been distraught. He’d never expected the excuse you had given him in the flurry of your departure from his life– that all Yeonjun had been to you was a rebound. All that time, all those kisses, all you two had shared was intended to be nothing but a temporary fix to your broken heart.

But he wasn’t going to give up on love as a concept just because of one bad relationship. Yeonjun patched himself up and spent all that love on his friends, his family, and most importantly himself. Seeing you tonight stung, sure, but he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of knowing that.

—

The booming music had felt invigorating at first, considering this was the first party you’d attended in a long while. But now, in the cramped bathroom face-to-face with the boy whose heart you’d broken, the thumping of the bass was steadily giving you a headache. It was turning into the kind of evening where you’d usually crave Yeonjun’s company; his patient care soothed every headache and his attentive ears listened to every rant. If you wanted any hope of having another evening cuddled up on the couch with him then you’d need to right your wrongs in the here and now.

But the expression on Yeonjun’s face foreshadowed a difficult task on your part.

“I know there’s absolutely nothing I could say to ease the pain I caused…” you started off, chancing that his features would morph into a look less judgemental. “And I can’t fix the mistake I made but-”

“Mistake?” Yeonjun asked incredulously. He fought back the hope that was blooming within him; had you really changed your mind? Yeonjun internally scolded himself for being so ready to forgive you. He wouldn’t give into you so easily in case you broke him once more.

His gaze turned icier, emotions frozen beneath the dark gloom of his irises. “C’mon, think of something more original.”

“Well, I just want to tell you that I’m so sorry,” you said, taken aback by his cold retort. You fought the tears springing in your eyes. “I didn’t deserve you from the start, and yet you overlooked that and loved me anyways.”

You were shaking with how much you were restraining yourself from crying. “Yeonjun– I was terrified. And because of that I ruined it.”

Yeonjun just watched you, eyes thawing and softening a fraction with a new emotion you couldn’t quite place. He said your name quietly, patiently– as he always did, drawing out the syllables in a manner you’d always loved.

“What were you so terrified of?” His eyes bore into your own imploringly.

“Of the way you loved me,” you explained, frustrated by your situation and the tears that had started running down your face. “Yeonjun, you– you showed me what love could really feel like. After what I went through with my ex I couldn’t seem to let anyone in and you somehow fought your way through all my inhibitions.”

“You should’ve just communicated from the start.” He huffed exasperatedly, taking his hands out of his pockets to cross them over his torso.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, wiping your watery eyes on the back of your sleeve. “I’m trying to learn… how to not run away.”

He didn’t say anything for a long while, and you resigned yourself to the fact that all this was too little, too late. The silence grew heavy– loud, almost– as you stared at each other. The short distance between you two felt broader when Yeonjun’s eyes became distant for a while in thought. He spoke just as you were looking for something else to say.

“So what are you trying to get at with all this? Do you want me to take you back?” His tone was steady, unlike your shaky one as you stuttered and looked down at the floor. “You caused me so much pain.”

“I know, Yeonjun,” you said, missing the way a few teardrops slipped past Yeonjun’s eyes as you weren’t looking at him anymore. “And I promise I won’t hurt you again.”

Yeonjun let out a mirthless laugh and leaned down slightly so you were at eye level. He still kept his distance. “You’re right, you won’t.”

Your heart sank at his words. The harsh, assertive tone was so uncharacteristic of him. Had he perhaps found someone else? He did deserve someone better, but knowing Yeonjun you didn’t think he’d get into another relationship this quickly.

“Are you… seeing someone?” You choked out, a lump forming in your throat. Yeonjun considered your question for a moment before shifting from his position against the door and lessening the space between you two.

“Nope. I’m not ready for that yet. Wouldn’t want to repeat the cycle of heartbreak just to feel something,” he said quietly. Your mouth fell agape at the dig. His words cut deeper than a knife, tearing right through you and leaving you breathless with how heartless he sounded. Had you really turned him into this?

“I– yes, of course. I understand,” you said as steadily as you could manage, before nodding and excusing yourself. Yeonjun slid down against the door once you had disappeared back into the party, hiding his head in his hands as he sat with his knees pressed to his chest on the floor.

Unbeknownst to you, Yeonjun was simply putting up a front to prevent you from hurting him again. In the time you’d been apart he’d begun to put up his own defences… somehow knowing that a time would come when he’d have to face you again. You couldn’t avoid each other forever. A part of him had been waiting for this moment, replaying its possible pathways in his head while he cooked or showered or took a walk. He wanted you to feel that he’d totally let go of everything you two had, just like you did.

Now that this confrontation had happened, Yeonjun wondered if proving a point had been worth it. Your sorrowful face just now was a stark contrast to your controlled calm on that fateful Saturday. Sometimes hurt, and the fear of it, turned people into who they weren’t– and Yeonjun had just made the same mistake you had months ago. His heart ached with remorse; he’d been too harsh. The way you had followed him and apologized had caught him off guard. He hadn’t been prepared to have that conversation and he’d reacted badly.

Yeonjun cursed at himself and got up on his feet, determined to find you and put an end to this back and forth.

—

You didn’t bother looking for your friends again after you talked to Yeonjun. Neither did you try find a way to get home on your own. You just moved around the party people watching, more or less on autopilot. Yeonjun’s cold words and expressionless face burned behind your eyelids, haunting you every time you closed your eyes.

A merry group of people were trying to rope you into a game of beer pong when someone suddenly hurtled into you. You weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings, and for that reason you barely had time to react when a boy came crashing into you from your side. You were knocked into the beer pong table before hitting the ground. Your reflexes saved you from landing square on your face, because your arms flew out to catch your fall. The guy who’d crashed into you apologized profusely as he tried helping you up to your feet. His friends who’d been chasing him around watched on guiltily when you winced, quickly adjusting your stance so your left foot was carrying more weight than your right. The stares from everyone around you was starting to get on your nerves, and coupled with the events of the night you were on the verge of crying again.

The boys tried leading you to a nearby couch but you declined their help and limped away from the scene as quickly as you could; you really just wanted to go home now. You had almost made it out when you nearly tripped on a rug near the landing. You’d have tumbled to the floor for the second time that night if someone hadn’t steadied you from behind.

You were going to turn around and thank your good Samaritan, if the close proximity hadn’t let you get a whiff of Yeonjun’s distinctive cologne. You froze in place, the comfort you instinctively drew from that scent had you finally breaking down completely.

Yeonjun wrapped his arms around your middle and drew you close, shushing you. “It’s okay, we’re okay, I’m here…”

“My ankle,” you managed to spit out through your tears. He hummed in acknowledgement before picking you up bridal style and walked outside, towards his car.

“Geez, what happened?” His voice was laced with so much concern as he fumbled with his pockets for his car keys.

“Someone barrelled into me by accident,” you muttered, calming yourself down by tucking your face into the crook of his neck.

“You’ll need some ice on that foot,” Yeonjun said, more to himself than to you. “I could stop somewhere and get some.”

“But Yeonjun,” you started, trying to deflect the attention. Was he actually planning on ditching the people he’d arrived with to take you home? “Your friends…”

“They’ll find their way home, it’s cool.” He set you down in the passenger’s seat before circling round to the driver’s seat. Once he got in fetched you some tissues from the back seat as you explained what happened.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” he asked quietly, reaching over to brush a few hairs away from your face. Your skin warmed up slightly at the places his fingertips brushed against.

You shook your head and laid back against the headrest, exhausted. “I just want to go home, Jjunie.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” he whispered, trying to ignore the flip his stomach did at your use of the nickname. “We’ll get you home and we can order some takeout if you’re still hungry. But first, let me check out that ankle.”

He helped you hoist your leg onto his lap, mindful not to bump it against the gear lever. The delicate way he cradled your foot as he reached for the glove compartment had any animosity you had left in you towards him dissipate. He quietly hummed a tune you didn’t recognise as he grabbed the first aid kit and took out some brand of muscle relief spray, painting your ankle in the cold liquid before temporarily wrapping it with a bandage.

Yeonjun worked in silence as you watched him patch you up. In the quiet peace of his car it felt like nothing between you two had changed– like this was just any other day when you’d have to give each other first aid after over-exerting yourselves during dance practice.

“You’re staring,” he sighed after some time, and you were about to apologise before you caught the soft smirk playing on his lips. “Am I that gorgeous, hmm?”

You laughed at him, groaning at his playful banter. “Please, spare me, Choi Yeonjun.”

He laughed with you, and you could feel the tension leaving your body. Yeonjun looked happier now than he had all night, that light he carried within shining in his eyes once more.

“I missed you,” you admitted.

“Missed you, too, runaway,” he said back with a pout. His eyes turned serious for a moment, regarding you with such profound affection, before he winked and returned his attention to his task.

“Oh no, is that my name now?” you giggled.

“Might be…” he said, earnestly. “If you stick around.”

