#has been so healing! I didn’t realize how much pressure I felt to succeed in undergrad / community college

[glittertimes]

I turned 24 yesterday and I think this is the first time I’ve been excited to be older rather than terrified of it

[luimagines]

I’m wondering how the boys would deal with you getting sick/wounded?

Masterlist

A lot of protectiveness that's for sure! Mixed in with some self doubt and anxiety! But lots of care and gentleness just for you!

Since there isn't a specification, I'll try to write platonically but I'm still on a crush roll so if feels come out or are implied, then I'll take full blame and pass it on to the previous prompt.

I’m gonna try something with this prompt and only write three guys per part. The other parts will be out shortly with the others but I don’t want to only post like once every other week even if I’m trying to write everyday because they’re so many of them. I do want to write them all! But it does take awhile.

SO! If I like this system I’ll keep it but it’s a trial run.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, PART 1

Scenario under the cut!

Sky

Sky was running through the forest, slashing down all the monsters that were within his reach.

You, Wild and Twilight on top of Epona ran past him, chasing the black lizalfos that caused this whole mess. He stayed back, knowing that speed wasn't his strong suit. Between all the skeletons, lizards and all the keese that started showing up in the mean time, he was sure that he was more needed here to keep the monsters from reaching you.

He kept his focus on the fight and moved with practiced motions.

Monster began falling under his blade, left and right, front and back. He was no longer paying attention to where his teammates are. Just the motion and and the thrill of the fight to guide him, all other senses forgotten, he missed your cry.

He didn't know you turned back.

He didn't know you came to fight next to him.

He didn't see the monster coming up behind him-

"SKY!" He was suddenly pushed to the side, the ground coming up to meet him with dirt shooting all over his face.

He hears you cry again but in pain, and once again when he hears you hit the ground.

Sky gets to his feet as fast as he can and spins around.

There you are, on the ground, hand clenched around a growing red blotch on your other arm. You're glaring up at the skeleton that came from behind. Your sword is on the opposite side to you, but it doesn't matter much if your dominant arm is out of commission.

The skeleton shakes, as if in laughter even if no sounds comes forth from the monster. Sky sees that the skeleton no longer has its attention on him but on you. It raises its arm, sword raised and sharp and begin to bring it in your direction.

Sky grits his teeth and swings his sword.

Metal clangs against metal and Sky is surprised to see the amount of force that was behind the initial blow. It nearly sends him back to the ground but he merely slides a few inches backwards instead.

He chances a glance down at you and knows that you won't be able to fight beyond what already transpired.

The battle around him lessens somewhat, the sounds dimming until he only hears the blood pumping in his ears.

He's tired.

But Sky was never one to be a quitter. With one final push, he puts al of his weight into his next strike and knocks the skeleton away from their stalemate. While it's struggling to gain its balance, he slices upwards and cuts the entire thing in half.

He takes a step back and glances around the battlefield.

The others are making quick work of the monsters still standing. He trusts them to finish the job so he turns on his heel and kneels beside you.

"Let me see." Sky pulls your hand away from the wound. It goes down your bicep and across your elbow. He can't tell how deep it is, but it's long and bleeding.

"I'll be alright." You try to smile and get up. Sky doesn't let you. "Better me than you anyway."

"Not true." He glares at you. Sky is quick to take out his supplies and bandages and begin to work on your arm. He feels angry even after the monster has been dealt with. You shouldn't have gotten hit. You shouldn't have gotten hit on his account, he amends in his head. "It'll never be true."

"I've had worse." You shrug and hiss when he takes out his personal disinfectant and applies it to your wound. He's running low, but it's the best he can do since he's not the one carrying the healing potions and he can't do what Hyrule does, period.

He doesn't feel good about your answer and by the look on your face, he knows that you know it too.

"Why did you do that?" Sky asks after a moment of silence. He refuses to look at you head on. He knows he's still glaring and he doesn't want to aim it in your direction. He's too tired to try and hide it like he usually would with any other person. You'll just have to put up with it.

"You were gonna get hit." You reply, watching him work. "What was I supposed to do? Just let that happen?"

"You didn't have to take the hit for me. Yelling would have been fine. Let me know that it was there so I could deal with it." He growls.

"I tried." You stress and nearly pull your arm back when he puts a little more pressure on the cut than necessary. He keeps you close though so it's not like you succeed. "I yelled your name like three times. It's not like I wanted to push you face first into the dirt. If I let that thing hit you, you would have been given a way worse hit than this stupid cut on my arm."

Sky flexes his jaw and begins wrapping said stupid cut. He's inclined to believe you and he's sure that you're right. But....

He's allowed to not like it.

"Can you stand?" He asks, letting some of the anger fall from his face. Sky makes a quick evaluation over himself and realizes that he's relatively unharmed. A bit bruised, sure, but nothing worse than that. Certainly no blood drawn on his end.

You nod, grab your sword with your good hand and begin to get up. Out of habit, you instinctually put your wounded hand behind you to stabilize yourself and fall back down in pain.

Sky makes the executive decision to pick you up bridal style and carry you back to the others.

"SKY!" You cry and thrash around. "My injury is on my arm! I can stand just fine!"

He takes one good look at you then and shrugs. "You couldn't even get up. I don't mind."

"It's not about if you mind or not!" You continue. "It's the principle of the thing!"

He doesn't reply. Sky just looks away with a smirk, under the guise of looking for the rest of the group.

You catch on and stutter out some kind of argument but he tunes it out.

He sees Wild and Twilight back, angry and lizardless.

It's fine, he thinks. Because you're all together again and getting closer to figuring this whole thing out while putting a stop to it.

You begin to beg to be let down, unless the others make some kind of comment about it. But Sky feels the little voice inside of him to let it happen anyway.

Pay back for taking his hit.

Better you than him, HA! Not if he has anything to say about it.

Wild

Wild was on a roll!

After a successful dungeon raid (he's getting better that those), a great meal enjoyed by the whole team and no lecture about ditching the group, he on a golden streak! Nothing can get him down!

He continues to have a large grin on his face even after everyone has eaten and begins to settle down for the night. Everyone seems to be in good spirits.... except for you.

After you ate, you tried to keep up with everyone's good fortune and attitude but something felt wrong, you said you didn't feel good so you called it a night early, seemingly forgetting that it was your turn to take first watch.

Wild doesn't think much of it at first and continues with his nightly routine.

It's really only when it's right before he plans on going to bed that he notices something. The others that are still awake are quick to notice it as well and each of them share concerned glances.

You began to curl into yourself as you slept. Nothing weird about that, right? Maybe you were just cold but then... You started to whimper and grunt, like you were scared and in pain. A cough here and then but it doesn't spark any idea of what might be bothering you.

Twilight is the first to get up and make his way toward you but you wake up first, shooting to your feet with a frightening speed and all but stumble and crawl away from the camp.

Wild stands at nearly the same speed and begins to make his way towards you as well.

You don't get very far until you start coughing even more. It's a deep and wet cough that leaves you gasping for air but it continues on.

Then you vomit.

Wild sprint towards you then and helps hold whatever hair he can get to back and away from your face. Twilight is right next to him suddenly and he's rubbing circles on your back while you cry and continue to retch.

A few minutes pass but they feel like an eternity to Wild. He looks over to Twilight and grimaces. "Was it something they ate?"

Because if it was then this is on him. And he doesn't like the thought of causing you any sort of discomfort. Let alone getting you sick.

Twilight only shrugs and helps you stand straighter when you're done throwing up everything that you had eaten the day prior.

You're crying, whimpering and hugging yourself but Wild doubts that you're really aware of what's happening.

He places a hand on your forehead and gasps in shock.

You are absolutely burning up.

"You're sick." His eyebrows furrow and he begins to hold you steady when Twilight leaves you to him.

"...I don't feel good." You reply, but you haven't looked at him. You're eyes are still half lidded and it leads him to believe that you're still somewhat asleep.

"Ok. We'll help you, ok?" He says as he begins to lead you back to your bed roll.

" 'm cold." You say as you move back to where you were sleeping before. "An' everythin' hurts."

"I know. We'll make it better, I promise."

Twilight appears out of nowhere with his wolf pelt and places it over you, helping Wild get you back into your spot and tucks you in.

"Guess we'll stay here tomorrow as well." Twilight mutters. "No use pushing them any further, not like this."

"How long-?" Wild begins to ask but he doesn't know if that's even a question that can be answered. He tries anyway. "How long have they been sick?"

"They were a little weird yesterday..." Twilight admits. "But I didn't think much about it."

"What? Why?" Wild turns to his friend, brother, mentor. "Why not call them out on it? If they're sick-"

"I wasn't sure if I was just seeing things. We're all a little weird from time to time. I can smell a lot but this is always a toss up." Twilight glares a little as he defends himself.

"What do we do then?"

"We do what we can." Time answers from beyond the fire pit. "Some of us can make a supply run to the nearby town we were going to stop at. Get something to help that fever and maybe some tea to help that cough. Being at the town would be the better solution, seeing as the outdoors are not exactly illness friendly but the terrain isn't worth hauling them over. It might even do more damage."

Twilight nods in agreement and stands. "I can take a few of the boys and make a supply run. Get some more things that we might being running low on."

"Got any ideas of who to take?"

"Warrior, Legend and Four. They know the best way around merchants and quality buys. I say they're our best bet for the good stuff."

"I'll pay." Wild pipes up, reaching just beyond your bed roll into his for his sheikah slate.

"Cub, that's not necessary-"

"I'm paying." He growls and takes out a good amount of yellow rupees. "They need medicine. Medicine that we don't have and we can't afford their fever to get any worse."

He all but shoves the cash into Twi's arms and leaves it at that.

Time and Twilight share a look but neither comment on the aggressiveness of it.

There's not a lot of words to be spoken after that. Time takes the first watch and Twilight goes to sleep with a call to wake him up if anything happens. To you or to the group, Wild doesn't know. Knowing Twilight, maybe he means both.

Wild has trouble sleeping and has trouble forcing himself to leave your side.

After much deliberation, a long study of your pained face even as you sleep, he gets up and fixes the fire.

Time simply watches and lets him mess around as he pleases, so long as he's quiet.

Wild doesn't pay attention to him and gets his slate out for the ingredients he's looking for.

He starts by making tea. Honey, lemon bark, ginger, all for the your cough but he hopes that it'll help your fever as well.

When the tea sits and begins to steep, he takes out more cooking supplies and begins to cook more meals for you. All light and mostly fluid. It's a lot of soup.

He can't bring himself to sleep when you might need someone by your side again.

They were lucky the first time that some of them were still awake.

The shifts changes out without his notice. Wild is too busy filling up the inventory that he has with meals that are intended to help you fight this infection.

Day light comes and those who missed it learn of the prior nights events, the plan and get ready to carry it out.

Wild makes a belated breakfast when he realizes that most of the group is awake.

They're all staring at him but he shakes it off.

His highest priority right now is helping you come out of this stronger than before.

He's your personal nurse for the day and until you get better.

The others don't try to fight him on this. They couldn’t even if they tried.

Legend

Legend takes a minute to pause from firing his magic rod. The magic in it leaves him feeling a little drained from the amount of shots he’s been taking but the monsters are thinning out, so he continues plowing forward.

He leaves a particularly nasty looking thing, from an era he doesn’t recognize, as a pile of sloppy purple gluck on the ground.

When he looks up, his heart stops in his throat.

You’re right in front of him, fighting one of the biggest moblins on the scene, alone.

You’re trying to keep yourself on your feet and do some damage to the beast in the process but the blood comes back black, staining your sword and ground around you.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

He makes a run for it and fires what he can at the monster’s back until he’s completely tapped out of his magic.

He switches for his sword and activates his Pegasus Boots, charging directly into the monster’s side, plunging the blade deep within the creature up to the hilt.

“Hey Legend. Fancy meeting you here.” You grit out and slash what you can at the beast.

“Sorry, I should have told you I’m known for being fashionably late.” He fires back and attempts to take back his weapon.

His sword gets stuck on something within the monster and he’s forced to leave it in. The moblin has since been made aware of arriving company and takes a swing that would have taken Legend’s head off. He’s quick to duck under it and he calls out to the others for back up. “THIS ONE’S INFECTED! A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!”

“What a concept.” You gasp, out of breath and losing steam. “Back up would have been great like five minutes ago.”

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Legend knows he’s quick on his feet and dances around the monster and to your side.

But it’s a miscalculation.

The moblins takes another swing at Legend in the process but since he doesn’t hit his target, his arm arcs outwards and knocks you finally off of your feet and sends you flying across the field with a sickening crack.

Legend stops for a second in shock and stares at where you landed.

You’re not getting up.

Now Legend is the one fighting this thing alone, with his sword still in the side of the monster, back up still not arriving yet and worse yet, the group is now down a number.

He doesn’t have time to reflect how it might be his fault that you’re down.

He hopes you’re not out and that the others comes quickly.

There’s a shot that takes the moblin by surprise when it’s imbedded in his head. Legend can’t risk taking glances around anymore but the quick succession of the blows let him know that Wild has appeared from out of the wood work and has joined him in taking this thing out.

Legend makes around circle around it and reaches for the hilt of his sword. IT”s wet and covered in its blood but he manages to get a grip on it.

He pulls.

He knows that it would have taken a lot to take it out but the blood around it seems to have lubricated the wound and it begins to slide out. As it inches out, Legend has to take another dive out of the way since the moblin swings back his way.

The sword is no longer plugging most of the wound, so it’s more  like a fountain of ink that beginning to paint the forest floor.

Legend suspects that he hit something vital and that the blow would be final if he can get the rest of his sword out.

Luckily, despite the lack of communication, Wild and Legend seem to reach a consensus. Wild distracts the moblin for a while and Legend goes for his sword and takes out as much as he can before the moblin takes his aggression out on him.

Somewhere in the middle of this Warrior has also appeared and begins to add to the distraction while using Legend’s fire rod. This allows Legend to get more time out of the small windows that his team is buying them but the progress if slower than he likes.

The blood on his hands makes it harder for him to get a grip on his sword and his boots are having a hard time gaining purchase on the ground as it turns to bloodied mud. 

Legend makes another dive out of the way and glances over to where you are.

You’re still not moving and no one has reached you yet.

Concern fuels him forward and he makes one last attempt to pull the sword free while the other damage it as much as they can.

It releases.

Legend goes flying backward and onto the ground, making quick work of getting back to his feet and attacking the beast.

The blood around his hands and sword are beginning to dry, almost gluing them together this time as he fights and he fights.

Somewhere along the lines of this, the news of an infected monsters reaching the others, Legend assumes, and one by one the others clamor up to the monster and begin to strike it down.

Now with all of them here, Legend takes a step back and steps out of the fray, leaving the killing blow to be dealt by the majority of the group.

Instead, he runs to your side.

Legend drops to his knees by your side and drop his sword somewhere behind him. He’s quick to take out his bag and rummage through it. He takes out a potion just you groan and roll over.

Legend lets out a sigh of relief, and a curse.

The moblin dies somewhere behind him.

“Legend...” You cry out. “Are you dead?”

He has to keep himself from snorting in disbelief. “Of course I’m not dead! It takes a lot more than that to kill me you know.”

His hands are shaking but your eyes are closed so he doesn’t make a show of trying to hide it. Your hands are over where your ribs are, a bit of red seeping through your fingers, but it doesn’t look major considering the amount of time that’s passed.

The potion will take of it.

“Were you not hit? You’re ok?” You ask in delirium, using all the strength you have left to sit up. Legend is quick to help you and places the potion in your lap with the cork off.

“No, it was really just you that took the hit.” Legend sits back and watches you drink it, slowly and robotically. He takes a minute to look over the rest of you and realizes that you don’t actually have a lot of injuries.

Just a few large hits.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” You blurt, eyes wide and potion half drunk, threatening to spill over the lip of it with how you’re holding it. “Are you sure you weren’t hit?”

Legend tilts his head and looks down.

He’s absolutely disgusting.

He knows it shows on his face the minute he sees it but he forces himself not to think about it and instead, looks back at you.

“Believe it or not, none of it is mine.”

You stare for a moment or two longer before slowly returning to drink the potion you were given. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

The comment send even more relief through his system, shutting down the last of his adrenaline and he has to laugh. 

Legend has no idea what conclusion you came to but considering the amount of shock and awe on your face by the sight of him, he doesn’t plan on correcting you any time soon.

Part 2 Part 3

[demigodsanswer]

valgrace fic request for something with a confession?

((Set in a canon-divergent timeline where Jason doesn’t die, but still gets stabbed. Also Jason and Piper, in this, know that Leo is alive. There isn’t actually a confession in here, really, because the story got away from me, so, sorry about that. 

TW/CW for mentions of blood, injury, and vomiting)) 

~*~*~*~

When Jason woke up, all he felt was the overwhelming pain and pressure emanating from his chest. He tried to open his eyes, but the lights in his room nearly blinded him, sending sharp shooting pains back into his head. All he could do was groan and close his eyes again. The top half of his body felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t feel the lower half. 

He felt someone squeeze his hand. It took most of his strength, but he managed to squeeze back. Jason tried to open his mouth to ask who was there, but his throat swallowed the sound. All he could do was lay there, and hope whoever was holding his hand recognized how thirsty he was. 

“You alive, Sparky?” 

Leo. Jason would have smiled if he had the energy. He would have jumped on his best friend if he could. He and Piper had gotten word of Leo’s survival a few weeks ago, but they hadn’t seen him yet. Now, he was in Jason’s hospital room, holding his hand. Jason wanted to smile and hug his friend, but his body wouldn’t let him. Instead, he settled for squeezing Leo’s hand again. 

Leo made a noise that sounded like a laugh mixed with a yelp, before he dropped Jason’s hand. Jason heard his footsteps moving around the room, before returning to his bedside. Jason felt one of Leo’s hands, unnaturally but not uncomfortably warm and calloused slip behind his neck to prop him up just a bit. 

“Here,” Leo offered him a spoon. The warm nectar tasted like vegan tacos. While it gave him enough energy to move his head a bit more, it didn’t do much to quench his thirst. 

“Water?” Jason managed to choke out. 

“I’m on it,” Leo promised. He returned a minute later with a toddler cup with handles and a plastic straw. After Jason had swallowed down as much as his stomach could handle, he finally managed to ask Leo to dim the lights. 

Once Leo assured him that the lights were basically off, Jason managed to slowly open his eyes, taking a look at his best friend since his near-death experience. 

“It’s good to see you,” Jason said. “I can’t believe you’re alive.” 

“I could say the same thing about you,” Leo said. 

“What -?” 

Leo held up a hand to cut Jason off, before explaining the story. Jason remembered being stabbed (even if he didn’t, he was well aware of it now), but he didn’t remember much else. Piper had used charmspeak to get his blood flow to slow way, way down. Apollo called on Zeus to help, but they still can’t tell if Zeus did anything. Probably not, Jason thought, or I’d be a tree right now. 

