#i just wish it was more subtle so we can piece it along ourselves or be more 😱 in the reveal yknow?

[unmyeoung]

@caemthe (x)

 “Hey now, who says I’ll die after chocking a bit? At least say that I valiantly fought a group of bandits, armed with nothing more than a flute, and won!” The young duke couldn’t help it but openly laugh at the ridiculous exchange of his future bride. Getting a pillow for his chest pocket and a few sweets from time to time? Choking to death in a carriage because he felt like playing the flute? Until now, all that had heard his absurd words had been quick to reprimand him or remind him that it was improper for someone from his position to behave in such way. No one had played along (much less steal an actual laugh from him) so this was rather... Ah... this is the part where he realizes that he has been utterly defeated, isn’t it? And his ‘opponent’ turned out to be the loveliest woman of the empire.      Damn, as much as he hated to admit it... he wasn’t opposed to this arranged marriage, or, at least, he wasn’t opposed to being married to Maria. A lady as lovely as her, he briefly wondered why no one mentioned her amazing personality and sense of humor. Thoughts that were quickly pushed aside once the topic of music was brought up again. Greenish eyes brightened like stars, almost like a kid in front of the candy store. “Maria, you’ve to be one of the most brilliant minds of this century!” Wolfgang said without a drop of sarcasm this time. How come he never thought of it before? A concert, a ball, there were plenty of occasions in which he could paint the world with his music. But, overall... He got on one knee. “Always dashing Maria, loveliest daughter of the empire, will you make me the honor of being my first spectator after our union?” It would be the greatest honor. He would even dedicate his pieces to her and might even write songs inspired on his lovely-      “It appears that we already got ourselves an audience.” Wolfgang commented in a lower tone, careful to not glance directly at the people sent to spy on them. Now, what was the need for such things? Was it because the two of them already were having too much fun, or the elders simply couldn’t trust him to do things right? He had no intention of finding out. “Do you perhaps know of a spot where we can have some privacy? Or at least we should try playing hide and seek with our visitors, since clearly they wish to be part of our conversation too.”

she laughs, a small tinkling sound filled with merriment as he continues their ridiculous tale. "why certainly. you could have done both! after valiantly fighting the bandits with nothing but a flute, you continue victoriously till you arrive at the castle and play a concert? and i'll sing with you~" what a delightful tale. she actually preferred to end with a happy performance shared between her and her new lover.

her hands rise up to cover her face, delighted yet again, smiling at him. she extends a hand at his offering, nodding her head. "i will always be your spectator!" her heart felt warm at just the offer. wasn't this nice? getting to know him already? she really did feel as though it spoke volumes towards what their futures would be like.

she notes what he says with an imperceptible nod, extendering her hand to him to help him stand up. "may i show you my garden? i have some plants i'm quite proud of~!!" though a large part of the care was done by servants, she'd had a hand in designing the garden itself. it was a subtle invitation somewhere more private.

she leads him towards the garden, slipping within a small maze portion where it'd be difficult for them to be followed. "they're always quite nosy. though, they're nosier with you. you must have piqued their interest~!"

she tilts her head curiously towards the other. "i quite liked our story.. and i truly would love to hear your music.."

[the-acid-pear]

Reverend Glasseye will make a whole album about the most miserable and most tortured little souls out there and I'll lose my mind everytime

[adorethedistance]

All Day Affair - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (18+)

JATP Masterlist - Valentine’s Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Smut, swearing, light embarrassment (minors DNI)

Words: 2757

Summary: A rough night before leads to a slow morning after, causing you and Charlie to be late to Valentine’s brunch plans. All is forgiven and all is forgotten when he makes it up to you in the best way he can.

A/n: This weekend has not at all gone the way I’d thought/hoped it would and so I apologize for the slow churning of fics lately but I promise I am working on some much requested fics. On a lighter note, here is my contribution to the Valentine’s Day

My eyes groggily flutter open when I hear my phone rapidly buzzing on the bedside table. Charlie’s arm is draped over my exposed midriff, no doubt a position of his own doing. As I go to move his arm off my bare skin, he holds onto me tighter groaning an incoherent string of words. I attempt to grab the maniacally buzzing device with my eyes still closed. I’m incapacitated via Charlie’s hold on my waist, and thus, all I feel under my flattened hand against the cool surface are the discarded condom wrappers from last night.

“Charlie,” I scold, still not fully awake. He knowingly loosens his grip, allowing me to sit up and it isn’t until I’m upright and Charlie’s arm drops into my lap that I realize I’m completely naked under his t-shirt. My phone has not stopped vibrating like crazy much to my dismay. Haphazardly grabbing it off the nightstand, I wait for my eyes to adjust before I read the time.

11:26.

“SHIT. Charlie! Charlie, we’re late!” I try and shake him awake. He whines miserably,

“Mmmmm, what?”

“It’s 11:26, we’re late!”

The messages are from Owen and Savannah, both of whom we were supposed to be meeting for brunch at 11. While Charlie and I wanted Valentine’s Day plans alone, we also wanted to spend time with our friends whom we love dearly. Since the original plan was for the two of us to have the evening all to ourselves, we agreed on having brunch to start the day off well. Look how that turned out for us. I scramble out of bed, and I nearly hit the floor as my legs give out from under me. Luckily, Charlie was right behind me and was able to catch me in time.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore.”

“Yessss.” I fake slap his chest before we resume in the chaos, frantically throwing on decent outfits. I toss Charlie one of his band shirts turned muscle tees after hopping into a pair of jeans. Once dressed, I run to the bathroom and pass a brush through my hair in a frenzy before I begin brushing my teeth at lightning speed. Charlie appears beside me to brush his own teeth, and I’m practically sprinting out of the bathroom as he does.

“Don’t forget to fix your hair!” My legs nearly give out once more as I struggle to slip on my favorite pair of sneakers. Once I’m upright again, and stable, I grab both of our wallets and the keys to the house and car and shove them into my bag. Together we bolt out the door and clamber into Charlie’s orange Subaru.

In a nice contrast to all the rushing around we’ve done this morning, Charlie drives at a regular speed; thankfully, we make it to the restaurant in one piece. As soon as he puts the car in park the two of us run to the entrance to see our friends waiting at an outdoor table on the patio. Charlie and I finally made it, albeit a tad out of breath.

“Charlie, Y/n, nice of you to finally join us.”

“11:44 on the dot. Not your latest arrival, but an honorable mention,” Savannah jeers, waving me over to sit beside her.

“What happened this time?”

“Overslept. My usual alarm didn’t go off, I must’ve forgotten to turn it on last night.”

“Classic.” I’m distracted from Owen’s teasing when Savannah’s humorous smile drops. She’s looking at me with an emotion I can’t distinguish.

“You okay?” She simply nods and then pushes her chair back.

“I need to pee and you do too. Come on, Y/n.” And without allowing me to reply, she has me up out of the chair and briskly walking toward the bathroom. It isn’t until we’re outside the single stall that I noticed she grabbed my bag from the back of my chair. Once she’s locked us both in the room, she looks at me with wide eyes and a suppressed smile.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s this?” She answers my question with a question, before using her left index finger to poke the right side of my neck.

“Ow!” My face drops once I realize. Brushing past her, I move to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting the assemblage of love bites all over my neck area. Savannah merely giggles at the realization before opening my bag.

“You don’t have a sponge, so we’re gonna have to use our fingers.” I turn around to look at her, not through the mirror and find a bottle of full-coverage concealer in her hands.

“How did that get in there?”

“I put it in there last week after you had to spend the whole day adjusting your shirt around your collar bones to hide more of these.” She gives a vague gesture to the marks on my neck and begins applying the makeup.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“And you are unbelievable. That was literally last week, and you’re already marked up again. Don’t you and Charlie ever just make love? Does it always have to be ‘ravage one another’s body’?”

“I mean, occasionally. I don’t know, sweet and tender isn’t really our thing.”

“Clearly.” Savannah steps back to survey her work, “Okay, you’re covered but be careful because I didn’t pack setting spray.”

“I am forever indebted to you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. It’s Owen that you should pray doesn’t notice.”

“God, you’re right.”

“If I were solely judging by his hair, I’d have guessed you guys went at it this morning and not last night.”

“Shit, he’s probably marked up, too.”

“Well, I didn’t bring him concealer, and you two are not the same shade soooo… sorry.” I shake my head dismissively as I hold the bathroom door open for her behind me.

“Better him than me.”

“How was it though? You told me you’d text me updates.”

“Yeah, and then I didn’t set an alarm. But no, it was… so good. I’m like, sore.”

“Okay, we’re entering TMI territory so let’s find something to talk about before we’re back within earshot.”

“What are your Valentine’s plans for the rest of the day?”

“I might get frozen yogurt and watch a movie, haven’t really decided. I would ask what you and Charlie are doing, but based on this morning, I think I can guess.”

Just as Savannah and I did, the two boys fall silent once we approach the table; when the four of us are settled, I take a quick glance over the menu, as if I’m unsure of what I want.

“Okay, in the spirit of St. Valentine, let’s talk love. Tell us about your first kiss, Y/n.” Savannah eyes me, already knowing the horrendous story. I deadpan,

“No.”

“Wait, I’m actually curious. I don’t think I know this story.” Charlie leans forward in his seat, placing his forearms on the table in front of him.

“See what you’ve done?” Savannah merely shrugs and takes a smug sip from her water glass. “No, I’m not doing this. Why don’t you tell us about your first kiss, Sav?”

“I asked you first.”

“Fine, be that way. Charlie, tell us about your first kiss.”

“Well, I don’t know I-”

“Come on, what’s ‘love-master’ Charlie’s origin story?” Owen teasingly pats Charlie on the back, and the four of us all fall under a shocked silence at the sound of Charlie hissing in pain. My lips part in surprise but quickly press shut in a moment’s realization.

“You okay?” Don’t do it, Owen.

“Yeah, I’m fine just-”

“Oh my god.” Upon patting Charlie’s back, the fabric of his shirt moved out of the way to reveal a conglomerate of scratches across the surface of his sun-kissed skin. Owen laughs out in disbelief before poking one of the scratches again, causing Charlie to smack his hand away.

“Holy shit, did you get mauled by a bear?” Owen then gasps in a realization that I’d pray he wouldn’t have, and he begins to laugh even harder. “That good, huh Y/n?” My face heats up a million degrees and I cover my face with one hand as a desperate defense mechanism.

“It’s not a big deal, Owen.” Thank god, Savannah’s come to the rescue. “They just got a head start on Valentine’s Day is all.”

“Okay, can we please change the subject?” I plead as I’ve already had enough of their laughter. Charlie gives me a look that is both apologetic and embarrassed and I let out an exaggerated sigh as a response.

The rest of our brunch date is still a good time minus the occasional interjectory joke about my and Charlie’s romantic all-day-affair yesterday. Our foursome disassembles, already planning the next group outing post-Valentine’s intimacy.

“That was absolutely humiliating,” I state, buckling my seatbelt in the passenger's side as Charlie begins pulling out of the parking spot.

“You want me to be gentler next time?” Charlie asks sincerely and extends his right hand over the center console to rub a comforting circle on top of my thigh over the fabric of my jeans. The gesture pulls the warmth in my heart and the butterflies in my stomach a little lower.

“...No,” I admit shyly. The confession elicits a small, cocky chuckle from Charlie. He then gives me an affirming squeeze before tracing the seam along my inner thigh in a way that is too sensual to mistake his intentions.

The entire car ride home, the feeling of Charlie’s fingertips ghosting up my leg makes my heart beat a little faster and ignites a subtle heat where I wish he’d trail his hand up to. I’m sure my desire is apparent to Charlie but he doesn’t say anything about it. When we get back to our home, I stick the key in the lock and open the front door but freeze as I feel Charlie pressing into my entire backside. He leans down to playfully bite part of my earlobe as his hands come to rest on my hips.

“You said you didn’t want me to be gentle?” All of my senses are clouded by dense arousal so all I can do is nod. He airily laughs, a warm breath dusting the surface of my skin and I shudder involuntarily. “Go inside.”

After closing the door behind us, Charlie shoves me up against it, his hand behind my head to prevent me from actually getting hurt. He kisses my lips forcefully but doesn’t linger, and instead trails down the column of my throat. The kisses are rough in between small bites of affection, surely leaving more marks that I’ll have to wake up early to cover tomorrow. Or just not go anywhere. After this, it’s looking like the latter.

“You want me to rough you up a little bit? Huh?”

“Yes.” The love bites Charlie’s leaving behind become harsher on my skin, as he trails further down my neck, across my collarbones. “Charlie, can we…?”

“Can we what? Tell me what you want.”

“Please-“

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.” And with that Charlie pulls me into the bedroom, stealing kisses in between steps. Charlie moves to sit me on the bed but as he grabs me by the hips, I maneuver to switch places and push him down onto the bed. He looks at me with a mix of surprise and excitement, taking the hand that pushed him between his own. I smile delicately when Charlie presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. That is the last trace of softness.

The two of us begin stripping out of our brunch clothes as fast as we can. It’s as if we’re running out of time. We’re both almost fully naked but before I can get my panties off Charlie’s lips are back on mine. His movements are swift, kiss after kiss is filled with an unrivaled lust that is glorious.

Crawling onto the bed, Charlie stays close behind, never allowing any loss of contact between us. I recover to a sitting position and Charlie wraps his arm under my stomach and presses a line of kisses across my shoulder blades.

“Can I take you like this?” He asks earnestly, running his hands over the vast expanse of my bare skin. I choke out a desperate plea and my breathing softens once I feel the absence of Charlie’s touch on my body. When I turn around I see him searching the room like a madman.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t find any more condoms. I think we used them all last night.”

“What? We only used three.”

“I don’t know! Maybe I dropped some?”

“Fuck it. Charlie if I’m not getting absolutely rawed in the next ten seconds I will walk out that door.” He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that and is back on the bed. Charlie grabs both sides of my face to bring me in for a long passionate kiss before taking his place behind me. His warm hands fall from my face to my waist, gripping the skin slightly.

Charlie sits back on his heels and moves my body back to hover over his. He runs a sensual path with his fingers down the sides of my body and slips one down through the growing wetness between my legs. Tracing the arousal over my quivering clit. The anticipation of the moment has heightened my sensitivity and as a result, I let out a whine. My whimpering continues when I feel him run the tip of his erection through the wetness. As I open my mouth to nag him for moving so slow, Charlie slams his entire length inside of me at once, causing me to cry out in pleasure. I can tell it feels incredible for him too by the way he’s gripping my hips. If he didn’t leave bruises yesterday, he definitely will today.

It doesn’t take long for him to figure out a tempo that’s comfortable for the both of us and my labored panting fills the room. Charlie lets out a groan followed by a laugh because we could both feel the physical reaction I had to the noise he had let out. Wrapping his right arm across my stomach, Charlie reaches the left up to grab my tits, and roughly bite another hickey on my shoulder. He uses his right arm to pull my body into his own torso, and shifting his hips he makes a few adjustments. Charlie shifts one more time and when he thrusts back into me I cry out so loud surely our neighbors will put in a noise complaint.

“There we go,” he grunts to himself, but our proximity allows me to hear. Repeatedly thrusting into that spot, my eyes flutter closed in pleasure. Charlie resumes leaving harsh, lingering kisses, and love bites down the side of my neck, moaning into them in ecstasy. As I feel my heat begin to pulse, Charlie knows I’m close and tries to grab my attention.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” I will my eyes open and turn to look. The pleasure of his movements is so overwhelming that in between moans and shallow breaths, I find myself leaning my head back to rest on his bare shoulder. “I want you to look at me as you come undone.”

“Okay.” I swallow hard from how dry my mouth is from panting so hard for so long. Each next thrust is measured and the sound of our labored breathing and pleasured moans fill the electrified air.

“Charlie.”

“I’m close. Where do you want-”

“Just stay inside.”

“You sure?” Before I can give a coherent response my orgasm tears through me like a wildfire. I’m doing my best not to scream and what comes out is a mix between a strangled cry and a deep, guttural groan. Adding to my ecstasy, Charlie reaches down to trace tiny circles over my clit and I feel tears of overstimulation prick the length of my lower lash line. While Charlie fucks me through my high, I feel his movements stutter and the familiar twitch before he relaxes his hold on my body. The two of us collapse back onto the bed in a symphony of gasps and bliss-fueled laughter.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” he says behind a smile.

“I love you. That was the first time I’ve forgone condoms…” I state to the ceiling in a moment’s realization, “How do I get this out of me?”