Yeonjun’s eyes adopted a shimmering quality when he let his vulnerability seep through. It was one of your weaknesses, one of the ways he’d unknowingly won you over. His eyes sparkled with a glittering hope as he waited for your answer.

“I will.” You held out your pinkie finger and he chuckled as he linked it with his own. “This time, I will.”

“No more running away…” he whispered. The two of you had somehow gotten so close mid-conversation and you could now make out the shadow of his eyelashes against his cheeks from the party’s lights seeping through the car windows.

“No more running away, I promise,” you confirmed in a hushed tone. “I want to stay.”

“Good,” he said happily, swooping in to nuzzle his nose into your cheek. You were giggling like little kids at the action, big smiles plastered on both of your faces.

“You know… you have to seal that promise,” he chanced.

“How will I do that?” you asked, laughing at the bashful pink tint on his cheeks. “We already pinkie swore, what’s left?”

Yeonjun didn’t answer you verbally, he merely pouted his lips in your direction, stifling back a laugh as you burst out with one of your own. Nevertheless, you happily obliged once your short fit of giggles had subsided, cupping his face in your palms.

You softly pressed your lips to his, both of you sighing at the feeling you had missed so dearly. Yeonjun’s plush lips pillowed yours oh-so lovingly, his hands sneaking up your sides to wrap across your back. The kiss was slow, neither of you in much of a hurry since you had the rest of the night ahead of you to keep at this deliriously sweet pace. The two of you kept going for what felt like forever, the precious give and take of such a delicate exchange too glorious to give up. You only pulled away because the position you two were in was getting uncomfortable. You both chuckled at how you’d ignored that fact for so long, too caught up in your kiss.

“No more tears, for the both of us.” you said breathlessly.

“Agreed,” Yeonjun whispered against your lips, stealing a final kiss before he pulled away with a grin and started the car.

⚝A/N: this had so much ANGST gdhjvjfkg. still, i found this oddly theraputic and really enjoyed breaking the song down. thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed these two being dumb haha. if so, i'd love to hear your thoughts, so don't be shy to send an ask or rant in the tags :D

⚝TAGLIST: @mental-hollows @forever-in-the-sky2 @yizki @bangchansbae @woncheecks

[ateriblewriter]

Unacceptable (j.h)

a/n: requested! Thanks for the request hon. I’m not sure how I feel about how this turned out. But I have three more requests, but if anyone wants anything please ask. I’m not afraid to take a stab at things.

Warnings: indications of self harm and scars, mentions of anxiety, anger?, coping mechanisms

Enjoy

“You ready babe?” Jack wrapped his arms around you, placing his chin on your shoulder. You had been looking at yourself in the mirror for a while now staring at the flaws that adorned your arms and legs. Many of them had faded over the years, some covered up with butterfly tattoos, yet the more prominent ones were still visible. Especially in the summer sun.

“Do you think they’ll notice?” You thought out loud, completely ignoring your boyfriend’s question. You normally didn’t care what people thought of the marks, but this was Jack’s family who would be seeing them for the first time. Their opinions of you mattered more than they should.

“No. don’t think they will. And if they do, you don’t have to say anything, it’s none of their business.” Jack traced over one of the butterflies on your forearm, trying to reassure you that you had nothing to worry about. Typically any soft touch like that over the tattoo was comfort for you. After all that’s one of the reasons you got them. But today the simple gesture wasn’t helping soothe your anxieties. Maybe you should bring along some clothing that covers the imperfections a little more. You didn’t want Jack’s family to feel uncomfortable around when they were just trying to get to know you better.

“Hey. Deep breaths. Five,” Jack turned you around to face him. You nod and start to list five things you could see around you.

The bathroom door, blue and white tiles on the floor, your makeup spread around the sink, the shower, towels piling up on the floor.

“Good. Four.” The cold tile on the floor, Jack’s hands, your clothing, the fly that just landed on your shoulder.

“Three.” Jack’s calm voice, the beat of his heart, his brother’s laughing about something in the distance.

“Two” The smell of home on your clothing, a bottle of Jack’s cologne sitting on the counter

“Almost there, One” You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. The taste of your chapstick on your lips.

“Everything will be alright. We’ll put another pair of clothing in your bag, if you need them.” Your boyfriend spoke in a soft quiet voice, trying to bargain with the anxiety swirling around in your mind.

Everything will be alright. They’re not going to care and the four of you are going to have a great day. You kept repeating to yourself as Jack took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.. Who cares what they think anyways, you’re not that person anymore. You are better in a lot of ways. Of course you had your days where nothing was going right and you would have a bit of a meltdown. But Jack was always there to help you through it.

“Oh my god. What is taking you guys so long?” Luke barged into the room. He had lost at rock paper scissors and was sent by Quinn to retrieve the couple. He must have spooked the couple, they had a look on their faces like they had just been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been, but at the same they weren’t doing anything. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes you are. Y/N was just about to give me a makeover.” Jack thought on feet, grabbing one of your eyeshadow palettes. “What color do you think I should use Y/N?”

“Hhmm. Red. Definitely red.” You laughed, grabbing a brush and the makeup back from Jack. “Do you want in on this action Lukey?”

Luke was at a loss for words as you could feel his gaze moving up and from your arms to your thighs. Your smile left your face as you Instinctively you try to pull down your non-existent sleeves. Panicking, you look to Jack who gives you an encouraging little nod. Breath. Everything will be okay.

The rest of the day went rather smoothly in your mind but there were times that were more awkward. Luke must have mentioned something about the marks on your body to the rest of his family because when you were lounging in the sun you could feel their stares, and every now and then quiet whispers could be heard as well. Some were just in your head, others were spoken out loud barely audible between Jack’s brothers. It was hard trying to ignore everything and make the most of the trip with your boyfriend. Everything came to head at fire that night.

You were is the house with Ellen and Jack was outside with the boys.

“Honey, you know there is help out there.” Ellen mentioned nonchalantly as you helped her finish cleaning up from dinner. You were almost done when the comment caught you off guard.

Words escaped you as you couldn’t figure a way to tell her that you did get help. You were recovering. A pit of shame formed in your stomach as you shut down. A million thought ran in and out your brain as she continued to lecture you about getting help. It was getting too much to handle. You tried to remember to breath. But breaths kept escaping and not coming back in return. You needed to get away from here.

“Y/N? Where are you going?” You walked away from her to the room that you shared with Jack. Locking the door behind you, you started to panic again. The looks, the words, the anxiety, the mistakes, it was all coming back to you, You needed to find some sort of release. The answer you were looking for was in a bag in the bathroom.

“So what’s the story with Y/N’s scars?” Luke blurted out when he thought Y/N was far enough away from the fire.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Jack nearly shouted at his little brother. He was always a pretty calm person, but when it came to Y/N he was a bit more over protective. He knew what she went through and wanted to make her safe from the scrutiny of other people, especially those in his own family.

“It's just a question Jack, calm down. I want to know too.” Quinn wanted to diffuse the scene but was curious himself. He was surprised that Luke had the gumption to do so. “The butterfly tats have something to do with it, right?”

“It’s not my story to tell. And Y/N doesn’t have to tell you guys anything.” Jack wanted so badly in that moment to hit his brothers like he used to when he was younger, but with his dad there it would probably cause more problems than solve any. They had been acting weird all day around his girlfriend, like she was possibly going to break at the slight notion. He was sick of it.

“The way you have been treating her all day is unacceptable. Don’t think she hasn’t seen the staring and heard the whispers. She notices things, she’s not stupid.” If he noticed how his family was treating you, then you definitely did. It wasn’t okay. “You guys have been judging her before you even got to know her.”

“Mom, where's Y/N? I thought she was with you.” Jack furrowed his brows when his mother arrived at the scene without you. His mother shrugged not wanting to talk about the little conversation she had been trying to have with you before you wandered away. “Mom, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! She just walked away. I tried to tell her about different ways she could maybe get some help. And she left me standing there.” Ellen caved and told what she had been lecturing you about.

“What have you done?” He knew you didn’t like what people confronted you about your past problems, especially when you were on your own path of recovery, He could only imagine how this could have set you back. He needed to get to you, make sure you are okay.

Jack raced back to the house to find the door to the bedroom locked. Sniffles could be heard from behind the door. Fuck. What was going on? “Y/N? Babes? Can you open the door?” He asked calmly.

It took you a minute to get over there. At first you didn’t want to. You wanted to be alone. But you figured if you wanted to leave this place, you would need a getaway driver.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” You lifted your red wrist to reveal the hairbinder that you had been snapping against your wrist. It was red and sore, but it was better than certain things you could be doing. “Can we leave now? I don’t want to be here anymore.” Jack agreed with you, maybe sometime away from his family until they could figure out how to behave correctly was needed.

Please let me know what y’all think. Also if you have any thoughts, comments, or complaints. I’d like to know ‘em!