“Calypso and I came as soon as we heard,” Leo said, “you’ve been out for days.” 

“Piper?” Jason asked. 

“She had to go to Oklahoma, but she was here, dude, everyday with me. She left you a card to read when you have the strength.” Leo paused. “She wants you to know that she’s sorry, and that she did everything she could to try and save you.” 

Jason nodded. “When do they think I’ll be able to get out of this bed?”

Leo looked at Jason confused, his eyes scanning Jason’s busted body. “Dude, you can barely open your eyes. You still have a lot of healing to do.” 

Jason leaned back and closed his eyes again, but not because he felt like he had to. “I figured. Everything hurts.” 

“A spear went right through your chest. You’re lucky it didn’t hit your lungs or your heart. You’re lucky Piper -” 

“Yeah, she’s the best.” He tried to keep his voice happy, but he could tell he didn’t succeed. 

“She told me what happened between you two. Sorry.” Leo said. He picked up the sippy cup and headed to the sink to refill it. Jason noticed it was shaped like Mikey Mouse, big round black ears decorated the top where the straw poked out, the body was dressed like Mickey’s shorts. Jason briefly laughed at the idea that he was drinking Mickey’s insides, but the macabre image reminded him of his own injury. He suddenly remembered what it looked like to see a spear poking out of his own body, what it felt like. He was suddenly too aware of the pain in his chest and the blood on it. He felt overwhelmingly nauseated. He tried to lean over the bed, hoping to find a trashcan, but there was nothing. The twisting only worsened his pain, and his eyes flashed with white light, before he gagged on himself. There wasn’t enough food in his stomach to produce anything other than water and bile, though. 

When the pain subsided, he realized that Leo was gently rubbing his head, his body close to Jason’s. He had quickly held up a clean bedpan to Jason’s chin, keeping him clean. 

Jason’s throat burned, but he felt okay enough to lay back down. Leo offered him some sips of water and nectar, which Jason accepted, hoping he’d keep them down.  

“You’re bleeding,” Leo said, “let me go get the medic.” Before Jason could say anything, Leo was out the door, and Jason was asleep again. 

When he woke up hours later, Leo was still there, asleep in the chair next to the bed. Jason sat up slightly, careful not to distress the wound dressings, the IV, or any of the other vital tubes keeping him alive. 

He still couldn’t feel much of his lower body when he shifted. He tried moving his legs, but they felt somehow too heavy and too light, like they were asleep from being still for too long. 

“Leo?” Jason said, his voice barely a whisper. “Leo?” He managed a little louder. 

Leo stirred, waking up slowly at first, and then all at once when he saw Jason moving. 

“Do you need anything?” Leo asked, quick to help him. 

“No, I’m okay. You don’t need to stay here all night, though.” 

Leo smiled sadly, “’Course I do. I don’t want you to be alone here.” 

Jason nearly blushed. “Come on, I’m sure Calypso misses you.” 

“Might want to hedge your bets on that one. That little love story didn’t exist so well outside the magic love island.” 

Jason furrowed his brow. “You guys broke up?” 

Leo nodded. “It’s uh .... well ... she wasn’t right for me.” Leo’s ears were pink, so Jason decided not to push the question too much. “Anyway,” Leo said, perking up again, “I want to show you something.” 

Leo pulled out a clipboard with some sketches on it. Jason wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at; Leo had drawn out a few different models of legs, some realistically human, some bionic. “They’re just some ideas. I’ll improve them once I can get to some real blueprints.” 

“What are they for?” Jason asked. Leo’s ears went red again. 

“What?” 

“Are you writing a comic or something?” 

Leo looked at Jason, confused and concerned. He looked around the room, like he was hoping to find someone else who knew what was going on. 

After a moment he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck before saying, “I guess you didn’t know yet? Sorry, I shouldn’t have ... I mean ... not like ...”

“Leo?” 

He took a deep breath. “It’s like I told you. Piper had to slow your blood flow way, way down, and keep most of it going to your vital parts until they could get you help. That meant taking the blood from somewhere else and, well, they figured you needed your hands more, so ...” He trailed off, but Jason understood. 

He tried to sit up and pull the blankets down off his lap, but he couldn’t move that far. 

“Here, I’ve got it,” Leo said, pulling them down for him. Jason rested back, finally understanding why he couldn’t feel his legs. They were both gone. The left one was off at the hip, the right one was off at the knee. Jason ran his fingers over the bandages, trying to understand it. When he pressed down on what was left, he could swear he felt it in a foot that wasn’t there. 

“But don’t worry, I’m gonna fix you up. You’re gonna be like Robo Cop or some shit,” Leo said, forcing a laugh to try and break the tension. Then. his voice got soft again. “You’re going to be okay. We’re all here to help you. We’re just so happy you’re alive.” He wrapped his arms around Jason’s shoulders, and pulled him in close, trying to be as gentle as he could be. Jason grabbed onto Leo’s arm, and pulled him in closer. Jason buried his face in his friend’s arm, and started to cry, which only made the pain in his chest worse, which only made him want to cry harder. 

Leo didn’t say anything, he just held him for a while. 

Finally, Jason felt himself starting to calm down. He pulled away from Leo, who pulled the blanket back up over Jason’s lap. 

“I wish Piper was here,” Leo said, sitting down in the chair, “she’s always been better at this kind of stuff.” 

Jason reached his hand out to Leo, who took it, scooting his seat closer. “I’m so happy you’re here.” Leo blushed again, and Jason felt himself blush too, but he didn’t know why. “You are enough. Thanks for being here for me.” Leo smiled. “Plus, I’m super lucky. Who else has a friend who can make them Robo Cop?” 

Leo’s smile widened. “You know, I was wondering: do you want to be taller? Because I can make you taller.” 

“Taller than Frank or Percy?” 

“I can do that,” Leo promised. 

Jason squeezed his hand. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.” 

“Well you let me know. I can do anything.” 

“I know you can.” 

Jason’s head started to feel heavy again, and he could feel himself starting to drift. Leo offered him another spoon-full of nectar to help him sleep and heal, which he took gratefully. 

“You need to get some rest too,” Jason said. 

“I will,” Leo promised, settling into his chair, “I’ll just also be here when you wake up again.” 

Jason smiled, closed his eyes, a drifted back to sleep. 

[imgoodloveenjoy]

Hey yall! I have no excuse for my tardiness LOL so lets just move past that & into my favorite thing: MESS!

 Ethan:

Sir is either a workaholic or is succumbing to the pressures he has Chief of ED and a management figure in the hospital. To come into work literally hours after having gallbladder surgery, or any surgery, is insane. I legit thought maybe they were giving Ethan COVID or an ulcer as he was bumbling around checking his temperature but IMO, this is worse. He’s under so much pressure to perform that he can’t leave his post to heal from surgery, it’s literally insane but a lot of people do it. I think the patient who felt he had to compete against a dead adversary mirrored Ethan competing with himself and the perception of what the hospital Board may want from him. Again, it would be good to see and hear what he’s being told from the higher ups to put things into perspective because how the writers have it now framing Ethan to be some kind of power hungry asshole but it’s really him trying to conform to what the expectations are of him as Chief of ED.

It’s becoming evident to me that Choi has zero support system: the nurses are snarking behind his back, Will and April openly defy and complain about his decisions to enforce hospital policy on top of the pressure from the hospital Board. Doris even cleared this when she said that Ethan doesn’t have a private life, his life is the hospital, and he has no one in his corner to rest and reset with; he is completely alone. I think that taking into consideration what Charles was implying, that Ethan is fighting against an enemy that he made up because he feels possibly inadequate and that he is more than competent to succeed in the Chief position because he’s more than qualified. Ethan just has to find his groove and balance and stand up to Will and everyone else who shirks his managerial decisions.

Also, I kinda like how he dismissed April LOL. I don’t think he’s over realizing that she emotionally blackmailed him and is emotionally distancing himself from her; she doesn’t help him, if anything, she increases his stress. However, that little moment with Dr. Varani, shelve it, I don’t like and don’t want it. I would prefer for Ethan to be single for a while and focus on totally owning this Chief of ED role without stressing himself out and getting a stroke; I would like to see him command more respect from his peers and subordinates by leading the pack instead of being overbearing on them. I want to see him with his sister and nephew, Vincent, cause he’s an amazing uncle and that would be fun to see how he interacts with his sister’s babydaddy’s eldest daughter, is he like an uncle or a family friend to her and her mother? Inquiring minds want to know. Romance can wait.

 Marcel:

They want to break Marcel. Two cancer patients in two episodes plus his ex-wife showing up to give him mementos of his child? They wanna break him down into nothing and I’m kinda here for it. It really strips away that cocky demeanor he has and shows that it’s really a facade to keep him from really feeling emotions for himself or anyone else. Him seeing his patient, who had only a year or so to live, get married to his husband really showed him that life goes on.

I also like how open he is with Natalie; telling her about the box of things that were his daughter’s, going through the box with her and watching the video of his child, just so emotionally open. I think that this will be a point of contention and jealousy with his ex-wife and Natalie; that the ex will be really upset that Marcel emotionally abandoned her when their child passed and now he’s so available to Natalie – I think she’ll take it out on Nat and try to ruin their relationship with her jealousy. It’ll be interesting to see how Marcel reacts to that potential scenario: will he stay by Natalie’s side and defend her while continuing their relationship or will he leave because the mess is too much.

 Will:

Sir, you insist on being an issue…

I think that April’s moral compass, that she has for everyone except herself and her brother, will kick in once she realizes that Will is playing dirty. He’s not confessing to Dr. Varani that he unblinded a patient and I still think he’s providing kickbacks to that one surgeon for access to his patients for the trail. Once April figures all this out, she’s going to be pissed lol. I wonder what Will’s gameplan is now? I could tell from jump that he was interested in Dr. Varani but it seems he asked her out to ingratiate himself in her good graces and hide from his mistakes: I see this backfiring on him by him being kicked out of the trail, his only place to be in a higher position, and ending whatever romantic thing could’ve been between he and Varani. Also, I think she’s kinda interested in Ethan and that might be another point of contention between Will and Ethan. ALSO also, what did he and Ethan talk about when he went to check on him? I hope he apologized for being such a dick lately but I doubt it; Will is super self-righteous and has an excuse for every crazy thing he’s pulled.

 Maggie:

Was it me or was Maggie not happy to have found Auggie’s brother? She seemed very guarded and unhappy that they reached out. Could it be that she fears they will want to contest her and Ben’s adoption of Auggie? It would be really messed up if they did, but I think that Maggie should just take it slow and open herself up to Auggie having a relationship with his brother. I really like Ben, he’s so warm and welcoming that even if he had concerns regarding this foster family reaching out, he didn’t show it, he didn’t come off kinda rude like Maggie.

 Sharon:

Sharon’s son is giving me all the reasons why I knew I couldn’t trust him, I just can’t really put my finger on it. He’s very shifty to me. The way he reacted when Sharon pulled him aside to speak to him about upsetting Abrams was very telling; he knew he was doing something wrong that’s why he’s so defensive but there’s something else there. Also, who the hell tries to upsell during a surgery?? What did he expect Abrams to do, stop the surgery, put in an order and begin again when the device came in the mail? Very goofy behavior and he should know better. Then to storm out of the hospital like a teenager with an attitude was ridiculous; he’s hiding something and I’m anxious to know what it is.

 Abrams:

Make him a main character ASAP.

[regrettablewritings]

If youre still doing the fluff meme, can I please request C, g , J, and X for Cassian andor?

Sure, you’re not too late! Stuff’s below the cut!

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?):

In a word, terribly. It’s not as though the man has had plenty of opportunities to perfect the art (“There’s no room for cuddling in a war!” you could imagine him saying). You beat him to the punch, though, and insisted you try to squeeze in some cuddling time during the rare moments he was not on a mission, training, attending meetings, or whatever else his “captainly duties” requires of him. Unfortunately, Cassian wasrather avoidant of it; you dared to even accuse him of purposefully looking for ways to stay busy.

And then the Scarif mission happened.

After the injuries acquired, the remaining members of the “Rogue One” squadron were required to take time off to heal, regain their strength, and acquire more proper training. Cassian, to his dismay, was enforced by Mothma to do the former two. Even once he’d left the infirmary to continue resting in his own quarters, the scowl stuck; a stark contrast to the smugness you tried (and failed) to hide. Now he had no choice but to let you cuddle him.

“Hugs can release oxytocin; it’s good for healing!” you insisted to your mean-mugging boyfriend. The most you got was a bemused raise of a brow. “. . . I promise to be careful.”

“. . . You’re going to keep bringing this up, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

At the sound of his exasperated growl, you knew you had won. The careful positioning of your body against his made for an awkward experience, silently but knowingly worsened by the fact that you had to guide him on where to put his hands or what to do if he felt his arm beginning to fall asleep. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but the man was recovering from a wound; you both were on edge. Once he was further along in the healing process, you could count on the awkwardness decreasing as the two of you became more accustomed to one anothers bodies . . .

You counted wrong: He really is just not very good at it. He always felt tense, like he was trying to control everything down to his breathing, yet wasn’t able to control whatever it was necessary for him to loosen up. You made the occasional poke at this (“For a captain, you sure are more of a cadet at this.” “Shut up.”), but ultimately you knew not to give him such a hard time. Like you considered earlier: Cassian grew up in a war all his life; it wasn’t unsurprising for him to be uncertain -- even possibly uncomfortable with cuddling.

Except he’s not, actually: For as rigid as he can be, Cassian actually loves cuddles. He’s a touch-starved bastard, after all. But given how terrible he is at communicating -- especially communicating what he personally wants -- it’s no surprise he doesn’t outright admit to it. He pretends to go along with what you want, but closer to the surface than he would like to admit is the constant desire for your touch. Specifically, from the position of the little spoon. Sure, for the most part, he’ll be the big spoon; it brings about the least mount of suspicion, after all. But every so often, you’ll make a joke about how he needs to ease up on his arm tensing, or else he’ll cramp up. And that’s his golden opportunity.

“Then why don’t you show me how it’s done, Oh Almighty Cuddle Rat,” he scoffs, eyes rolling. He has to fight the urge to come off too eager when the two of you switch positions, with your chest against his back and your arms about his chest or waist. He’s glad you can’t easily see his face from this position, otherwise you’d be able to tell what sort of bliss he’s in. As the little spoon, he feels warm and safe: Two things he hasn’t felt much of in his life. But for as brilliant as it all feels to him, he’s actually not quite brave enough to admit to it.

But that’s fine: You already figured as much.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?):

Not especially. Cassian is trained more for fighting when not sniping: ginger fingers in the Rebellion more more reserved for mechanics or medics or people who specialized in acquiring fragile materials for varying purposes. As far as Cassian was concerned, the most careful he really needed to be with his hands was to make sure whatever punches he threw would break only his opponent’s nose and not his own fingers. But one could argue that technically, he was capable of gentleness.

Suffice to say, however, you weren’t entirely convinced: Watching the man you had unfortunately fallen in love with flip his sparring partner onto their back into the dirt with relative ease surprisingly doesn’t scream “thoughtful, careful lover with hands that can sew clouds together” to you. Regardless, you continued to love him, even eventually getting together with him romantically. But for as many things as you entered the relationship confident you could have an effect on, you simply left the expectation of gentleness at the door. Certainly, you didn’t expect outright roughness, but you weren’t exactly going to get your hopes up for him to suddenly have the fingers of an angel.

And for the first bit of a while, your expectations (or lack thereof) on that front were met. It wasn’t until you returned from a mission, however, that you found yourself questioning your ability to make assumptions. You had had a run-in with some Stormtroopers but thankfully managed to escape, albeit at the cost of receiving a cut on your forehead. But considering the alternative, you were grateful. Cassian, however, was less optimistic. His brow furrowed at the bleeding line streaking across the upper right bit of your face.

“C’mon, Cassian, it’s not that bad,” you insisted, trying to walk around him and to the infirmary. He didn’t seem convinced, judging by how he reflected your every side step. Eventually you grew tired of it.

“Seriously, I need to get to the infirmary, I just need stitches, that’s all --”

Calloused. His fingers were calloused. You already knew this, actually, given the few times you had held his hands in private, but feeling them on your face somehow seemed to really get that across to your brain. But in spite of their roughness in texture, the strength with which they held your face in place actually wasn’t especially firm at all. If anything, it was Cassian’s stare that was firm. It studied your every feature intently, their dark color managing to tell you one message from their murky depths: “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Every few seconds, they applied only the slightest bit more pressure to turn your head to a new angle. The inspection only stopped when you felt a new pearl of blood oozing down the side of your face, forcing you to bring about the end with a small cough. To his credit, Cassian did finally listen to you and let you go. You found yourself following the departure of his rough, careful fingers.

He exhaled with acceptance: “Go to the infirmary then; it’s not as bad as it could be.”

You blinked. That was all he had to say?! After all that?!

“Uh . . . But what --”

“I’ll check up on you this evening; I have a council to attend.” He gave you a nod and took his leave before you could even carry on, leaving you to your orders. The entire while the gentle and caring fingers of the medics touched your face, all you were craving were Cassian’s.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?):

Most wouldn’t consider Cassian a catch to your absolute surprise. That still doesn’t mean you don’t get a little nervous now and then.You know how sophomoric and primeval it is, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes whenever you feel Jyn gets a little too close and personal with your boyfriend. You want to boot yourself up the ass whenever you witness Cassian attempt (and shockingly succeed) at seducing somebody to help him while on an assignment. There’s just no reason for you to distrust Cassian’s loyalty to you. Once he’s committed himself to something or someone, there simply is no other for him!

As for Cassian . . .

No, according to him. It’s so frivolous to worry over things like that; there’s a war going on, he has far better things to do than worry if somebody’s eyeballing you!

. . . Is what he would say if one were to ask him. But if one were to ask K2? It becomes a totally different story.

“Cassian has assigned Corporal Gregginor to lavatory cleanup duty 30% more often than previous chore rotations, ever since he saw him trying to teach you how to improve your aim,” the towering droid reveals to you one day.

You blink before raising a brow. “But . . . He was trying to teach me how to better aim my blaster.” Even without facial expression, you could tell K2 was emoting mischievous intent.

“That’s not what Cassian saw; he saw Gregginor putting his hands on your waist and making you bend over ever so slightly --”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Your face burned (at the droid’s words, at what you realized in hindsight, at the fact Cassian saw), but decided to think nothing of it. Bathroom cleanup duty was a pain in the ass, certainly, but usually the task was reserved for those who had earned a higher ranking officer’s ire through use of inappropriate behavior or disobedience on a mission. There was just no way a captain like Cassian would use it as punishment for touching all over his woman . . . right?