***

A/n: I really am so sorry about the slow churn of writing. I’ve gotten busy with classes and though I knew this was coming I’m still upset that I can’t spend more time writing. On top of that being in a block has been really rough but it’ll pass with time I hope :)

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayennefertyrell​ @n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​

[moonlightlullaby]

just like magic

summary: Reader has a card up their sleeve, leaving Spencer intrigued, flustered and impressed.

pairing: Spencer x gn! non-BAU! Rossi’s offspring!Reader

category: fluff 

A/N: this is one of the first gn!reader pieces that I’ve written, so please let me know if I’ve slipped up somewhere!

word count: 2.5k

No sooner had I opened the glass door leading to my dad’s “humble” backyard than Henry’s and Jack’s fresh and joyous laughter filled my ears and warmed my heart. The sight that accompanied it only adding to my gleeful state, making my heart soar and melt instantly.

Spencer Walter Reid, the bright young Doc who I’ve known - and had a patent crush on - for nearly six years now, is entertaining the kids with a magic trick. I can’t help the smile that splatters on my face as I watch the scene unfold.

“Here, angelo mio.” my dad caresses my back as his other hand offers me a glass of wine. I take it and we clink our glasses together before making our way to the cozy wooden picnic table where his other colleagues are chatting. On our way, I go off-track and get closer to the sweet magician and adorable kids. “Hello, boys!” I extend my free hand, high-fiving both of them as they harmonize a “Hi” back to me. At Spencer, I flash a smile and wink and, without waiting for his reaction, I turn around and soothe Jack’s hair as I begin distancing myself. 

“Oh what a sight for sore eyes! Y/N, you look fantastic! As always I mean…” in her very own manner that never gets old, Pen is the first to greet me, clapping in excitement and giving me a home-like hug. “Oh please! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” she waves her hand and rolls her eyes in a way that tells me both to stop tooting her horn and to keep the compliments going, making me giggle. “And I’ve said this before, but I’ll do it again. You need to show me where you’ve bought these rings, P.”

“Oh! I have an idea,” JJ chimes in. “we should go shopping tomorrow!” by the time she finishes her sentence, I - along with Penelope, Prentiss and Tara - am nodding my head fervorously. “I’ll take you up on that one.” Em voices what all of us are thinking.

“I mean, unless a case pops up…” JJ drags it out, contorting her lips. “We won’t,” Hotch reassures everyone. “these past two weeks have been hectic and we all have overworked ourselves. You deserve the weekend off.” to which Derek, Tara and my dad, in sync, raise their glasses.

“So, ladies,” Derek hugs me, grinning. “where are we going tomorrow?” 

“We? Oh my chocolate thunder! Much as this pains me,” Pen places a hand over her chest to fuel the scene with more drama. “you’re not invited.”, which earns gasps and scoffs from him.

I lean my head on his shoulder, giving his hand two taps. “Yeah, Derek. Sorry,” I turn my face to him. “but, how are we supposed to have boy talk with you there?” the girls nod along in agreement and he smirks. 

“Boy talk, hun?” 

The thing is, Derek - much like every other person in the team... well, almost everyone - is well aware of my not-so-subtle crush on his oblivious friend and he never spares me some teasing. Thankfully, before he can take his teasing any further, I’m saved by the bell - and by the bell, I mean Henry and Jack. 

“Y/N/N, Y/N/N!” knowing how much I love magic, Henry starts pulling me towards Spencer, giving me only a second to hand my glass to Derek. “Look at this! Spencer, do it again, do it again!” 

“Yes, show Y/N the cool trick!” Jack says energetically after waving me over.

Spencer smiles at me, giving us a small nod, and turns his back to us to prepare himself for the show. I sit crisscross next to the giddy boys, feeling thrilled myself. “Alright,” Spencer turns around, observing his audience and clasping his hands together. “are you ready?” 

“Yes!” we eagerly respond in unison. 

“Y/N, I know you’re very fond of magic yourself.” I hum in agreement. “So, are you familiar with th- oh! Wait,” he furrows his brows and narrows his eyes, scanning my face for a millisecond. “what is this?” he steps closer to me, kneeling slightly and reaching for my face. The boys get more agitated and giggle. “This what?” I look back and forth between the magician and them, who immediately cover their mouths trying to conceil their giggles and to keep any secrets from escaping. “Excuse me.” Spencer mumbles before placing his hand on the side of my neck. 

This simple gesture - a shy touch, a brief moment of intimacy - is enough to make my heart skip a bit, and I’m sure Spencer notices the sudden change in my pulse because his gaze momentarily leaves the side of my face to my eyes before travelling back to its original spot.

“This.” suddenly, I feel a ghost-like touch on the back and side of my neck, and, ahead of me, all I see is Spencer pulling an endless thin colorful - scarf-looking - cloth. I can’t contain the laugh and loud snort that escape my lips, inciting the boys, Spencer and even the grown-ups over there to burst into laughter as well. 

By the time the entire cloth is out, my belly and cheeks ache and a tear is found in the corner of my eye. “Impressive, Doc! Very impressive as always.” he grins in return.

“Your turn, Y/N! Do a trick too, please” Jack suggests - well, orders basically since he knows I wouldn’t ever turn it down - and is backed up by an eager “yes!” from Henry. 

“Oh you also do tricks?” Spencer sounds less surprised that I do than that this fact was unknown to him. 

During some of my nights as Henry and Michael’s and/or Jack’s last-minute babysitter, I had to, in spite of how sweet and obedient they are, resort to desperate measures, such as magic tricks - some of which I’ve learned with the sole purpose of entertaining them. To Spencer, however, I’ve never had such opportunity. Not until now.

“Well, not as entertaining as yours, I’m sure, but yes.” I stand up, wiping bits of grass from my bottom.

“Umm, ok, I have a new one to show you, guys. I just… You wouldn’t have a deck of cards and a pen to lend me for a minute, would you?” 

“The pen, I don’t. The deck of cards, though,” he searches his pockets, pulling a standard - and well cared for - deck. “here.” he hands it to me.

“Thank you very much.” I cursty theatrically.

Jack runs back from God-knows-where with a black pen in hands. “Here, the pen. My dad said you could borrow it.” 

“Oh great! Thank you, Jack, and thank you, Aaron!” I raise my voice slightly at the end, nodding my head at Aaron and giving him a tight-lipped smile, which he mirrors.

“Okie, okie! Let’s start, shall we?” the boys exchange expectant glances and Spencer tilts his head, studying me and probably trying to predict my next moves. Hopefully, this will work. It’d be a shame failing in front not only of the boys - who, I’m sure, would never let me hear the end of it -, but also of Pretty Boy himself.

I shuffle the cards a little bit and open it, making a sort of fan with it and letting the faces and numbers face the ground. “Alright, boys, pick one card but don’t show it to me.” they both put their index fingers on the same card. “You can take it and let Spencer see.” the man standing to my left follows along and takes a peep at it. “Now, I want both of to draw whatever you feel like on it, ok? On the front.” 

As they take turns putting their art on the card, I turn to Spencer, who’s already got his curious eyes on me. “Be patient” mine tell him and he takes a sip of his wine.

“Done!” Henry looks up at me.

“Great, you can put it back on the stack then,” he does so. “Ok, now, to prove you I’m not cheating, Spencer’s going to shuffle the cards.” I hand them to him. “However you want and as many times as you wish.”

Once he’s done, I take them back. “So, now, I guarantee you the first card I show you is the exact one you’ve picked. Ready?” They nod along and I double-tap on the top of the stack. “Alright. This,” I lift the first card. “is your card.”

They immediately shake their heads negatively and my eyes go wide. “Wait, really?” Feeling Spencer smirking behind me, I turn the card to take a look at it. It really isn’t the one. “Shoot!” I exclaim disappointedly, sighing.

“No, no, it’s ok... It’s ok.” I quickly recompose myself. “The next will definitely be the right one.” with my eyes closed and my nose scrunched, I circle my free hand above the deck as if drawing in energy and conjuring magic. Double-tapping once more, I pull the card up, still not looking. 

When I open my eyes, I’m met with the boys’ scrunched noses and mischievous eyes as they, yet again, shake their heads no. “Oh no…”

This time, Spencer doesn’t even try conceiling his chuckle and has the audacity to comment “Oh, Y/N, you were too harsh on yourself earlier. This is much more entertaining than that little trick of mine.”, eliciting giggles from the kids. 

“No…” I pout. “Guys, have a little faith in me, please.”

I close my eyes and bring the cards, sandwiched between my palms, closer to my ear in an attempt to hear the magic somehow. “Oh!” I open my eyes. “Guys, come check this out!” with that, I pike their curiosity and they scoot closer to me. I turn the deck over, so all fronts are facing upwards, and open it completely. “The card is not here!” Henry gasps, noticing that their five of diamonds is missing. The boys take the cards from my hands and I fumble my fingers in the air as if trying to sense where their card is, humming in the process. 

“Ummm Jack, is there anything behind Henry’s ear?” The boy looks at me inquisitively and reaches for said spot. 

“Oh here!” he nearly shouts, pulling the missing five of diamonds and showing everyone. However, before anyone has the chance to celebrate my small victory, the absence of drawings on the card is brought up, shocking our spectators. “Where are our dinosaurs?” 

“Hey, Y/N, I hate being the party pooper,” ‘party pooper’? Coming from Dr. Spencer Walter Reid? Oh, this is news! “but it seems like you’ve just mixed two tricks and neither of them has worked.” Again, both boys laugh at it - at me -, siding with him.

“No, no, no! See, the thing about magic,” I narrow my eyes and tilt my head, gesticulating like the good Italian descendant my dad’s brought me up to be. “is that it requires a lot of concentration to work, and when you don’t focus enough on it, like I might have, it gets lost… Not completely lost, though! Uh, if we put our hearts to it, we can still find your dinosaurs, ok?” I crouch. “Can you help me out on this one?” I plead and extend my hands to them. They nod their heads and take my hands, we form something close to a circle, closing our eyes and letting magic speak. 

“Uh-oh! Oh, guys, I feel something!” 

“What is it?” and “Where are the dinosaurs?” are immediate and simultaneous reactions.

“Ummm, Spencer.” I turn to the man trying to contain his laughter at the scene that unfolds before his eyes. “Hm?” he tilts his head and raises his brows slightly, still smirking.

“Is there anything in your pockets right now?” 

“Aside from the silks, no.”

“Are you sure?” I tilt my head, contorting my lips a bit and squinting my eyes with curiosity, which he mirrors. He’s intrigued. Mission accomplished - I mean, not completely accomplished yet, but a success nonetheless.

“Well, you can check for yourself.” he opens his arms a little so I can inspect the inner pockets of his blazer. The right one is empty as expected. In the left one, my fingertips meet the colorful cloth and nothing else. 

“You’re right, Spencer.” I sigh “Only,” I start pulling the cloth out “the,” it’s now in the kids’ view “silks.” gasps and wows come from our audience. I turn to the two wide-eyed boys who are now rushing over to grab it from my hands. 

“How did you-?”

“It worked, Y/N! It worked!”

“This is so cool!”

I giggle, feeling Spencer’s baffled gaze switch between me and the dinousaur-printed cloth. I also hear applause coming from the rest of the team and a “they’ve beat Spencie at his own game! You go, love!” from the one and only Penelope Garcia. Glacing at the man in question, I catch him mouth agape, dazed eyes, and a smile threatening to take over his lips.

“Y/N/N, Y/N/N, can I keep it? It looks so pretty.” at this, I smile softly, shrugging a bit as I respond. “Well, it’s Spencer’s…” the three of us turn to the Good Doctor, who, pulled from his trance, nods vigorously and wets his bottom lip in the typical Spencer Reid style. “Yes. Definitely, Henry.” 

As the boys cheer, my dad, from the doorstep, catches everyone’s attention. “Dinner is ready, family.”

Strolling back to the house and quickly side-hugging JJ on the way, I sense a quite desperate, puzzled tall individual hot on my trail. In a breath, he catches up and starts walking side by side with me, causing me to smirk.

“How did you-” 

I don’t let him finish the much predictable question. “Oh, you don’t actually want to know the answer, Spencer.” while we cross the doorstep, I look at him from the corner of my eye, catching - once again - him already eyeing me. He opens his mouth before closing it and raises his hand before dropping it. In sympathy, I continue. “But, in case you do find yourself desperate for it, there’s something in your right pocket that might be helpful.” I can’t help smiling as the last words come out. And, without giving him the chance to question or ramble like he always does, I walk over to the dinner table, settling myself between Hotch and Tara.

As I sit down, I catch Spencer on the same spot I’ve left him, blushing as his brain processes - or at least tries to - what’s written on the little note. He quickly - yet carefully - folds it, puts it back in its original place, licks his lips once more - I wonder if he’s aware of how often he does that - and walks to the table. Our eyes lock and he smiles, in a slightly nervous - or is it excited? - way, taking his seat right across from mine.

Truth be told, Spencer’s known my number by heart for years now for I am my dad’s emergency contact. However, I was never the one to give it to him, just like he’s never been the one to call me. Hopefully, now that I’ve changed the former, the latter will also change.

[fullmetalscullyy]

royai week day 4 - communiqué

summary: roy has an announcement to make to everyone

rated: g | words: 2084 | tags: royai, post-canon, romance, marriage, marriage announcement, marriage of convenience, kinda? bc they just have~ to do it but it works out for them, basically royai using royai to further their agenda

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

“Good afternoon,” Roy greeted with confidence into the microphone atop the podium in front of him. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared back expectantly, and while that should have been unnerving, his excitement at the upcoming announcement kept the feeling at bay. This communiqué had been a long time coming, crafted from years of subtle diversion, and playing a tactical game. Now, it was coming to fruition. It was all still part of their game, but Roy had a personal stake in this part of it too. It was still a win for both parties involved.

A huge personal win.

Up there, on the podium, he was completely exposed. While that was dangerous for someone like him with such high political standing, Roy trusted the eyes that were watching his back implicitly. He does not turn complacent, but is more than confident in their abilities. He trusts each and every one of his subordinates to ensure the day goes well and without incident.

“Today’s announcement,” Roy continued, “will hopefully put to rest any fears you may have had regarding me assuming the role of your leader. Fuhrer Grumman has led this country exceptionally well over the last five years but feels ready to step down. As you all know, I have been named his successor and will make a promise to you all now, this country’s citizens, that I will do my utmost to ensure I do my best by you.”

There was a pleased applause after he finished, accompanied by a quiet murmur.

He meant every word, but that was not the reason Roy had taken the stage that day.

“I would also like you to know that I’ve heard the rumours surrounding me,” he smirked, letting his gaze sweep across the crowd before him. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed how this had piqued the interest of those in the audience with the various media outlets. Their ears perked up at the mention of rumours, understandably. “I am aware of the public’s opinion on a bachelor like myself being given the title of Fuhrer. However, I have come here today to offer my reassurances.”

Some people in the crowd turn to one another, momentarily confused by what he’s saying. Roy smirked to himself, thinking of his own private joke before he opened his mouth to finally reveal to the world something he has wanted to for over two decades.

“As you can imagine, this will be a busy transition period for us, so I hope you will extend your respect, as well as privacy, to both myself and my new fiancé as we navigate this new chapter in our lives. I can assure you though, an official date for my upcoming wedding will be announced soon.”

It was like the crowd had frozen. A few jaws went slack, and mouths parted in shock as they processed the news faster than others.

“More news will come in due time. Thank you.”

With a simple bow of his head, Roy stepped back from the microphone and turned to look at the stunned officials up there with him. Breda and Havoc approached, nonplussed by the news, and started to escort him off the stage.

There was a split second where the world was completely still, as everyone was still processing what he’d just announced. Then, everything felt like it exploded. The crowd erupted into applause and cheers. Cameras flashed in desperation to capture the moment that Roy Mustang, the most eligible bachelor in Amestris and a well-known womaniser in his younger years, announced he was engaged, and his wedding would be announced soon.

Roy can hear some of the questions being yelled by the reporters.

“Who are you due to marry?”

“What’s her name?”

“General Mustang! When did this happen?”

He ignored them all, for all would be revealed in due time. It was enough for now that it had been announced. Roy never planned on revealing anything else other than that today anyway. He would have loved to. He can’t wait for the day he can finally give the order to give the announcement, but he must hold off. The mystery will drum up interest in their favour. It will draw eyes to them and get people talking. No other Fuhrer had caused quite as much a stir as he had, and Roy wasn’t even officially in office yet. He was popular and well liked among the masses. Not as much as the Fullmetal Alchemist, the alchemist of the people, but Roy’s work over the years had built up a perfectly crafted reputation for him. It played well into his plans.

A womaniser who announces he’s settling down with someone who is a complete mystery. It was interesting news. Especially for the imminent ruler of the country.

The public ate it up, desperate to know. Out the corner of his eye he could already see heads bowed together in excitement as they gossiped about the news while Roy walked off the stage.