[italiansteebie]

Anger issues Steve? It’s never towards the kids or in front of the kids but any negative emotion is usually only translated to anger because it’s the only way he knows how to cope with what he’s feeling?

Maybe newly established steddie? Like eddie gets to see Steve’s anger up close, like maybe he hits the wall or break something? Something that’s not rlly considered healthy way to deal with anger and eddie freaks out bcuz woah red flag??? But they make up cuz I’m a sucker for it

Feel free to ignore this if it’s too much!! Love ur work, definitely my favorite to read ❤️

omg thank u so much, im absolutely loving this prompt and the influx of asks im getting its great!

---

anger is not steve's friend.

it makes him violent in a way that reminds him of his father and he is anything but that.

but there are things that make him tick, and he just...

explodes.

he knows it's not healthy, and he knows he needs to work on it, and he is! but these things take time and unfortunately for him, that's taking longer than it is for eddie to experience steve when hes angry.

realistically, eddie knows that steve has some... violent tendencies when it comes to anger. hell, he chewed on a bat from hell and ripped it in half, and that was from fear.

there was an inkling in eddie's mind that these violent tendencies weren't just reserved for times of life or death.

so when steve got off of what sounded like a particularly bad phone call with his father, eddie was only partially expecting the action that came next.

"fuck!"

and the next thing they knew, the phone and it's receiver was in pieces on the tile floor of the kitchen. "oh... steve..." steve's head whipped around to face eddie's from where he was in the doorway.

steve looked at him for a moment longer before picking up the majority of the receiver and chucking at the wall, both of them watching in curious fascination as the plastic and wires shattered like glass.

"steve?"

"what?!"

"woah, dude." eddie said, hands up in a non threatening way. he tried his best to hide the fear, he knows steve would never hurt him, but seeing this reaction in real time did throw him for a loop for a second.

and steve caught the hesitant apprehension on his boyfriends face. "oh, no. oh. eddie. im- im so sorry," his voice became thick with tears. he told himself he wouldn't let his anger get the best of him, but here he was with a broken house phone and his boyfriend looking at him in a way he hoped would never be directed to him.

"steve, it's okay..." eddie said placatingly, taking a few steps towards him. "no. it's not. im not him, i- i swear." steve said, backing away as eddie came closer, "eds. i don't ever want to hurt you." the tears were streaming with no signs of stopping now, and eddie sighed.

"i know, steve. it was just a little... different to see you like that."

"i tried! i try to hold it in and the he calls and fucks it all up! im working on it! i am, i swear. please eddie. i- i would never hurt you."

eddie could see the panic attack from a mile away. "steve, sweetheart. take a deep breath for me, please."

steve was breathing heavy and quick. "no. no. no." he was muttering under his breath, "i'm so sorry," he whispered, looking up at eddie with tears in his eyes.

and eddie's heart broke.

"stevie... baby. it's okay. it's okay, we'll work on it together, okay?"

"but im- im scary," it came out hoarse and terrified.

"stevie, you're more scared than scary. i promise. we can work on it together. we'll figure out a better way, so you don't feel like you have to hold everything in. that's not good for you baby."

steve let out a shuddering sigh, breathing finally slowing down, "okay. im still sorry though." he breathed.

"and i forgive you."

and so yeah, maybe steve has some issues with anger... but they're going to work it out.

together.

[starsandhughes]

The View Between Villages

summary: trevor finds you in the middle of a break down, and you finally open up to him.

pairing: trevor zegras x reader

WARNINGS: PAST SELF HARM MENTIONED, SCARS, CRYING, DIVORCE, SCREAMING, BAD PARENTAL RELATIONSHIPS (PARTICULARLY FATHERS), POLICE INVOLVEMENT, WEAPONS MENTIONED, RUNNING AWAY, PET DEATH MENTIONED, PSYCH WARD MENTIONED, (please tell me if i missed any i went really heavy with this one to *cope*)

ps. i wrote this and didn’t edit or reread this whole thing might be a typo and i wouldn’t know

word count: ~2.4K

MASTERLIST

Trevor had yet to see you break.

He’d seen you cry, sure. He’s seen you frustrated, maybe a little angry, he’s seen you cry over a sad movie or just on a really bad day.

But your precious, happy, more radiant than the sun boyfriend had yet to see you break. And it was… probably as traumatizing for him as it was for you to see you a sobbing mess on the bathroom floor when he came home early from a roadie.

You didn’t hear him come running into the bathroom when he finally figured out where you were, so you certainly didn’t hear him enter through the front door.

It was stupid, really. At least, you felt it was. A song triggered everything you’d been trying to forget to come flowing back and throttle your emotions head on. A song! You hadn’t cried in so long, and you know crying is good for you, so you kept replaying the song over and over for an hour now, and the subtle tears slowly lit the flames of the matches leading up to a giant mental break down. So, to say Trevor wasn’t expecting to find you as an indescribable mess is an understatement.

“Y/N?!” he shouted. He was instantly on his knees knelt next to your scrunched up form.

Your knees were tucked under you, and your upper body was bent forward so your face was practically touching the ground. The only thing keeping your face from falling to the cold tile were your elbows propping you up, while your hands were digging into your hair as you slowly rocked.

The View Between Villages had to be on its thirty-something-eth run by now. Trevor stood up to turn off your speaker, but you gripped at his forearm to stop him.

“No! No, Trevor, I’m not-“

Your voice was cut off by your own gasps of breath. You weren’t hyperventilating, but you weren’t exactly breathing steadily either. Trevor looked down at you with the most shocked and pained look on his face you’d ever seen. His mouth trickled open as his lips wobbled at this sight of you. Your face had to blood shot red at this point, with tears coating the lower half.

“Not what, y/n?” Trevor asked, voice filled with urgency and concern.

“I have to get it out, Z, I’m not done crying!”

The lyrics went on.

The cars in reverse, I’m gripping the wheel. I’m back between villages, and everything’s still.

Images that weren’t real to you, only visualizations of memories told to you, flooded your vision again at the last line of the song. You were sitting up now with your knees pulled tight to your chest. Your hand flew to your mouth as more wracked sobs came out. Trevor wasted no time in getting up to turn off the speaker this time, despite your attempts of protests.

Trevor flew behind you and pulled you into his lap. He tried to pry your hands away from your hair, but it took great effort from him because he didn’t want to risk you physically pulling your hair out. Luckily, that wasn’t something you ever planned to do, and your hands gave in. His palms held onto the back of your hands and his arms wrapped around your middle, taking yours with. You pulled your knees in tighter and laid your forehead on them against the pressure of Trevor holding you tight to his chest.

“I wasn’t done! I have to get it out! I HAVE TO GET IT OUT!”

Then came the screams. Not shouts, you weren’t yelling. There weren’t even words accompanying the screams. You could’ve been featured on the soundtrack of a horror movie with how intense your screams were.

“Get what out, y/n/n? Tell me! What’s happening?”

Your head flew back against his shoulder, catching him off guard. Your body was extremely tight that you were practically writing in pain in Trevor’s lap.

“Let it out to me, tell me. What’s happening, love? I’ve never seen you like this,” he asked lowly. He was staying steady for you.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. Your breathing was getting heavier now.

“No, baby, don’t be sorry, it’s alright. I’m just concerned, okay? What happened? Why were you listening to that song over and over?”

“It brought things back,” you shuddered out.

“Brought what back, baby?” He was rubbing your arms up and down with a lot of pressure to try and help relax your muscles, and you could feel him exaggerating his breathing so that you could feel it from behind.

“Everything,” you whispered. “Everything bad that I’ve been running from. The last part of the song is a little too accurate for me, and if opened a floodgate.”

Trevor stayed quiet for a minute. He just rubbed your arms up and down until he felt you finally start to ease up a little before moving up to your shoulders.

“Just breathe with me for a second, okay?”

He started to take even more exaggerated steady breaths with you. In for four, hold for four, and then out for four.

You looked up to find a very concerned looking Jamie, who apparently came running over when you screamed. Trevor told him that he had this, and Jamie hesitantly stepped away. You completely forgot about him if you were being honest.

“I need you to talk to me,” Trevor breathed out. “Do you wanna go to the couch?”

“I don’t wanna move,” you mumbled.

“Alright. I’ll move for you.”

Trevor picked you up and carried you out into the living room bridal style. He sat down on the couch and pulled you into his lap again, but this time you were on the side. His arms wrapped around you and you leaned into his chest, resting your cheek on his shoulder and tucking yourself into his neck.

“Alright my love, you said you related to the last part of the song you were playing too much, right?” He continued when you nodded against him. “What was the song called?”

“The View Between Villages.”

Trevor nodded and pulled it up, “Let’s take it lyric by lyric then, and you can tell me what came over you specifically for that line. Is that okay? We can stop when you need, but you need to let me in on some of this. It doesn’t have to weigh all on you.”

“Okay,” you quietly agreed.

“‘Past Alger Brook road, I’m over the bridge. A minute from home, but I feel so far from it.’ Anything there?”