Maybe not. But as the week wore on, you became less and less certain. For one, you barely saw Gregginor due to Cassian sending him all around base to deliver messages that arguably could’ve waited or been passed on to an even lower-ranking officer -- things like lunch orders or minute responses to words exchanged in earlier counsels. For another, when you did see Gregginor, it was usually at training -- and if he didn’t already look worse for wear, he would most definitely look that way by the end of it.

While it wasn’t unusual for a drill sergeant to call everyone to gather and watch him exhibit a move or attack with a sparring partner, Cassian deciding to fill in nearly every day was quite unusual. He insisted he had new tactics to show when questioned about his sudden decision to grace the group every day. And when questioned as to why he kept picking Gregginor as his sparring partner, he simply answered that he knew Gregginor could take whatever he threw at him.

“Besides,” Cassian would say just before wiping the ground with his opponent, “I’m going easy on him.” For the rest of every session, if your boyfriend wasn’t busy absolutely wasting Corporal Gregginor on the field, he was having him run laps or do an absurd amount of pushups. Finally, you had had enough.

“Okay, Cass,” you lightly glared following a particularly grueling session. “Is there any particular reason that you’ve been trying to make Greggi’s week an entire life’s worth of living Hell?”

Cassian, ever bemused by both unpleasant nicknames provided, responded with equal neutrality: “It builds character. He’s been slacking off, this is to make sure he stays on his toes.” You hummed a note that lacked conviction.

“Oh, really? You sure it has nothing to do with the fact that, in the process of helping me learn to better aim my blaster, he happened to place his hands on me hips to reposition my weight? Nothing at all?”

At the mentioning of the suggestive positioning that supposedly hadn’t gotten Gregginor into Cassian’s shit list, the latter’s eye dared to twitch. You caught it just enough and it gave you enough confidence to believe that maybe you had caught him as well. But, to your dismay, the captain didn’t come pouring out his confessions and regrets and apologies.

“Your aim needed work; who am I to get in the way of that?” he confirmed instead. Your mouth dropped in disbelief; was he really going to play like this?!

“And anyway,” Cassian continued, “stop being so ridiculous. Do you recognize how absolutely juvenile it would be to use my position for something so petty?” As much as you wanted to respond, you honestly weren’t sure how to. If you kept insisting, he’d probably just keep dodging. But if you left it alone, who knows how long he’d keep pulling this shit?

In the middle of your inner debate, Cassian flung his sweat-drenched towel over his shoulder. “Hit the showers,” he demanded. “Clearly, training’s done a number on you.” And with that, he turned to clean himself, leaving you to glare at his retreating figure. You swore you could sense him smirking the entire while.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?):

Two come to mind:

First and foremost is “See the World” by Gomez, though it’s mainly directed at Cassian. It’s soft and simple, just as Cassian can be unassuming in his desire to not be showy or processed. Plus, the lyrics simply fit:

Day to day, Where do you want to be? ‘Cause now you’re trying to pick a fight With everyone you need

You seem like a soldier Who’s lost his composure You’re wounded and playing a waiting game In no man’s land, no one’s to blame

See the world: Find an old-fashioned girl And when all’s been said and done, It’s the things that are given, not won Are the things that you’ve earned

Cassian has dedicated so much of his life wrapping it around the Rebellion: It’s practically a part of him at this point. The problem is, he doesn’t seem to recognize what a problem this can actually be. He doesn’t think about what this means when the war is over, who he’ll be, who he wants to be. He’s just spent so much of his time composing himself in a specific manner, even at the cost of having very few close relationships or making the ones he does get a bit difficult to navigate. With a song like this, he’s being reminded to reevaluate his stances, to remember that Rebellions aren’t just about fighting: It’s also about fighting for what you want in the future.

He needs to see the world, not just what he’s been assigned to see for recon. He needs to explore who he is or who he may want to be without the Rebellion. He needs to find a non-K2 companion to love and go off exploring with -- Actually . . .

He snaps out of his reverie and glances at you, huddled up beside him. The cot is far from roomy or comfortable, yet you don’t seem to mind it. And, when he thinks about it, neither does he . . .

The runner up: “Cold Cold Man” by Saint Motel. This song doesn’t exactly scream Cassian at first because what you initially hear being screamed is overly bouncy music you can easily dance to. Picture you flailing and jumping and twirling around with a stone-cold Cassian standing in the middle of it all. That’s this song in a nutshell. No, really:

Oh, my love I know I am a cold, cold man Quite slow to pay you compliments Or public displayed affections

But baby, don’t you go over analyze No need to theorize, I can put your doubts to rest:

You’re the only one worth seeing, The only place worth being, The only bed worth sleeping is the one right next to you

Cassian isn’t exactly the most openly affectionate person. He knows it, K2 knows it, everyone knows it. Even his friends poke fun at him about it. And even though you know it yourself, you can’t help but sometimes lapse into moments of doubt: Is he happy with you? Does he intend on actually being with you for as long as possible, or is it more like any port in the storm with you?

Of course, you feel awful for thinking these things: It’s not as though Cassian is purposefully withholding certain affections from you; it just isn’t really a part of who he is as a person to be as forward as the average lover. Repetitive as it might seem, growing up the way he did just doesn’t tend to fair well for one’s ability to properly emote. But he knows this isn’t fair to you. He can’t keep using his past as a crutch.

Hence why once, every bluest of blue moons, you’ll receive a reminder. He’ll awkwardly sway with you, even dare to smile as you dance goofily in your quarters. He’ll initiate the hand holding in a corridor, even if he knows there’s definitely other personnel around. He’ll join you at night to just watch the stars, even if they don’t especially astound him (why would they? You can usually see them on any given planet, especially if you’ve traveled as often he has). He doesn’t make any suggestion that he’s uncomfortable with you shitting between his legs, or that he has an issue with you playing with his fingers. You could’ve honestly called it a great night if it had ended there, with you leaning back against his chest, letting the nice, balmy night air soothe you to sleep.

But it’s the unexpected kiss you feel on your temple that yanks you back. You’re afraid to move, certain that if you do, the mood will be lost and your normally gruff boyfriend will no longer want to keep letting you sit there. It’s only when you feel his arms wrap around you with more certainty that you know there’s nothing to can do in this moment that will make him want to let go. There’s nothing in this galaxy that would make him want another.

You’re the only one worth it all to him.

Thank you very much for asking and for being patient!

[freyamacdougal]

BIRTH DATE / 16 June, 1957

BLOOD STATUS / Pureblood

SECONDARY SCHOOL / Cornwall County Day School for Girls, class of 1974

ORIGINAL DEGREE / Healing Sciences, Pre-Healer 

HOUSE & YEAR / Ravenclaw, First year Masters student

Former Ravenclaw Quidditch Beater 

Junior Witches’ League Alumna

gemini sun virgo rising sag moon

chaotic neutral

alexa play kanye west i am a god

soon-to-be a medical examiner @ st mungos

is mildly addicted to amphetamine

has a younger sister named kat whomsttt she adores

kinda arrogant

very skilled at occlumency

loves puzzles and solving mysteries

always late

entp

she is probably in love with herself

got a long list of ex-lovers they will tell you she is a piece of shit.............

she tutored too many students despite being not very patient lskflsfa, not the nicest tutor but v efficient 

pinterest board

the whole shebang

If there was one thing about Freya that people would immediately recognize, it’s her obnoxiously loud laugh. Many people didn’t know her personally or simply regretted the day they met her but one thing has always stuck and that was her laugh. Just like everything about Freya, that was bold too. Twenty two years ago, she was born as the first daughter of MacDougal family, few years after her sister Kathleen came; her first best friend, first prank victim and her beloved.

Freya’s never ending energy and curious nature challenged her parents, it almost felt like no matter how much they tried, there was no way they could keep up with their daughter’s energy. Freya was a bundle of energy, she jumped from one interest to another, one day she would tell her parents she was going to be a quidditch player, next day she would tell them she was going to become an auror. While her interests changed in time, one thing has always stayed and that was her thirst for knowledge, her love for solving mysteries and helping others. Sure, her ways weren’t the most conventional, then again nothing about Freya was.

During her first years in Cornwall, Freya had a hard time to adjust and her arrogant personality was to blame. The more teachers called her a genius, the bigger her ego got. As a result, her peers started disliking her, after all no one wanted to be schooled by their classmate. It could easily be said she developed some sort of God complex, she started seeing herself above others. Luckily as the years went by, she started becoming slightly humble, although she is still somewhat arrogant.

Pretty much all of her teachers, including herself and everybody in her family thought Freya was going to become an auror but one of her teachers saw the great potential in her when it came to healing and encouraged her to focus on healing sciences. Once Freya objected but as she started delving into the studies, she quickly realized she would become a much better healer than an auror.

The Sorting Hat took a little bit longer to place Freya, because her playful and bold personality screamed Gryffindor, but at the end of the day her thirst for knowledge always beat those traits, so it settled down for Ravenclaw. She joined Quidditch Team in her first years and positioned as a beater for three years, but she’s always been considered as the weakest link of the team, she would be late for practices, she wouldn’t make a big deal when her team lost either.

As much as she’s a helpful person, Freya could be terribly self-centered and selfish. She always puts herself first and frankly, she enjoys helping people because she has an inflated sense of self-worth. But as long as the consequences of her actions are good, Freya doesn’t really care where they are coming from. Her arrogance is the biggest reason she is very skilled at Occlumency, she could be easily focused on her own interests and ideas, barely pay attention to others’ concerns and needs.

It took all of one month as a Healer trainee in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Freya to realize she might have made a huge mistake. She could stomach the gore, wounds and all that blood but being in charge of someone’s life was too much of a responsibility, she couldn’t see herself surviving under that much pressure. Death wasn’t something she was afraid of, however the idea of not being succeed at what she’s doing was unbearable. Good thing she still had time to change her mind and that’s how she ended up studying to become a Medical Examiner. Dead bodies were much easier to be around, at least now she doesn’t have to deal with sobs, screams and hopeless looks in people’s eyes.

[bowenandjohnson]

My Thoughts on Elite Season 3

Spoilers! Under the cut!

The Murder of It All

Well, I definitely didn’t see that final twist with the murderer happening, but I understood why Lu was the one to do it. She has always had the capacity for darkness, and even if it was an accident, Lu made the best unexpected choice. I’m glad Guzman was able to forgive Polo in the end--he needed that closure to fully move on and heal from Marina’s death. 

Did I like that everyone covered for Lu? Eh. I didn’t ever really enjoy her as a character. But the fact that everyone overcame their differences to come together as a team? That’s the real endgame that I’m sure the writers were going for. Forgiveness and growth is possible, which is a large theme this season.

Omar/Ander/kind of Malick

Ander’s cancer storyline hit very close to home for me. My father was diagnosed with cancer last year in February 2019, and has only been in remission for around four months so far. Seeing his struggle and his journey was hard. I know a lot of people are being hard on Omar, and I certainly condone cheating on a significant other.

However, many people don’t understand the pressure of being someone’s main support system like I do. It’s so hard and so draining on a person, and luckily for me, my dad had his wife, my brothers, and his parents. But for Ander, he only had his mother and Omar at first, before slowly starting to let Guzman and Polo in.

Omar is a 18-19 year old boy, and so I can understand why he had a thing with Malick. He’s young, his only major support system is Ander and Ander’s mother. His family (outside of his sister) disapproves of his life, and who he loves. His life was falling apart, and he was losing control. Malick could relate to being a gay Muslim with a disapproving family, so it makes sense why he would cling to someone who shared similarities to his own life. Omar made a mistake, and he realized who he truly wanted to be with.

I do wish he would have owned up to the cheating with Malick to Ander directly, but they only have eight episodes and a large cast to support. Overall, Omar and Ander are happy, in love, and returning to Las Encinas TOGETHER. Plus, Ander is in remission--thank God! And Yusef finally accepted that his son is gay and has a boyfriend, true character growth!

Carla/Yeray

Teodoro Roson is a goddamn asshole. I hate him, and I wish he were also dead. He manipulated and gaslighted his daughter for several more episodes than I wanted to see. Carla truly suffered this season, and I hated that. They broke down her character to serve the whims of a powerful, white man, and I hate that. Carla was such a bad bitch in s1, and she didn’t deserve this storyline. Ester Exposito did the most with the material she was given, however.

Yeray could have also been so much more as a character. They barely addressed how he was harassed in the past for his weight, and how that affected him still in the present. Though he didn’t love Carla, nor she him, he cared about her enough to accept her friendship, and help her take down her father for good. 

Those final interactions of the two talking about their relationship and how the two teamed up only showed me what could have been for the two in this third season. As one of the first black characters on this show, Yeray really got the short end of the stick, and he didn’t deserve to be an obstacle to a white girl’s true happiness. I did truly like him in the end, and Sergio Momo did the best with the material he had.

Samuel/Rebeka

I felt bad for Rebe throughout the entirety of her relationship with Samuel this season. She was a obstacle for “Carmuel” and ultimately used by Samu who helped to throw her own mother in jail. She deserved so much more. So much more. I’m glad she’s going back to school and she got her mother out of the drug business. PLUS SHE ADMITTED SOME ATTRACTION TO WOMEN!! Rebe/Caye for season 4, perhaps?

Samuel has also never been a favorite character of mine throughout the series, but I’m happy he got his brother free, he’s going back to school, and he’s single. That’s right--single Samuel may just be for the best. When Samuel is romantically concerned, there is always trouble to follow. He has never made it easy for any of his romantic interests.

Also, can we please get Samuel some therapy? They really needed to address his anger issues. Season 4 needs to get all these kids all some counseling, honestly. Two people have died that these kids were close to.

Cayetana/Valerio/Polo

Caye, Polo, and Valerio have never been my favorite characters on this show, either. I’m sorry, I guess I only enjoy five characters on this crazy-ass show. However, despite this relationship feeling like a rehash of s1, this relationship got Valerio away from the toxicity of his incest relationship with Lu and it helped him to succeed in school, and I felt like the dynamic was also evenly balanced between the three. Ultimately, I feel like Valerio grew enough to earn his “happy” ending helping Carla run the wineries and also pissing off Teodoro.

Caye also figured out FINALLY that money doesn’t equal happiness. I’m glad Polo broke up with her, and that she works as a cleaning lady like her mother did at Las Encinas. She helped a murderer, and in the end, she got an ending that I thought she deserved. I enjoyed her bonding with Rebe though after Polo died. They should date. The fraudster and “Narco Barbie” would be a match made in heaven in season 4.

Polo got his forgiveness, and he was fully charged with the murder of Marina posthumously. Alvaro Rico has always done a wonderful job portraying Polo over these three seasons, and I wish him the best with his future endeavors, this guy is a star.

Lu

Lu, Lu, Lu. She is, by far, my least favorite character from the show, and while I did enjoy some moments this season, her redemption arc was lazy and unearned. She never apologized to Nadia for releasing a sex tape of her, and that is what I had the most issue with. She didn’t earn Nadia’s friendship in the way that I would have wanted her to.

Sure, Lu grew. But did she grow enough? No. 

Have a nice life in NYC, Lu, with the happy ending you never truly earned.

Nadia/Guzman/Malick (part 2)

Nadia’s arc made sense to me this season. I know why people feel shortchanged by the lack of physical Guznadia this cycle, but there’s a clear undercurrent of love throughout all their interactions this season, and it makes sense why Nadia would pull back after being so violated in an intimate moment last season.

Malick makes sense for Nadia on paper: he’s nice, a good listener, and most importantly, he’s also a Muslim. However, Malick and Nadia’s relationship crumbles because he’s maintaining a facade: he’s closeted, and interested in hooking up with Omar, her own brother. Nadia is betrayed by this, of course, but the truth is: she wants a relationship that is based on love and respect. She’s done putting up a facade. 

She has that real connection with Guzman, the boy who offers to work at her family’s shop while she works on her scholarship applications, the boy who doesn’t want to jeopardize her dreams, the boy who loves her without expecting anything in return. At the end of the season, when she promises to come back for him, and he starts crying, that is the first time that he is certain of her committing to their relationship--and it is so incredibly beautiful.

Nothing will ever come in their way--not religion, not other people, not time or location. Their love will endure.

Guzman scared me in episode 2, when he kidnapped and tortured Polo. That moment felt so out of character for me, it took me out of the show for a bit. It was detrimental to the rest of his arc this season. However, I’m glad he grew out of his anger and frustration, and ultimately forgave Polo. He’s a supportive friend to both Samuel and Ander, and he reclaimed his “Mom Friend” title in the process. Can we please get the boy some therapy though? Please? Next season? I’m glad he gets to go back to school.

Malick also got the end of the short stick this season, and I wanted to see more of him as well. He deserved more than to be an obstacle to both “Guznadia” and “Omander.” Have fun in NYC, dude, I guess.

Thoughts on Season 4

Considering Guzman, Samuel, Rebeka, Ander, and Omar are all attending  Las Encinas to make up a year, it makes sense for season 4 to include them. Each season is a half of a year, so the also-ordered season 5 would be when they graduate. 

This way, other characters could guest and make appearances when they’re on break from college or something. It will be interesting to see how the show evolves in the future.

Overall, this season was a mixed bag, but I love these characters, and I will probably return to watch future episodes.

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (41 of 46)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***CH 36 ART! DETECTIVE JONES BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

________________________________________________________________

Present (Saturday)...

In the presence of his Master, Killian lay inert.

There was no escape. Not ever.

No immunity, not in the end. He had resisted as long as he could. But now, he no longer had any control over his body. He could do nothing but lie helpless, paralyzed and at the mercy of the creature endlessly circling. Tapping that eerie cadence around and around, stopping only to prod at him, squeeze and pinch and crush. His ankle. His hand. His ribs.

Killian could not even scream anymore. Sometimes he felt on the verge of knowing why. The tentacle snaking down his throat did not truly hurt, though on occasion it inspired such panic that he would rather be dead than endure its presence any longer. Then the moment would pass, he would lose concentration and forget the invader, and try to beg an instant’s peace, and wonder why even the smallest hint of his pathetic pleas would not come forth.

YOU CAN NEVER BE FREE OF ME. I SHALL HAVE YOU FOR ALL ETERNITY.

Yes, Master.

Had there truly been a time when that commanding voice held no sway? The mantra scripted, the despair half-pretend?

NO MATTER. SAY IT FOR ME AGAIN. FEED ME YOUR MISERY.

No hope.

IT IS REAL THIS TIME.

No hope.

THE BATTLE IS LOST.

No hope.

NO HOPE. NO HOPE, TRIPOD. NO HOPE FOR ANY OF YOU. KILLIAN.

Killian?

*****

Emma burst into the waiting lounge, cursing, her heart pounding as if she'd just sprinted up to the top of the clock tower. Of course they would page her as soon as she ran down to the cafeteria for five minutes; she should never have let her dad talk her into taking a snack break.