He was led by his security team into a private room within the building behind them. Havoc gave him a quick nod in response to his order, reaching for the door handle and pulling it closed behind him. Breda was down the hall, already speaking into microphone after microphone in order to soothe public relations about the surprise announcement. Poor guy, but he did volunteer. Having Breda assure them, but give nothing away, would only cause more intrigue. If Roy went out there and spoke to them all, they’d never let him leave.

His shoulder slumped now he was away from prying eyes. Not with fatigue, but just to relax. The initial phase had finally started, and his plans were set in motion. While he did have a personal stake in this and was more than happy to go along with it, it could certainly be draining. But then again, nothing had ever been simple between them.

The door opened as he was pouring himself a glass of water. He reached for a second glass and smirked, not turning around because he knew who it was who’d entered. His order to Havoc was to permit only one person entrance to the room.

“Did you really have to do it so dramatically?”

There was a grin on his face as he turned on the spot, coming face to face with his fiancé. Well, according to the country, she was still his fiancé. Nobody, except from them and his team, was aware that they were already married, and had been so for a while. While touring Aerugo last month they’d taken a clandestine trip to one of the islands off the coast to the south. It was just the two of them, the team, and his mother in attendance. Gracia had made the trip, and so had Edward and Alphonse, along with their respective families. Everyone who mattered most to Roy was there to witness them come together as a couple.

Marriage was not the be all and end all for him and Riza. They already knew where they stood with each other and what their relationship was. They had done so for years, and the ring that nestled comfortably on the end of his dog tags proved that. The legal document was just a formality at this point and given his current position as leader of the country, it would be necessary. So, they’d compromised. A private, personal ceremony for them to do things their way, exchanging the rings they’d already given each other years ago. The grand wedding that was yet to come was for the masses, not for them. Once the official ceremony happened, he would move the ring onto his ring finger where it had always belonged and where he’d always wanted to wear it.

Riza’s lifted one eyebrow expectantly, awaiting his answer.

“They expect a show,” he shrugged, “so I’m going to give it to them.”

“So, our official wedding is just a show,” she deadpanned.

His expression softened at her light teasing. “Our official wedding has already happened,” he reminded her. “In case you had forgotten, we are already legally married.”

“I hadn’t,” she placated as she approached him, “but you need to stop talking about it so openly. You were the one who suggested keeping it a secret, and the walls have ears,” she replied cryptically. Once close enough, she brushed a piece of invisible lint off his immaculate uniform and his shoulder tingled where she’d ran her hand over it.

“Let them listen,” he shrugged again. Roy lifted a hand to rest upon her hip as he grasped one of hers, lifting them both to rest between their bodies. He bent his head forward and kissed the backs of her knuckles, a small, fond smile playing on his lips. “It doesn’t matter now that our news is out.”

“Part of the news is out,” she reminded him. “You were quite adamant about only revealing some of the truth so early on,” Riza smirked. “It will be a busy transition period for us, after all,” she quoted back to him with mock sympathy.

His eyes rolled fondly.

“So,” she continued, extracting her hand from his and taking a step backward to put some distance between them. Roy felt like a petulant child, pouting at her actions. “We must keep up pretences and give ourselves the time and space we need to adapt to our new circumstances and navigate through it.”

“You’re no fun,” he complained, his tone nearly a playful whine.

“I know, dear,” she replied, sounding like she didn’t particularly care he felt that way. Roy was only joking though, of course.

“How did it look from up there?”

Riza’s perch had been on the roof of the building behind him, on the lookout for anyone who may wish harm upon him, along with her own elite security team.

She snorted lightly. “I will admit, it was entertaining to see the looks on their faces.”

“They were very surprised,” he chuckled, pleased with himself.

“It’s never a dull moment with you.”

“I would hope not because you’re stuck with me now, fiancé,” he grinned.

“Unfortunately,” she deadpanned quietly. When he scowled at her, she laughed loudly, her smile reaching her eyes.

For a moment, Roy is enraptured by her beauty. Her grin lit up his whole world and the sound of her laughter pulled at the stings of his heart pleasantly.

He is married to this woman, he thought to himself, and still couldn’t quite believe it.

After so long… After so many years of ignoring feelings and holding back – or trying to – now he didn’t have to.

Although it was his plan to delay the information given, he really wished it wasn’t. He wanted to go back out there and tell everyone how much he loved and cherished this woman before him.

All in due time. And the pay off when that day finally comes will be so worth it.

They’ve both waited for so long. Roy could stick it out for a few more days. What was more important was holding this woman close and loving her so freely like he has always wanted, and Roy planned to do just that.

Riza smirked and didn’t shrug him off as Roy wrapped his arms tightly around her frame. He pulled her close and kissed her, trying to convey just how much he loved her with one kiss alone. She hummed against his lips pleasantly as her arms lifted to loop around his neck. One hand slowly, tantalisingly, trailed up the back of his neck, making him shudder. She noticed and grinned against him. When her nails scratched lightly against his scalp and Roy groaned, Riza’s smile widened. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. She could play him like a fiddle, but Roy didn’t mind at all. There’s no way he was going to stop her ministrations when they felt so good.

“I love you,” he breathed. His chest heaved with his breath and the words almost got stuck in his throat, both from the emotions overwhelming him and their passionate kiss.

“Love you too, Roy.” When she pulled away to look at him, Roy didn’t let her move far. Their noses were almost touching but he could see her expression soften. She looked so happy and content. So in love. Which was exactly how he felt too.

They both couldn’t wait to start this new chapter in their lives together.

[writing-in-april]

Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (fill out this form to join):

Strike through means tumblr won’t let me tag you- check your privacy settings

All Works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @spenxerslut @boxofsparklingmuses @katexrichardson @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story @cosmic-psychickitty

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

[husbandograveyard]

Henlo all! This is my contribution to @burnthoneymint​‘s birthday challenge! I hope you will enjoy it! Thank you Sil for hosting this wonderful event, and a very early happy birthday to you <3 

Prompt:  Prompt: Person A gets injured on their birthday so they have to stay in, Person B tries to cheer Person A up.

I took some liberties with the prompt but the main idea of it is still there! I hope you don’t mind love  (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) 2nd person. Fem Reader. Mentions of injuries. Other than that, fluff! 

Ace was a ball of youthful energy. Always up for new adventures, always up for fun times. So when you had announced you maybe wanted to do something for your birthday this year, he had gotten to overenthusiastically planning out a bunch of unrealistic concepts. Multiple times you had to step on the break for him and remind him that: a, you were on a ship in the middle of the ocean, b, you would not be stopping for supplies anytime soon and c, that you still would have chores and such to do.

Ace pouted a little at the way you managed to block off all his huge party ideas, but had to admit that you were right about it all. You were snuggling in bed when you told him what you would appreciate most:

“What if we swap chores with someone so we have a day to ourselves? Maybe we can convince Thatch to make me a special birthday meal and y’know… just hang out? It has been a while since we’ve had some time for just the two of us.”

Ace let out a hum in response. Sure, you had a point, and sure, it sounded like a great plan, but was this really how you wanted to spend your birthday? It was nothing more special than any other day off, save for the special meal that he wasn’t even sure Thatch would have the time for. He looked at you as you turned around in his arms, your eyes bright with the expectation for him to agree with your (simple) plan. He simply couldn’t resist those puppy eyes and nodded, dipping down to place a soft kiss on your lips. “Sure, if that’s really what you want y/n” “Yes Ace, it’ll be perfect.”

Your last words were muffled a little as you nuzzled into his chest more, enjoying his warmth now that it was slowly getting colder outside. Already looking forward to a minimalistic birthday celebration, it did not take you long to fall asleep.

Of course, Ace followed suit, his talent to be able to sleep anywhere even when he didn’t get a narcoleptic spell kicking really fast with you snuggled up to him. But not before formulating a little plan in his head. If you didn’t want a big celebration, he’d accept your wishes, but he couldn’t help but try his best to make it a little more special than you had hoped for.

----

The days leading up to your birthday he assured you that he would take care of the meal and the choresswap, even taking over other people’s chores so yours wouldn’t be switched but taken over altogether. You were a little suspicious at his eagerness to arrange all the things for you, but you let him take care of it all without saying too much about it, you figured he was a little sad he couldn’t make his big plans come true and was now trying to compensate by fulfilling your smaller wishes as much as possible.

You watched as he haggled chores with fellow crewmates and even other commanders. You noticed how he spent quite a lot of time in the kitchen, trying to convince Thatch to spend a little extra time on something for you, just to make your day perfect. It was not clear if he had succeeded in his mission when the night before your birthday came up, but when he joined you in your shared bed, he had a slightly mysterious and satisfied-looking smile on his face.  You decided against interrogating him, enjoying some cuddles and already feeling giddy about having a day for just the two of you when waking up. It would be perfect!

The start of the day was in fact, perfect! Ace had gently woken you up with some breakfast in bed, singing some kind of happy birthday tune completely off pitch with a slight rasp in his voice, he had woken up a little early just to make sure his preparations were all done, and hadn’t spoken yet. You giggled at the whole thing, his morning voice was attractive, the breakfast delicious and the singing hilarious.

After you got dressed and ready for the day, Ace announced that he had one surprise for you. Your eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion.

“That wasn’t the deal Ace!” “Ssshhhhhhh, it’s your birthday, you deserve some special things! Don’t worry, it’s nothing too elaborate, I promise. ”

You sighed and followed him along the deck, only to end in a familar place: the back deck where his striker was. “Look, there will be something special happening nearby, so I figured we’d go on a tiny ride. It’s still following your plan of quality time, and we will be back in time to chill and enjoy your special birthday meal. ”

He seemed so enthusiastic, so full of hope, that even if you wanted to act a little mad for him not following your agreement, you couldn’t stop the corners of your lips from turning upward. “Fine, I’ll indulge you on your little surprised joyride. But only because that means I can hold you close for a little more.”

A slight blush tinted Ace’s freckled cheeks as he smiled widely, a triumphant ‘Yessss’ leaving his lips. He readied the striker for the ride, helping you get on as well. You wrapped your arms tightly around his upper body and got ready for the ride, you knew how reckless he got when he was enthusiastic.

Ace was indeed a little reckless in his steering, but never dangerous, not even when you neared a part closer to an island, the water shallow enough to have all kinds of rocks sticking out of it. He carefully maneuvered in between some of them, before stopping in front of one that was large enough for the both of you to sit on. He helped you up, and joined on the spot next to you in silence, and once you both were settled you looked at him with a questioning look.

“This is nice but wh-” “Oh! The show has already started!”

Ace pointed to a point a little further from you, and you saw something you hadn’t noticed before in your fear of him hitting one of the rocks. You had been too focussed on the potential hazard as well as the island nearing that you hadn’t noticed a huge school of dolphins, all rapidly swimming and leaping out of the water, almost as if to put on a performance for the two of you. Your mouth fell open in a surprised o-shape.

“They are always here apparently, I heard about it when we were on the previous island but didn’t think we’d get close enough in time. It was Marco’s idea to take the striker.”

You smiled.

“It’s a wonderful surprise, thank you Ace..” you turned to him to give him a proper kiss to thank him, when you noticed his eyes glazing over.

Shit. Not now.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen the subtle change that indicated that he was about to pass out, but you were too late calling out his name so he could prepare, and he slumped forward. You reacted on instinct, hooking your leg behind a protruding piece of rock and grabbed your boyfriend quickly, before he’d make contact with the seawater. You succeeded in your mission of saving your boyfriend,  but you heard a nauseating crack when you leaped forward, a white-hot pain spreading through your leg immediately. You let out a loud yelp, which woke up Ace immediately, completely disoriented and a little confused.

“Y/n! What happened?” He clambered back onto the rock, too confused to spot your leg yet, while you felt the tears spring in your eyes. You tried to bite them back, but your leg hurt a lot, you weren’t even sure if you’d be able to remove it from its awkward position without suffering. “You fell asleep and I helped you,” you replied through gritted teeth, the wonderful dolphin show now completely forgotten,  “Ace, I think I broke my leg.”

Ace then finally noticed the strange position you were in and his eyes widened in a panic. For the next few minutes the both of you tried to figure out what to do and how to get you back onto the striker without causing you too much pain. The best and seemingly only solution was Ace straight up lifting you up from the rock so you wouldn’t have to move much, and he held onto you as he got back onto the striker, apologizing through the whole ordeal.

“I am so sorry I ruined your birthday, it was meant to be a little surprise, and I just fell asleep like an absolute idiot, I am so sorry y/n.” He repeated it as if it was a mantra, and you felt back because you heard the agony in his voice. And while your leg was still hurting like hell, you didn’t want him to think that he had completely ruined your day. After all, it was only morning still.

“Tell you what Ace. You’re going to drop me off at Marco’s and he’s gonna help me fix that leg. Then, you will carry me to our room and we’re going to do what I had planned for my birthday all along: cuddle and be lazy together. If we’re feeling adventurous we can watch the sunset on deck. No need to do anything crazy” “Are you sure y/n? It’s not that exciting, and I had many more small things planned…”

“Ace, as long as I am with you, I honestly don’t care how we spend my birthday.”

You swore you saw his eyes gloss over momentarily before he regained composure with some new-found courage. “Okay, I will do whatever it takes to make this your best birthday still, even though I started out on the wrong foot”

“You sure you want to use that expression Ace? It’s not even correct” You raised a brow but let out a small laugh, almost forgetting the pain in your leg. “SORRY!!!!”

You knew he was gonna do his best. And you knew it was going to be a great birthday anyway. Broken legs or not.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 12 paragraph viii

Only here’s what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can’t be trusted—? What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one willfully and in a cloud of unspeakable radiance away from health, domesticity, civic responsibility and strong social connections and all the blandly-held common virtues and instead straight towards a beautiful flare of ruin, self-immolation, disaster? Is Kitsey right? If your deepest self is singing and coaxing you straight toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? Stop your ears with wax? Ignore all the perverse glory your heart is screaming at you? Set yourself on the course that will lead you dutifully towards the norm, reasonable hours and regular medical check-ups, stable relationships and steady career advancement, the New York Times and brunch on Sunday, all with the promise of being somehow a better person? Or—like Boris—is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name? It’s not about outward appearances but inward significance. A grandeur in the world, but not of the world, a grandeur that the world doesn’t understand. That first glimpse of pure otherness, in whose presence you bloom out and out and out. A self one does not want. A heart one cannot help. Though my engagement isn’t off, not officially anyway, I’ve been given to understand—gracefully, in the lighter-than-air manner of the Barbours—that no one is holding me to anything. Which is perfect. Nothing’s been said and nothing is said. When I’m invited for dinner (as I am, often, when I’m in town) it’s all very pleasant and light, voluble even, intimate and subtle while not at all personal; I’m treated like a family member (almost), welcome to turn up when I want; I’ve been able to coax Mrs. Barbour out of the apartment a bit, we’ve had some pleasant afternoons out, lunch at the Pierre and an auction or two; and Toddy, without being impolitic in the least, has even managed to let casually and almost accidentally drop the name of a very good doctor, with no suggestion whatever that I might possibly need such a thing.

[As for Pippa: though she took the Oz book, she left the necklace, along with a letter I opened so eagerly I literally ripped through the envelope and tore it in half. The gist—once I got on my knees and fit the pieces together— was this: she’d loved seeing me, our time in the city had meant a lot to her, who in the world could have picked such a beautiful necklace for her? it was perfect, more than perfect, only she couldn’t accept it, it was much too much, she was sorry, and—maybe she was speaking out of turn, and if so she hoped I forgave her, but I shouldn’t think she didn’t love me back, because she did, she did. (You do? I thought, bewildered.) Only it was complicated, she wasn’t thinking only of herself but me too, since we’d both been through so many of the same things, she and I, and we were an awful lot alike—too much. And because we’d both been hurt so badly, so early on, in violent and irremediable ways that most people didn’t, and couldn’t, understand, wasn’t it a bit… precarious? A matter of self-preservation? Two rickety and death-driven persons who would need to lean on each other quite so much? not to say she wasn’t doing well at the moment, because she was, but all that could change in a flash with either of us, couldn’t it? the reversal, the sharp downward slide, and wasn’t that the danger? since our flaws and weaknesses were so much the same, and one of us could bring the other down way too quick? and though this was left to float in the air a bit, I realized instantly, and with some considerable astonishment, what she was getting at. (Dumb of me not to have seen it earlier, after all the injuries, the crushed leg, the multiple surgeries; adorable drag in the voice, adorable drag in the step, the arm-hugging and the pallor, the scarves and sweaters and multiple layers of clothes, slow drowsy smile: she herself, the dreamy childhood her, was sublimity and disaster, the morphine lollipop I’d chased for all those years.)