“I ran away,” you said blank.

“You what?”

“From my father. It wasn’t the first time I had to leave home, but it was the first time I did it by choice. But I still go see my best friends there. And every time I take that final exit off the interstate, there’s always a part of me that deflates. I grew up there, most of my friends still live there, but it’s not home anymore. It’s where he lives. It’s where I was… um…”

“You don’t have to tell me what you don’t want to right now. You’re doing so great,” he assured you.

“My parents divorced, which happens, but when my father told us on Christmas, things went a little haywire and police got involved. There’s some details in there that I don’t want to dive into right now, but it was pretty bad. The police took all the weapons in the house and placed them on the table while he packed a bag to go into a hotel for the night. And then the next day, my mom took us to live with her since they already lived in separate states.

“I moved back after a few months when he had calmed down because I missed my friends. Things weren’t great, I wasn’t medicated yet, but I had my friends. I lasted a year, and then he threatened to kick me out and throw away all my stuff if I went to see my mom for the Fourth of July. He gave me an ultimatum. So I packed up my stuff and was planning on just leaving, but he found out.

“I thought he was gonna come after me. I called my mom crying, and she called him to get him to calm down. He calmed down, went to bed, and I ran away at 2am and drove through the night to my mom’s house. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.”

Trevor let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms around you tightened and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“That’s… that’s um… intense,” was what he got out. “I mean I know you don’t talk to your dad anymore but that’s…”

“Yeah.”

“Is that all?”

“Not even close.”

Trevor nodded and continued on reading the lyrics, “‘The death of my dog, the stretch of my skin. It’s all washing over me, I’m angry again.’ Anything there?”

‘The death of my dog’ line was self explanatory, but Trevor already knew that. Sure, you cried when it happened, but not much anymore.

“‘The stretch of my skin’ lyric. It um…”

You got a bit choked up at the idea of telling Trevor this next part. Everything intimate you’ve done has been more or less in the dark with minimal light to still see each other’s features. He hadn’t noticed yet.

“Tell me no,” he said shakily.

“I can’t,” you teared up. “I uh… started in high school. On my wrists. Those you can’t really tell because of the way wrists bend— but my upper thighs? I guess I went deeper than I thought because—“

Trevor held you tighter against his chest when you started to cry harder again. His hand cradled your head and held it against his shoulder as he gently rocked you, “Can I see them?”

“Are you sure?”

Trevor hesitated, “I mean, I’m kind if glad you told me about them first before I saw, because I honestly don’t know which one would be worse. And if I don’t see them now, it’s all I’d be looking for the next time we’re in the bedroom.”

“You don’t have to see them this sec-“

“Y/N, please,” he cut you off.

You took a pause from the trauma dumping to show him the scars. You refused to look at him as he did so. His fingers ever so lightly brushed over some of the more prominent ones and you hitched a breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be,” you assured. “I’m clean. For over two years now. You help a lot, Trev. More than you know.”

He nodded and cupped your cheek with his hand, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Do you wanna stop? I’ve dropped a lot on you in the last ten minutes.”

He urged you to go on, so you continued to the next lyric.

“‘The things that I lost here, the people I knew. They got me surrounded for a mile two.’”

“Everybody’s lost things. Important things. But the things I lost really wrecked me, you know? My innocence. Happiness. I lost a part of myself when I was mentally at my worst. I was admitted to a psych ward, and I overheard my father telling his girlfriend that he thought I just didn’t want to “be a grownup” and was acting out.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Get in line,” you tried to joke. It didn’t work. For either of you.

“And then for ‘the people i knew,’ I only have two friends that I’ve had since high school, and then their boyfriends, but even friends I met after high school I managed to fuck up and lose them, too. There’s never even conversations about it, they just leave me. Cut me off. It took me so long to open up to you because all of that leaving made me lose hope in people.

“It never happened before, but today that song played and there was just visions of everything. Some were memories, others were my representation of things my father did told to me by my mom. Individually I can take it all; but all together? I broke. And I’m sorry you had to see it.”

Trevor went back to cupping your face. His thumb skimmed across your under eyes to wipe some fresh tears away. He just looked at you. He looked at you fondly.

“You’re so strong, did you know that?”

“Trev, I was just screaming on the bathroom floor over a song.”

“Yeah, because your brain decided to have a mid day showing over everything bad that’s ever happened to you. But you made it through all of that. You’re here. You’re here with me, and with Jamie, and your mom. You’re here because you’re strong. I think you might be the strongest person I know.”

You didn’t say anything back. Not because you weren’t grateful that he said that, because you knew he truly meant it. You just didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even cover everything that has happened to you, but the things you did share was already too much for you, and definitely for him. The rest would come eventually.

“I don’t wanna talk anymore,” you said quietly.

“That’s okay,” Trevor nodded. “How about I call Jimmy down here so he knows you’re okay and we can watch a movie? Does that sound good, love?”

He smiled when you agreed, and seeing the crinkles next to his eyes brought a small smile onto your lips as well. Jamie didn’t make a big deal out of the events that just transpired, which you were beyond thankful for. He just placed a quick kiss on the top of your head and took his seat on the edge of the couch next to your and Trevor’s spot in the middle.

You were barely paying attention to the movie, it was some action one that you didn’t pay attention to the name to when Trevor put it on, but it had Chris Evans in it, so you weren’t mad. You were resting against Trevor’s chest, listening and feeling his steady heartbeat as you purposely began to breathe in sync with him.

He’s here. He’s here, and so are you. And that counts for everything.

[comfortabletogether]

hello again wanted to do a follow up to the last request specifically for kanade what if s/o was targeted as the motive and the goal was to kill him because how how much of a threat he was 😜

Thank you for requesting!! I love your prompts ughh. Anyways this was fun to write, and I had recently gotten very ill. So if I haven’t been posting it’s because of that. And it sucks, because I still have to go to school (high school is the worst.)

i just started my rewatch of DRA, so now my characters at least for DRA will get better.

WARNING: SPOILERS, HINTED DEATH, ANGST, KANADE, FUCKING MIKADO

~ Mod Haruhiko ✈️

🎵 You, Sora, Kokoro and Kanade were an unstoppable force. The four of you would bounce off each other in the trials, and although it was mostly you, Kanade and Kokoro giving Sora advice and pushing her reasoning along. It still worked great.

🎵 Kanade was with you when it had happened, the ringing body discovery announcement that had become all to familiar despite only being played once before. The two of you rushed to Kokoro’s dorm in fear of what had just happened.

🎵 There was already a murder in there surrounding the freezer over lifeless body of Kokoro Mitsume. And you swore that you could hear Kanade whisper underneath her breath.

=

The room was crisp, frost was starting to coat the furniture, and everyone seemed to be standing frozen over Kokoro Mitsume’s now dead corpse. 

The faint smell of metallic blood hovered in the air. Maybe it was because of the time to cope but now, seeing a corpse after almost ten days was terrifying.

“Ugh, and then there was three.” Kanade mumbled, and you swore that you heard something from her but she gave you her innocent look when she noticed your frightened gaze.

Breaking the silence of the ice cold room you spoke, a slight tremble in your voice; “What did you say, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.” 

Kanade wrapped her arms around herself, many eyes turning to stare at the two of you.

“Oh, I just asked for your jacket.” Kanade responded innocently.

=

🎵 Throughout the investigation, Kanade would stay with you. And she would investigate the body for you as Yoruko would flip out at any man who came near Kokoro’s body. Understandably so, but Kanade was plotting just a little bit of revenge on Yoruko for daring to yell at you.

🎵 Maybe.. Yoruko could be the person she frames for the double murder…

🎵 That’s besides the point at the moment though, as she had to physically restrain you from attacking Syobai.

=

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNOW WHO THE CULPRIT IS.” You screamed at Syobai, typically it took a lot to drive you far past your breaking point but in this high pressure situation and Syobai potentially putting all of your lives at risk withholding information.

“It means I know who the culprit is.” He shrugged, him acting all nonchalantly about all of your lives was starting to really  get on your nerves.

So obviously you did the most reasonable thing I person full of petty anger could, position yourself in a way that would definitely lead to a fight.

Kanade was talking with Hibiki, and Syobai looked slightly impressed? “Mr. S/O don’t you remember it’s against school rules for a student to lay a hand on another without murderous intent?”

Mikado’s annoying voice rang out into the room guarding Kanade’s attention who had just pulled you back and away from Syobai.

=

🎵 Despite that little hiccup the trial went fairly well. Kanade, you and Sora had solved the mystery with the help of Syobai. So maybe there was some hope left for you after all.

🎵 The sailing to the next island took a little while and in that time you liked to teach Kanade some more defense. As paranoia that you’d loose her was at an all time high. But when resting you liked to read to one another, with Hibiki sometimes tagging along.

🎵 But the night after arriving and exploring Satsuki Land, Mikado calls all of you down to a jade tiled room on the Monocruise.