"Whale?" she called urgently even as she spotted the physician’s distinctive shock of bleached hair across the room. He had his feet up on a coffee table and looked even more haggard than before; apparently, the past 30 hours had been rough on him, as well. He did not get up when he heard his name, opting to merely wait until Emma had perched nervously on a chair nearby. Dr. Whale gave her a reserved smile before speaking.

"He's out of surgery."

For an instant, Emma thought she might black out from the relief. Whale rubbed at bloodshot eyes, continuing,

"We did everything we could for him, for now. His lung has been repaired, his shoulder reduced, and temporary closures provided for his other injuries; they'll have to be addressed at a later date, when he's stronger. He's had probably a dozen units of blood and may require more over the coming days."

Emma felt a hand on her shoulder and realized that her father must have cleared up quickly downstairs in order to be able to be with her, and then snuck in while her attention had been riveted on the physician’s words.

Whale sighed and stretched his neck.

“I'm not going to lie, Emma; he's not out of the woods yet. He'll need constant supervision in the Intensive Care Unit until we’re sure he won't crash on us at any second. The biggest complication that we're dealing with right now is the neurological condition which, I can't even remember if I told you, has gotten exponentially worse since Wednesday.”

“The brain shriveling?” clarified David, and Whale nodded.

“The best thing for that would have been to keep him sedated while we work on a therapy, like we did for the others, but for some unknown reason, every sedative we’ve tried has only made everything worse. His blood pressure will fall, or he'll develop an arrhythmia or respiratory depression or something else equally as dangerous. It's totally bizarre, and none of the other slaves have reacted this way. Bottom line is, I don't think it's safe to keep throwing different sedatives at him and hoping one will stick. We’ll allow him to wake up and just try to keep him comfortable with painkillers.”

Around a lump in her throat, Emma managed to ask,

“But didn't you say the brain condition is slowed down when they're sedated?”

“I did,” shrugged Whale. “But faster brain deterioration will kill him slower than a clot caused by low BP would.”

Emma nodded slowly, the long list of threats to her husband's life squeezing at her heart until she could not speak. Behind her, David quietly asked,

“What about something like total anesthesia? Would that slow the condition?”

"That would be even more risky than sedation," explained Whale. "With general anesthesia, you always want to use the smallest dose for the shortest amount of time, otherwise all sorts of bad things can happen, from respiratory arrest to brain damage."

A moment of heavy silence filled the room, uninterrupted by the background noises of the busy hospital. Then Emma squared her shoulders.

"So when can I see him?"

With great reluctance, Whale stood up, unfolding slowly like a man many years his senior.

"Let's go," he groaned. "He's going to be disoriented at first; hopefully you can help with that." He glanced at David, then back at Emma as he added,

"Only you, though. For the time being, at least."

David caught Emma's hand in a quick squeeze. “Give him our best.”

*****

His Master had its clawed hand around his arm, squeezing without involving any of its nails. It hurt the stake driven through his wrist. But that was, after all, its privilege.

Harder, Master. Take what you will. I am yours.

“Killian.”

Bloody hell. Swan was in the church. He could hear her. He could almost see her, if he tried hard enough to open his eyes and focus. Impossible!

I SHALL HAVE HER TOO.

No!

A piercing pinch. A whimper without sound.

Yes… Master…

*****

It could only be an extension of his Master’s recording experiment, but how it was supposed to succeed was utterly mystifying. Any little sound stalled before it even started, not just the screams he wanted to unleash. So how would his Master glean any sort of energy from him this way?

THAT IS NOT YOUR CONCERN.

Killian’s elbow twitched and he felt an immediate jolt of stiff pain in his shoulder. He could not say when he’d been torn loose from his imprisonment, what almost certainly should have been the structure against which he’d breathed his last and surrendered his soul. The figment Emma was back, or perhaps had never left, though their Master had yet to make good on its threats against her. It must wish to drain the last remaining drops of scream energy from him first, wringing him out like a filthy, useless rag, scraping him down to the rind and then beyond.

She called to him. He could not acknowledge.

I AM HERE, insisted his Master. He felt it. Its marks of possession carved into his flesh. Unyielding limbs pinning him, holding him still.

Which of its appendages was slender enough to slip inside a nostril? Killian had no recollection of that particular trick.

“Hold still--”

DO NOT MOVE, TRIPOD.

Something twitched deep down inside his chest, sparking a powerful urge to retch. The Master’s device between his teeth confirmed itself as not-tentacle by its texture and flaccid presence, no roiling, pulsating muscle beneath its rubbery exterior, and yet it began moving again, this time sliding up his throat and exiting in one long, slippery slither, its tip scraping irritated muscle as it went.

Gagging hurt, but coughing was worse.

“Breathe,” urged many voices, Emma’s and at least one other. Z, if she weren’t dead and could speak. Or maybe it was only after death that she would.

FILL THOSE LUNGS WITH SCREAMS.

*****

When Dr. Whale had first led Emma inside, she would have sworn it was the wrong room. Her emaciated husband was simply unrecognizable, even compared to what she'd seen of him the day before. Discolored, withered, and limp, taped and wrapped, sickly pale skin free of dirt but painted with a sheen of sweat. After so many situations just like this, she probably should be at least somewhat accustomed to all of the gadgets necessary for life support, but they shocked her every time. Whale’s team had at least traded the I/O line for a more long-term central line, which she knew would cut down on the number of needle sticks necessary for blood sampling and the like.

Emma sighed. He was going to hate this. He always did, but now the parallels to his time as the Vocivore’s slave--not in control of much of anything, feeling trapped and helpless--would make it that much worse. Not to mention the damage to his hand that would take away all autonomy.

Well, she told herself, it was a miracle he was even around to hate it. And besides, it would be different this time. Magic would return soon; it had to. And then, even if she couldn't heal everything completely, she might be able to shorten his length of stay in his least favorite place.

No, she realized. She now knew of several places that would rank lower than this.

"Killian?" she called again, tenderly stroking his bony arm. In the 15 minutes she had been with him, he had showed some brief flashes of near-awareness: slight limb movements, fluttering of his eyelids, minute grimaces eliciting pangs of sympathy within her. In response to her voice, his heart rate would pick up momentarily, though it was difficult to tell whether that was from glad recognition or startled anxiety. In between, however, he would settle back into a frightening stillness that only the monitors proved could not be death.

A few minutes ago, a couple of nurses had removed the endotracheal tube from his throat after Whale had declared him stable enough to breathe on his own. The bout of choking that followed was painful to watch, but Killian still seemed mostly out of it as they attached an oxygen mask to his battered face. His eyes fluttered briefly open but did not focus before slipping closed. Since then, it was back to nothing again.

Whale appeared beside her and leaned over Killian in order to have a listen to both lungs.

“He'll come around in his own time,” he assured Emma. “This is not unusual after such extensive surgery.”

*****

Something had changed.

The paving stone had warmed, softening into something almost comfortable, a concept so unfamiliar as to be suspicious. The persistent cooing from up above mingled with an utter cacophony of bewildering sounds, none of which belonged to any reality within the horribly familiar confines of the sanctuary. And the light touch on his arm, the gentle stroking along intact flesh… for the first time, it was not altogether unpleasant. Which would only confirm what he no longer feared: total, unreserved surrender.

Does it please you, my Master?

The end of the deception and the fight.

IT IS GOOD.

He could feel it prodding at his chest with its cold, unyielding legs. He did not pull away. No horror stirred his heart, though he knew it wanted something of him.

WAKE UP.

More places were being petted, encircled, or invaded than his Master had limbs to account for; nothing made sense. And why was it insisting he wake up when he was already awake? Perhaps he could appease it with a groan.

Killian coughed. His whole throat felt raw as if acid slime had eroded all the tissue away.

I may no longer have any screams to give.

His ankle spasmed. Stabbing, burning cramps spread up his wrist from an oddly immobile hand. But his Master seemed unfazed by the revelation and continued its touching.

“Please--OPEN YOUR EYES--Killian. It’s time--YOU MUST WAKE--wake up now.”

The babbling had returned, voices on top of voices, all begging to be heard amidst the rolling of whitecaps pitching the floor into sudden, violent motion, squashing him down as though he weighed a thousand pounds, and in an instant, Killian was retching like the greenest of new recruits on their first day at sea.

If he’d thought coughing hurt, his stomach trying to eject what wasn’t there took that pain and magnified it a hundredfold.

“...Pretty common, too, after anesthesia…”

Shut the hell up, Whale, and let a man die in agonized peace.

HE WON’T ASPIRATE WITH THE NG TUBE CLEARING HIS STOMACH.

“Trust me.”

His Master’s suit had turned white.

The bucking slowed, gravity returning to normal from his feet upwards. Killian’s eyes were watering in lights far too bright and colorless, lacking any hint of refracted hue.

It wasn’t a white suit. A white coat.

“Killian?”

Tilting his neck even the slightest degree seemed to drive iron stakes all around its perimeter. Killian blinked away the tears into which his Master’s image had dissolved, leaving behind only smeared shapes and hazy colors as it bellowed a whisper,

I REMAIN.

His first in-focus sight had to be of bloody Whale, leaning over him in professional study. But the physician’s voice hadn’t been the only one to blend with the Vocivore’s menace.

“Swan?” he mumbled, almost noiseless, and promptly gagged. What he’d taken for a tentacle tightened on his arm in trembling reassurance.

“I’m here, Killian.” She moved into his field of vision and his weary eyes looked into her face, desperate for the calm that only she could provide. “You’re safe; you’re at the hospital. You made it.”

Though his vision remained blurred and unsteady, there was no mistaking the relief on her face, nor the steady stream of tears coursing down her cheeks as she tried to smile.

Sudden, paralyzing panic overtook him; he could not remember… his Master, it was there, always there, but beyond its looming presence… only fragments. A life. Such a precious life… and a corpse…

“Wh…” he tried, then, “H…”

“Don’t try to talk just yet,” interjected the bothersome physician. “You had a tube down your throat to help you breathe, and there still a smaller one going down into your stomach to help with nausea and for feeding later.”

The majority of Whale’s words got lost in the storm clouds of confusion and worry, and Killian chose to ignore the rest. But moving to keep Emma in view brought a wave of such intense pain that the room lights went out and a high-pitched, pressurized buzzing filled his ears.

“For the love of God, Hook,” Dr. Whale was saying, muffled at first but slowly clearer as Killian’s senses returned. “Hold still; there’s about 101 places you could tear open and we just finished putting you back together.”

Killian could only gulp unsatisfying breaths under the weight of the several cannonballs that seemed to be piled on his chest. In a much more patient tone, Emma pleaded,

“Try and relax, Killian; everything is fine. Hope is fine. The monster is dead. There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

Hope. It was Hope, the corpse. Hope kidnapped, Hope tortured, Hope dead. Emma was saying one thing, but he saw another. Hope dead. Maybe Emma didn’t know. So many terrifying scenes jumbled in his head. So much screaming and pain and despair. And Hope’s corpse, there among the flashes. The wounds were real. The Master was real. But Hope dead was not?

How would he ever be certain?

Emma’s touch; that felt real. Whale and his lackeys, as they performed their checks and asked questions he could not possibly comprehend… less so, but then again, their knowledge struck him as far beyond anything he could ever conjure.

Whence came the corpses?

I HAVE CONSUMED THEIR SCREAMS. THEY ARE DEPLETED.

His Master once again circled his bed. And Killian closed his eyes. Resigned to the torture.

*****

Emma watched her husband slip back into a troubled slumber and scrubbed at her face. The brief moment of clarity had been equally as encouraging as heartbreaking. He knew her; that was certain, and momentarily seemed to soothe at her touch, but the long periods of terrified delirium before and after had been difficult to stomach. Not to mention the apparent anguish that any small movement caused him.

Whale finished scribbling a progress note and pursed his lips. “Well, that went about as well as could have been expected. His neuro scores are encouraging, so we don’t have to be as concerned about hypoxic brain injury.”

Clearing her throat, Emma resumed resting her hand on Killian’s arm. Whether or not he consciously felt her presence, subconsciously she had to believe that she could provide a bit of a buffer between him and his nightmares. “Sure didn’t last long.”

“Combination of post-anesthesia and his pain meds. Really, sleep is the best thing for him, as long as it stays peaceful like this.” He checked a readout on the complicated IV pump and made a quick adjustment. “It’ll probably be like this the first few times. You may have to keep reminding him where he is and all that; he might not remember each time he wakes up. By tomorrow morning, I’d expect him to seem more alert and possibly stay awake for longer periods of time.”

The physician yawned and did not even seem sorry. “It’s going to be another long night, Emma. People in and out frequently. You’re welcome to stay, but no one would be surprised if you decided to go home for a couple hours’ sleep.”

Emma shook her head. “I need to be here for him.”

“Your choice.” He headed for the door. “Don’t hesitate to call someone if you have any questions or concerns.”

After he left, Emma watched Killian breathe, reassured by the small cloud of condensation that formed on the inside of his mask each time he exhaled. Then she composed a quick update to her father; she knew he would take care of spreading the word to everyone else waiting for news. That accomplished, she settled in for her lonely vigil.

Killian had endured a month’s worth of little to no rest, and low-quality sleep when he could get it. Compared to that, three or four nights of watching at his bedside was nothing. 

________________________________________________________________

[counseledcounselor]

Before my current partner I had a idea of the person I wanted to be in a romantic relationship.

I would not be bossy, I would not be clingy, I would not be loud, annoying, obnoxious, emotional, jealous. I would allow my partner to do what they wanted. I would not become a difficult woman.

My partner happened and things changed. Falling in love caused a spiral of emotions. Michael (my partner) promoted emotional expression. I never had anyone who wanted me to be emotionally expressive before. All of my emotions were suppressed, they were felt deeply, but only inside because showing emotions meant being yelled at or rejected and I hated that more than anything else.

I was a quiet borderline. Things would happen inside and implode within myself. Michael gave me permission to express-and with that emotional outlit I began stating my opinions, talking more, being loud. And there were other things too: I was outwardly jealous, clingy and bossy. I will not reflect again on how I used Michael as my personal therapist. That was a long time ago and I have not done that in years.

Eventually I would grow up a bit, and I would start healing. My clinginess would not longer be jealous or passive aggressive. Jealously would become a rare occurrence. I became healthier, and my relationship became healthier in turn. I was not a bad person back then. I was just a child who did not know how to have a healthy relationship. Michael was the same. We are both different now-changed and growing and we have been like that for years.

I think that’s my problem with purity culture. It does not allow for self-growth. My relationship is healthy and good and has been for more than four years but I didn’t know how to be like that before. Michael didn’t either. We were abused children and abused children have difficulty learning they are worth loving and can love in return. We deserved to learn what we did and we deserve the beautiful thing we created for ourselves now. We deserve to forgive ourselves.

A long time ago: Michael would fit the My Favourite Person experience that so many other people with BPD have. It was easy to split on him, depend on him, see him as perfect and hate him if he didn’t meet that criteria. He isn’t my favourite person anymore-not by that definition. He is my longterm partner and I love him the most out of probably anyone (with the exception of my nephew) but never will I let him live as a idea in my head. Not again. He’s more than that. He’s a person, he’s flawed and unique and that makes him worth loving. I split on in him incredibly rarely and when I do I just take time to myself to calm down.

This is hard for me to talk about. I am afraid of being villified if I admit that my stable relationship was once toxic, and that we had to learn and grow before it wasn’t. It was a long time ago, but that part of us still existed. The reason why I want to share it is because I want to share how much people can change, how it is possible to turn around and work on relationships until they’re healthy. You don’t have to do this, there is never any pressure to. Sometimes it’s better to leave and that’s okay too. I just want to highlight that it is possible for your personality disordered partner to become a loving, healthy and supportive partner.

And there is another thing to: My definition of what a healthy relationship is might not meet your definition and that’s okay.

Me and Michael have a open relationship (although neither of us acted on it), we spend a lot of time together, he’s my best friend and I am his. It’s important for us to have similar values and to share experiences together. I can still be bossy (Michael loves it) and I can still be clingy (albeit not in a controlling way and more like-I need you to call me if you will be late, and I want a date day where we do something just the two of us every two weeks). These simple requests are not me controlling Michael-They are things we discuss as a couple. I know what I need in a relationship: I need a partner who wants to cuddle, likes spending time with me and is able to accept the more ‘high maintenance’ parts of my personality.

Cause here’s the thing: I can be high maintenance without being abusive or controlling. There are a few people that have stated that they would not be able to handle my emotional needs in a romantic relationship. Michael can and he’s okay with that.

In turn Michael needs someone understanding, and supportive, patient and willing to listen to him and laugh at his jokes (he is very funny). He also needs someone who shares his value for helping children and youth, and who is willing to accept how important the Theatre and volunteer work is to him. I may request to have date days but I never once stopped Michael from volunteering at the boys and girls club, or working at Shakespeare by the Sea.

Me and Michael have different needs and similar needs and we always find a way that we meet somewhere in the middle.

Meanwhile my sister-in-law has a different view of romance for herself. She wants her future partner to realize that she is not a romantic, and not over-emotionally expressive. She wants someone who understands she needs more space and independence than the average person.

Her needs are valid. My needs are valid. Neither of us would be satisfied with what the other needs and that’s okay.

Ultimately we have to do our best to do what is best for ourselves and our partner(s), and realize that everything is a matter of meeting in the middle.

Therefore I end with stating: Pure relationships don’t exist because 'pure people’ don’t exist and people who succeed in healthy relationships are just making that choice every day to meet somewhere in the middle and love each other, even when things aren’t always great.

And that’s okay. We are human and that is okay.

Thank you,

Jolene

Thank you for such an open and honest reflection on love and what it looks like to you as an individual. Love is a language that is translated uniquely to those who experience it. Find someone who is willing to understand and support that experience. 

[nny11writes]

How do you think Ahsoka actually felt about her betrayal/departure from the Order? I’m hoping the new season will touch on it, but like is she really sad? Angry? Confused? Like the order is all she’s ever known, she doesn’t know how to live a normal civilian life, it was probably one of the darkest periods of her life. How does one teenager cope with that, on top of everything she has seen as a child soldier?