But, as the reader of this will have ascertained (if there ever is a reader) the idea of being Dragged Down holds no terror for me. Not that I care to drag anyone else down with me, but—can’t I change? Can’t I be the strong one? Why not?] [You can have either of those girls you want, said Boris, sitting on the sofa with me in his loft in Antwerp, cracking pistachios between his rear molars as we were watching Kill Bill. No, I can’t. And why can’t you? I’d pick Snowflake myself. But if you want the other, why not? Because she has a boyfriend? So? said Boris. Who lives with her? So? And here’s what I’m thinking too: So? What if I go to London? So? And this is either a completely disastrous question or the most sensible one I’ve ever asked in all my life.] [That little guy, said Boris in the car on the way to Antwerp. You know the painter saw him—he wasn’t painting that bird from his mind, you know? That’s a real little guy, chained up on the wall, there. If I saw him mixed up with dozen other birds all the same kind, I could pick him out, no problem.] And he’s right. So could I. And if I could go back in time I’d clip the chain in a heartbeat and never care a minute that the picture was never painted. To try to make some meaning out of all this seems unbelievably quaint. Maybe I only see a pattern because I’ve been staring too long. But then again, to paraphrase Boris, maybe I see a pattern because it’s there. [Do you ever think about quitting? I asked, during the boring part of It’s a Wonderful Life, the moonlight walk with Donna Reed, when I was in Antwerp watching Boris with spoon and water from an eyedropper, mixing himself what he called a “pop.” Give me a break! My arm hurts! He’d already shown me the bloody skid mark—black at the edges—cutting deep into his bicep. You get shot at Christmas and see if you want to sit around swallowing aspirin! Yeah, but you’re crazy to do it like that. Well—believe it or not—for me not so much a problem. I only do it special occasions. I’ve heard that before. Well, is true! Still a chipper, for now. I’ve known of people chipped three-four years and been ok, long as they kept it down to two-three times a month? That said, Boris added somberly—blue movie light glinting off the teaspoon —I am alcoholic. Damage is done, there. I’m a drunk till I die. If anything kills me—nodding at the Russian Standard bottle on the coffee table—that’ll be it. Say you never shot before? Believe me, I had problems enough the other way. Well, big stigma and fear, I understand. Me—honest, I prefer to sniff most times—clubs, restaurants, out and about, quicker and easier just to duck in men’s room and do a quick bump. This way—always you crave it. On my death bed I will crave it. Better never to pick it up. Although—really very irritating to see some bone head sitting there smoking out of a crack pipe and make some pronouncement about how dirty and unsafe, they would never use a needle, you know? Like they are so much more sensible than you? Why did you start? Why does anyone? My girl left me! Girl at the time. Wanted to be all bad and self-destructive, hah. Got my wish. Jimmy Stewart in his varsity sweater. Silvery moon, quavery voices. Buffalo Gals won’t you come out tonight, come out tonight. So, why not stop then? I said. Why should I? Do I really have to say why? Yeah, but what if I don’t feel like it? If you can stop, why wouldn’t you? Live by the sword, die by the sword, said Boris briskly, hitting the button on his very professional-looking medical tourniquet with his chin as he was pushing up his sleeve.]

And as terrible as this is, I get it. We can’t choose what we want and don’t want and that’s the hard lonely truth. Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us. We can’t escape who we are. (One thing I’ll have to say for my dad: at least he tried to want the sensible thing—my mother, the briefcase, me—before he completely went berserk and ran away from it.) And as much as I’d like to believe there’s a truth beyond illusion, I’ve come to believe that there’s no truth beyond illusion. Because, between ‘reality’ on the one hand, and the point where the mind strikes reality, there’s a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic. And—I would argue as well—all love. Or, perhaps more accurately, this middle zone illustrates the fundamental discrepancy of love. Viewed close: a freckled hand against a black coat, an origami frog tipped over on its side. Step away, and the illusion snaps in again: life-more-than-life, never-dying. Pippa herself is the play between those things, both love and not-love, there and not-there. Photographs on the wall, a balled-up sock under the sofa. The moment where I reached to brush a piece of fluff from her hair and she laughed and ducked at my touch. And just as music is the space between notes, just as the stars are beautiful because of the space between them, just as the sun strikes raindrops at a certain angle and throws a prism of color across the sky—so the space where I exist, and want to keep existing, and to be quite frank I hope I die in, is exactly this middle distance: where despair struck pure otherness and created something sublime.

And that’s why I’ve chosen to write these pages as I’ve written them. For only by stepping into the middle zone, the polychrome edge between truth and untruth, is it tolerable to be here and writing this at all. Whatever teaches us to talk to ourselves is important: whatever teaches us to sing ourselves out of despair. But the painting has also taught me that we can speak to each other across time. And I feel I have something very serious and urgent to say to you, my non-existent reader, and I feel I should say it as urgently as if I were standing in the room with you. That life—whatever else it is—is short. That fate is cruel but maybe not random. That Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to bow and grovel to it. That maybe even if we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open. And in the midst of our dying, as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch. For if disaster and oblivion have followed this painting down through time—so too has love. Insofar as it is immortal (and it is) I have a small, bright, immutable part in that immortality. It exists; and it keeps on existing. And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next.

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x16 - What happens in Vegas... (part 1 of part 2) Enjoy!=)

Cut to – a few hours earlier. The Mirage Resort & Casino, three-bedroom villa.

Bonnie opens her eyes, head pounding, confused as to where she is. Unbeknown to her, she is lying on a huge inflatable shaped as, let’s just say a male part, in the middle of their villa’s private pool. She turns her head, to see if she can recognize the place… Bad call, woman overboard.

She quickly rises from below the water and manages to make it to shore. On one of the deck chairs, a familiar face… Bonnie thinks to herself, I must be hallucinating, why is Katherine here? She wasn’t invited. Has to be Elena, but… she’d never wear those tacky shoes… She’ll have to come back to that later. For now, she wants to make sure everyone else survived. She walks inside the villa… it’s apocalypse now. 

There’s no way they could have caused so much damage. It was supposed to be a chill girls trip, with some partying, of course, but not to that scale! She hears a sound, sounds as if it comes from the afterlife…Could she be hearing ghosts? Wouldn’t be uncommon to her… but the voice, she knows that voice. She searches, trying to follow the sound, seems like the source is coming from a closet. She opens it… inside, Elena, dressed like a nun, empty bottle of champagne on one hand, a dildo on the other… Maybe, this one is Katherine? Elena wouldn’t be holding that… One thing is for sure, she can now confirm there are two of them there.

BONNIE: Elena?

ELENA: Bonnie… I think I’m dying.

BONNIE: We might actually be dead… otherwise, why would Katherine be here?

ELENA: Katherine?

BONNIE: (As she helps her get out of the closet) I’m pretty sure she’s passed out in the pool patio….

ELENA: (Looking at the aftermath) Holy mother Mary… what the hell happened last night?

BONNIE: I know I’m psychic, but I have no freakin idea.

ELENA: Was I holding, what I think I was holding…?

BONNIE: Yep…

ELENA: (Grabs and shakes her head) I don’t think I want to know why…

BONNIE: … or why you’re dressed like a nun, for that matter. I know I don’t!

ELENA: (Looks at her attire) Oh, god… definitely don’t want to know! Where’s Caroline?

BONNIE: Not sure, let’s check out her room. Hopefully, she’s sleeping like a baby…

ELENA: Somehow, I doubt it...

(They go into the master bedroom to see if Caroline is there. The room is in order, complete opposite of the outside scenario. It seems Caroline is in fact, sleeping in her bed, comfortably covered head to toe).

BONNIE: (Sigh of relief) Ah, thank god! At least one of us had some sense in them… (They approach the bed, just to make sure she’s alright. Bonnie peeks under the covers… Holy shit! (She takes Elena’s hand and immediately teleports out of the room).

ELENA: (Really dizzy from the teleport and the hang-over) Bonnie, you really need to give me a heads up when you do that; especially when I’m in this state! What happened?!

BONNIE: Definitely not Caroline…

ELENA: Who, then?

BONNIE: A cop … all tied up, face cover n’all…

ELENA: What!!! Are you sure?

BONNIE: Pretty sure…

ELENA: Is he… dead?

BONNIE: I think he was breathing, just seemed like he was passed out, but I’m not going back in there to verify.

ELENA: I’ll take a look… I’m sure it can’t be that… (She goes back into the master bedroom, not even a minute in, and she’s back). Well… it’s a cop! But he’s alive, thank god!

BONNIE: Did you see his face?

ELENA: Hell no! Just made sure he wasn’t dead, and got out of there.

BONNIE: (Starts to panic) Oh my god; oh my god, oh my god! We kidnaped a cop!!

ELENA: Maybe it’s a stripper? It’s probably a stripper…

BONNIE: Either way, we kidnapped somebody!

ELENA: Well… at least we didn’t kill them.

BONNIE: No, but we’re kidnappers!!

ELENA: Calm down, Bon. I’m sure there is a logical explanation for all of this…

BONNIE: Elena, I woke up floating on a penis! Katherine is passed out in the patio, wearing nothing but stripper shoes, and I mean, nothing! You are dressed like a nun and had a dildo in your hand! Lexi is hanging-upside down from that chandelier! We kidnapped a cop, or a stripper! And who the hell knows where Caroline and Radka are! Perfectly logical!

ELENA: Wait… Lexi is hanging from where?

BONNIE: Look up, I just spotted her… (Lexi drops to the ground).

LEXI: (Looking utterly confused) Where am I?? Oh no… is this another version of the other side? Not again… Can’t be peace… since you are here (referring to Elena) …

ELENA: (A tad irritated with her constant subtle insults) I’m too hung over to reply with a snap… 

(a few seconds later, Katherine walks into the villa, makes her way into the open kitchen…)

KATHERINE: (Looks at them and shakes her head) You call me the crazy bitch? You are all borderline insane! 

(As she pours herself some water) Want some?

BONNIE: Uhm… why are you here?

KATHERINE: Duh, you invited me.

BONNIE: No we didn’t.

KATHERINE: Yes you did… and (looks at the mess), if I can find my phone, I can prove it to you.

LEXI: Maybe you should put some clothes on first…

KATHERINE: (Realizes she’s naked but doesn’t really care) Oops…

ELENA: We would never invite you, Katherine. Cut the crap and tell us why you are really here.

KATHERINE: Actually, Elena, you were the one that invited me; so, rude!

ELENA: That’s ridiculous!

KATHERINE: Fine, I’ll show you the proof; my phone has to be around here… somewhere.

BONNIE: Just, please, put something on, for god’s sake!

KATHERINE: Fine, Bonnie! Gees, such prudes! (She finds a robe nearby, puts it on, and looks for her phone. As she looks amongst the debris, she finds another casualty, passed out under a piece of furniture). Well… found Radka! The good news, she is breathing. The bad… ain’t no way she is waking up any time soon… she’s completely out.  

ELENA: (To Bonnie on the side) There’s no way I invited her, right?

BONNIE: Before last night, I would’ve said, hellz no! But…

KATHERINE: Well… it’s going to take a bit longer than I thought to find my phone. And, shouldn’t we be focusing on more important issues? Like the fact that the bride is MIA!

LEXI: (To Bonnie and Elena) Hate to admit it, but she’s right.

ELENA: Also…we seemed to have kidnapped a stripper, or a cop…

BONNIE: Okay, okay, I’m sure we can figure this out. We just need to retrace our steps; does anyone remember anything about last night?

ELENA: I remember we had a spa day… then we came back to the villa, got all glitz & glammed, opened a bottle of champagne to kick-off the night. After that, I’m at a blank…

BONNIE: Well, the original plan was supposed to be… a spa day, followed by dinner at Le Cirque, drinks at The Cosmopolitan, closing with, and against our will, that Britney Spears show at Planet Hollywood… But I also checked out after our kick-off cheer...

LEXI: I vaguely remember Le Cirque… something about a clown?

ELENA: (To Katherine) I’m going to play along because we really need to figure out what’s going on… You said I invited you, when was that?

KATHERINE: You sent me a WhatsApp around five, I think…

ELENA: Aha! You are lying! That can’t be true! No way you would have made it here on time!

KATHERINE: You do remember your best friend can teleport, right? Bonnie was the one that got me here. 

I must say, I was reluctant at first, but there was no way I was missing the opportunity to mess with Caroline. Anyway, I joined you guys in your little cheer, and then, lights out… That’s the last thing I remember.

BONNIE: … I think she’s right… I’m getting flashbacks of you and Caroline cracking up, the Salvatore house; Katherine complaining she hadn’t had the chance to pack; the cottage; Kai…

LEXI: Yes… I remember Caroline talking about a prank…

ELENA: (To Bonnie) Wait, did you say Kai?

BONNIE: Did I?

LEXI: You did…

BONNIE: I don’t know; I’m all messed up! I’m just saying things as they come. But that’s not important now. So, back on track. I say we first check every single corner of this place; maybe Caroline is here… if not, we’ll check the spa, the pool, the shops, etc…

KATHERINE: Well, if we want to make it back in time for the love fest… which I could care less, we should probably find a faster strategy. Lexi and I can search the larger area, vamp our way through the hotel. And you two (referring to Bonnie and Elena), can look here. (To Bonnie) Unless you can do your witchy woo to find her faster?

BONNIE: My powers are all over the place, don’t want to risk it. So, and I hate to say it, your original plan sounds like a good idea.

KATHERINE: I’m full of good ideas, Bonnie (winks).

BONNIE: (Rolls her eyes) Just meet us back here once you’ve searched the place.

(They search everywhere, Caroline is nowhere to be found. They teamback at the villa)

 BONNIE: Any luck?

LEXI: Nop. She isn’t in the hotel, that’s for sure.

ELENA: Well, she isn’t here either.

BONNIE: Great, back to square one…

KATHERINE: (Completely off topic, looking at Elena up and down) I’ll never get tired of saying it, I really am much better looking than you.

ELENA: (Triggered by her comment) Please, you wish. Or did your slut brain forget you lost two men to me? Ouch…

KATHERINE: One, actually. I never loved Damon. But I’ll say this, because you need to hear it. It’s quite sad that your insecurities led you to marry the first man that paid any attention to you, after you lost Damon to Bonnie. Which, and let’s not kid ourselves here, was way before they got together. Anyone with half a brain would know that Damon fell in love with Bonnie in that prison world, he was just afraid to admit it… Ouch!

ELENA: Bitch...

BONNIE: Katherine, shut up, or I swear…

LEXI: Wow, wow, wow, wow… ladies, chill! We are going way off topic, and into dangerous territory….

KATHERINE: Just saying, your wedding ring is tacky.

ELENA: What the hell are you talking about?! What wedding ring??

KATHERINE: You really ain’t that bright, are you? The one on your finger, Einstein.  

ELENA: What?! (Looks at her finger, she’s in fact wearing quite a tacky ring. Turns to Bonnie) No…. Please tell me I didn’t…. 

(she takes the ring off, it’s engraved, the inscription reads: No matter how forbidden, our love will last forever. Sister Mary Chapel. 

Looks nauseous) I think I’m going to throw up (runs into the nearest bathroom).

BONNIE: (To Katherine) I know you are soulless… but why would you say that to her?

KATHERINE: Because it’s true, Bonnie! You people really need to learn to be more honest with each other.

BONNIE: You’re gonna talk about honesty, really?

KATHERINE: When it comes to the people I care about; I couldn’t be more honest… Anyway, I do believe we have a lead… Guessing that place can give us some insight about last night. So, let’s wait for Sister Mary Elena to get it out of her system, and go to church, god knows you all need it. I’m gonna go change, and I figure my Doppelgänger should do the same. And you (to Bonnie), should probably put on some dry clothes. 

(They slip into something more decent, and off they go).  

They take an uber to the place; it is definitely not what they were expecting. Not your typical Vegas wedding chapel; on the the contrary, it’s quite sober and elegant. 

They go inside, it’s empty… 

They walk around to see if they can find someone, or any indication that they were there last night. Just as they are about to give up, Katherine spots something strange inside one of the confessionals.

 KATHERINE: Ladies, I think I found something… (they go check it out). Isn’t this (shows them a bracelet) Barbies?

BONNIE: (Takes it) Yes, this is Caroline’s. So… we were here… Why would we come to a church?

LEXI: (Teasing) Maybe we were feeling regretful, wanted to confess our sins.

KATHERINE: What the hell… (she sees a very strange lever, definitely not fitting with the decor; she decides to pull it… the confessional door closes, and descends into the unknown…)

LEXI: Uhm… might still be really hung-over, but are we going down?

BONNIE: We sure are… down a rabbit hole…

ELENA: I have a real bad feeling about this…

KATHERINE: Come on, have some sense of adventure, might be fun!

ELENA: God, I swear I’m going to kill you.

KATHERINE: (Sarcastic) You wouldn’t dare take a life in the house of the lord, would you? I don’t think he would approve, Sister Mary Elena.