=

“Monocrow, you may do the honors.” Mikado announced to the group with a tone of pride.

“Yes, Mr. Sannoji. So, we are pleased to announce a brand new motive for our killing school trip.” Monocrow announced in his typical handsome voice— or as handsome as a bird could get.

With his announcement you swore you could hear Yuki mumbled something about how why would we need a motive when the voids would kill anyways. But Sora quickly shut him down with a hand to his shoulder.

Kanade looked a little bit anxious herself as she hugged Hibiki who was the one who was really nervous in this situation. You wished that you could do something to help everyone.

“You can no longer kill just anyone, it now has to do our resident (martial artist) himself, Mr.S/O!” Monocrow announced, Mikado beside him looked full of energy. That bastard.

Looks from the others rang in a variety of different emotions. Mikado looked joyful, excited to get rid of you. Iroha looked at you in surprise, checking between both you and Mikado. Nikei looked at you with some sort of pity, same was true for Yuki, Sora and Yoruko. And Setsuka put her hand on your back telling it that it was going to be okay, Shinji saying similar things without the physical touch. Hibiki looked scared, you brought her sister so much peace, she was scared to see what would happen to loose you.

And Kanade? She was pissed.

=

🎵 Being fully aware of not being allowed to lay a hand on Mikado or Monocrow. She opted for lashing out. Kanade started screaming and demanding an answer of why from Mikado.

🎵 Soon she came to terms with the fact that she wouldn’t ever get what she wanted and turned to you and pulled you close. Shoving both Setsuka and Shinji, who were both trying to comfort you away. They couldn’t be trusted after all.

🎵 Kanade would immediately be with you every day, always staying by your side. Well at least for a day. She disappeared one morning before breakfast, before heading down to eat with you.

🎵 She was all over you that morning. Telling you how much she loved you. Like she finally came to terms with the fact that you were going to die, whether she tried to stop it or not. You had already accepted it too.

🎵 This time, she made sure to see Iroha drink the Americano. Then, Kanade would tell you about how Hibiki loved to swim, and she likes the feel of the water when she isn’t feeling well mentally. Kanade suggested that maybe it would help you too.

🎵 Then all she had to do was tell Hibiki to come down to the pool as well.

[topazshadowwolf]

Can we have more growing up gooptale headcanons please?

(started thinking about all grown up theme songs. remember that spinoff with rugrats?)

(About to call myself out as old here, but no. Believe me, I was a HUGE rugrats fan back when I was a kiddo. But All Grown Up came out when I was in... like, high school or starting college, and at that time I was more into anime. So, I missed out on that show.)

So, after saying to the group that Nightmare would likely not send them to a school until they were college-age, I went to work. All day at work, when my brain had a moment to think of things other than nurse stuff, it was like, "But what if." The following is copy and pasted from the chat:

kicks down door I WAS THINKING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY AT WORK What IF Nightmare did send the boys to a high school

Like, he home schooled them all the way to high school and then searched the multiverse over for a school. Horror first since he is older, then Killer and Dust the following year, and then Cross the year after. And he picked a school that he knew would challenge them while also supplying the sort of socialization he wanted the boys to receive.

And I am just thinking of Nightmare getting called into the school for Killer midway through his first semester. When he arrives, he learns that Killer is failing most of his classes, mostly for homework not being turned in. One of the teachers stated that he was not doing his homework, and Nightmare sat there quietly for a moment, then says "That is not possible, for on multiple occasions, he has come to me for assistance with assignments he got stuck on. He is doing them, he is just not turning them in. Besides, when I ask him if he has homework, most of the time, he says he already completed it in study hall."

One of the teachers sighs, "Why would he not turn in something he completed? And, Mr... Nightmare, is there a chance he would be lying to you about the homework?"

"Killer? No. He may lie to others, but the boy is loyal to me to a fault. He would never lie to my face over something so infantile as doing homework." He then tilts his head. "Did you check his desk?"

"The school desks here do not have a space to store things like that, nor do students have assigned desks," Another teacher says.

"Then his locker?" When they all confirmed they hadn't, they got the janitor to get him into Killer's locker, and they found a mass of papers in the bottom. "Are these his missing assignments?" Nightmare inquired.

"Yes... I do believe everything he is missing from my class is here..." And soon the other teachers confirm they are there.

"When I picked this school, I picked one that would academically challenge my sons. This, here, is proof you are failing at that, as he has no interest in turning in his assignments," Nightmare states with a frown.

"He is going to need to learn to cope with his difficulties," The principal says.

"As true as that is, seeing as how he will be working for me, I will assist him with that when the time comes. He is here to start learning some coping," Nightmare insisted.

"Mr. Nightmare, you can't expect to take care of him his whole life," One teacher tried to reason.

"Why ever not? Did your feeble mortal minds forget that I am indeed immortal? That I was alive before your parents were specks of DNA in their parents? Or that I will be alive still long after your grandchildren or great-grandchildren pass, and you are just a distant memory to this world you live in?" Nightmare's tendrils thrash with anger as he speaks, one hitting the tile flooring with a sound that was a mix of a "thwack" and "splat. "Killer is my son, my responsibility. I will care for him for however long I am needed to. Now, you lot will either do your part, or I will be finding a new school to tend to the educational needs of my boys."

[thessalian]

Thess vs Progress

Not to say that things are necessarily going well in the grand scheme of things (I mean, shit, just look at ... all of that ... out there - or don't if you need a break from unrelenting horror), but from a personal-life perspective, there are good things to note.

For all I promised myself this week off was supposed to be about relaxing, I did Do Things. Well, I Made Things. So far - chicken stew, potato salad, and brownies. I have plans in the direction of cereal bars, potato soup, sweet potato soup, beef stew, and risotto. Need to get out to the shops soon, though, because I need courgette for bolognaise and some more vanilla extract for any further baking I may wish to do. Like I said - month of batch-cooking. Though my appetite's on the decline at the moment and I'm not doing great pain-wise, so today might be a tin of soup, some potato salad, and maybe a sandwich if I'm feeling up to it.

The better news, though, is about my living situation. Long story short: there are two flats in this building, and my mother owns both, and both require renovation in a major way. So I'm shuttling around like the ball in a shell game between the flats. Or ... that was the plan, anyway. I moved into this flat from the other flat ... a little more than four years ago, I think? And for most of those four years, very little seemed to be getting done. My stepfather didn't get near the place. So the longer he waited, the longer I was stuck in the flat I'm in now - the flat which, while better laid out than the old flat, has the most atrocious plumbing it has been my privilege to experience. By which I mean:

No shower pump (so it's been baths in a tiny-ass tub for four years and I would commit a minor felony for a shower)

Leaky tub, in the carpeted bathroom. (Well, I think it's just that the tub is this cheap, badly-installed piece of plastic crap and because the cold tap leaks when I turn it up higher than a trickle, it seeps through the very bad grouting and onto the floor. The carpeted floor. IN A BATHROOM. I don't know what the people who designed this place were smoking)

By "bad grouting", I mean that some of the wall tiles literally fell off the wall and into my bathwater when I was taking a bath a couple of years ago.

Wonky boiler (though at least my stepfather installed a working timer on the damn thing so I don't have to switch on the day boost for two hours to get enough hot water to bathe)

Leaky faucet in the kitchen which has been half-assedly patched with electrical tape. (Literally. My stepfather thought this was even a vague solution.)

The kitchen sink drain doesn't have a U-bend, so using drain cleaner on it is a waste of fucking time (which is great when it's the drain that probably sees the most overall debris and gunk of any drain but the toilet)

Also the place is just ... grungy in ways I can't fix. There are cracks in various of the walls. The carpet is well past its best. The light fixtures ... the only ones that give light worth a damn are the bare bulb in one end of the living room and the kitchen lighting that my stepfather put in when I told him I didn't have enough light to make sure I was washing the dishes well enough. The others are gaudy-ass chandeliers. The less said about the curtains, the better. I don't generally complain because, I mean, it's a roof over my head that I don't have to torture myself to pay for, and my stepfather replaced the non-functional heaters last year so I'm not freezing my ass off trying to be mindful of the electricity bill like I was during that cold snap in 2022. So I was willing to wait and cope with the problems of the place for as long as necessary because you don't go being a choosing beggar in this kind of situation.

My mother, however, has been over for dinner a few times, and while I try to downplay it, she knows I'm struggling with the whole thing. So I figure she's the one who lit a fire under him, and he's been working himself ragged on the other flat for a few months now. I've been gifting him with baked goods every so often, partly because I can never eat a full batch of anything on my own before it gets stale but mostly because I appreciate the work he's putting in, especially with his back issues.