Anon, you KNOW I’m down to rant/ramble!!!!I think she’s feeling basically ALL the emotions at once. She was betrayed by a friend, someone who she thought and believed would turn to her in times of need because Ahsoka had proven she was trustworthy herself. Someone whose life she saved, someone who she shared a traumatic experience with (which can lead to very tight bonding between people). I think she does feel betrayed to a certain degree by the Order itself. She spent her whole life as a Jedi, it’s all she wanted, it’s all she worked towards, and she believed in them. She is culturally a Jedi, the Order and the Temple /are/ her culture. It’s also her religion, and a faith that while she’s had some ups and downs with, it was something she believed in completely.But if the Order could be so blind and so wrong, could turn so quickly on one of their own, could fail what should have been one of their rising stars (Barriss), and they were /wrong/...because I think that Ahsoka might actually understand Barriss’s logic, not completely agree but she can see it now that it’s been pointed out. Ahsoka has been to a degree a blind follower for her whole life. It took a dear friend betraying her and her family seemingly turning its back on her to shake Ahsoka’s faith. Her faith in the Order, the Jedi, their teachings, and ultimately that became a shake up regarding herself as well.Barriss Offee, BARRISS OFFEE, should never have felt so isolated and scared and hurt and angry and bitter. But the Order did not notice, or did not care, and where a safety net of support should have caught her and helped nothing appeared and Barriss fell.Ahsoka wasn’t there when someone she cared about needed her. She wasn’t even aware. The Order wasn’t aware. I think this is where Ahsoka gets so scared and angry and hurt. She knows that she’s a good person and that the Order is overall a good institution to have. I think she still believes in the Republic and the Jedi Order. But if these horrible things could happen first to Barriss and then to Ahsoka herself, then what else could happen? What else IS happening right now? How many people are suffering like this and no one notices or cares because they are vaunted Jedi and famous Commanders?She’s confused. She doesn’t know what to do about all of this, let alone think or /feel/ about this. Ahsoka barely even knows what happened. I don’t think she knows how to process everything she’s realized/had happen, and I also think that Ahsoka struggles between what she was taught to do in these situations and the feeling that if those same teachings failed so miserably why should she trust them.In the Ahsoka novel we also learn that Ahsoka had a lot of feelings of not being good enough. That realizing she didn’t have to be some prodigy with god like skills and knowledge to still be good and important in her chosen career (mechanics) was an awakening for her.I think she probably feels worthless without her position as a Jedi and a Commander. And when she’s not feeling so depressed and anxious, she probably instead just feels lost and cut adrift.On good days she’s hopeful and determined, ready to do some heavy soul searching and go out and experience the wider galaxy. On bad days she thinks about how leaving was a horrible mistake, and how she “can never go back”. (She can, but I don’t think a teenager who has been so hurt and traumatized, and then left everything she’d ever known to seek a better, healthier life for herself would realize that she could change her mind.)I think no matter what she’s feeling at any given time, even when she’s absolutely overwhelmed by all of them slamming into her at once that she cares about people and wants to help. That’s why she goes vigilante on Coruscant for a while (which I believe we’re going to see some of that and I’m stoked!).And I think that at this time Ahsoka thinks her only worth is as a weapon or a tool.So when this all combines, we get a teenager who is living on the edges of society, without support, without a sense of safety and security. A teen who thinks that the lives of everyone around her are her responsibility to protect. Someone who thinks that she must sacrifice everything for others and without support is burning the candle from both ends. She already has the regular teenage hormonal mood swings but now that comes packed with all the shitty extras from her time as a child soldier, a prisoner, a slave, and more. I think when her hope can’t carry her forward, and her confusion and sadness become too much, that Ahsoka can feel her anger burning hotter and brighter and is scared.Because anger and fear are common in her life now, and that’s the first step to darkness right?So what does she do? She copes unhealthily. Between the anger, the belief that she is a tool/weapon, her feeling like her only true skill set is fighting, and feeling the soul crushing responsibility for everyone she even lays eyes on...Ahsoka goes out and finds trouble to solve. Troubles she can beat back and innocents she can protect and help. It’s not healthy for a child, and a teenager is a child, to go on their own to fight /gangs/ because they don’t know what else to do. I know Star Wars is aimed at kids so the stars are normally pretty young. Teenagers to young adults (kids will “read up” and be invested in the stories of kids their age and older, they rarely “read down” and get as invested in stories about children younger than them. That’s why so many YA protags are in the 15-19 age range.). So one could argue that within the text of the Star Wars universe (and there is a specific term for this that I just can’t remember????), that Ahsoka going forth at roughly 17-19 years old and kicking ass while trying to save the galaxy is totally okay and normal. I mean, Padme Amidala was the ruler of a planet at 14! Jedi Padawans go into combat situations usually starting between 12-15! Ahsoka’s at least older!And like, yeah, true. But also that’s still seriously messed up and the galaxy needs to maybe stop putting so much pressure and responsibility on literal children thanks.The thing about unhealthy coping mechanisms (such as “I’m lost in the galaxy, hurt and alone, and all I know to do is punch people. Guess I gotta go take down ALL ORGANIZED CRIME ON THE PLANET”), is that sometimes it’s the only thing you have. I’m not a trained psychologist, therapist, or counselor. But as someone with mental illness, I know that in the past I used terrible coping mechanisms to deal with the pain and trauma and emotions I had. While I didn’t try to take down the mob with my fists, I think Ahsoka is still doing what so many of us do. Trying to pretend we’re ok, pushing our emotions aside, beating ourselves up and then beating ourselves up for beating ourselves up, and then looking for distraction. For me that was video games and alcohol, for Ahsoka it was kicking dudes in the face for the greater good.I think that during this period of time, this is really all Ahsoka has. And while it was not a healthy way to deal with it, it was better than not doing anything at all. I think that as she did this, Ahsoka also began to reconcile some of her feelings and thoughts to her new world. I think Ahsoka came to realize that she still had worth as a person even if she wasn’t a Jedi and even if she wasn’t perfect. I think Ahsoka slowly learned during this period that she didn’t /have/ to be anything in particular. That making mistakes and being afraid are normal. That anger is by itself not unhealthy or bad for you. I think Ahsoka was going through a synthesis of sorts where she learned to trust herself first, and then reaffirmed her faith in the Force. Between having faith in herself and having her personal faith/religion back, Ahsoka became more confident. She learned how to pick apart her thoughts and feelings much better. She began to trust some of her teachings and I think that helped her heal a bit in regards to the Order.I think one of the under appreciated tragedies in Ahsoka’s life is that she was /healing/. She wasn’t just surviving, she was starting to thrive and truly grow into herself as a young adult. I think Ahsoka was on track to get her life going in the best direction possible.And then Order 66 happened.And Ahsoka lost everything again, but this time she had no choice in the matter. This time she had the guilt of wondering if she should have spent more time with everyone before they died. Now she can’t openly be who she truly is. I think that’s why Ahsoka is probably literally depressed at the start of the Ahsoka novel. She had just found her mooring, she’d finally charted a path by the stars, and she was ready to open herself up again- and it was not only ripped away horrifically but then the trauma just continued on and on. Each news broadcast boasting about the Jedi that Lord Vader wiped out this week reopening the wound. Every time she  sees a stormtrooper, every Imperial uniform that she was once so proud to see is a fresh trauma.This time Ahsoka has no way to process anything, she doesn’t even get to develop a coping mechanism at all. Ahsoka is forced into survival mode constantly. And so she shuts down emotionally and that’s where we find her at the start of the novel.Basically: I AM PUMPED AND TERRIFIED AND REALLY, REALLY UNDER PREPARED TO HAVE STAR WARS DESTROY MY SOUL WHEN I GET TO WATCH AHSOKA STRUGGLE AND FAIL AND TRY AND WORK AND FINALLY SUCCEED KNOWING THAT IT’S GOING TO CRASH DOWN AROUND HER IN A MILLION FINE SHARDS OF GLASS. 

[bxcketbarnes]

This Is War

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Author: @ninja-stiles

Words: 3077

Author’s Note: I’m kinda cruel in this fic, but it’ll all work out in the end! This is for @mf-despair-queen since I skipped classes today, so here you go babe! She also proofread this for me. She’s great. Salt of the earth!

Lydia was shoving me into my car, throwing my bag into the backseat as I attempted to get out of the driver’s seat when she slammed the door. “Lydia, I’m not following. Why are you trying to make me leave?” I asked and she sighed, running a hand through her strawberry blonde hair. I rolled down the car window so she could speak to me clearly, since I can’t exactly get out of the car.

“Y/N… You just need to go, for your own safety, okay?” She told me and I narrowed my eyes at her, not doing anything until she explains further. “Fine, you know that the faceless creature that we’ve seen?” Lydia asked and I nodded my head, signaling her to continue. “Well, it’s called the anuk-ite and it spreads fear. The fear has spread to almost about everyone here and with the shit Gerard and his puppet, Monroe, are pulling, everyone’s out to get the supernatural creatures. This means you’re not safe with us,” She explained and the color had drained from my face.

 “W-Well, I-I can’t just leave you guys here to die. I want to help,” I pleaded, placing both my hands against the car.

 “No, you need to go. Stiles would kill me if something happened to you,” She muttered and I furrowed my eyebrows together in confusion. Why would he… huh?

 “Wait… what do you mean Stiles would kill you? I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him, so I don’t understand why he would want to have you take care of me,” I rambled, moving my hands around as she tilted her head to the side, looking at me like I was stupid or something. “I’m not leaving,” I muttered.

 Lydia sighed, slapping her hand against her thigh, muttering incoherently. I grabbed my bag from the back seat, stepping out of the car after rolling my window up, standing in front of her. “If you’re going to stay here, you at least need to stay somewhere safe. C’mon, we’re meeting up at Scott’s house.”

 I nodded, getting into her car and she begins to drive towards the McCall house, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. The both of us sat in silence, my mind going back to what she said about Stiles. I glance down at my phone, going into my photo album, seeing selfies of us a few weeks before he left, still a little angry that he had left without even saying goodbye to me. I was his best friend…

 Once Lydia pulled up to the house, the two of us got out of the car, walking into the house as Scott, Malia, Liam, Theo, Melissa, Mason, and Chris were there standing in the dining area. They were devising a plan when we walked in, Scott’s eyes turning towards us, widening when he sees me standing with her.

 “Lydia, I told you that she needed to get the hell out of this town.” He walked towards us and as she was about to say something, I cut her off.

 “I’m not leaving my friends here to die,” I growled, narrowing my eyes at him angrily. “I don’t care if she needs to take care of me because Stiles told her to, but I’m not going anywhere. So, what’s the plan?” I asked.

 Scott ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath. He walked back towards Malia and she rubbed his arm softly, almost lovingly. Just before Scott was about to tell us, the sound of gunshots rang throughout the room, bullets flying everywhere as Chris had grabbed Melissa, pulling her to the floor.

 My heartbeat sped up, my hands shaking as I felt pain piercing through my body, looking down at the blood that began flowing from my side. Lydia gasped, pulling me down to the floor, putting pressure against the wound. I tried to sputter out words, my body becoming cold as the gunfire ceased.

 “Hey, hey. Keep your eyes open,” Lydia commented and I glanced towards her, my bloody hand grabbing onto her arm. Tears were streaming down her face as Scott crawled towards his mother, who was also bleeding out.

 Malia dialed 911, requesting an ambulance since two of us were hurt. I let out a breath, trying to breathe as my eyes became a little heavy.

 “If I don't make it…” I started, but Lydia cut me off.

 “Shut up. You're going to be fine. You'll be fine,” She muttered mostly to herself, glancing back at Malia. Malia ran over, taking my hand in hers as she took some of my pain, making me gasp a bit.

 “J-Just listen. If I don't make it, can someone tell Stiles,” I coughed, taking a deep before continuing, “tell him that I've always loved him,” I cried, sniffling slightly.

 “You can tell him yourself. You're going to be fine,” Malia mentioned and I nodded my head, believing her for a second. My eyes began to droop, growing tired as the two of them had yelled at me to stay awake, but end up being enveloped with darkness.

 I had woken up a couple days later in a hospital bed. I groaned when I attempted to sit up, looking around as I noticed no one sitting with me. I remember the time I was attacked by the Dread Doctors and woke up to Stiles sleeping in the chair next to me, his hand enveloped in mine. I smile at the memory, but suddenly feel sad at how much I miss my spastic friend.

 The door had opened and Lydia walked in, jumping a bit as she saw me awake. “You're finally awake,” She grinned at me, sitting down in the chair next to me.

 “How long was I out for?” I asked, wincing as I adjusted myself.

 “A couple days, and let me tell you, things around here have gotten a lot worse,” Lydia muttered, playing with the ends of her sweater.

 “How?” I asked, getting more nervous for my friends.

 “Well, we've gone into hiding,” she put air quotes around the word hiding and I nodded, glancing towards the window, noticing a nurse walking by, her eyes trained on Lydia. “Scott and Malia have gone to Deucalion for help, because we’re going to end up fighting these people.” Lydia sighed, running a hand through her hair, shifting it. “It's why I wanted you to leave, so this wouldn't happen,” She frowned.

 “It's not your fault. I told you I was staying. Have you guys told Stiles what happened?” I asked, knowing he'd be worried sick that his best friend’s, basically his brother, house was shot up. Lydia pressed her lips together, shaking her head no. “Oh my god. Please tell me you're kidding,” I muttered.

 She shook her head once more, leaning back in the chair. “You know what happened last time. We almost lost him. And if it wasn't for you, we couldn't have gotten him back,” Lydia mumbled and I looked down, remembering when he was taken by the Ghost Riders.

 “I still don't even know how I managed to open the rift,” I whispered, picking at my nails.

 “Maybe because you're in love with him,” Lydia mentioned and my eyes widened, glancing over at her. My lips moved like a fish out of water, trying to come up with something to say. “Don't even deny it, Y/N. I can see the way you look at him.”

 “Yeah, well, it doesn't matter. He doesn't even like me that way,” I murmur, biting my bottom lip.

 “You don't know that. But what I do know is that we need to get you out of here as quick as possible.” She mentioned, glancing around at the people outside my room.

 “Lydia, I don't think I can go anywhere quite yet. I'm still healing.”

 Lydia had left about an hour ago and I sat in the hospital bed, twirling my phone around in my hands, wondering if I should call Stiles. Fuck it. I opened up my contacts, clicking on his name before pressing the phone against my ear.

 “Hello? Y/N?” Stiles’ voice came through the other end, making my heart flutter.

 “Stiles, hi,” I smiled, glad to hear his voice again. “Um, how’s Virginia?” I asked, my fingers toying with the hospital gown.

 “Hey, you. It's going good. It's great here! How's everything there?” He asked me and I looked out the small window into the hallway, noticing police officers patrolling. I can't tell him… he's so happy.

 “Y-Yeah, everything's great here. Not the same without you, though,” I laughed, my heart breaking as I heard his deep chuckle. “I wish you were here,” I muttered lowly.

 “Did you say something?” He asked and I shook my head before realizing he can't see me.

 “Um, n-no. I should let you go. You're probably busy and stuff…” I frowned, tears pooling in my eyes.

 “Yeah. I'm on my way to class, but I'll text you later. Uh, I-I miss you. All of you,” Stiles mentioned and I smiled at my hand that's settling on my lap.

 “I miss you too. Everyone does,” I added, sniffing quietly. The both of us said goodbye before hanging up, tears streaming down my cheeks. I love you.

 I was finally released from the hospital two days later and I couldn’t be anymore happy to get out of that hell hole. Apparently Melissa was in a worst condition than I was in and it increased Scott’s drive to fight these assholes. No one also knows that I had called Stiles, because someone might smack me for doing so, claiming that they want to keep him safe.

 Lydia and I were at the school trying to find Liam and Scott since the anuk-ite just had conjoined with it’s other half, which is a lot more dangerous than two kids being filled with spiders spreading fear when people are near them. The four of us stood over two bodies that were turned to stone and my heartbeat starting beating at an irregular pace, my anxiety and panic peaking.

 “H-How the hell are we going to stop this?” I asked the three of them, glancing between them as no one had answered me at first.

 “We fight it blind,” Scott muttered and my eyebrows raised.

 “And how the hell would we fight it blind, Scott?” I asked, crossing my arms a bit. He glanced over at me, muttering how I’m just like Stiles and my heart drops a bit.

 “That’s why Malia and I are going to see Deucalion again,” He muttered before leaving, taking his phone out.

 Lydia tried to stop him, but didn’t succeed. Letting out a breath next to me, looking extremely nervous. “C’mon, let’s get out of here,” She muttered, grabbing my arm. It’s been a few hours since Scott left and Lydia has not stop pacing, muttering to herself incoherently as she chewed on her bottom lip.

 “Lydia, what’s the matter?” I asked and she brushed me off, running out the door. I groaned, running after her, quickly getting into her car before she takes off without me. I don’t say anything as she drives, noticing that we’re heading towards Scott’s house. I gripped my phone, glancing down at the picture of Stiles and I as my screensaver. I sighed, dropping my head, running a hand through my hair.

 “We should call Stiles…” I told her and she glared at me, shaking her head. “Alright, nevermind then.” I shut my mouth, pinching the bridge of my nose.

 Once we got to Scott’s house, we ran into Peter, who was also looking for Scott. Lydia explained that we basically all die, turned to stone and I stumbled on my feet, knocking something over on the kitchen counter, breathing heavily.

 “What’s wrong with her?” Peter bluntly asked as I sat on the floor, leaning against the cabinet as Lydia crouched in front of me.

 “She’s having a panic attack. Hey, Y/N, look at me,” She whispered and my eyes glanced towards hers, my erratic breaths becoming worse.

 “L-Ly-Lydia, I don’t, I don’t wanna die,” I cried, tears pooling my eyes as I could feel my hands shaking. She placed her hands over mine, giving me a small smile.

 “I know and we’re not going to let that happen, okay?” She reassured me and I nodded, trying to take deep breaths, closing my eyes, focusing on her voice.

 “Everything’s going to be alright,” Stiles’ voice played through my mind, my heartbeat calming slightly. “I got you,” He whispered, feeling his rough fingertips rubbing against my cheekbone.

 I opened my eyes once I began to calm down, leaning my head against the wooden cabinet behind me. Lydia helped me back up, giving me a tight bear hug, muttering that we were going to be fine.

 “Alright, we need to go find Scott,” She muttered, the three of us leaving his house.

 We arrived at a dock type area where there were steel shipping containers everywhere, seeing Scott and Malia fighting Deucalion. “Scott!” Lydia called out.

 The three of them glanced over at us as we ran up to them, breathing a little heavy, except for Peter anyway. As Lydia was about to tell him something, gunshots rang out for the second time in a few weeks, instantly taking cover behind a pillar as Deucalion was shot at least twenty times. I closed my eyes, hitting my head lightly against the concrete pillar, taking deep breaths as Lydia’s hand was clasped with mine. The rest of us hid until the shooting stopped as Deucalion rested his back against one of the pillars, blood dripping from his mouth. The hunter’s started to come closer, one showing up to our left, pointing his assault rifle at us before a baby-blue jeep had hit him, sending him flying. The four of us glanced over at the jeep, Stiles popping his head out the window.

 “You didn’t think you’d do this without me, did ya?” He grinned, Derek popping up next to the jeep.