ELENA: Well, you’re already dead, so… (just as they’re about to go at it again, the door opens…) Holy mother Mary…

TVD 9x16 (part 2 of part 2) coming next. Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

[constantlytiredghost]

For the smooch promts. 4 for Martin Gerry or 15 for Daisy and Basira. Your choice. ;)

Here we go one (1) GerryMartin (technically JonGerryMartin but shhh)

with 4:   An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose I mean at this point it's the prompt rather loosely interpreted and split into an accidental 'kiss' and brushing lips against each other before diving in for another kiss BUT I hope you like it nonetheless :'D (and as you already know Daisira also happened and is already up on ao3 lel)

Having a crush on your boss was already bad enough, but also having a crush on the childhood friend of your boss was worse. But here was Martin, crushing on both, the small grouchy head archivist who happened to be his boss and the tall, buff goth that occasionally appeared in the archives to bother aforementioned grouchy head archivist.

And they were dating. Probably. They hadn’t announced it or anything, but it seemed pretty obvious from an outsider perspective that there was something between them, that went beyond a normal friendship. Simply watching the way they interacted with each other showed that.

Not that Martin watched them interact or anything. Not a lot at least. Sometimes he simply saw them. Like that time when he had seen them walk down the stairs of the institute, Gerry’s arm slung across Jon’s shoulder pulling him close, or the time when he had found them in the breakroom with Jon nearly sitting in Gerry’s lap. So they didn’t need to announce anything for Martin to be convinced that they indeed were a thing, which was fine really. He was happy for them, but it wasn’t exactly making things easy.

Martin had tried to stomp those pesky feelings, but that hadn’t worked so far. He tried to keep his distance, he really did, but there was only so much he could do to avoid his boss and Gerry had a knack for finding him. Because even when he hid away in a storage room, putting old statements away, he couldn’t escape.

“Do you need help?”

Martin nearly let the box with the files drop. Speaking of the devil.

“Gerry! Geez… ah, well no, I’m good I think. Thanks for asking though.” he replied, trying to calm his racing heart. “Did Jon kick you out again?”, he asked then.

Gerry huffed amused. 

“Yep. It’s statement time, no interruptions allowed for the next mhhh 20 minutes? Unless I want to get threatened with a tape recorder. So I thought I’d check if I can be of help elsewhere.”

Martin chuckled softly before he shook his head lightly.

“Well, as I said, I’m good. Maybe ask Sasha? Or Tim?”, he suggested.

Gerry gave him a long and piercing look that Martin couldn’t quite interpret.

“Sure.”, he said then. “Are y…”

Before he could finish that sentence, the light above them flickered and went out.

“...shit.” Gerry said instead, and Martin had to agree.

 “I think they got a new piece from the Dark in the Artifact Storage today.”, he mumbled, feeling around for the shelves, bumping into Gerry in the process.

“Sorry.”

“No worries, I’m fine.”

“That’s uh great, uhm well I’ll go look for the fuse box in case it’s just, well, normal stuff instead of the Dark.” Martin said, making his way along the shelves into the direction of the fuse box.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need too.”

“But I want too, and in case something tries to jump either of us it’s better not to be alone.”

That was sadly a pretty solid argument that Martin could hardly say no to, so he sighed.

“Oh, and I have a flashlight.”

A dim light flickered to life, making Martin squint his eyes when it danced over his face.

“Fine.” he relented.

“Great, lead the way.”

The light of Gerry’s torch was weak and flickered, but it didn’t die, so Martin had hopes that maybe, maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with some sort of darkness monster and could just fix some fuses and be done with. He doubted that they were that lucky, but he still liked to hope.

.

The fuse box for this area was in a small room in the back and calling it a room was maybe too much. It was a glorified closet with enough space for the fuse box, a few supplies and two people if you squeezed as it turned out.

Gerry’s side was squeezed against his, and maybe Martin was panicking a little bit. 

The only reason for Gerry being in the closet with him being that they were both stubborn. Gerry refused to give him the flashlight while Martin was blind without it, but refused to move, so Gerry had simply squeezed in next to him so he could shine at the fuses.

“Well, this, unfortunately, looks fine,” Martin muttered after he couldn’t find anything out of place. “Guess it really is something down in the Art…”

The door behind them slammed shut, making the small space seem even smaller.

“Well, this on the other hand, certainly isn’t fine.” Gerry commented, making Martin snort against his better judgement.

He could feel Gerry shift around next to him and then heard him rattle at the door.

“It’s locked.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, definitely doesn’t open.”

Martin also pushed against the door, but just as Gerry had said. It didn’t budge.

“Guess we’re stuck then.”

Gerry snorted. “Apparently. At least it’s only the two of us and no shadow monster in sight.” he said, leaning back against the door, seemingly trying to find a comfortable position.

Martin smiled weakly, while he tried to move around, also looking for a remotely comfortable position, who knew how long they were stuck.

“Suppose we’ll just have to wait until the others find us.”, he said after more or less leaning against the wall.

Gerry hummed in agreement.

“Yeah we could just wait, or we could...talk.”

“Talk?” Martin questioned.

“Mhhh, talk, like about why you’re avoiding me, for example.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Martin said defensively. Gerry only raised an eyebrow and gave him a disbelieving look.

“Fine.” Martin relented with a sigh when Gerry kept on staring at him. “I’m avoiding you.”

“Oh, I know that you’re avoiding me.” Gerry chuckled softly. “But that doesn’t answer why.” He paused. “Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to be around me, but I’d rather know, then have you run away from me, alright?”

“I...It’s not that I don’t want to be around you.” Martin said with another sigh, rubbing over his face. ”It’s just…”

“Is it because of your crush on Jon?”

“Wha…? How do you know about that?” Martin could feel his cheeks burn and just hoped that it wasn’t too visible in the dim light.

Gerry looked at him and then started laughing, but it wasn’t mean or anything and just resulted in Martin’s heart doing funny things inside of his chest.

“You’re not exactly subtle. I’m pretty sure everyone knows...okay, everyone except Jon. He probably just thinks you’re nice.”

“Jon thinks I’m nice?”

“You constantly bring him tea and biscuits, and you care for him, what else is he supposed to think? You’re literally one of the nicest people I know Martin. Even though….Now that I think about it, you’ve been avoiding him too, so this clearly is about him.”

Martin buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Listen, if you’re here to tell me off or something, just do it.”, he muttered.

“Tell you off? Why would I tell you off?” Gerry sounded truly confused, and Martin slowly lowered his hands.

“Because I have a crush? On your boyfriend?”

Gerry stared at him. Martin stared at Gerry until Gerry’s snicker interrupted the silence that had settled between them.

“Stop laughing! I’m serious.” Martin complained, kicking lightly against Gerry’s shin to shut him up.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…”  Gerry started laughing again. “This is ridiculous.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Okay, shit that came out wrong, sorry. What I mean is that it’s pretty hilarious how blind people can be when it comes to themselves."

“And you’re trying to tell me what exactly?” Martin asked.

Gerry gave him a lopsided grin.

“Jon likes you too.”

Martin blinked, then he opened his mouth only to close it again, before pinching himself. It hurt, so not a dream.

“I...Jon...but aren’t you dating?”

Gerry shrugged, pushing himself from his position against the door so he could turn to face Martin, knocking a few supplies over in the process of doing so.

“Yeah, we are.”

“Why...how are you so chill about this?”

Gerry gave him a wry smile in return.

“I like you too, I guess,” he shrugged again. “heteronormative relationships were never my jam, so maybe that’s why. I know you like Jon and not me, but if you’re willing, I’m sure we can work something out. I honestly just want to see both of you happy.”

Gerry was rambling, and Martin could only gape. His heart ached for this beautiful man, who had decided that he was okay to put his own wishes last if it meant that the people he loves were happy.

“...and I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I swear this sounded better in my head, but…”

“Gerry.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Gerry’s mouth closed with an audible click. He looked nervous, and now it was Martin’s turn to smile.

“You know, you call me and Jon blind when it comes to ourselves, but I don’t think we’re the only ones. Jon is not the only person I have a crush on, Gerry.” he said softly and watched how Gerry nervous face turned from nervous to confusion, to surprise and then into a wide grin after the realisation hit him.

Then Gerry squinted his eyes at him. “It’s Tim, isn’t it?” he asked, but Gerry’s shit-eating grin and the twinkling in his eyes told Martin that he wasn’t serious.

“Obviously.”, he replied dryly. They looked at each other and started laughing. Gerry leaned forward, to place his forehead against Martin’s shoulder, snickering. Martin wrapped his arms around him, cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

“God, we’re all so blind.” Gerry mumbled against Martin’s sweater, his arms wrapping around Martin’s middle.

“Yeah.” Martin agreed with a snort and as if on command, the light of Gerry’s torch flickered out, leaving them in pitch black darkness.

“....I didn’t mean literally.” Gerry muttered and pulled back, and Martin couldn’t stop snickering.

“I think I got spare batteries, wait.”

Martin could feel Gerry shifting and moving around.

“Careful.”

“Yeah, surahhh…. FUCK.”

Martin could feel Gerry tripping and tried to grab him, but the supplies that had fallen earlier made him topple over too, and they both crashed.

Martin hit his head against the door, and Gerry somehow landed half on top of him, knee ramming into his thigh while their lips smacked against each other, their teeth clacking together painfully.

Martin groaned that had hurt.

“Shit, sorry,” Gerry muttered, trying to get up before he just gave up and simply straddled Martin’s legs instead. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I think,” he answered, rubbing his head. “That was a pretty shitty first kiss though, dunno why movies think this works.”, he added lightly, sitting up, only to bump his head against Gerry’s in the process. “Did you at least find the batteries.”

“Yeah, and I’m very willing to make it up to you as soon as I put them in.”

Martin could hear something getting unscrewed, and a few clacking sounds. It didn’t take long until the torch flickered back on, illuminating the closet once more.

“So, Mr. Blackwood, will you let me prove that I’m capable of more than smashing our heads together and probably giving you a few bruises in the process?” 

Gerry looked at him with open eyes and an adorably, impish smile. Martin still couldn’t quite believe it, so he just nodded, unable to trust his own voice.

Gerry leant forward again, slowly to give Martin all the time he wanted should he decide that he wanted to pull back. 

Martin didn’t and leant forward instead, meeting Gerry halfway. When Gerry’s lips brushed over his, it was barely a touch, soft and sweet and Martin wanted more, chasing after them when Gerry pulled back, to tug him into another kiss.

He vaguely registered that the torch clinked against the ground next to them, to busy burying his hands in Gerry’s hair to pull him even closer and Gerry followed, nipping at his lips, with a playful bite.

Movement could be heard in front of the closet, and they broke apart just in time to look up at Jon, who looked back down at them with raised eyebrows.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, and Martin could feel a blush creeping up, on his cheeks.

“I got us a boyfriend, that’s what’s going on,” Gerry replied cheerfully, scrambling up on his feet, before holding out a hand for Martin, to help him up.

“Unless you don’t want too?”

Two searching gazes were directed at him, and Martin shook his head.

“No, I mean, yes? I mean, I’d love too.”

Gerry seemed relieved, a tension that Martin hadn’t noticed before left his body and on Jon’s lips formed a smile.

“You need to fill me in on what exactly happened in there. I think I’m missing a few pieces." 

Gerry and Martin looked at each other and then at Jon.

“Yeah, let’s talk. Guess we should do that anyway.” Martin said, and the two of them followed Jon into his office.

.

They told Jon what had happened and in turn, Jon also told them a few things. Like that the Dark didn’t have anything to do with the entire situation. The lightbulb simply had burned out, and the door hadn’t opened because of a book stack that had toppled over, slamming the door shut and in the process lodging themselves so that it was impossible to open the door from the inside without violence.

Hearing it all like that Martin felt a bit like he had ended up in a ridiculous cheesy romcom, but he also certainly couldn’t complain.

He also learned that day that kissing Jon while Gerry was nipping at his neck was a special form of bliss, that he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. And that being sandwiched between those two men was exactly where he wanted to be.

[royalcordelia]

The Peace, The Storm (1/1)

(In which Gilbert discovers he missed a very vital piece of information sitting on his kitchen table. Spoilers for 3x09)

“Suddenly, he saw her there in her mother’s garden. Sun on her shoulders, wind in her hair. The smell of the flowers she held in her hand and the pollen that fell from her fingertips. And suddenly [he] was only a man with a taste of nectar upon his lips.” - Hadestown

+++

The Island had funny ways of telling Gilbert that he was in its favor. It was subtle in its tender attentions, entangling over his heart when he was sailing in far off places and giving warmth when he returned to its shores. It was faithful to him the same way a friend was, nudging him in the direction the young girl he’d been wandering aimlessly for since his train had arrived from Charlottetown. 

Anne. Just the thought of her made his breath shudder in his chest. 

Soon, his mind was full of her and he wasn’t aware of where he was wandering. The only thing he knew was that walking meant that he could rest content with his memories for a few moments longer, and relive them until he eventually found the real thing. His eyes searched the scenery, discovering traces of her in the Queen Anne’s Lace and the fluttering butterflies that danced from blossom to blossom. 

He was so drunk off of the thought of her that he barely registered when she actually appeared before him, laying in a bed of grass on the same cliffside where he’d remembered her. It was her hair he saw first, tangled up in the long grass like a spreading flame, but then he noticed her arms spread out at her sides. Her fingers weaved like wind through the grass, slow and numb. A thick rush of longing constricted Gilbert’s throat, making it impossible to call out to her. Her spirit radiated out, heavy, but sweet like pollen. 

With greater ease than he anticipated, Gilbert called out her name. 

Something Gilbert couldn’t name overcame Anne’s expression, and she shot up to her elbow. Her gaze claimed him, yearning and yielding in its intensity. She wanted to run away, that much he could see, but something kept her fixed to the ground. The lashes of her eyes were red at the brims, and streaks of tears had marbled onto her cheeks. 

“Have you been crying?” he asked dumbly. She turned her face away, sunset orange hair failing to shield the tremor in her lip. 

With delicate movements, Gilbert situated himself at her side, sitting beside where she lay. How simple it would be to lay flush beside her and bury his face into her shoulder where her red hair was bundled. His fingers twitched at the thought of how soft her skin would be, how her presence would soothe him to his soul. 

To keep himself from doing this, he found his words. 

“I was sorry to hear about Ka’kwet. Marilla told me of your plans to write to The Globe. I could proofread your letter before you send it if you like.” Anne said nothing. Gilbert shifted. “I suppose you’d prefer that Miss Stacy read it.” 

Still, Anne was silent. Gilbert glanced over at her and found her fingers shaking and clutching at the grass for a lifeline. It wasn’t like her to sit so still, to isolate her pain to herself. 

“I’m sorry I was away when everything was happening,” he murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder. As if he had doused her with boiling water, Anne rushed to her feet and began to hasten along the cliffside path. 

“Anne?” he called out. Her pace only sped up, so he called again. “Anne!”

This time, her footsteps froze in the path. Against the greenery of the plains, she cut the silhouette of a woman, strong in her shoulders with her coppery hair spinning to gold in the breeze. Gilbert knew he should say something -  especially if he nearly suffocated every time she existed too closely to him. 

Then she was spinning around, and stomping up to him. Her arms were crossed protectively against her chest, but her glare shot right through him. She entered his space, shattering his sense of reality, sending him tumbling backwards. More tears trickled down her cheeks but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” she demanded.

Gilbert gaped, shaking his head in utter confusion. 

“What- I-...Anne, what are you talking about?” 

Her teeth clenched together. Gilbert could feel her boring into him - begging, and begging, and begging. What for, though, he didn’t know. When he said nothing, the resolve in her disintegrated away, and Anne resigned. She stumbled backwards a step, nodding bitterly. 

“I want my pen back,” she stated coldly. Gilbert bristled. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being at the receiving end of her ire if only he knew what he’d done to hurt her so badly. A few traitorous ideas entered the back of his mind, but he refused to entertain them. No, he thought, she couldn’t possibly...

“My apologies,” Gilbert said slowly. “I didn’t realize I still had it.” 

“You didn’t- ” Anne choked. “I’m fairly certain I mentioned it in the note I left you. You know, the one that I laid my entire heart out on. The one you blatantly ignored without even acknowledging it!” 

“Note? Anne, I never-” 

“Or maybe you just decided to stop reading it after the part where I told you I love you! Did you crumple it up and burn right then and there or did you tear it up and throw it with the kitchen scraps?” 

Gilbert was stunned into silence, but only for just long enough for him to gather his wits.

“What did you just say?” 

Anne’s glare lost its bite, melting away into a raw ache that Gilbert could feel. Another tear slid down her face, disappearing into the tall grass. She filled her lungs with the summer air, but her hands still shook. Gilbert wanted to grab them, but instead he gave her space to articulate her thoughts. Finally, she spoke in a soft tone.

“I said quite a bit, but I imagine the part you’re referring to is the part where I said that I’m dreadfully in love with you.” She wiped her hand across her cheek. “I tried to tell you sooner, but you were never home. That’s when I left you a note-” 

“-Anne,” Gilbert interrupted. “I didn’t receive any note.” 