Which is when we come to today. Despite a bad pain day (weird agony in my outer left thigh and some grip strength issues on top of the rest of the increased OW), I made brownies, and I brought him some while he was working. He showed me the work on the kitchen (SUCH an improvement over when I first lived there, you have no idea!) and told me the current plan. Apparently, the goal is to get that flat liveable - not necessarily finished, but just done enough for someone to be able to, like, cook and bathe and sleep and everything - and then move me into it so they can start doing this flat. No real timeframe given on the work here yet, but I figure it's going to be a lot because if nothing else, they want to move a whole wall to give me a kitchen worth the name, size-wise.

Point is that if everything continues according to plan, the other flat will be liveable in about a month. I could be living in a flat with access to regular showers by mid-August - early September at the latest. I give a little extra time on that because I'm going to need to be able to book time off around then, since my stepfather's going to want me to move all my stuff in one day again and I will hurt for days afterwards. That and I have to get my phone and internet transferred and that might take a day or so, and I obviously can't work without it. Thus, better to be sure it's all organised for maximum efficiency. Either way, actual showers soon.

It's a nice thing to think about to keep from dwelling too hard on the election tomorrow. I've already voted, and the final results won't be in until Friday morning, but ... honestly, given that Starmer's been making noises about how trans women don't belong in single-sex spaces and how he wants to meet with JK Rowling at some point and is actually trying to arrange that (like TERF-In-Chief is a front-bench cabinet position now or something), and how he's almost certainly going to win, it's depressing. That's ignoring the rest of his so-called policies. It's not as big a mess as what's going on in the US, but it's mess enough. The US still has a chance to turn its would-be dictator away; we have "meet the new boss; same as the old boss" - damn near literally.

I'mma play Tavern Talk or something for awhile. It's fun and cute and will probably cheer me up at least a bit.

[bokettochild]

Weekly check in with stardust

i have been creating a lot of stuff and im nearly done with my online science course and should be done by the end of this week!

the other week was eid and ur girlie made sweets, dressed up, visited a friend, and made Mario Lego B) I also got stickers for my laptop but that's unrelated lol

also we made bakhlawa and makrout they are literally my favorites lol, even the people at my friends party seemed to really like them too lol

apparently I look really good in olive green so that's like also a major win for me

the stickers are like vintage looking florals ones lol

btw I've been working so much on my four swords DND au, I'm not sure what to call It tho? I was thinking like "Four Keys" because the swords are literally keys to a secret realm or whatever

btw have u had any good recipes recently? Im fasting just because I can and rn I'm just thinking about food lol

i made a fajita tonight using colored peppers too lol

if u have any good recipes please tell me I love hoarding them

btw, I have one character left with enough space for an additional trauma/mental issue on my roster for the au so honestly just send me a few different ideas for them and I'll probably choose one lol

btw the dudes got the thickest Russian accent, is very brutally honest, soft and gruff, non nonsense and needs to adopt every small thing in sight or else he will die because this is how he's coping.

he was stuck in like an iceberg for like 200 years (there's a wholes Tory behind that) and then we he emerged (thats also a story) everyone he knew is kinda super dead because of the passage of time

*someone saying something stupid*

"Your voice, very ugly, please, do the shut up :] "

thats him in a nutshell^

also remember to do wrist and finger stretches for writers and artists

also I acquired a glass orb with glass art inside <3 o r b

also what's legend's irrational fear?

also I love legend being like, an actual good influence on wind in his own weird way

i want them to bond more, maybe do a whole stealing heist from some knights-

im not asking u t write it but I just wanted to share lol

i hope you've been doing well, u seem to be lol

also do u like wearing jewelry? and if so how often lol

Wow, that's a wall! (pos)

I'm glad you got to enjoy some nice food, time with friends, and dressing up! Also, it sounds like you're having a ton of fun creating recently! I am as well, but it's slow going as I'm working on a multi-chap that's very demanding about where and what is supposed to happen (I did this to myself but the results are fantastic!)

"Four Keys" sounds like it has great potential as a title! I like it! I also love the Russian accent. the character is giving slight Captain America vibes, but only for backstory, and I love the concept so much!

As for a irrational fear..... ma am I bad at those I rationalize anything so... maybe large empty spaces? Usually those are indicative of a boss fight in his mind, so just having one that isn't hiding some threat throws him way off. He's also insanely wary of any room with a tiled floor. Because >:)

I also love him and Wind! The fact that they're both on the younger side here but also both accustomed to being the person others look to gives great opportunities for them to bond and interact. Legend has a lot of experience to share but he's also not up on a pedestal like Time or Warriors is, so there's more opportunity for direct communication and less a need to impress. (I actually just finished writing something with them, as it happens!)

I'm honestly not the best baker in the world, or cook in general (I'm still building up my recipe book after leaving my parent's house) but I can share my mum's bread recipe! It's very good, for every day, or to make into rolls for the holidays and with nice meals!

Recipe makes 4 large loaves btw

Dissolve 2 packages of dried yeast into 4 cups of warm water.

In a separate bowl, mix 1/2 cup soft butter with 1/2 cup of honey (you can also add 1/4 cup of molasses for super dense rolls/loaves).

Once the honey-butter is combined, add the yeast water to the bowl

Scoop in 6 cups of whole wheat flour + 4 cups white flour.

Mix, knead, and set into greased bread-pans, or roll into balls on a cookie sheet.

Bake loaves for 35-40 min at 375 F, or rolls for 10-15 min at the same.

After you remove it from the oven, brush generously with butter before they cool, for extra flavor and to preserve moistness.

Hope this one makes you happy! It's great to use in sandwiches, serve with soup, or eat with jam, or alone!

[silenttale22]

MUST HAVE BEEN THE WIND /PJM/ - Chapter 3

Summary: Someone once told her she had to learn to live in pieces as there would be nobody to glue them up. But what if a person with similar pieces to her appears? What if by complete coincidence her crying is heard in the middle of the night? What if together they can create a whole new masterpiece? Dancer!Jimin x Student!Reader Genre: Fluff, Angst, Slice of life. hurt/comfort, Soulmate!AU, SchoolAU Warnings: SH, a lot of self-blame

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 2/CHAPTER 3/CHAPTER 4

You stared in grief and disappointment at the beloved mug you had gotten from him for Christmas two years back. The last and most important souvenir was lying broken beneath the feet as the back was pressing harder onto the cabinet, sitting curled up in a corner of the kitchen furniture. And the hatred towards yourself became even stronger.

Once again, cheeks were ornamented with invisible paths, where drops flowed freely and dripped onto the icy tiles, slowly forming a tiny puddle. You pulled up your legs under your chin hiding a heartbroken face in your knees. It felt like losing everything you cared about because of the damned clumsiness that was haunting you.

And you were slowly sick of it.

You wished to scream, to hit something near around you but nothing like that came. Only a few second spent on the ground, digging nails into the naked skin of your legs made you came up with another idea of shaking the pain and anger out.

With barely a breath, pick yourself up from the cold floor and leave the kitchen with a wobbly walk, not even worrying about the pieces of glass sticking into your bare feet. You made a way to the bathroom, desperately seeking around for some relief.

And finally you turned on the bath tap and set it to the hottest temperature to get your arms wet there. The hot water actually burned your skin, but did you care about it? Non even a bit. You only took longer to hold hands under the boiling water to give yourself a little pain.

It was your own fault.

Everything was.

As you were always the first one to get scolded and punished for things you've never done - the habit of collecting scorn on back was something usual. And as you didn't want to end the tradition so you kept punishing yourself.

Years ago you was about to say that old habits won't come back to you. That he was your helping hand and with it you're finally became completely fine. But it was until he left, left so unexpectedly leaving your heart break, and your body on the cold surface of life. Even If you know he never meant that, your heart is still missing. And when everything around was doing great, moving forward your time stopped. It's all became more like surviving than living, and you hate that, yet it was hard for you to change anything.

And after loss, the only thing you wanted to do was scream, yet voice was stuck deep down your throat. There was this heartbreak and disbelief that threw you in every possible corner, not knowing which one would be keen on listening to your coming back cries. Goodbyes still stay on your tongue, but the thought that you're not going to say it out loud get to you every time. And it's so, so hard to hold back this sharp pain inside.

It took long minutes until you turned off the water and curled up on the bathroom rug, looking terrified at your hands. Delicate red stripes decorated now usually soft, delicate skin. More and more, this feeling that everything was weighing you down lingered to you unpleasantly, but after all, you wanted to be able to cope all alone. Without anyone's help.

But here, life was slowly getting out of control, and as it was normal for you. Even if a little bit of hope sometimes wandered through your mind. Yet…for the past year, balancing life and death has become a favorite thing to do. You couldn't help but feel damn good about doing yourself something harmful.

This was another time as you did it. It's happened to you really often lately, definitely more often than it should have. But not only the harm was something, that linger to you but also the sleepless nights. It was so often when the middle of the night, you were falling out off the couch, unable to catch a breath, because inside your dreams someone would tighten their hands around neck, making you lose consciousness. Sometimes even you did it to yourself. As you tried to drown into the bathtub, wishing for slow, suffering death. 