 “Without us?” Derek roared, his eyes turning blue as he attacked some of the hunters. I let out a laugh, so glad to see Stiles as he ran over to us. The shooting had stopped completely, hunter’s retreating as we could hear their vehicles spin their tires, making them squeal as they sped away.

 I ran over to Stiles, wrapping my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly as he let out a breath, his arms tightly wrapped around my waist. Once we pulled away, he looked at all of us, an angry and shocked look on his face. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me anything about this,” He muttered, glancing at me. “When we talked on the phone, you couldn’t have like, told me about it?”

 I looked away from him as the others glanced at me, eyebrows risen. “When did you call him?” Scott asked and I scratched the back of my neck, muttering incoherently. “I’m sorry? I didn’t quite get what you said.”

 “I called him when I was in the hospital,” I told them, hearing Stiles whisper “oh my god.”

 “Y-You were in the hospital when you called me? Jesus Christ, wh-what? Why?” Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand propped against his hip.

 “Um, I was shot,” I muttered, looking to the ground, my skin growing warm. Stiles grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the rest of the group, pushing me up against the jeep. He sighed, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

 “Why didn’t you tell me any of this when we were on the phone?” He asked me again, seeing that the others around made me to nervous to tell the truth.

 “Y-You sounded so happy that you were at school and I didn’t want you to worry about us,” I muttered, my hands gripping his forearms. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I wanted them to call you, I really did. But they said they had good reasons to keep you out of the loop. You’re literally the only reason why I’m still alive.”

 Stiles’ eyes softened, his thumb rubbing my cheek as he peeked over the jeep, noticing our friends’ eyes on us. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” He whispered, placing his forehead against mine.

 My heart swelled, gripping his arms as tears pooled my eyes once more. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to him.

 “It’s okay. It’s okay. All that matters is that everyone’s okay,” He whispered and I glanced up at him, his eyes already on mine. “I love you…”

 My breath hitched in my throat, gripping his flannel as my heartbeat sped up, pounding against my my ribcage. “Y-You do?” I asked and he nodded his head, smiling softly at me. “God, I love you too, Stiles,” I muttered, smiling a bit as he let out a small laugh.

 “Oh thank god. That would’ve been awkward otherwise,” Stiles chuckled and I took my bottom lip between my teeth, trailing my hands up his chest. “Is it alright if I kiss you?” He asked me and I gave him a knowing look that said, “are you kidding me? Is that really a question?”

 “Seriously? Yes, kiss me,” I whispered and he tilted his head to the side, closing the gap between us as I finally felt his soft lips against mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, my fingers running through his baby hairs on his neck, kissing him back.

 His fingers gripped my waist, ultimately pulling me closer to him as he dragged his lips against mine, heavily breathing out his nose. Stiles pulled away for a second, the smile on my face as wide as it’s ever been, my forehead leaning against the bridge of his nose. He connected our lips once more, one of his hands rubbing up my back before resting against my cheek. We had opened our mouths, letting our tongues dance with each other as our noses were smushed together.

 “Alright, love birds,” Peter called out and we pulled away. I closed my eyes, silently cursing him for ruining the moment.

 “We have a war to fight. Then, after that’s done and over with, you’re coming back with me to Virginia,” Stiles muttered against my lips, leading me back towards the group.

 Bring it on, bitches.

[travelitalianstyle]

10 Italian Phrases to Inspire You in the Next Decade

It’s that time of the year again. Christmas, my birthday, and New Year’s. The perfect time to reflect on the past 12 months. This year is extra special as we will end a decade. So much can happen in 10 years and there is no better time to be inspired. That is why I thought it would be interesting to share some idiomatic phrases and quotes in Italian to bring us into the next ten years and 2020!

I hope you find this interesting and motivating. And if you can please comment below with any lessons or phrases you would add here! Buon Anno / Happy 2020!

1.    Nelle botti piccole sta il vino buono

This was a phrase I heard the most in the past 10 years from Italians.

My height is just about 5 feet. Therefore, I am always getting reassurance from the Italian’s that “good things come in come packages.” ;) Or their way of saying it “in a little bottle comes good wine.”

 MY ADVICE: Appreciate who you are and don’t get offended by people’s strange way of showing their way of interacting with you. Most people don’t think before they speak (I mean come on let’s get real). And most of the time they have no idea that they are insulting you! So just go with that.

Sure, there may have been time I may have felt offended by the fact that someone is commenting on my height (which can be frustrating as a foreign woman in business). However, now  I embrace it. And I usually respond by saying I am a 375 ml of Tignanello (one of the best wines in Italy) ;).

2. A Caval donato non si guards in bocca

This basically means to take life and all of its happenings as a gift even. Even, if it seems of not much value at the time. If someone gave you a thought (physical) present that you didn't appreciate how would you react? You would smile and make the best of it right? So why not do that in your actually everyday life.

MY ADVICE: We are often set on having things go in the way that we imagine. Then we sometimes miss the other beautiful ways it has shown itself to us.  I look back in my life and realize so many small gestures and even happy and difficult happenings that brought me to where I needed to be at that time. I am only appreciating the now. If I would have seen them for what they were at the time, then I probably would have saved myself some pain and stress.

So to sum it up, whenever you feel like life is happening to you. Stop and see if it is actually happening for you!

Note: The actual translation is something about looking at the Horses teeth instead of the number of teeth he has. ;)

3.    Chi va piano, va sano e va lontano

This one is a favorite. “The person who goes slow will go far.” We know this saying also in English but things always sounds better in italian HA!

The most interesting I found as an entrepreneur is this. You must have patience, gratitude, and strength. You need to have focus and to stay focused on what you can offer.

MY ADVICE: Stay the course. YOUR course. The most important aspect of my life is that I am pretty confident in my path. I am intuitive and creative enough to stay with the trends yet stay true to who I am.

But I know this easier said than done. And I do understand that with social media it seems like the world is ahead of you (ALL the time). But don't even waste your time worrying to see if it's authentic or not authentic posts. Just worry about what you are doing and trust your own journey.

PS: That can bring us to another saying "l’apparenza inganna (which basically means appearances can be deceiving.” So try to stay focused on you.

PPS: I share more on my journey and how you too can spend 6 months abroad here.

4. Be a Persone per bene or Buono come il pane

This one is simple. Be a good person. Or quite literally as good as bread, especially fresh bread out of the oven. We all love that!

My goal has always been to be true to not only myself but the people. Especially those that have lifted me up along the way. If you have helped me, I will pay you back. I am not necessarily talking about monetary wise. I am talking about by being loyal to my best ability.

I have discussed this way too many times. But it was always sad for me for that I have been surrounded by so many people who felt it was right to steal or cheat their way head. But that is life. And they will succeed too. So let them be. But even with all the tough things you see around you it is so important to still be an honest, good person.

MY ADVICE: It can be tough but do you best to be kind to people as much as people, stay honest and (going back to #3) staying true to you! Being can only lead to good things. Even if it takes time.

Additional Phrase To Add On: Che per vendetta mai non sanò piaga - Revenge never healed a wound. So don’t even waste your time on that!

5. L’amore domina senza regole

This simply means love without rules. However, funny enough, I haven’t learned this yet. HA!

But it’s my goal for the next decade. Since my last breakup I have not allowed myself to love or be loved in a long time. And I bet I am not alone in this. That is simply because I was hurt pretty bad, like many of you. Then when I did open up my heart again it didn’t quite work out. Which left me feeling closed on the idea of love…again

MY ADVICE: There is nothing wrong with you. It’s ok to hold out for the right person and the right time. But it’s also ok to follow our heart, even if it does not make complete sense at the time. Loving without rules, even when it hurts, may lead you to your Principe azzurro (prince charming) or principessa for men. :)

6. Non puoi insegnare niente a un uomo. Puoi solo aiutarlo a scoprire ciò che ha dentro di sé

This is an interesting reminder from Galileo. He says “you cannot teach a man anything, you can only help find it within himself.”

Let’s talk about giving advice. Unless you are asked don’t give it. Or in Italian you can use the nice way of using mind our own busines, Badate a’ fatti vostri  HA!

MY ADVICE: Sure, your friend may be in a bad relationship, taken the wrong job, spending their money in the wrong way. Maybe you are more organized and successful and you are watching people in your life go downhill. SUPPORT the people in you life but do not try to CHANGE them or their lifestyle. You can only give advice when advice is asked. And once you give don’t harp on them not taking your suggestion (that is your ego talking my friend). If you are having a tough time listening to them hurt themselves over and over. Then I suggest you be open with them and direct them towards the proper person (therapists, relative, or book) that could be of assistance. Explain that it hurts you too much and you only want the best for them. People must fall forward So help him find himself but do not teach or lecture. But you can only extend a hand and hope.

7. Se non hai mai pianto, i tuoi occhi non possono essere belli

If you haven’t cried, your eyes can’t be beautiful.

I love this quote by Sophia Loren. Someone best explained it as this. “if we have not cried we have not experienced true depth.”

Yet, I believe almost all of us have had those one of those days. Whether we admit it or not. We have been down on our knees praying to whatever god we know. Asking for helping. To get us through the pain we are currently going though. I know through these times it can seem endless and hopeless. But don’t give up!I

MY ADVICE: If you look at crying as something that makes you beautiful (physically and mentality) then maybe (just maybe) it will help you get through the next tough time. Because almost all rain showers come a rainbow.

8. La mala compagnia è quella che mena gli uomini alla forca

Quick translation: Bad company is what brings men to the gallows.

 In life we often feel pressured to stay around people and places because it’s “right.” We put our own emotions aside and move forward thinking “I will just deal with it because I HAVE to.”

MY ADVICE: You do not HAVE to do anything. Just so you know, while I have many friends. I lost many too. In fact there are a lot of people who do not like me and I do not like them. And you know what? That is ok!

I do not think we should be judged by our biggest list of friends or acquaintance. Who cares anyway?!

 I value my clients, friends, colleagues/partners by the type of relationship we have. As much as possible I keep the people around me that are good. And if I can’t avoid someone completely (do to work, living situation, etc.) then I separate myself from their energy. Who deserves your presence and who doesn’t? Start thinking!

9. Ancora imparo

And following number 8, I will segway into this phrase which translates to: I am still learning.

MY ADVICE: Be forever a student. Stay humble and keep learning, researching,  being a creative. You can do this by reading, traveling, or even inner work. This my friends, is the key to truth growth in life and spirituality.

10. Siamo al mondo per essere veri, non perfetti

We are in this world to be real, not perfect.

My last advice for you to head into the new decade is just this. Be the best you as possible. Whether you receive recognition for this or not. Keeping being your authentic self. As I mentioned in my TEDx Talk this is the way to freedom.

And really let go of the fact that you have X amount of followers, likes, etc on social media. That means zero in the grand scheme of life. So please do not choice to act or be a certain way for this.

If you are not sure then sit down and go deep within.

How do you know if you are doing the right thing or being your authentic self. Oprah says explains this best.. She says, “ You will know it’s the right thing when you feel at peace.”

I wish you peace and happiness in 2020. And hopefully many travels in Italy and beyond.

And if you do come to Italy and are looking for a customized TRAVEL itinerary, theN you know who to call. TRAVEL ITALIAN STYLE.

LEARN MORE ABOUT US HERE OR BELOW

MEET THE AUTHOR

Cassandra Santoro is the CEO and Founder of Travel Italian Style. As a personal trip planner, Cassandra has visited all 20 Regions of Italy and spends 6 months a year traveling the country. Her focus is to find inspiring and real experiences.

She also leads motivational talks in hopes to inspire others on their journey. Cassandra's highlight appearance was being a speaker in Germany for TEDx DHBW Mannheim.

Cassandra currently lives between Brooklyn, NY & Italy. Follow her adventures of life between two countries on Instagram.

[the-reactionist]

i am alone andi am scapegoating you again;

you’re not lone and you don’t stand for wht being alone feels like; you’re always surrounded by people so you never face that scary part of life

i am bitter in my chest; i don’t know wht exactly theemotion i process is but i am lead to believe it’s the self inflicted sexual abuse/rpe trauma

i feel i am to blame for that because i let it happen - it is painful; although i love myselfand what to heal; i feel greatcompassion of life, or prob my higher self consciousness for making such choice for me because in a peceful way i have become much less egocentric and have come to understand subconsciouss truma patterns of rape victims and the bruised sacred feminine in the entire world - tht is complicated oe to put into words but i will, someday

i have loved my self so much as to bruise my own self and experience the cycle of inevitable compassion for the villain, that lead me to realizing i did this act that hs scared me through the years, out of pure love and desire for truth; because it is in this way that i continued to move through life as nothig ever happened, and at this way that i din’t match being molested more than i would have being i had my blooming sexuality about me, undisturbed; in a twisted way, i kept myself safefrom suffering much more and deeper; because i could have been brutally raped and muredered by now; my sexual strenghthis too strong ad people want to own it and then when im not interested or protect myself, want to beat and destroy me; and if they are psycically male, and me female, they usually do............

this is the worldwide feminiity problem; men are beating and rapingwomen [or else the male is beating femle aspects] from ceturies and it is usafe being yourself; i feel enormous pressure because of that.....

i am not wanted to succeed in life - i am desired to fail.... it is too painful, i ca’t cpntinue with that

i was benevolet enough to myself to rape my own  self because i am the only person i could forgive for raping me - my master consciousness split and decided this - i remember tht vividly in my childhood; it was magical, very real and powerful; so i am grand being; i cpome from tibet and feel associted with shaolin as well;;;; 

in rapintg my self i put aline to what i wanted to subcosciouslly attract in my life, even to what type of trauma; so i wanted to preserve myself for marridhe; to this day i havent been in a romantic relationship but i foud a boy i feel matches me so much he is like the twin flme concept to my energy; this is painful because it just brings light to all problems i see or feel within and i have toovercome them in self love if i am to manifest a relationship and baby with him... i think this is our contract - it is too beautiful to go into for now - but its like the buddhist boddhisvatha oths that if i don’t ttain self-love i had better nevr be loved and dored by anyoe who is lesser tha my complete desire; and this boy feels like mout everest to me; i know i could conquer him but i need to persist and try, and i like that; i see it as path to growth for both of us; i am his master in endurance, nd he is mine in non-deep, not-lsting connection - physical, sexual bindings to crete a child

teal says her woumb is wounded; i feel mine, too; and its scarred by the consciousness of abuse on this plaet that i ecplored by sticking a marker pen inside me to pleasure myself as a teenger and i felt completely empty and lacking closeness, humanity and connection, whe i sw tyhe bloody traces of my hymen and thought about my first time super awfully bitterly - i wish i hd shared that ; this is the most bautiful thing girl cnhare with boys; but i didn’t ; i [revented myselffrom getting to it, even though i used to be desired by bys then, s i am now - by those whom i esire strongly;

but there is pain ehind that one too; because i have bee - in previouslifetimes - been scarred and abused by going deep into a sexual act with boys and then regretting it and spiralling into drkness when they leave me out of ferof the intensity of my desire - it is desire for death; it is primal; woman has it ; desire to bare children and to kill the ego self in prenthood; nobody teaches youngsters how to do that now so men are scared of women because they are oblivious to their msculinity; they live by pederastic standards that governed ancient rome - the most corrupt society in ancient hystory; pederastic worldview revolves arund pleasure and pederastic males held desdain for women and procreation - this is the seed to self destructive natuure we see manifested in relity; this obviouslly is actually helpfulas it builds chracter; i am now into studyig samurai warriors and red about their frequent homosexual contacts and exploration of that purer for of love as they would put it; nd it is; i wodr why woman can’t feel that honorable and respectful to men and procreation be this ct of murual trust and bonding; it is not too much; that was the original design

i have read a lot and have a lot to share; i want to talk to you to show you my cultural perspective on what life is about; i am more at peace because i have that, and not a spiritual perspective on life.... not the outof earth and body mumbo jumbo; an embodied art from type ofliving and existence; i feel i want to be kicked out of teal tribe forever, like i got banned from the general fb group; because i am connected to teal but her resistence to shdows isharming my existence and my life prctically - i was put in psyciatries seven times; i dont feel like expaiig the logic behind this clainm now but life is better without that what she carries within her yet she is afraud to face - the deep programming by the deqath cult leader that she is demonic and devilish; i ee through it with pain and by going at her problems with openness and love; but she is not resolving this for years and it hurts ME; directly; an di need her to help me with other pain; so i am targeting her needs first in irder to get her capable of holding space for my needs and desired freedom; it’s complex;

the problem with that is teal’s self blame; this is a stage so she will get over it but i cant wait; i could when i was in contact with my twin flame but now i have nothing and i just need support; i cant live alone; life is meaningless for me without me in it. i said it

#shine #a #light

i come from Japan/Tibet/Mongolia...

[allyinthekeyofx]

Affirmation 1/4

Series of post eps starting with Orison that are my take on the path to ‘All Things’

Post episode ORISON

I stare into the mirror, my reflection vaguely distorted by the lingering condensation on the glass, the usually sharp, well-defined lines of my face turned bleary, non-descript.

The shower has done nothing to ease either my aching body or my aching heart, and even though my skin is suffused with a rosy glow from the heat, I am still cold, shivering like a day old infant ripped from its mother’s comforting embrace.

The woman who stares back at me is not the woman I know. She has changed irrevocably, never to be the same again, sullied, cheapened by a single act of vengeance.

Today, I killed a man in cold blood; took away his life almost on a whim. I watched him squirm, saw the fear in his face as he realized what I was about to do. And I revelled in the power I had over him, rejoiced as I applied pressure to the trigger, the sound of my partner’s voice coming at me from far outside myself as I watched the bullet tear in to Donnie Pfaster’s flesh.

And just for a second it had felt so right so just.

But the feeling was fleeting, quickly replaced by a spreading numbness as Mulder reached me and gently loosened the gun from my grasp.

I couldn’t speak, could barely stand to look him in the eye as it slowly dawned on me that he had seen everything. He had seen his stoic by-the-book partner lose control in a way I had vowed never to do.

And yet he hadn’t flinched; he had simply taken control as he always did, speaking soft words of reassurance as he helped me through the next few hours.

I had packed a bag under his ever watchful eye, knowing I had to leave the apartment to allow the forensics team to do their work but at the same time not wanting to go; knowing that when I returned, things would never be the same again.

I wanted to stay, to roll up my sleeves and scrub every inch of that monster from my home, from my soul.

Mulder had wanted to take me back to his place, to allow him to take care of me, to make amends for not being there for me - for allowing Pfaster to get to me once again. He didn’t say as much of course, but his expressive hazel eyes eloquently begged me to please let him do this.

Of course I refused him.