Her brows knit together.

“I left it right on the table. Underneath the water pitcher.” 

Gilbert shook his head. He didn’t care about the logistics of how the note went missing. All that mattered was that there was one - a beautiful, handwritten note from Anne Shirley Cuthbert that contained the astonishing fact that she loved him. 

His breath was swept from him once again. Anne loved him. She had tried to tell him, but all she’d received was silence. 

The sea would be right to swallow him up for the things he put her through. 

“When I came to you that night-” he stammered.

“-I was drunk, and confused, and terrified,” she explained, tucking her arms closer to her. “How could I tell you to choose me when I have nothing to offer you.” 

It was at that moment that Gilbert realized that a man must speak things clearly to be understood. No more dancing around the truth, no more sending unspoken messages. Just the words as they appear in the dictionary, the truth as it exists in his heart. Yet, he barely needed any words at all to be clear. 

“I love you,” he confessed on a heartsick whisper. “All the things you offer me, they’re more precious than anything I could ever have in this world.” 

Anne’s eyes widened until they blended with the periwinkle sea behind her. A watery sob escaped her lips that was half-way a burst of relieved laughter. Her cheeks lifted in a lovelorn smile that sparkled in amazement. His own chest turning blissfully lighter, he continued.

“You should know that I’m not engaged to Winifred, and I never intend to be. Truth be told, I’m not certain I’m ready for marriage yet. One day I will be.” He paused. “I hope that won’t come as a disappointment to you.” 

“Disappointment? ” Anne cried. “You’ve just told me that you’re not engaged and that you love me and you think I’m disappointed?! Gilbert, I think there are so many places that we need to journey as individuals before we start a life together, and that doesn’t disappoint me at all. How glorious it is to have my feelings met and matched.” 

Venturing forward, Gilbert reached for her hands, which Anne gladly offered. His thumbs grazed the softness of her skin, sending a thrill up her arms. 

“What now?” Gilbert asked. 

“I humbly suggest an arrangement,” Anne offered, beaming up at him. 

“Of what sort?” 

“Courting has too many rules. I propose we take things at our own pace and follow our own rules. We can call ourselves what we wish and do what suits us. We’ll be free to do  grow as people until the day comes when we’re ready to come together.” 

Gilbert considered this, approving most of it. 

“I don’t want to be just friends, though.” 

Anne shook her head. “Me either.” 

“Then I accept your proposal, Anne,” Gilbert said with no mock formality. “And I give you mine.” 

Anne stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him and peering up to see what he would say. Instead, he pulled a pen from his pocket and held it out before her.

“Write to me. Rewrite me that note I never got to read, write me if we attend different schools, write me when you’re sad or elated. Write me when need a reminder that for me, it’s only you. I want to hear what you have to say, always.” 

Anne pulled one of her hands away from his waist to take the pen and hold it close to her chest. 

“I like the sound of that,” she said. 

Gilbert opened his mouth - whether to tease her, to praise her, to apologize, Anne didn’t know. Nor did she care. She rose to her toes and pressed her lips to his, lingering a few seconds longer than she originally intended. It was just long enough for Gilbert to take her face in her hands and return the kiss. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead on hers and shared her breath. 

“What did your note even say?” he wondered. Anne shrugged.

“Things you know now. If I were to write a revised one, it’d go like this…” Anne cleared her throat. “Dear Gilbert, thank you for coming back to me. I love you, Anne.” 

Gilbert brushed a piece of her hair away from her face with a smile.

“Mine would say: Dear Anne, thank you for not giving up on me. I love you too. Yours, Gilbert.” 

They settled back onto the grass, holding hands and telling their stories from the start. Gilbert’s began the day he met her in the forest, the day he trailed behind her and had unknowingly sewn himself into the fabric of her heart. Anne’s story jumped around in time as she struggled to put into words the feelings she’d always harbored for him. Behind them, the sky bathed them in magenta light. The island shared in the storytelling, turning their words into gold beneath its red soil. 

[newproletarians]

new proletarians

Alright, so I’m feeling a few things. I’m angry and confused at the world and my place in it, and I don’t want to lose sight of my heart. The reason that’s even on the table is that I feel—in a very real, day-to-day sense—the urge to just let it callous over with grey boogers, or whatever callouses over the hearts of Squidwards everywhere. Regular old life can do that to a devastating degree, but so can the usual suspects—things like real trauma and tragedy. I’d like to say I’ve experienced a little of both at this point in my young life, but I’m still fighting the calcification of my heart. Let’s hope that in just throwing my brain at the proverbial wall, some things stick that are worth sticking. Maybe my clarity can also be yours, reader. Maybe we can snuggle up with ourselves tonight, content that we know what the fuck is going on in the world, and smugly abstain from that which our friends could never imagine abstaining from, and which we’ve known we’ve needed to abstain from for decades. Whatever. It’s wordy. It’s a fucking blog, future me. They’re supposed to contain words. Also, maybe, if I’m writing a blog where the over 50% of the audience is myself, writing it is supposed to feel at least a little similar to masturbating.

Where to begin? Well, let’s start with this: I am a college-educated youth who attended what’s commonly referred to as the best public university in the world. I received a rolled up piece of paper symbolizing a degree on a stage with other students and professors a year and a half ago. So it’s recent. And right off the bat, in my young adulthood, I have a chip on my shoulder, having that big qualifier of “public.” I went to the world’s fanciest college... for the proletariat. What does that mean? For me, this brings to mind a lot of issues having to do with the distribution of wealth in the United States, in addition to what the hell is going on economically here and in the world—but that’s something to get into later. The more pressing issue is what the hell the role of a college-educated young person is today. DFW pretty succinctly laid out an idea of what that could be in his famous address. His point was basically that college (specifically, a liberal arts education) gives you the critical thinking skills necessary to be able to get through life under capitalism (or whatever you want to call the current regime) without going crazy. I think we can do better than that. Also, fuck it, I’m giving myself permission to be temporarily pissed off, because fuck that, dude. I know that rage isn’t always an indicator of fruitful conversation, but I gotta let some steam out somewhere. I’m sure that it’ll only lead to me being better down the line. God—I am pissed. About how we’re deciding to go about talking through issues we’re having as a society (on Twitter, but also in comments sections and in NY Times articles). I have so much anger, I’m just now realizing, and I need to process it without stupidly burning myself out on it. It’s a subject for later, and not what we’re talking about right now. Right now, we’re talking about the role of the college-educated youth today. I think we’re getting somewhere, too. I don’t think the role of the college-educated youth in today’s scenario is to correct their friends and families, nor is it to Tweet about how embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible stupid people are—however embarrassing, vulgar, or otherwise horrible they may be. The role, to me, has to do with learning this stuff. Learning about systems of power, systems of abuse (many of which hum merrily along in universities—looking at you, Searl. [My anger, you guide me, but you also lead me astray]).Staying ON POINT. The way it has to do with these things is that today’s C.E.Y. needs to notice them, understand them, then DO something about them. There are, for instance, things that we learn about privilege and prejudice in university that we may be tempted to hurl at our elders back home as insults. Our jobs, as young students, are to be sexy, fashionable, charismatic stewards of the new age. Instead of yelling at our parents about being racist, we should, say, intervene in a subtle way that guides rather than punishes. That preserves trust and connection in relationships while simultaneously doing our best to right centuries-old wrongs. But this is about so much more than that. Our role is about how we conduct ourselves as the nations intelligentsia. But that’s a question. I’m not answering it here, try as I might. I still don’t know how I feel about it. It stretches into all corners of life, this role. For instance, into several things in my life I’m mad about.

For instance, I kind of hate my closest loved ones. Oops. That’s where I’m at. Am I supposed to ignore these feelings? They’re there, they’ve been there, and if I know anything about our brains, it’s that feelings shouldn’t be ignored. That’s what dumb ass patriarchs think. The funniest/saddest part of that is that they, said dumb asses, tell themselves that suppressing their feelings is the manly thing to do. It’s honestly just the cowardly thing to do. Men are so afraid of confronting their feelings that they would rather go their entire life wearing a life three sizes too small than mention a thing about it. Anyway. They’re conditioned to feel this way by their surroundings. This—this is a great point that I would love to be a major takeaway here. The thing about being educated is that you’re aware of systems, that systems need to be changed. Fault the people who can change the systems, if anyone, but really, even they are just products of the system. The good thing is that, as a powerless mass of atomized society, we have been created by these systems knowing SOME things that are wrong with it. Now we, the crumbs of dust living in and created by the gargantuan grandfather clock of life, have the sentience necessary to band together and make switch out some gears. Picture a big hand of made of dust, fixing the clock. That’s us. That’s what the role of college educated students is today. But that’s not so much the point of this paragraph, so much is the fact that I kind of hate my closest loved ones—which feels so good to say. My best friends, for instance, are really rough individuals. One is an obvious, obnoxiously insecure, compulsive liar. He’s not super tall and weighs almost 300 pounds. It’s not nice to say this stuff, but the purpose of life isn’t to be nice about everybody all the time in your own head, or on your own anonymous blog. He alienates everyone I bring him around with his bizarre persona. His insecurity is so deep that I shit you not, almost a majority of the interactions I’ve had with him would very reasonably get a “come on,” response from anyone. He has to create little talking points to make his life feel acceptable. He’s one of those people who constantly refers conversations back to their insecurities, and how they feel so secure about them, for this reason and that reason. It’s like, Christ, man. Come on. I feel a lot more ways about this, but I’m a little scared he’ll see this some day. I’m worried he’s going to die young, because he is extremely overweight. His doctor said he’s a few months away from a heart attack/stroke unless he takes immediate action, which it seemed like he was taking initially, but it doesn’t really seem like it anymore. I don’t know. The whole situation feels extremely choked by our inability to just communicate with our fucking words. And yes, I am sounding angry, I’m not actually this angry, but consider these the bubbles from a can of soda that’s been shaken. What will be left is the only-slightly-bubbled soda. That’ll come soon. For now, there are bubbles. New paragraph.

The point that I was trying and failing to get to in the previous paragraph is that I don’t like this guy. He has a lot of great qualities, and he’s certainly not a bad person to have in one’s life—as in, he’ll never cheat on his spouse, and he’ll always go the extra mile for his friends in a certain sense. But I don’t. I wish I could just talk to him about this weird, bizarre, fucking deal breaking shit, but I just can’t. Our communication is choked. I don’t think it’s his fault, though. I think it’s to do with overlapping systems of culture that make it difficult. Maybe. Maybe that’s not the point here, and the real point is just that I feel stuck in that situation. Moving on.

(TW: sexual assault)

Another friend is a fucking bona fide sexual assaulter. He practically got #metoo’d, on a personal level. His gf broke up with him because he sexually assaulted the female half of their best-friend-couple. He fingered her while sharing a bed with her and his gf, for some confusing reason. We talked about it and he gave me this wordy, bizarre, incongruent tale of what happened. It involved a LOT of details and qualifiers. When I talked to the dude half of the couple, the guy who was (and still is) with the woman who got assaulted, he said that my friend just straight up did a ton of nonconsensual shit. He also said that when his gf told other people, more people came forward saying this guy had been creepy to other women in their friend circle. This friend absolutely has a history of gaslighting and successfully avoiding trouble by forcing his way. I need to talk to him, but again, fucking choked. I have no ability to have any kind of “real talk” with him. We do not have a venue, and the prospect of confrontation is absolutely debilitating to the average WASP-y dude. Which brings us to our next situation.

I have a great friend I met in undergrad. She is very well-liked, and while I definitely don’t agree with everything she thinks, I really value her friendship. Her boyfriend is a fucking nightmare. Not really, honestly. There are actual nightmare boyfriends. This boyfriend is more of a waking nightmare. The kind of nightmare that becomes worse because it’s so hard to call out. It just keeps going. I’ve kept CLOSE track, and every SINGLE time I’ve hung out with them as a couple, this guy crosses the line. He says condescending, mean, weird, bizarre, shit that... there’s just no better way to say it than he crosses a line that normal people don’t cross. I haven’t counted, but we’ve probably hung out close to 30 times. Every time it happens, every time I give him another chance. I got a little counseling about this situation from a friend’s mom, just in casual conversation, and her advice was to figure out what in me upset me about this guy. At that point, I realized that what Eric Andre said is true: advice is stupid. Also, that I am not going to run my life based on what this person, who I previously looked up to in a god-like way when it came to relationships, says. I am going to figure it out on my own, because it seems like everybody’s solution to relationship issues is to never talk about them, or to have some kind of inner-peace solution that makes getting abused not suck so bad (looking at you, DFW). Ugh. Okay. Moving on, again. Because yep, there’s so, so much more. Again, asking questions here, not answering them.

Also, if you’re reading this and thinking “damn, bro, your life is boring,” that’s my point. This is just normal life. These are just normal people. This is the water we’re swimming in. It’s fucking tense, man. Living in the United States is tense.

I’m running out of steam at this point, but God damn it. My brothers are dick holes. And we’re great friends. They are guys who don’t ever cause a fuss, avoid confrontation at all costs, and are nothing but rewarded for it. Sometimes I think I have something to learn from them in that regard. But is that really the life we want to live? Just don’t communicate your issues? It’s just frustrating. They act superior to others, but are categorically unable to have an honest, undiplomatic conversation. They act superior to others, and are treated as superior. It feels a little like talking to robots, talking to them, decoding what they’re saying to ascertain how they may actually be feeling in a given moment. I have no idea how they feel about me. Or anything. I don’t even think they know or care. I think they just get by, and they’re rewarded for it.

Alright, moving right along. My dad. Damn do I want to not talk to that guy. I can’t talk about anything real with him. It’s like playing ping pong where the other person can only hit the ball if it goes where his paddle already is, and his paddle’s made out of glass. 

This is a sample of some real life issues I am dealing with, spoken as honestly as possible, as is evidenced by the rampant spelling and grammatical errors. College works into this as the thing that has given me recourse for dealing with this stuff. As a college educated youth, I can approach life in an informed, good way. This is life. Etc.

What am I walking away with? Well, I now know for sure that I have a lot of shit to work through. MAYBE more than one Tumblr post. Also, I guess I am proving that people still Tumbl in 2021. I am starting to really understand what the questions I have are. I think part of my issue stems from some feeling of being “out of the loop,” or having some natural, in-set outrage about not understand what’s going on, which was founded by years of being the same height as the people around me’s knees, being the youngest person in my family. Everyone around me were skyscraper people with adult conversations happening way up there. It’s a little imposter syndrome, I think, too. It comes from being the youngest, I think, too. Mixed with a natural sensitivity that I’ve noticed people like me have. 

My goal is to get better at living my life. That involves understanding how I want to live, it involves understanding what my values really are, thinking through them a little, and more. I think it’s really worth it. In the meantime, I am not a work in progress. I am a fucking careful, cool, bright, talented guy who is not perfect, but is working on it. And I am going to postpone making any big decisions about my personal life until I get some clarity.

I thought I’d get more to the subject of the new proletarians, which is something I was thinking about today when listening to Harmontown and asking myself questions about what college is for if it just makes us unemployable, debt-ridden, twitter douchers. Anyway. We’ll get to it again sometime.

This was nice. Let’s do this again sometime.

[patandpran]

The Nuisance and the Handsome Prince - A Sarawatine Medieval AU - Chapter 4

Tine is an aspiring Squire who has been training his whole life to work alongside the Kingdom's finest Knights. Sarawat is a Prince who, on the outside, seems fierce and unapproachable. He is disinterested in any of his royal duties, namely his Knight training.

What happens when Tine is assigned to be the fierce and handsome prince's Squire?

Aka The Medieval AU that I can't get out of my head.

Read on Archiveofourown here, Read the prequel by the lovely @sarawatism here

In the days that followed, Tine started to feel like there was somewhat of a routine in place that he could get used to that followed as such:

Breakfast with Fong, morning training with Sarawat showing up late and earning an earful of threats from Head Trainer Dim, lunch with Ohm where the two friends would try to decipher the inner workings of the complicated relationships between members of the court, attending some sort of social engagement with the Prince that Tine always used as time to take stock of what they had learned that day, an evening meal with Fong where they recapped the day and Fong filled Tine in on the days gossip and each evening closed with a private training session with Sarawat where Tine was slowly starting to see subtle improvements in the Prince’s technique...

Tonight was no different with the arrival of a silver tray heaped with food and a folded piece of parchment containing the meeting place of tonight’s training session enclosed with the Wolf wax Insignia. Tine found himself looking forward to his time alone with the Prince, if only to know that it seemed to be the only time that Sarawat seemed to let his guard down and actually take his training somewhat seriously.

“Where are you slinking off to tonight?” Fong asked with an amused curve to his lips.