And again, all you could do was blame yourself for this. After all, it was your destructive thoughts that drove so many times to the last edge of life, from which you managed to miraculously jump away at the ending moment. 

You were lost, no longer able to find even a part of your happy self.

Raising eyes high, and looking into the empty, dark space spreading behind the open bathroom door. Unpleasant pain went down your spine, so a quiet whine left lips right away. Only after a while, you  eventually got up to the feet, pressing palms tightly to your chest before moving to the living room. So you just found a regular spot like every evening. Always sitting here alone, because you couldn't count on anyone. Why would you though, when everyone around became distant or busy with themselves.

But that's what you wanted, right? Being alone. 

On that night, you didn't even find the strength to open all these books waiting for you to study line by line again. So simply sitting up all night and staring at the emptiness in front of you seemed like an amazing idea. You didn't realize that for a good hour, someone had been sitting at the door of your apartment, gently tapping with fingers onto the wooden door. Hesitating, arguing with himself, not knowing if a knock would be, indeed, the right thing to do. 

At the end, he let the thought go, and headed off in the direction of his apartment. Worrying all night that he left you crying alone without anyone around. 

The next day, this time around five o'clock, the alarm rang. But this morning it was completely useful, you didn't need it at all. You were pretty quick to get on your feet, ignoring the pain in your spine from the constant uncomfortable sitting. As you set off to the kitchen, a weird feeling filled with loneliness hugged you, but as usual you brushed it off. 

Little sniff left, while rubbing those tired eyes -  trying once again not to cry. After all, you've been doing this all night, you should be running out of things to cry about by now. 

Coldness in the kitchen welcomed you as a good friend, with its bleak walls and bleached cupboards. You grabbed a broom, and picked up a gray cup with a small teddy bear hugging a red heart that had been smashed on the floor. Another tear dropped onto the floor together with the curse from your lips, as the tearing eyes were blurring your sight. At the end, you tossed everything into the trash with a tight pain in heart hoping that maybe it would give some kind of relief.

It didn't.

So you took only some sips of water in the kitchen, and moved to get dressed. Pulling basic black sweats over your legs, wrapping hands in a thick layer of bandages just to prevent some from hurting at work, and at the end put a thick dark gray sweatshirt over your head. 

Baggily and raggedly  - amazing look. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced at the clock hanging in the living room. Slowly running out of time to leave the apartment and not miss the bus, which you found most comfortable to take to reach the factories owned by the city, giving the only place where you could work as a student.

But eventually, you left the apartment with a bag in your teeth and halfly put on a jacket, as you fixed your attention on something behind the window, forgetting to look at the clock. So as you managed to jump on the bus on time stress was driving you crazy, and heart pounded fast into chest. Only the landscapes behind the window were calming your heart rate, as you found one place at the back of the bus. Sun was rising slowly, spilling on the sky with hues of warm colours, warming your soul a little bit as well.

As you jump out of the bus, the colder than into the city temperature quickly wrapped around you, so hugging yourself with hands, you walked into the fabric to begin your shift. 7a.m. popped on the clock when a high-visibility waistcoat was on your back instead of a jacket - you were perfectly on time. But as you came deeper into the magazines, the usual heavy stares of older men were driving you crazy. 

This shitty rule that a woman can't carry heavy boxes, or in general shouldn't even leave her home for work, and do as some housewife. But if you really want it so much, like really just want to work to provide for yourself - should walk around in skimpy clothes as a waitress and allow everyone to be touched on the back of the body. Fucking human backwardness, where most women still have no right to their own self-expression.

How pathetic.

With a quick step, you reached the right section, where you met with a brief smile from the boy you use to have shifts. And who was most probably the only one here that was…well, tolerating you. Showing up a little bit of sympathy. He was the same age as you, or at least that's what you could understand when you've been talking to each other from time to time during short breaks. This week, his hair was more like an oxidized blond color, but you could have sworn that just a few days ago it was a pure gray. 

On the first day, he introduced himself as Christopher, saying he was born in Australia, but had moved to Korea with his family, and that's how you both end up in here together, moving cardboard boxes to the appropriate shelves or marked trucks.

The work itself wasn't that hard, especially when you used to do it for some time now, but for you today became extremely impossible to bear, as arms burned mercilessly from yesterdays 'fun' even if so many bandages were around them. And the blond-haired man noticed more than once that there was a grimace of pain and exhaustion on his friend's face. So Chris tried really hard to help you if only no one was watching, always taking the cardboard boxes out of your hands and quickly carrying them to the right places. And you may never have said it out loud, but you were damn grateful to him even if on your face there was a big disagreement. 

When it was time for a twenty-minute break, both of you got to the small cafeteria. You pulled up the sleeves to see if there's something wrong with the bandages, but they were still tightly wrapped around arms. And it made you concerned a bit, because usually after burning the pain should not last so long.

With your head full of thoughts, after finding yourself a place at the distant corner, you sat down at the empty table only to hide face in hands and left a loud huff. Chatters were loud inside your mind.

Trying to finally get all bearings and push them onto the outer corner of the mind seemed impossible, and furthermore, attempting to silence the rumbling stomach that had already been grumbling about the lack of nourishment for a while proved to be a hassle.

Another rumble coming from your stomach caused you to groan, yet as if out of thin air, a steaming dish appeared before your eyes. Head spun at the amazing smell that came to your nostrils, and the pleasant warmth of the steam hugged your face. Surprised, you raised your head to see a tired face with a gentle smile and a small dimple on the right cheek. 

A quiet 'enjoy' came to your ears from Chris when he took a spot across from you, but his eyes were still on you. 

“You're not going to eat?” his question snapped you back to reality, as you instead of getting on with eating the surely delicious dakgejang, kept staring at him in disbelief.

And you simply didn't know what to do. Whether should croak out a silent - thank you - or whether should nonetheless throw your arms around his neck in thanks since this was the first time in more than a year that someone had bought her food despite her grumpy behaviour. And it made you happy in some way. Because damn, it was so rare to meet people being kind from nowhere. 

But eventually, you decided on the former and with a trembling voice thanked him for the meal and began to chew the dish slowly.

“You're not used to this, right?” his voice sounded again, asking gently. Another time bringing you a lot of confusion.

“What do you mean?” you wanted to sound as soft as him, but only an unpleasant croak left your throat.

“To someone trying to help” eyes widened, and you couldn't look at him. So the rest of the break was silent.

His gaze falling on your face was no longer discomforting, and his presence through such a small gesture made the warmth you once knew so well spill inside. It was nice to feel what it was like to have a friend again. Even though it was no big deal in this case.

“Sometimes it's better to ask for help, than suffer alone mate” you heard Chris speaking up, as he stood up and with a smile ran quicker, to move more cartoons and make the job easier for you. 

And you couldn't lie, that it almost made you tear up. Not only his acts, but his words. Because you've always been taught to get everything done by yourself as there is no one to help you. 

Work finished at ten-thirty today, and you were overtaken by momentary joy when the notification about the canceled classes at the university popped up on your phone screen. But after a while, you were surprised again when, as being already heading to the bus stop, Christopher caught you right on time, to invite you for a warm tea with lemon and ginger at a nearby café. 

It was pleasant doing something different than getting back to the empty apartment and being welcomed only by the always opened books. And for all that with Chris it seemed much more comfortable than with people you used to know for years…with someone so called your friend. You're rather laughing about something stupid with him, than looking at people who bite their tongue trying not to ‘hurt your feelings’. You don't want pity, never wanted to be treat like an egg. The words as “It will be okay” prompt you even more to cut all the ties and live alone.

So the small meeting like that brush up the moments, when you really liked going out. With not really a close friends, but at least leaving four wall for a while to forget the shitty things going on inside your head. 

You had spent a good two hours together with boy, and to tell the truth, you were more than glad that you agreed. You were again - for a while, able to get away from the stress that was building up on all sides. To forget about the aching pain inside your chest.

But it wasn't for long.

On your way back to the apartment, all the negativity of life was back. Body starts to hurt again, and so does your soul. It was hard for you to get straight to the apartment. As you reached the door, the only thing you could do was dragging yourself down the hallway, just to trip again on the bloody carpet. So you lay in the living room for a while, playing with the protruding threads. Eventually, sitting down on the obviously dented couch. Hoping for a moment that at least tonight the evening would be a quiet one.

In fact, you spent that whole night pondering over the books, since anyways, you had to go to lectures tomorrow and show off the knowledge that you've been gaining every freaking night. Or at least that's what you're always planning for yourself.

In the end, you'll probably be too tired to raise a hand to come forward and answer a question from a professor delivering his well-planned lecture about dangerous social diseases for humans. It's funny that you could talk about some of them completely freely, even giving examples from your life, but even if a case like that would appear, you'd never dared to do so.