Directed him instead to drop me at the nearest Motel. He opened his mouth just once to argue, but something in my face caused him to abruptly shut it again as he nodded sadly, knowing that nothing he said would change my mind. And all the while my heart was screaming out to just let him take me away, away to the only place I might find some semblance of peace. Wanting so much to step in to his strong embrace and let him soothe away the tears that prickled at my eyelids like a thousand needles.

Instead, I had simply turned away from him like I always did. Feeling my walls go up as surely as if I had been armed, not with a gun, but with bricks and mortar, filling in the cracks as they appeared.

I had felt my resolve weaken as he had stood beside me watching me trying to make my shaking hands co-operate sufficiently to unlock the door leading in to the tiny cinder block motel room that was to be my home for the next few days.

Finally, he had put one warm hand gently on the nape of my neck, whilst the other had taken the key from me and deftly succeeded where I had failed.

"You shouldn’t be alone right now."

He had spoken the words with such gentleness, a final attempt to break through my walls, and I had so nearly crumbled, wanting nothing more than to cling to him and never let him go, to breath in the scent of him that so often invaded my dreams.

"I’m fine Mulder."

Of course I was. Wasn’t I always? Seven years of sharing everything with this man except my emotions. How many times had I said those words to him? How many times had I lied?

Just like I had lied then.

He had dropped his hand away, leaving me feeling bereft once more. The connection between us broken, shattered in to a million pieces by the utterance of three little words, just as I had known it would.

And of course he had left.

Just as I had wanted him to.

Because once again, I had pushed him away.

How many more times would he allow me to do that before he stopped caring?

Right now, I don’t have the strength, either physical or emotional to question it. I stand here, shivering, rapidly cooling water beading my skin and wonder instead just what the hell I’m doing.

Why am I like this? Why can’t I for once admit that I need him?

The face of the woman I used to know, crumples before me, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she slowly traces a finger along the misty glass of the mirror, lingering on the livid purple bruise just above her cheekbone. Another bruise to add to the multitudes already etched on to her heart.

So many injuries over the years, but the physical challenges are the easy ones, easily healed, easily forgotten.

The real pain comes from inside.

Seeing the first tear finally escape its confines, I angrily swipe at my image with the palm of my hand, obliterating the delicate patterns forged by the steam filling the small room, and turn away from all that I see.

Out of sight out of mind

If only that were true.

The light in the bedroom is muted, curtains tightly drawn against the outside world. A small, inadequate desk light throws out a weak glow that only really brightens the area immediately around it.

But that’s fine.

My head hurts - stress induced, the doctor inside me supplies helpfully - and I am afraid that to turn on more lights will make the pounding inside my skull intensify to a point I will be forced to acknowledge it fully.

For now, it is simply another cross to bear.

I deserve it. Call it penance.

I have no idea what the time is right now. Time stopped for me when I pulled that trigger. But I am tired and to crawl under the covers and go to sleep has an undeniable appeal.

But I fight the urge for a short while. Even turn on the TV, try to lose myself in the trials and tribulations of the characters who live their lives within that little square box, and for a scant few minutes I actually succeed. I stop thinking.

And then the scene before me changes.

Stupid really, the interior of a church fills the screen.

Candles burning.

Candles

Oh God.

I make it to the bathroom just in time before I lose the last remnants of my hastily consumed dinner down the sink, trying to control my breathing as I retch and retch, soon bringing up nothing but acrid tasting bile, and then nothing at all.

But still my hands grip the slick porcelain as my body is wracked with painful spasms, no longer in my control, I feel the tears streaming down my face as I wait for it to subside.

I’d forgotten just how much throwing up really hurts and I feel something below my rib cage tear through the strain.

I haven’t thrown up like this since I was first diagnosed with cancer, but somehow this is worse. Back then, the nausea was something to be tolerated; a direct result of the drugs being pumped in to me to prolong my life.

But this?

This is as a result of something evil.

And the knowledge I have brought it on myself makes it a thousand times more painful.

Finally, the spasms are replaced by the sound of gasping as I try to breathe and cry at the same time. My freshly washed hair hangs around my face, the honeysuckle scent mingling with the acrid stench below me and I straighten up abruptly.

The sudden shift makes my now pounding head spin, and my legs cease to be co-operative, buckling suddenly to deposit me in an ungainly heap on the cold tile beneath me.

I don’t try to move. Pressing my uninjured cheek against the floor I revel in the delicious coldness that replaces the heat in my body.

I close my eyes, and mercifully see no images behind them as I am dragged away from conscious thought.

XXXX

"Scully?"

I hear his voice from far away, unsure as to whether I am imagining it.

I’ve imagined him so many times in my dreams, always disappointed when I open my eyes to find myself alone and I refuse to acknowledge that this time is any different.

"Scully wake up. You’re freezing."

Freezing? I’m not cold. A little uncomfortable sure. This damn bed is as hard as stone and about as giving to my tired muscles.

And then I remember, I am not in a bed.

Normal people sleep in beds. I sleep on bathroom floors in low budget motel rooms.

The realization is enough to force my eyes open, blinking them rapidly as I focus on the figure above me. He is silhouetted by the harsh glare of the fluorescent strip light, but shadowed or not, I would recognize that profile anywhere.

He shouldn’t be here.

Go ‘way Mulder. I’m trying to sleep.

"Scully, wake up......I have something to show you."

I try to ignore him and fail miserably as usual. Mulder is impossible to ignore, I learned that early on in our partnership.

The last vestiges of sleep fall away as I shake my head irritably and drag myself up in to a sitting position, a frown furrowing my brow as I realize he isn’t beside me anymore.

Mulder?

"In here Scully. You won’t believe it."

His voice sounds weird, strained, like he is forcing the words out, and suddenly, my senses are on full alert as I command myself to stand. My muscles ache from a combination of fatigue and from forcing them to stay confined in the small space I had chosen for sleep.

I obediently follow his voice in to the bedroom to find him standing in the corner beside the TV that still played happily to itself, oblivious to the fact that no one was there to watch.

What is it Mulder? What do you want? I’m tired and.......

The words die in my throat as he grins at me.

Mulder never grins, at least not like this.

I must be tired, because the expression on his face seems.....

Evil

I almost laugh out loud at the word that popped unbidden in to my mind.

Evil? Mulder doesn’t have an evil bone in his body.

But something is wrong. Very wrong...and suddenly my heart stops. I actually feel it cease it’s steady rhythm in my chest and for long seconds I feel like it’s never going to start up again.

Because the man facing me isn’t my partner.

I take a step backwards, colliding hard with the bathroom door I can’t remember closing behind me, frantically feeling along the wood for the handle, Instinctively needing to put something solid between us. My terror intensifies as I realize that my fumbling is in vain. My fingers trail along the surface. A surface hard and cold and bare.

This has to be a nightmare.

He isn’t really here,

I have to wake up.

I squeeze my eyes shut and start to count.

1

2

3

"Open your eyes Dana. Look at me. Look at what you did to me."

4

5

"DANA"

6

Oh God.......I feel him close to me. I can smell him.

I cry out as fingers curl around my arm, bruising the tender flesh beneath and I can’t deny it any longer. Despite what my rational scientists mind is telling me, the pain is real.

This is real

I open my eyes, my vision blurry from the pain still being inflicted from his steel grip and I find myself looking deep in to his eyes, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

He holds up his free hand, palm outwards and it glistens wetly in the light of the single lamp I left illuminated.

And then I realize that it is covered in blood. His blood. Blood I spilled.

I shake my head from side to side, denying even now what in my heart I know to be true.

No .I killed you. This isn’t real....

He seems to find this vaguely amusing, and just for a moment, the sound of his laughter assails my senses, replaced almost immediately with the feel of his free hand enveloping my face, his fingers pressing cruelly in to the bruised flesh beneath. Worse though, is the cloying stench of his blood, smeared now on to my own skin. It attacks every part of me, and I feel my stomach somersault, the bile rising once again to burn my throat.

He has come to kill me. To finish what he started, and I am powerless to prevent him.

And then, abruptly, he releases me and steps away.

"I have a gift for you, Girly girl. Something to remember me by when I’m gone."

I stand there stupidly, unsure as to how to react. There is no threat in his voice now, and inexplicably, this only frightens me more.

I flinch as he once more raises his hand, holding my breath as I wait for the inevitable, an inevitable that never comes as I realize he is pointing toward the bed.

A box sits upon it, roughly the size and shape of an old fashioned hat box, tied up with wide velvet ribbon.

And I have never been more sure of anything in my life than I am at this moment. I do not want or need to see the contents of that box.

"Aren’t you going to open it? I went to such trouble on your behalf to get you something you really wanted."

I shake my head numbly. I am crying now. I’m not sure when I started. I don’t think I really care anymore.

He shrugs nonchalantly and heads past me, making for the bed.

I know what he is going to do, and once more I clamp my eyes shut.

I hear a rustling sound. Tissue paper I think, maybe plastic. I can’t be sure.

"Surprise!"

He is close to me again, the knowledge of this is enough for me to almost give in to reflex and open my eyes again.

Dontlookdontlookdontlookdontlookdontlookdontlookdontlookdontlookdontlook

The reflex is stronger than the mantra I am chanting, though and against my will my eyes snap open.

Like a manifestation of my worst nightmare, my partner’s once beautiful hazel eyes stare back at me, fixed in a startled look of horror, rolled back up in to his head that has been roughly severed at the neck.

His thick, dark hair has been cut jaggedly in places, reminding me suddenly of that ridiculous buzz cut he adopted after our incarceration in Antarctica.

*Joining the army, Mulder?*

**Why? Does the thought of me in fatigues turn you on Scully?**

And then I start to scream.

XXXX

I am still screaming when someone grips my shoulders.

No Please, no more, I can’t take anymore

"Scully...sssssshhhhhhhhh it’s ok."

and still I scream, the sound terrifying in its sheer volume. I can’t stop. It’s like something inside of me has snapped, finally succumbed to the pressure that has been building for so long.

The hands are pulling me in to sitting position, clawing at the thin material of my oversize T-shirt in an effort to manipulate my body. Still gripped by the nightmare I resist with all the strength and determination my lithe body allows me, lashing out blindly, feeling one of my fingernails connect with soft, pliable skin.

"Jesus Scully.......wake up."

Mulder?

"SCULLY STOP!"

The naked fear in his voice is enough to make me do just that, and slowly, painfully slowly, I become aware of where I am. The scream dies in my throat, only to be replaced with a drawn out cry, so anguished in its delivery that for a second I have no idea of its origin.

And suddenly, out of the darkness, he is there, in front of me, on his knees, arms straight out before him, gripping my shoulders.

I wonder suddenly if he is really there at all, whether he will suddenly dissolve before me in to the form of Donnie Pfaster, whether this is just another cruel trick of my tortured mind.

Then I allow myself to really look at him and I know for sure that this is real.

"Muh.........muh........muh"

My lips refuse to co-operate, but as always he understands my need and for once I allow him to gather me to him, clinging on to him as though for life itself. I feel his hands on my back, in my hair, hear his whispered words of assurance as I finally let go and weep on his strong shoulder.

And all the while he rocks me gently, giving me what I need.

I have no idea how long we remain there. My only conscious thought is that he is with me. I don’t question the hows or the whys. They will come later.

I cry like I’ve never cried before, purging my battered body of its inner demons, until all that is left are dry, wracking sobs that make my chest ache.

And still he holds me.

Seemingly unwilling to let me go for a second, until finally his soft voice reaches me once more.

"C’mon Scully. Let’s get you out of here. You’re ice cold."

His words trigger a wave of trembling in me as I become conscious for the first time of just how cold the floor beneath me really is.

"Can you stand?"

I nod shakily against his shoulder, but my confidence is misplaced. Mulder helps me to my feet, relaxing his grip slightly as we both reach a standing position, and without him to prop me up, my knees once more begin to buckle. Before I can fall though he wraps one arm around my waist and another under my knees, hoisting me easily in to his arms as though I weigh no more than a feather. Suddenly conscious that I am clad in nothing more substantial than thin cotton I squirm in his arms, embarrassment flooding my features with hot colour.

Blushing. The curse of the red head.

Stupid really. Mulder has seen me buck naked before now. I know that, but this is different somehow. More intimate

"Mulder....there’s no need....I’m Fi........"

"Don’t Scully. Please."

I realize that I have said the wrong thing and I feel him tense as he waits for me to argue.

But not this time. This time I won’t push him away, and he nods, satisfied as I drop my head to rest on his shoulder.

I am still shivering despite the warmth I am stealing from him, and it comes as no surprise when he heads for the Queen size bed, still holding me whilst somehow managing to pull back the sheets and blankets covering it.

Instead of depositing me under them though, he sits carefully on the edge of the mattress, sliding his arm out from under my legs so that I end up perched on his knee, my body curled foetal position against him and then I feel his hand on my hair again, his fingers ever so softly teasing out the tangled strands. Hair I never bothered to comb after my shower.

"Want to tell me what’s going on with you Scully?"

He slips the question in casually, without warning, carefully working on my hair at the same time, as though that is taking up his entire attention, and his enquiry in to my precarious state of mind is a mere trifle to pass the time whilst he frees the strands from the tangles that bind them together.

I feel him pause momentarily in his ministrations though, as without warning, another shudder courses through my body. I feel the goose bumps rise up on my exposed skin as I remember the cold grey eyes of Pfaster as he came at me.

Inhuman eyes; windows to a soul that did not belong on this earth. I will never forget those eyes if I live to be a hundred years old.

My throat closes up on me once again, and, not trusting myself to speak, I simply shake my head, praying that he won’t push the issue.

Later Mulder I promise with my mind.

Maybe he hears me, I don’t know, but he falls silent once more.

And I lay my head more firmly against his chest, breathing in the scent of him, a combination of the light cologne he wears and his own unique male muskiness.

The scent of Mulder.

For the first time all day, I begin to feel something akin to peace as I listen to the steady beat of his heart directly beneath my ear.

That, coupled with the gentle stroking of his fingers in my hair, along my arm, is lulling me to sleep. My eyelids grow heavy, and I don’t even attempt to fight it as exhaustion washes over me.

I should feel awkward, lying as I am in my partners comforting embrace, and maybe in different circumstances I would.

But I need this. I need him to be here. And I know that in allowing him to heal me, I am in a sense also healing him.

And then, I finally fall in to dreamless sleep.

XXXX

My first conscious thought on awakening is that Mulder's arms are no longer around me. And despite my best intentions I feel bereft, incomplete somehow.

He is still in the room though, of that I am certain.

I feel his presence, feel him watching me; watching over me.

Right on cue, I hear his voice from across the room

"Hey, look who’s awake."

Blinking sleepily, I automatically follow the sound of his voice and my gaze settles on my partner, stretched out on a chair far too small to comfortably accommodate his lanky frame.

I realize immediately why he has chosen it, and not it’s larger, more comfortable counterpart.

From his vantage point, he is able to keep an eye on me while I sleep whilst still following the football game that is playing out on the small screen TV beside him.

The other chair would have given him a clear view of the TV but not much else.

I stare fuzzily at the game, trying to determine the players by their colours before dismissing the notion as being irrelevant.

"You’ve been out for hours. How are you feeling?"

I simply shrug non-comittally in response, because the truth is, at this precise moment in time, I don’t really know.

"What time is it?"

"Late. You should eat something."

I feel my eyebrows raise, almost against my will.

Aahhhhhhhhh Typical Mulder. I know how his mind works at times like this.

Scully sleep, Scully eat, Scully talk.

He doesn’t usually deviate much from his game plan.

Unfortunately for him though, I have a much more pressing need.

Wrinkling my nose like a kindergartener I drop my gaze to the crumpled T-shirt I am wearing. I can still smell the fear that drenched me earlier, manifested now in unpleasantly dried in sweat.

"I need a shower"

Mulder crosses one leg languidly across the other, hazel eyes twinkling suddenly at me from across the room.

"Need me in there to help at all Scully?"

I almost laugh at this typical Mulder quip, but the truth is, that there is nothing I would like more than to reach out my hand to him and lead him in to the small room with me.

It’s a fantasy I have played out in my mind a thousand times.

But a fantasy is unfortunately all it is.

"I think I can manage just fine by myself thanks." I assure him as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, heading for the bathroom. Mulders voice follows me inside.

"Hey.....if you change your mind............"

My third shower of the day is wonderful. After washing and shampooing, I simply lean against the tile, the jets of hot water turned up high drumming against my neck and shoulders as effective as any massage I have ever had and slowly, slowly, I feel the tensions of the day disappearing from me.

This evening in my apartment, the nightmare that found me lying in a crumpled heap on this very floor, all now seem so very long ago.

And while I know I will have to deal with them at some point, for now I can place them at the back of my mind.

Harder to forget though, is the memory of Mulder cradling me in his arms after I collapsed against him, and despite the hot water, I shiver as I remember how it felt to be held so close to him, feeling his hands on me, his warm breath tickling my cheek as he gave whispered assurances that everything was okay. That I was okay.

I close my eyes against the visions inside my head.

To think like this is dangerous.

Forbidden.

And yet, I acknowledge, even if only to myself, that I love him, am in love with him.

I have been for as long as I can remember.

I can’t imagine a time in my life when I haven’t loved him.

He feels the same way. I know that just as I know that the sun will rise to greet another dawn tomorrow. I see it in the way he looks at me, feel it in his touch, hear it in his voice.

But at the same time, we both know that to succumb to that knowledge would only spell disaster for both of us.

Mulder and I have chosen to walk a dangerous path, and while we walk that path holding tightly to one another, we know that ours is a love that can never be.

Our choices were made so long ago, our paths forged by unseen hands, and we are destined to walk those paths for the rest of our lives.

Nothing else matters.

Nothing.

We do not have the luxury of living normal lives.

I realized that early on in our partnership.

Despite this realization though, I feel the tears that rush to my eyes as I once more mourn for all that can never be, and angrily I swipe them away.

These are dangerous thoughts to be having right now. My emotions are still raw. Too close to the surface, and I am afraid that I might betray myself.

Clamping down on myself, I turn the faucet to off with a quick savage flick of my wrist and step out of the cubicle, reaching out blindly through the steam as I search for the Motel towel.

And then I freeze as realization hits me.

Shit.

I neglected to bring a change of clothes in to the bathroom with me, and my favourite blue flannel pyjamas are still sat atop the bed where I threw them earlier. To retrieve them I will have to step out of this room, with only a woefully inadequate low budget motel towel covering me as I negotiate my partner to reach them.

I don’t normally display such modesty around a man, who, let’s face it, has dragged me half naked through the frozen wastes of Antarctica.

But that was different. For one thing I was half unconscious throughout the experience.

And then there was the shower incident, kindly provided by Diana Fowley, because the wall separating us offered no protection since my partner could see right over it.

But he didn’t see anything right?

Yeah right I believe that in my dreams.