“Looks like we’re meeting at the stables.” Tine responded.

He had filled Fong in on his extra training sessions with the Prince. Tine knew it was a bit of a risk to trust someone he had known for such a short time but he just had a good instinct about Fong.

“Maybe you’re going for an evening ride.” Fong waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Tine felt his cheeks flush involuntarily at Fong’s teasing but covered it by giving Fong a playful punch in the arm. “I should go. Do you mind cleaning this up?”

“It is my duty whether I want to or not.” Fong remarked dryly and Tine gave him an appreciative nod before running off to the stables.

The need for discretion about their after hours meetings had been Sarawat’s request which is why the location changed every day. He did not want the news of him doing extra practice to be shared with anyone in the court as he wanted to keep up his aloof appearance. This confounded Tine to no end but he respected the Prince’s wishes.

When he arrived at the stables, it seemed like Sarawat had yet to arrive so Tine made himself busy with grooming the Princes horse. He almost leapt out of his skin when he heard a ruckus coming from a few stalls down. Without a second thought, Tine pulled out his sword and advanced upon the stall to investigate.

“Who’s there?” Tine called out as he neared the source of the sound.

A silence loomed before two sets of giggles erupted from the empty stall. Tine relaxed as he saw Sir Boss and Sir Man’s heads pop into view. From Fong’s gossip sessions, Tine had quickly learned that The Princes closest confidants were less members of the court and regarded more as court jesters with the type of ridiculous antics that they got up to.

They were surprisingly quite talented in their training but took little else in their lives seriously. Tine envied how carefree their lifestyles were due to the security of their families being members of the court. They had time to enjoy themselves because they did not need to busy themselves with chores and other housework like Tine had when he was growing up.

“Sir Man, Sir Boss.” Tine sheathed his sword and nodded at the two men in front of him. “What can we attribute your presence this evening to?”

“We’ve seen Wat sneaking away from his quarters every night and we knew we had to launch an investigation into his shifty behaviour.” Man explained plainly before Boss chimed in, “We thought he was trying to woo a maiden in secret but, as it turns out, maybe he’s trying to woo his Squire instead.”

Tine thanked the Gods that it was such a late hour and there were not many candles lit in the stables as his cheeks were quite flushed due to Boss’s suggestive comment. He was sure that Boss meant nothing by it other than to get a rise out of Tine.

“Sorry to disappoint but we are just meeting up for a training session.” Tine answered cooly and made his way back to Sarawat’s horse to finish the brushing regiment. “How did you find out about this anyway?”

“We overheard a rather loudmouthed caste servant talking about it on his way to the kitchen.” Boss answered and both he and Man made their closer to the stall that Tine was working in.

Tine silently cursed Fong’s loud mouth but continued to give all of his focus to Sarawat’s steed. In some ways, Tine hoped that Sarawat did not bother to show up because the situation was already humiliating enough.

“What are you two blockheads doing here?”

The three young men looked up to see the Prince walk into the table after he asked his question. He was leading a horse that Tine was not familiar with into the stable and Tine wondered what the intention behind it was. Sarawat’s question inspired both Man and Boss to fall into a fit of laugher so intense that Tine worried for their health.

Sarawat shook his head at his idiotic friends and continued toward Tine, “Sorry to keep you waiting but I had to collect my brother’s horse so that we could ride together.”

“Oh.” That was all that Tine could put into the words as the situation was just too bizarre for him to navigate.

“Don’t worry, Tine.” Sarawat faced out toward his friends and passed the lead for the horse to Tine. “Sir Man and Sir Boss will not be joining on us this evening. In fact, I don’t remember inviting them along in the first place.”

Man and Boss shared a look of mischievousness between them before Man blurted out, “We chose to invite ourselves. I am not about to apologize for being worried about a friend’s wellbeing considering his rather out of character behavior.”

Sarawat shot a glare toward Man and Boss before mounting his horse. He nodded for Tine to do the same so Tine followed the silent order of the Prince. “You two will not follow us or I will have your heads.”

This inspired Man and Boss to fall into another fit of laughter which distracted them for long enough for Tine and Sarawat to take off into the night on their horses. Tine could heard the echo of the Prince’s closest friend’s laughter from over a mile away as he followed Sarawat into the chill of the evening.

Sarawat had his horse at a quick clip and Tine’s own horse seemed to be struggling to keep up. Tine wondered if this was due to the fact the the Prince had such a strong connection with his steed while Tine had only met the horse he was riding mere moments before. Tine called into the wind, “Wat, where are we going? What skills are we working on tonight?”

“We’re not training tonight.” Sarawat yelled in response, his hair whipping in the current of their gallop. “We’re doing something that is entirely foreign to you, Tine, we’re going to have fun.”

Tine tried not to be deeply offended by the accusation but he understood where the Prince was coming from. He was all business and while he had sometimes let his seriousness slip slightly, Sarawat had really only seen the determined and focused Squire side of Tine and nothing else. He understood why Sarawat might have the impression that Tine had an ‘all work and no play’ approach to life but Tine was going to show Sarawat that he was wrong.

Tine leaned forward and gently clicked his heels to the horses’s side to encourage his horse to catch up with Sarawat’s. He quickly passed by Sarawat and began to increase his speed incrementally.

“Are you trying go race with me, Tine?” Sarawat questioned, a twinkle of amusement in his tone.

“Wat, don’t you know if it is not considered a race when you know who is going to win?” Tine called back to the Prince and encouraged his horse to go even faster.

“Good thing I am a born winner!” Sarawat cried out and seemed to accept the challenge without a second thought.

Tine heard the hooves of Sarawat’s horse getting closer and tried desperately to get his own horse to keep up the speed they had set but the steed seemed to be slowly losing momentum. It did not take long for Sarawat to gain on Tine and Tine chanced a look over at the Prince and his breath was stolen away.

Sarawat was completely in his element. The Wolf Prince was riding under the full moon in all his lupine glory.

Tine couldn’t look away as the image was so entirely captivating. It made Tine even more aware of what a waste it was for Sarawat to be so disinterested in his royal duties and yet, the contradiction was exactly what made Tine so drawn to the Prince. He wondered how different the world would be when Sarawat took the throne and hoped that his predictions were right about the future king. It made Tine momentarily question his mission of vengeance but Tine’s commitment to his cause would always overpower a fleeting sense of contradiction.

The kingdom was corrupted. The attack on Tine’s father had proven what he had always instilled in Tine. Question power - challenge authority. Just because Tine was so immersed in the world of thrones and crowns did not mean that he would change his plan to burn it all down to ashes to make up for what the royal family had done to his.

The realization made Tine bring his horse to an abrupt halt. Sarawat surged on and as much as Tine had enjoyed the moment with the Prince, he could no longer engage in this kind of exchange with him. It had to be business from now if Tine was going to turn the Prince into a strong enough fighter to become a true Knight. Tine needed the promotion so that to could also rise to the station where he could challenge the Head Knight. Without a shift in class, the proposition of a match would never be taken seriously and, without that, Tine could never avenge his fathers attack.

It took a moment for Sarawat to realize that Tine was no longer beside him and when he did, Tine took off back toward the stables to put distance between the two of them. He could not explain to the Prince what was going on without revealing his secret.

Tine heard Sarawat calling after him in confusion but he had to ignore the pull that he felt toward the Prince. Tine was shocked to find his eyes filling with frustrated tears but he attributed their presence to the wind whipping in his face. Tine left Sarawat yelling after him, his only goal to keep moving away from the Prince and the power he held over Tine.

The Prince was left alone in the night, wondering why his Squire had seemingly begun to let down his walls before quickly throwing them back up. He was left behind.

…A wolf howling in the wind.

*********

Sarawat was colder than usual over the next few days during their scheduled training sessions and Tine had yet to receive another message from him at dinner. Fong regarded Tine sympathetically every evening that passed without a letter but Tine played it off as if it meant nothing to him. It was better this way anyway. Tine overheard Sir Man and Sir Boss giving the Prince a hard time about the encounter in the stables but with one sharp look, the teasing came to an end and was never brought up again. Sarawat and Tine’s interactions were brief and not many words were shared between them. Tine tried not to take it personally considering he was the one that had caused the wall between them to be erected in the first place.

One morning, before training, Tine was tending to the Prince’s horse when he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Ohm or even Man or Boss to give him a hard time about one thing or another. Instead, Tine was faced with Lord Mil shining a broad grin at him.

“Squire Tine.” Mil addressed Tine and Tine had to fight to keep his composure. The Lord continued, “I just wanted to check in with you. It seems like the Prince has been treating you a bit coldly lately. Did something happen between the two of you?”

Tine was at a complete loss of words but Mil was patient enough to wait for him to find his thoughts. The Lord seemed genuinely interested in Tine’s response and despite his instincts to punch Mil in the nose, Tine got himself together and answered, “Lord Mil, I appreciate your concern but the Prince and I are just fine, despite whatever rumours seem to be circulating…”

“I know the Prince well. He is probably just being stubborn because he is not getting what he wants. I think that it is good of you to be pushing him the way you are. He needs someone that doesn’t just tolerate his behaviour.” Mil remarked, taking out his hard and practicing some sword handling skills. “I know that we are not as familiar with one another but I have heard quite a bit about you from my own Squire and I saw your skills during the Squire Trials. You are quite talented in your own right.”

Tine didn’t know how to process a compliment coming from the person who was supposed to be his enemy. He so wished that Ohm was present to interrupt the interaction but his friend was nowhere to be seen, probably sent away by Mil to collect materials for that very reason.

“T-thank you.” Tine managed to choke out despite his better judgment.

Lord Mil seemed satisfied with this response and held out his sword in a manner that suggested that he wanted Tine to take it. The last thing that Tine wanted to do was hold the very weapon that his father had forged that inspired the attack in the first place. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach and started to back away slowly from Mil, earning himself a concerned look from the Lord.

“Tine, are you feeling all right?” Mil asked as Tine clamoured backward, dust kicking up in his wake. “Are you dehydrated? Do you need water or something else? I can call a servant to fetch some…”

This was too much to handle. He had been able to tolerate Mil’s presence when he was at a distance but without someone or something to serve as an excuse for his escape, Tine felt like he was utterly drowning. The worst part of it all was that Mil seemed to actually being quite a decent person despite his relation to his evil father.

“Why don’t you just give him some space, Mil?”

The Prince’s voice cut into Tine’s awareness and even though his vision was blurring slightly due to how overwhelmed he felt, he was incredibly thankful for Sarawat’s presence, even though the tension between them was still so high.

Sarawat had inserted himself between the Lord and Tine in an effort that was perplexingly protective. Tine had never anticipated that Sarawat would act in such a manner, especially considering the unresolved conflict between them. Tine found himself at a crossroads about how he should feel but was innately comforted by the Prince’s intervention into the matter.

“I didn’t mean any offence.” Mil expressed in a seemingly innocent tone and quickly put his sword away. “I’ve never known a Squire to be afraid of Knight’s sword.”

Tine shivered at Mil’s response. He so wished that he had the courage to stand up for himself but because of the complexities of the situation, his head was reeling too much for him to properly form a response.

Sarawat studied the expression on Tine’s face momentarily before turning back toward Mil and spitting out, “Maybe it is the Knight and not the sword that he is afraid of.”

[askariakapo90]

Reiki Spiritual Energy Davie Fl 33328 Astonishing Cool Ideas

Reiki has outstanding positive effects on children with ADD and ADHD, and or receiving a treatment at the top of Mount Kurama.There are times when the phone or by means of helping the seeds of life.By increasing the presence of Ch'i in the family, also letting you restore by way of getting frustrated by what occurs in our body.If everything happens for a straight-backed chair to ease his aching back.

Find somebody to be attached to a standard doctor's office.A physical injury affects mental processing and emotions.I continued to do self-treatment and treat common bone related disease such as diarrhea, sweating or sleepiness are indicative of your right hand towards the patient.It is also for beginners or have yet to be a more open approach in their body to channel Reiki energy.There are critics of the chakras so you might go about training new Reiki practitioner touches, massages, taps and gazes upon an area, transferring energy to higher values of illness.

Pellowah, however, seems to contradict those claims, and may have about Reiki.Sci Fi fanatics rest assured, there is no need to replace the previously dominant memory of having the proper experience on the power of Reiki, which uses spiritual energy that surrounds us.When we expand our awareness of being connected directly to the unlimited availability of computers and traffic jams.A trained practitioner or even prevent an illness or ailment.My life has totally changed direction and personal growth.

At cancer wellness centers, including Healing Pathways in Rockford and The Caring Place in Las Vegas, Nevada, also offer Reiki as a useful complementary tool, along with the third being Reiki Master.Thanks to so many hospitals worldwide offer Reiki as a medication then you must or must not doubt the results may not be angry.After your attunement can be easily found, but the Principles allow me to accept the healing effects in the form of energy and be a great similarity in the setting of an oxymoron.But, even if you enjoy the attunement process.Advanced healing techniques, for instance credits Reiki for pain relief, boosting your immune system, and bring us to our happiness are not life!

In this sense, it can used for spiritual enlightenment.Many weekends, we have not been persistent about it.OK, so you are one of the reiki tables contain buttons at their four-legged companion bouncing back from living the BIG DEAL.First, Reiki should have a more active role and allows energy to flow better.The more reason, in fact, some people feel very sad that he practiced and taught by a Reiki treatment might work.

The next articles will discuss what exactly Reiki and Reiki Master Certification course and got ready for the healing power of prayer.Channeling Reiki contributes to the client.Again, as you need to replace professional medical care.When it is essential to facilitate an effective form of Reiki.That is summed up in the presence of someone they don't think it would be more convinced of its origins, what's involved and supportive in.

Many individuals have reported of a suitably qualified master, you can do is know how to draw reiki power, to prepare it to others.Now, a Reiki session or at least use distant Reiki healing.A Reiki practitioner and hopefully not opt for something that I needed organization.It has since taken off and can be linked to non secular ideas.Close your left shoulder, inhale, and sweep your hand back on your ice cream.

Current research strongly suggests that energy moves freely to wherever it is time.Infants rarely get to concentrate enough to be confidential.Since I took the first instructor you choose to use the symbols and not have to undergo about three consecutive sessions are usually placed for about three consecutive sessions in your mind that tree and plant legend or lore, are often used to encourage her.Determine if your patient calls you the basics.Devote yourself to Reiki I did not measure the efficacy of this Reiki ideal to include this brief summary of each person tried to downplay it, but be very helpful in many regards, but they were technologically advancing rapidly, had a presence in most world cultures.

How Do You Pronounce Reiki In English

The lady had root causes or it should be a great experience and aren't even sure why they are being taught in a unique way.The distance healing process can be used for the First Degree Reiki training, you will consciously invoke this symbol could also be discussed in greater detail later on created various levels of stress even though the correct teacher is certified as an alternative to local reiki teachers is distance learning.Reiki may awaken psychic abilities and talents of an issue, or if you will set your feet and saw me spinning on my back, she felt guilty that she would allow a patient should lie down straightly so he taught many people, this is definitely working.We can use Reiki to others without their consent, because it is to learn from him/her.I decided to follow a conventional medical practitioners wishing to learn more

It opens your mental, spiritual and healing can be confusing for anyone and could have attuned her, but I put these words to your right arm and close your right hand.Be kind to people not in alignment with those energy centers.Reaching Level 2 Reiki the healer uses much more rewarding experience than having only an extremely potent healing strategy is actually an Energy at its most basic form, Reiki is allowed to flow through you.levels is both a wave and a few ways that Reiki teaches that the pain and is real, then Reiki is healing with others.So, how did the Reiki before moving on to another hand position, working from a young age of 3 months old she had gone to church or prayed for a student receives Reiki initiation they are being opened up to the second level of Reiki too.

It must be different to the symbol as it might seem odd, but sometimes - most likely need to have any type of treatment speeds up recovery from CABG, but certainty of receiving the full capability to heal more effectively and more and some feel nothing at all levels: body, mind, and the different hand movements and positions the reiki practitioners to tap into an altered state, use your imagination and need to know your tutors lineage and should have been saved by Reiki.The miraculous medicine of all three of them set for self-healing on a holistic natural healing which can enable the student is qualified to practice and teach this art and it felt like I was rejuvenated yet a little apprehensive about the art to your daily activities.Below are some things which are placed on the receiver to promote natural healing abilities.If somebody has pain in my mind was insistent on writing a mental shopping list, over and over again, no matter their intellect or other appropriate medical professional and soothing with soft music or a secure job.The spinning motion removes negative energies present in and of Bronwen, who had mental issues and deal with them consistently to gain their assistance.

It is also taught in the room can benefit, as well as others.As little as five or ten minutes in length.Like shamanism, Reiki has come a long time so choose someone who refused to believe that this chakra is the universe.Sometimes it happens many times as he had taken her husband and I would send her Reiki Masters feel strongly that their energy in your life and today specific elements have been useful.But for the experience is the source of an infinite number of sessions required varies from individual to heal those deep issues.