[anthonyaldenphotography]

Portrait Of Death

I remember when my brother died 10 years ago, his death brought tears to my soul. I was engaged in my normal busy schedule and heard an unearthly voice that said “Call home.” immediately stopped what I was doing, picked up the phone and called my mom. My nephew picked up the phone and said they found Uncle Marvin unconscious at home and rushed him to the hospital.

I knew the end was coming; he had been diagnosed six months ago with terminal lung cancer and fought a courageous battle to survive with dignity. You see, he knew he would lose the war, but he wanted to die a warrior. With honour and pride, he didn't want to stretch out his impending death by having someone take care of him. He chose to die in control and the comfort of his home.

I hung up the phone, composed myself, and jumped in my car to make the two-hour ride to Toledo. God is great! No one thought to call me and tell me that he was fighting for his life in intensive care, yet the spiritual connection between my brother and I had moved beyond space and time. My heartfelt heavy, I have never lost anyone close. I fought to stay in control of my emotions; how I made the drive down 23 North was still a blur. I finally broke down halfway home, gathering up my feelings outside the emergency room. I parked the car and made the long walk down the dim corridor that led to the hospital entrance.

Death can be celebrated, feared, or embraced. I chose to embrace it. I just talked to Marvin three days before his death. His words were slurred and his left hand trembled out of control as he tried to maneuver his paintbrush. He was a great artist in my opinion, one of the most prolific artists of his generation. Creating art was the only thing that pushed Marvin to fight against death. Realizing his date with death grew closer, he laid his brush down, took a deep breath, and said; “just as well I have nothing else to create, seems I’ve done it all".

There were no words to console my big brother. I could not begin to imagine how he must have felt, trying to cope with death while living. My sadness felt like it was never going to let up; I was about to lose my brother, my friend, my mentor.

Sometimes the shortest walk is the longest distance. The hallway that led to the intensive care unit was long and narrow. The floors were paved with white tile, the lighting was subdued. As I approached the double doors, the out-of-focus sign now read clearly “intensive care”. The automatic doors opened like a gateway to another dimension.

My immediate family was all gathered around the hospital bed. No tubes were coming in or out of his body, just an ankh-shaped bandage around the IV that held the needle firm in his collapsed vein. He was still alive, waiting and barely clinging to life. My mother was at the head of the bed, holding his hand. The wall clock above reads 2:15 am. I had never seen anyone dying; it was nothing like the movies. Everything was surreal, as if I was in a dream. I maneuvered myself just opposite my mother at the head of the bed. She held his right hand, and I had his left.

For the first time, I saw my mother cry; it was a soft whimpering cry. I wanted to be strong for her, so I held back any visible tears, yet my heart flooded with grief. Death is always only a blink away. Marvin always seems invincible. My brother Tommy, who since then has passed away, tried to ease our tension by cracking stale jokes. Now that I think back, it was his way of coping with the loss of our brother. Deep down, losing Marvin was tearing Tommy apart. I could see right through his comedic act.

Marvin’s breathing became noticeably irregular; he fought death, refusing to let go of this reality. He was preparing to cross over; however, I don’t think he was afraid; he just wasn’t ready to say goodbye. For all of his life, Marvin spoke through his art. He laid his soul on canvas for the world to see his pain, joy, humanity, and sexuality. The small room was silent; no one spoke a word. We all just waited for the angel of death to reclaim his soul.

My mother leaned over and whispered in Marvin’s ear, “You can go home now; it’s ok, Marvin, you can let go.” The voice that welcomed him into this world told him it was okay to depart. My mother closed her eyes held his hand tight, and waited for him to let go.

Somewhere between life and death, a space holds our spirit in limbo. Marvin elevated above us all that night, capturing his last recognizable glimpse of the ones he loved. Marvin lifted his brush high and painted his final stroke for the ones he had to leave behind. Rest in peace!

Anthony Alden Vines

[missmoodring]

Neoma

Who is Neoma Arnett after Chocolat? Here’s a summary of the next 20-25 years of her life.

Jo takes Neoma under her wing after the who debacle with their music label. She learns how to professionally produce records and networks within their industry. This leads to Neoma writing and producing over 100 songs across the industry. On her own, Neoma starts to win awards for the music she’s involved with outside of Chocolat.

Right before Camden Lovell’s trial, Neoma and Jo quietly elope. They don’t tell their friends and family until two years later which causes a little tension amongst their family but that quickly dissipates.  

Jo struggles with sobriety throughout their marriage. Their addiction to prescription pills and alcohol takes a toll on the couple. Neoma forces Jo to go to rehab. After many failed stints, the couple quietly separates. 

Neoma decides to get super involved with her family. Jo decides that they want their love back and goes to rehab one more time. When Neo sees Jo is doing well and has not relapsed, she decides to rekindle things with Jo. After that the couple adopts a baby girl named Marley. Marley is the daughter of a late friend that Jo made at a rehab center years ago. 

Neoma continues to be successful in the music industry and earns the most awards of all the sisters. After Melodie decides to quit music, Neoma searches for new projects to take on. Neoma then takes on her biggest and most difficult project of composing a score for Broadway. This earns her a celebrity tile in Del Sol Valley.

Jo is very proud of their spouse but disappointed their own career did not take off like Neoma’s. Slowly, Jo starts to sink into a deep depression and secretly starts abusing alcohol and pills again.

Eden and Mel decide to throw Neo a party to celebrate her huge accomplishment. That night, Jo does not show up to the party. The next morning, Neo is unable to locate Jo. Jo is missing for a week before someone finds Jo dead behind a hotel. Jo’s death is determined to be an accidental drug overdose. It is unknown why their body was located behind a hotel. 

Neoma decides to work even harder to help cope with the loss of her lover. She dives into work, which earns her even more awards. Eventually, Tristan and Sonja move in with Marley and Neoma to help Neoma out of her depression.  

Neoma lives a quiet life after the loss of her lover. Although she does date occasionally, she never remarries. 

Neoma’s legacy is known as a great creative, amazing producer, selfless lover, hard worker and a leader.  

Neoma and her daughter, Marley.

[somedepressedgirlontheinternet]

The reflective mirror look walls bounced off each other in the compressed, chaotic yet isolated room. The silk toned magenta colour matched the tone of the circumstances in which I found myself; bland, unapologetic and unforgiving - somehow still leaving more to be desired, in this case, to be known. 

Facts are very plain, in their nature they are descriptive; we use percentages and fancy numbers to shine them up to the masses, but they lose their impact in some sense. When you read that 19.86% of the population suffer from some range of mental illness at any given time, you think wow, that really doesn’t seem like that many. Those results must mean people improve, it would have to be much higher?

We forget that the population includes babies, who let’s face it, don’t do much or have complete cognitive understanding of what is happening around them - how would they know if they were depressed? The majority of mental illnesses occur after puberty, so already we are chucking anyone aged under 18 out of that pot, then we need to think about the people who don’t consider themselves to have mental illnesses, the older, greater generation. The generation who lived through multiple wars and turned to LSD and MDMA at some point in their lives and drinking heavily to forget their trauma. Very progressive.  

With that taken into account, we are then left with 19-50 year olds; 19.86% of the population, estimated to be between the ages of 19-50, suffer from some range of mental illness at any given time. A rate which is not measured consistently, I am not liking my chances here. They seemed great before, I could have seen them being advertised in a shop window, guaranteeing a great pay out! But now, now I am feeling overwhelmed. Now, I am feeling the freeze of the yellow stained tiled floors. 

Why are they stained yellow?... Why, are they stained yellow? Oh god. 

The shelves above lined methodically with clear plastic cups, with uniformed coloured lids next to an outdated model of the female reproductive system. 

The muffled sounds of concern and distress are bouncing off every surface, ricocheting towards me with a numbing embrace. The muscles in my neck tensing as I slowly turn to face her, tears in her eyes and crumpled tissue in hand. My arms are too heavy to lift, I want to hold her, I want her to hold me. She embodies a worn and depleted marble statue, rigged and compromised, too stiff to move or change.

Echos are growing louder and I can almost make sense of the words, the mans lips swaying and lifting apart as crashing waves, moving me and swaying my senses back to reality. 

“The important factors that will affect your daughter and support her at this stage is a stable routine; involving a regulated diet and daily exercise. I cannot advise that we start medication immediately, but if you feel as though she is erratic and unmanageable, we can cross that road when we get there. 

I think we should get her booked in again for a few weeks to see how she is coping with the changes, I’d like for you to attend with her as well, so I can get an honest report of how she is progressing with her news”.  The clacking of keys cementing each and every consonant. 

“Does that sound like a good plan Isabella?” 

The muffling stopped. 

I clenched my jaw and tried to swallow the rock in my throat. A short cough followed. 

“Yes. Um, I-I can do that… Ca-can you bring me back again. Please?” The state cracking and turning towards me as I coughed my words out.

“Of course we can” a short sniffle to be followed by an immediate posture fix and forward lean “Are you sure we shouldn’t try medication immediately?”