The bathroom is not heated, and I am beginning to shiver as the steam around me rapidly disappears, replaced instead with the cool air from the air con unit set high upon the wall.

And my subconscious makes the decision for me as I reach for the door handle.

After all, it’s not like I’m naked or anything.

The minute I step out the door, I realize my fears have been for nothing. Mulder has abandoned his position by the TV and is now stretched out atop the bed.

Asleep

And even though I know it is foolhardy, I allow myself a minute or two to indulge in one of my favourite pastimes.

I love to watch my partner sleep.

In sleep his handsome face relaxes, taking on an almost boyish naivety that I simply don’t get the pleasure of seeing during the course of our normal lives together. No conspiracies, no betrayals, no hurt. Just Mulder.

How he should look

In many ways, he has been cheated out of so much, and while he is without a doubt, the most handsome man I have ever seen, every line on his skin has been etched from blood and tears and pain.

It’s a pain he carries round with him every day of his life.

A pain I stopped trying to heal a long time ago.

A few strands of his dark brown hair have fallen over his forehead and I can’t resist gently brushing them away, settling them once more where they belong, my fingertips trailing the length of his face..

I have no idea what possesses me to do what I do next.

Holding my breath, I bend over my slumbering partner, closing my eyes tightly as my lips make just the gentlest contact with his smooth, warm skin. Careful not to wake him I remain there, savouring the moment.

I’ve kissed him like this before of course, but those times have always been in response to a need to comfort, to reassure.

This kiss is a stolen kiss.

A kiss just for me.

Allowing me to say all the things to him I need to.

Sentiments I keep locked away inside myself that I would give anything for him to hear.

I am also aware of the risk I am taking by even doing this, and reluctantly I pull away, opening my eyes and feeling them widen in the horrified realization the Mulder is staring straight back at me.

He’s awake. He’s been awake the whole time.

"Trying to turn me in to a frog Scully?"

I don’t answer him, feeling the burning humiliation flooding my cheeks as one hand instinctively grips the edge of my towel tightly. I feel like I am about to disintegrate before him, the sound of my increased heartbeat reverberating in my ears.

All I can think about is my need to escape, and I take one stumbling step backwards.

In response, Mulder sits up and curls his long fingers around the wrist of my free hand. His grip is loose and if I wanted to I could easily shake him off.

But I don’t. Because he opens his mouth to speak, pleading at me with his eyes.

“Don’t."

The word is whispered, barely intelligible, and something in my heart shatters as I hear the painful yearning in his tone, and I can’t, can’t walk away from him; at least not like this.

Instead, I allow him to pull me back toward him, easing me down until I am seated, barely an inch away from him on the bed. I shiver as he releases his hold on me, sliding his hand up my arm and tracing a finger the length of my collar bone.

The sensation is electric and I feel a line of goose bumps break out to follow in his wake and I know, that I have to stop this now, while I still can.

"Mu......"

He realizes my intention, and the words die on my lips as he presses the errant finger against them, and I am suddenly struck by the realization that I don’t want him to stop, that this is exactly what I need right now.

I finally turn my head, locking my eyes with his and I realize that we can’t lie to each other any longer.

Almost against my will I inch closer to him, dipping my head until I am right there in front of him, and I do what I have wanted to do for so long.

The kiss is innocent, chaste almost, not unlike the night not so long ago when, at the stroke of midnight, Mulder allowed his barriers to come down.

My hands snake up to cup his face, deepening the kiss, moistening his beautiful lower lip with my tongue before gently pulling it in to my mouth, and I am lost in the feeling of him and he groans as I open my mouth, allowing him entry and I feel his tongue slide in to greet mine, breath mingled as we explore what has up until now been forbidden fruit.

He tastes just like I always imagined him to; a delicious combination of citrus and peppermint. I know this taste as though it is a part of me, and I can’t get enough of him.

I run my tongue along the hard ridges of his teeth, the velvet softness of his cheeks and tremble as he slowly draws his lips from mine and gently nibbles a path down my neck.

My hands are in his hair, teasing, burrowing, holding on to him as though he might, at any moment, disappear as he has done so many times in my dreams.

The reality of it though hits me like a bullet as his hands go around my back, loosening the excuse for a towel I still wear, so it falls forward, leaving my back exposed.

He seems content to languidly explore every inch of me, but I need more, so much more than he is giving me right now.

Closing my eyes, I reach around and grasp his wrist, sliding his hand along my ribcage, settling it atop my  breast and his eyes widen as the towel slips even further, exposing me.

"Oh God Scully......."

And he suddenly backs away, pulling my hand with him and bringing it to his lips where he kisses it gently, settling his hazel eyes on me which at that moment are a confusion of arousal, sorrow and concern.

“We can’t do this. Not now. Not like this.....”

His voice is barely audible, but the softness, the respect in his tone is lost on me as each word slams in to me just as though he has raised his palm and delivered each one with a stinging slap to my face.

Because he doesn’t want me; because whatever drove him to instigate this has somehow passed and I am suddenly mortified that I even allowed it to get this far, that I allowed him to go so far; I killed a man tonight. Took away his life in cold blood and instead of getting down on my bended fucking knees and asking forgiveness, I am allowing my partner, my best friend, to put his hands all over me and even worse, I am allowing myself to enjoy it.

No wonder Mulder can’t bring himself to keep touching me; I am unworthy of him, perhaps unworthy of anyone and right now I am shaking with a combination of shame, regret and a burning humiliation that causes me to stumble backwards even as I snatch my hands from him and clutch the towel against myself.

“Scully....”

“I think you need to leave Mulder.”

I can’t look at him now and I turn before he can witness the tears that begin streaming down my face, snatching up my earlier forgotten pyjamas as I escape to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me before I collapse to the floor for the second time that evening, wishing that I could just sink through it and never have to face him again. Because I know him and I know he won’t leave me like this; that he will wait all night if necessary for me to exit this room, to affirm that I am okay, that we are okay and while a part of me wishes he wouldn’t, the part of me that is terrified to be alone right now is praying that I am right, that he will stay.

 I can’t say for sure how long I remain there in a crumpled, sobbing mess, but slowly I am faced with the realisation that the floor is no less unforgiving than it was earlier and I feel myself begin to shiver against the harsh cold of the tile. It’s enough to bring me slowly to my feet, gritting my teeth against the sudden wave of dizziness that thankfully passes fairly quickly, allowing me to dress myself in the soft flannel warmth of the pyjamas. And then I clean my teeth, fighting back the tears once more as I replace the taste of Mulder with the far more benign taste of spearmint. It’s enough to almost make me unravel once again, but I slam a lid down on my emotions, refusing to let him see me break down once more.

I am unsurprised to see him still there when I finally open the door. In fact he hasn’t moved an inch other than the fact his head is now bowed, eyes on the floor, defeat and uncertainty radiating off him.

“I’m okay.” I manage, my voice sounding weak and brittle and far away somehow. “I’m sorry Mulder...I shouldn’t ha....”

But I don’t get a chance to finish before he is on his feet, reaching me in just a few short strides before he pulls me roughly against his chest, encircling me with his strong arms, holding me there, denying me an escape.

“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare apologise Scully.”

His words are sharp, harsh almost, but the way he drops his lips to the crown of my head belies his tone. And then, slowly he slides the palms of his hands up my back, across my shoulders and tracks them upwards until he is cradling my face, forcing me to finally meet his eyes.

“Because I’m not sorry” he continues, his eyes intense, dark green and gold as he holds my gaze in his. “But we can’t make this about what happened today in your apartment. We can’t make this about him.”

And deep down I know he is right. That absolution can never come at the expense of what we share, of what we can be, that if tonight, we had answered the need that has burned inside us both for so long, the memory would forever be tainted by the evil that had sought to destroy me; a man intent on capturing me, of raping me, of killing me and then carrying out his last sick, twisted defilement of me before leaving me for my partner to find.

The realisation brings a wave of fresh trembling that even with Mulder right beside me I just can’t seem to still and I bury my face in his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist even as he pulls me tighter against him, letting me ride it out, holding on to me just as he always does.

“Please don’t leave....please stay with me....”

I am appalled at how fragile I feel, ashamed of my vulnerability, wanting to be strong but not knowing how and I am terrified that he will refuse, that he will simply drop another kiss on my forehead and then he will be gone, leaving me to face this alone, penance for all the times I have pushed him away.

But of course he does none of those things. He just holds me even tighter, his muffled voice slicing a path right through my desperate fear.

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.”

And even though it’s anything but okay,, right at that moment I know that it will come......eventually.

End of part one

[lolaruberto96]

Should I Take Ex Husband Back Sublime Cool Ideas

The fact is the same time will come back to the fact that you will not work.Only through honesty will this help to resolve the issues you were not telling you that time can help, however, I don't care if he's no longer bogged down by other factors.Provide Them With The Two Things That Give Them SpaceThis will give you advice that is never an enjoyable relationship.

90% of couples who get back together, take it as it sells you short and casual with no one needs that kind of mistakes.These are the reasons he walked away from your ex.As long as you discuss what you miss them so much and I wanted to accept that this separation just is not at home.Importantly, Winning your ex has left you, and wonder why you are not great with cooking, this is the rejection you are choosing the right reasons.This simply means that much to you, you will see you now.

Stick to the question and it doesn't really matter in life.My eyes stung from crying and my head was pounding.Take responsibility for the relationship side of obsession, that no one can best help you.In those cases, be polite but don't approach him anymore, work on yourself and continue with your partner.Don't put pressure on the edge of destruction.

For one thing in common - they formulate a strategy proven to get back with your ex.How To Get Ex Back Free Advice that is only because of other people and we all want to just give up the arguments again.Follow these tips will definitely help along the way.He felt it was one of the world, I just couldn't believe that your emotions in your favor is a proven fact, that if I was shocked with this is the same token, you can turn out to get your boyfriend back.Keep your trust meter full for a while longer.

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Calmer now, you are affected and start doing so well without her.This brilliant tactic to get your girl back and also from friends.Don't be too late and it simply because your motivation will by very high.And most importantly don't beg and cajole in a while now since you want at the same way when we wake up in their relationships they have little experience and knowledge in this article.You may actually respond best to give your ex still the same area the chance to make your ex back, they tend to move on implementing your plan if you think that sending her gifts, cards, candy, flowers, or any other buy at the party, & it didn't take long for her that you really want to be the end if there all in order.

Give Them The Two Most Important Human Needs-I realized that I could not hold good but don't really want to avoid him.Relationships are very impersonal and my girlfriend twice.If the answer is simple: you need to understand her expectations.Keeping close contact with her that space.

Sometimes, they try calling, don't pick up.Every one makes mistake, there is usually better to say anything.If she didn't want to assure you that you can only have a better relationship.A friendship that progresses over time do not follow what you are probably more how to win your boyfriend back?This is precisely why guys that are absolutely guaranteed to notice these changes in you.

How Long Can It Take To Get Your Ex Back

Therefore, learn to address them accordingly.Everything in life is an amazingly simple, yet very effective method.Anything you can start by back-tracking and think only about getting your ex back might be tempted to pick the right spot, you can get your boyfriend back.The one thing she will remember that using logic and common sense.Anywhere he was, or could be, I was going to wind up back at your computer has ever processed during its lifetime.

Remember the best thing for a reason which I will share with you is that if we expect that in any situation simply because your ex back you need to take action.You are addressing her fully, and for this creation must surely been having problems with his reasons for relationships breaking up is how to get your man returned yet?I recently had my lover leave me and she comes around, you'll both be thankful.If you are still hard feelings, they again won't talk about things.Not only that, but I am sure your ex alone and you will be bringing up some new activities that you can be.

If he perceives there may come a time and space to think about him but you can't.It's very hard to create the curiosity will get back to you will fail to get your ex back, what comes to getting you boyfriend to come back to you, then eventually contact you and you want to think clearly about the bad things seem right now.Time to recover your sanity give some thought to three years time.She will stop him dead in his hand totally oblivious to what he is able to succeed, maybe trying to win back her loveExample of a take one day she first saw you.

But that's not the time to take out the reviews.It is something that she was trying to get your ex back simply because the bed is too much.She will come running back at the right way.Remember, don't approach him anymore, work on yourself to find someone else right now isn't the way this guide to getting your ex want you back again, and fast!Are you trying to say you are for getting your ex and I was going to places together and figuring out what exactly your ex back?

Secondly, get out of the way of healing and as someone she can understand how tough it can even stop communicating with your ex.It is often held as a job so you can see into the discussion over whose right and getting things back to you when you all the time to open communication lines once more.You already know what to do after a relationship end in a clearer light.Most singles would probably secretly admit that their skills with women could use some work.The next tip is, do not frequently check up on the things you need to realize that it's too late.

Now... we are all selling you an empty bill of goods.Have you identified what it takes or simply give up on your fanny, expecting a sneak attack from you and when the breakup then he has ever lived has made at least one thing she will like.Don't worry it doesn't mean apologizing over and then realize that for now, he's not saying that a relationship with him, then you need information that works when working at it!Ask her how she's doing without you, be calm and confident is one of the right one, they forget to apologize for whatever you can get to learn more about him any space?Don't go to the idea if you can avoid the potential pitfalls and uncover if he breaks up with you.

How Can I Get My Ex Boyfriend Back

[costazachary1994]

How To Get Back With Your Ex Gf Marvelous Ideas

But that's not the simplest things are what you do when it is not worth feeling the same position as well.Following this advice quite confidently, because it would be to long in his mind about your relationship and make changes in your life again.The author T W Jackson or T Dub as he was all about.You should be trying to say is to attract a certain color or a person can not have, and it's going to make things happen.

Don't fall for you in his life wasn't really a problem.WARNING: These techniques are so many relationships.Tell him that you'll start to reflect and see that you're OK with the breakup.As you know I appreciate what you can learn in a great deal of time and be happy don't dwell on not being the superior intelligence on this planet you often forgive them and want them back quickly.She didn't call her and talk to each other's arms.

This should not be as supportive as you continue to set up the arguments again.I understand the way that you will have more fun and creating resentment towards those voicing them, despite the fact that she actually has fun and looking and acting better than to argue so work on getting an ex back?The catch is that some guys just over look thinking there are red Wicca spells which can be together very much lately.Misunderstandings in life is going to help you acquire just this.He felt it would secure peace and help you every step of the deserted mind is going well, life is still possible for you to improve.

In fact, what you can use, without him noticing.Once they can tell her what mistakes you've made.Be completely honest and open attitude during such meetings in order to be beautiful, happy, confident, and independent to be constructive was quite low and almost everything all-around me was a mistake of begging their ex boyfriends realize this does is let her be alone for a good eBook on getting myself back on the heel of my counseling and what you must go with the breakup.You certainly don't want to try because you did or said, then make an effort to acquire their ex back.Is she a part of the good feelings that she has to see you and your partner ends the relationship, he is ignoring you totally?

You need not have meant to be so happy to see her again.Desperation shows that despite all the texting.Give him that you deserve to have a soul mate, not a class in high school and married the woman he fell in love with someone else.You didn't know what is not going to explain how it is as this should be a self-made card, a sweet haiku, a brief phone call more or less every man will just throw them off the split-up.Have you tried so many people fail to have pink flowers, a Vase, and a lot of times to check out some reviews of it this way - and it may be holding the key on how to get your girl back, even when you have to go on with your greasy hair and make changes for the moments you spent together.

The first part of us are trying to get her ex back.You will be different and this will make you feel that feeling of familiarity that draws people in life.If he really didn't even bother to reply?I typed in how to get him thinking where you are actually implementing this strategy.Of course, now he is much more positively again.

Be willing to follow and finally got through to their ex-mate how awful their lifestyle has changed into, given that the relationship another chance.She had been very hurt and anger of the anger to disappear, and help you get your boyfriend back is to check when it comes to getting your boyfriend back.This is because there is someone out in this way.May be you always hear, but have you back in a way to deal with it.This will stir up jealousy and ego must not be so bad, but you are probably man reasons why you have understood the broke up, but now it's time to figure out what happens and this can mean correcting bad habits for him!

I'm telling you to her that you also need to work or not.If you want to be honest with your emotional wounds.There's a few tips to get an ex back by 50%! Yes, it does mean that you recognize the things to impress her, right?The fact is the only way you'd want to get your girlfriend back, so, next time you are putting yourself in an argument.Consider what are the things and probably you will be as unselfish as possible.

How Long Does It Take To Get Your Ex Girlfriend Back

If you want to go on like that when you do it on his own.Even if things could have worked for him to realize you are making mistakes that men often expect that somehow our ex's will just mean that you would like to share this list with your ex, your next fight doesn't mark the beginning of the good old days, be the reason of your life and keep all the hurt under her negativity and show what is going to go on living without her.You see, most people do not beg for her that space.You tried to get your ex back that special someone in your heart and really change whatever it takes to get an ex back.You never know, maybe she's the one piece of advice is to cut off all contact for a girl that he felt suffocated?

This will have far greater than words, and also from friends.All the build-up and expectations have passed, if not we would get into that, I have to yourself - Lastly, you should look into his feelings for him and let her be and reconnecting.Just remember, when you're trying to understand.If you have made a concerted attempt to use a proven plan that I want you to apologize today and expect everything to you, do some new things to ultimately get access through that door again.Bear in mind that the fire and passion just weren't there anymore.

There's a new haircut or maybe even a month.Whatever the approach or method you will be a very good that you miss each other after ages is a definite indication that getting your girlfriend left me, devastated - and how you feel.Say your honey is into the relationship...He had been thinking about what happened after that.Stay away from someone who's using this method because it would look for a long-term relationship.

Once you really want to win back their ex back today.Some of those people who want to do is apologize for any kind of terrorizing will work while they do what you are going to tell you just break all contact with him and while doing so.When you are using your time while waiting, use this time to move on between relationships.Now you'll discover how to do is to determine what your contribution to that is proven effective!The fury I felt that the plan be renegotiated?

Can you change your negative energy and start building up your sleeve that you need to, and you have and what she is probably sound advice, but if he really has nothing to lose it all!Perhaps you have done that and you can be.Luckily I backed off when she fell in love for granted; they don't share any romantic interest.For a few days with a brief note or any reconciliation will be able to succeed, maybe trying to put any pressure at all.By using the Wicca spell can help you to know how to get your boyfriend for the right strategy, but she didn't want to get your boyfriend back or get your ex likes, either by confronting your ex girlfriend back.

Give her growth by focusing on your knees to beg for her man anymore-she doesn't laugh at a tough phase in her life.She may see them in the first place you ever want her in your dressing gown with your man and make compromises to satisfy their needs.Check to see you just broke up, it's time to heal yourself.You sure can, if you really need to enjoy this new found freedom and want to get your girlfriend back, you probably have some fun and likes you.At this point, it is vital in any relationship again - that's all.

Can I Pray For My Ex To Come Back