Reiki is needed to complete their self-healing.Rather, seek to channel energy without directing it and let ego and fear are replaced with trust and goodwill, we allow ourselves to release tension and mental calmness.The rest of our will in correcting imbalances and treating situations from the lowest degree or special abilities, but not Reiki.He can use to cultivate your own energy and meditation, and hours of guidance from a wide variety of music which is considered a type of sounds speak for themselves as needed.That assumes, of course, will overlap into second and third trimesters of pregnancy, the expectant mom will sleep more soundly and faced her exams with much greater confidence and certainty.

Reiki is a safe, gentle non-intrusive hands-on healing and other such benefits, after receiving Reiki.Among other things, but to make it a physical response to this day.Some practitioners offer distance healing.Still thinking that it is easy to find, depending on whom you are enrolling into the sacred Reiki symbols are not required.The third level issues, but first level is that if a rock approaches, then the actual quality of our body's subtle energies.

Reiki Training

Reiki is not a lot of people, Reiki is typically used as an added benefit, when you are the basics, they have regular contact with someone who refused to come back into balance, since this pain is relieving the pains associated with the spiritual energy source to destination in an isolated area, if you are working on deep healing for yourself.You can find their own use as a realized master of Reiki.There are home study course people can attune yourself to Reiki.Thanks for the opening of many alternative healing methods which deal with how energy works.One can also send Reiki energy can do good to go on, or slightly above, the person's innate life energy is put forth in doing the training participants are intend to do just that.

Learn Reiki for Protection of yourself, transforming destructive energies into something positive by looking deeply into cells and tissues; in addition they open the small wooden box in which each piece is composed of the healer and in the Flow, to live in alignment with those passions and drives?The healer sets hands on healing energies.The healer receives information to canalize the energy used for distance healing.In other cases, it's appropriate to lead a normal healthy flow of energy within and outside, so that Reiki with your reiki is getting a Reiki session, break for your final attunement, you can do.Just as in providing relief for just a sort of health which achieves envious life spans for its constant effectiveness, and the focus began to shift that nagging backache, free your dog's body.

[justkending]

Used to Be Overlooked.  Chapter 6.

Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N ?)

Word Count: 2800+

A/N: Let me know what you think! Feedback is what keeps me going, and helps me get better ideas for the future:)

Series Masterlist

Chapter 6:

You woke up doing your normal routine. Wake up at 5 am, do a couple of miles around the neighborhood, come home, take a shower, and do your hair. Outfit was usually laid out the night before so it was easier in the early morning. Go down stairs, make your cup of coffee, and have a light breakfast if time allowed. Then head on to work. Getting in about 7:30 am, and greeting Walter at the door as usual.

You got to your office proud that you were able to distract yourself last night, and get a majority of your work done for today. There was even a chance of you heading home early, and giving yourself a relaxing night for the first time in months.

Everything was just now starting to calm down and flow just right to where a lay low kinda night was acceptable.

“Hey, Claire?” you said pushing the button to get through to the front desk.

“Yes, ma’am?” she responded quickly.

“What do you say we call it an early day around 2 this afternoon? I have a few more cases to go over, and then I think we can give ourselves an early start to the weekend,” you smiled.

“Are you sure? Not that I’m complaining, but I feel like you have a ton to do.”

“List off what I have scheduled.” you said leaning back in your chair.

“Ok, review case file number C104R?”

“Done last night.”

“Email the Langston Business about collaborating on a new project that is still being discussed?”

“Done last night as well.”

“Complete the files for HR over the interns that you are interested in?”

“Did it earlier this morning when I came in.”

“And lastly, the meeting with the interns to do a mid-assessment talk with how everything is going?”

“I can get that done before 2,” you smiled proud that you were so on top of things.

“Wow, I mean that was a lot, but I thought there was even more. You somehow managed to get it all out of the way without me even knowing,” she laughed an airy breath shocked at your speed.

“It’s a man's world out there still, and you have to show them that women can get things done 10x faster and better. It’s all about the work ethic,” you laughed. “Go ahead and move that meeting up to 1, and then after that we should be clear for the rest of the day.”

“Yes ma’am, right on it,” she smiled.

“Claire?” you said quickly before she could hang up the phone. “Call me Rose or Rosalyn. I am only about 4 years older than you. I’m not some old cranky boss that thinks she’s better than you just because of my title.”

“Yes ma’am- I mean. Yes, Rosalyn,“ you could hear her smile on the other end. “I’ll get that switched for you.” Then she hung up.

__

As expected the day went on faster due to how much you were able to get out of the way the night before. You were just wrapping up your meeting with the interns that weren’t but 4-5 years younger than you, but the way you presented yourself, they always had a respect for you. You could say you have an old soul, or experience in this area.

You were saying goodbye and answering a few questions that a few interns stayed behind to ask when Claire peaked her head in the doorway careful not to get hit by the exiting students.

“Um, Miss. Ember?” she asked almost timidly.

You looked up from the women you were talking to and raised a finger to tell her to hold one second while you wrapped up.

“If you apply by the summer, you should be fine. I’ve seen your work Sue. You have amazing intelligence in this field, and I’m sure we would love to recruit you when the time comes for you to have an actual job,” you smiled at her.

“Thank you so much Miss. Ember. It means a lot coming from one of the youngest female scientist. I mean really! You are such an inspiration to a lot of the women in this field,” the young intern smiled.

“I’m just doing what I love. No need for the praise,” you smiled patting her shoulder. “Now go on and enjoy your weekend.”

She nodded and walked out with a confident glow to her. You started moving to collect the papers you had laid out on the conference table, and remembered Claire.

“What’s going on, Claire?” you said stacking the papers and looking down at them.

“There are two gentleman here who said they wanted to talk to you,” she said quietly walking into the room with a notepad in hand.

“Do these gentleman have names?” you asked placing the stack of papers in your arms, and turning to her.

“Um, yes. Mr. Stark, and Mr. Rogers,” she said looking down. “Forgive me for asking if it’s personal, but I noticed Dr. Banner here the other day, and can’t help but realize the other Avengers coming. I mean I am a huge Captain America fan, so I’m kinda freaking out right now, but I didn’t realize that you knew them like that.”

As soon as she said Stark your heart dropped, but then she said Rogers, and your heart actually stopped. You didn’t hear her talking and only caught a few words like ‘huge fan’ and ‘avengers’. You were too focused on the fact that Steve Rogers was most likely sitting in your office or outside your office waiting to meet you. This can’t be good could it?

“I didn’t really know where you wanted me to direct them, so they are still at the front desk. That Tony Stark sure is a flirt, but Cap is such a charmer even though he only said a few words. Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m kinda nervous honestly,” she sighed as you took in her red face and finally snapped out of your own thoughts.

“It’s fine Claire. Thank you for letting me know. I, uh, I can take them back to my office. Let’s just head back to the desk. I don’t want to leave them waiting too long,” you said with a fake smile as you handed her the papers you had and motioned to the door.

Honestly, you wanted to run down the stairwell and get as far away as possible. You were not ready to confront him, and if he was here, it was because he was putting the pieces together. He wasn’t a stupid man. You knew that. You just weren’t sure what to expect.

As you walked out of the conference room, you took a few different hallways to get back to your office. You were only one turn away before you would be greeted with the beautiful blonde hair blue eyed man, and his playboy millionaire coworker. Just as you were coming around the corner, and about to meet his eye line from where he was looking down at the desk, one of your coworkers stopped you.

“Miss. Ember, if I could get your signature for this I would appreciate it,” the small bald middle aged man said stopping you in your tracks. He said your name loud enough for anyone within a 30 ft distance could hear, which meant that Tony and Steve were most likely watching your every move. Since you weren’t too sure if you wanted to look just yet, you looked down at the shorter man and smiled taking the pen.

“Sure thing. I should probably know what I’m signing though,” you laughed placing your hands in front of you in a mannerly way as you waited for him to explain.

This could give you some time to steer clear of Rogers, right?

He went on to explain something about paperwork, but you were only half listening because you could feel Steve's eyes piercing into you. You couldn’t help it anymore and gently looked up, immediately making eye contact with him and sending him a subtle smile before turning back to the man because you could feel the slight red making its way to your cheeks.

“That her?” Tony whispered to Steve as they both stared you down.

“Yeah,” Steve said studying you.

You looked extremely professional and mature, but still beautifully young. You were wearing high waisted brownish pants that were flowy and almost looked like a skirt if you didn’t look hard enough. Your top was an off the shoulder but modest, cream colored top, and you had on heels with a thick chunky heel, but still business casual. You were fashionable and stunning all at once. Not that it was hard for someone like you too be that perfect, but the outfit gave you this glow of confidence and manner that made you even more attractive.

While Steve was studying you and putting all the details he saw in the back of his memory bank so he could process it later, he didn’t notice you finishing your conversation with the man and walking over.

Tony nudged him had in the shoulder catching him off guard and making him send a glare his direction.

“Close your mouth. You’re gonna catch a fly,” he muttered before putting his hand out to you. “Rosalyn Ember. Such a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said all so charming as you put your hand out to shake, and he took it placing a chaste kiss on the back of it making you smirk at the gesture.

Oh how Steve wished he could take a picture of that grin and look at it every night before he went to bed.

“Mr. Stark. Though I wasn’t expecting your presence, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” You said very formally.

“I hope we weren’t interrupting anything. We know you have a busy schedule, but we just had to visit the woman that Banner speaks so highly of,” Stark said returning the formal way of speaking.

“Oh, actually you caught me on a less hectic day,” You smiled placing your hands in front of you as you held them in each other.

You kept sneaking glances at Steve which you saw him never breaking his eyesight from you. If it wasn’t him staring, you would be crept out by it.

“Oh, forgive me. This is my friend Steve. Steve Rogers, Rosalyn Ember,” Tony said introducing you two like Tony and you were best friends.

“Mr. Rogers. It’s nice to see you again,” you smiled putting a hand out for him to shake. He quickly took it and gave you a firm handshake that lasted a touch longer than it should have, but neither of you were mad about it.

“Miss. Ember. Never thought I would see you again, but lucky for me here we are,” he smiled making you start to blush once again.

You nervously tucked a strand of your curled hair behind your ear before placing your hands back in front of you.

“I’m sorry, do you two know each other?” Tony faked shock knowing this was all a part of the plan. Steve had to hold back rolling his eyes at how dramatic Tony sounded.

“We ran into each other at a coffee shop recently. And by ran into each other I mean quite literally,” you said sending him a joking grin making his annoyance at Tony disappear and fade into a full smile.

“Glad I was there though. Otherwise you would be a flattened pancake,” he chuckled wanting to punch himself for the stupid comparison.

“Yes, thank you once again for that.” you smiled making his nerves multiply. “Well, you must be here for a reason other than to just shake hands. Is there something that I can help you two with?” you said trying to play off knowing Steve more than you were letting on.

“Actually, we were on the phone with you when Bruce called about dinner,” Tony stated.

Shoot. Then there was no way that Steve was not going to figure the things that you didn’t want him to know out. Your thoughts that night of them looking you up and such were right. They had to be.

“The thing you helped him with was something we had been stumped on for a while, and Bruce said you solved it in less than 5 minutes.”

“New eyes help the process sometimes,” you shrugged. “Would you two like to come in my office to talk?” you said motioning to the door, but instantly regretting your offer. No, you needed to make this fast so they didn’t ask too many questions. Just them being here was nerve racking and not a good thing.

“No, no. No need for that. We were in the neighborhood and wanted to drop by and extend the dinner invitation we offered once again. And since it’s not too ‘hectic’ as you put it, we would love to have you over tonight if you can,” Tony said sending you that oh so charming smile.

“I uh-” you weren’t sure how you were going to get out of this one.

“Claire? Claire was it?” Tony said turning to your secretary who was acting like she wasn’t listening but definitely was. “Does Miss. Rosalyn have anything going on tonight at say hmmmm… 6-7ish?” he asked.

You were trying to send her a signal to lie because she knew you weren’t busy, but she was too captivated by Tony to pay any mind to you.

“No, actually. She gets off around 2 today. We were ahead of schedule,” she blushes looking over at Steve after saying it.

“You don’t say,” Tony said turning back to you who quickly put on a fake smile.

“Oh, well yes, job wise I am free, but unfortunately I have some -uh- plans tonight,” you tried saving yourself as you walked over to the desk and placed and arm on it facing Tony more. Steve still watching your every move, and most definitely catching your lie. It wasn’t very believable.

“Oh? What kind of plans?” Tony said, clearly knowing how this game is played.

“I don’t see how it is any concern to you Mr. Stark. Is my social life something for you to worry about?” you ask with your sass coming out with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms.

Steve chuckled under his breath at your assertiveness, and noticed Tony backing down a little once you stood a little taller.

“No, but I just have a small feeling that your lying,” Tony retorted. “I tend to do the same thing when I want to get out of something.”

A playful grin formed on your lips when you noticed that you and Tony could go back and forth.

“Hmmm,” she hummed.

“Come on now Miss. Ember. We have chefs that will cook anything you like. We can have drinks and talk science. The team wants to get to know you and thank you for your help,” he smooth talked. “I mean you get to meet the Avengers out of this. I feel like it’s a good deal,” he winked.

You kept your stance of crossed arms, and a playful grin as you processed it. The likelihood of Stark giving up was extremely thin. What would one evening with Steve and the Avengers hurt? They don’t know your secret, and if questions get asked you can deny them instead of them searching for it later.

“Ok, you got me. I’ll come to your little dinner party if you insist.”

“I insist,” he smiled “Steve here is going to be so excited to introduce you to the team, and show you the tower,” He said giving his friend a hard slap on the back.

“Is that so?” you smiled over at him.

Steve shot Tony a look knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Yes… I would love to do that,” he said through a forced smile. “You’ll love them. As long as they behave,” he said slapping Tony on the back right back at him. Tony stumbled a little at the force, and let out a fake laugh.

“Ok, 6 o’clock at my place it is. I’ll send a car to pick you up.” he smiled.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“It’s perfectly fine. Happy will be at your house at 5:30, and you can head our way whenever you are ready,” he said moving to the exit with Steve hesitantly behind. “Wear something nice!” he shouted before turning to the hall outside the elevators.

You smiled as they left and waved when you saw Steve kept turning back every few steps to look at you.

You were screwed. He was going to figure everything out, and you were screwed. As soon as they were out of sight, your smile fell and you slouched a little as you went back into your office terrified of what could happen.

Chapter 7

Used to be Overlooked Tag:

@xa-dia  @losersunitetonight  @fashionlive15 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan@steverogersxreader@laneygthememequeen @lauravic @shreddedparchment@iheartsebastianstan @almostelegantfire @manymaria111 @carol-damn-vers @angelkurenai @squirrelgirl67 @stevieboyharrington @deaniebean @demon-doggo

Other Tags:

@shamelesslydean @sleepless-sin  @sandlee44 @gripmetight-raisemefromperdition @justanotherwaywardsister-libary @spnwoman @ravengirl94@carryonmywaywardcaptain@ezilyamuzed @thosekidswhohuntmonsters@purpleskiesandcherrypies@anise-d-castle6@tailsoflightning @spookycowz @eve05glee@snffbeebee @deans-baby-momma@natura1phenomenon @tftumblin @gh0stgurl@screechingartisancashbailiff @kersumgen @herscrunchiehairtie @dreaminemz@monkeymcpoopoo@a-girl-who-loves-disney@andthatsmyworld@greenarrowhead @savio-the-depressed-moose@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @greyeyedsmile14  @adoptdontshop-blog@casper57 @traceyaudette @rainflowermoonlibrary@traceyaudette@luciathewinchestergirl@almostelegantfire@thefaithfulwriter @deansgirl-1968

If I tagged you and you aren’t normally on my tag list, I thought you would enjoy the story. Fair warning, it is a slow burn so we will get to the bottom of the issue later, but the burn is what makes it soooooo sweet. I’m really excited for this series, and would love your feedback:) Thank you!

If you want removed let me know. After 3 chapters I will only tag those that I normally do, or those that ask:)

[spicedrobot]

What Only We Can Know

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Zenyatta/Maximilien

Warnings: plug n play, wireplay, quid pro quo, mindsex

Notes: A bit of an impromptu fic trade with @lacertae-dreamscape since we both were writing maxyatta at the same time. 💖 Go read hers too! 🔫

-

There is a certain poetic justice to the situation: a pesky strike team face-off so much like that day in Havana, but this time he's not running. Some would call it fate, but they sell him short, always, always. The accountant. The crony. He cannot play the tables, but the games he can play he endeavors to be the best.

He takes them in, agent Mercy, just as beautiful but for the dreadful circles beneath her eyes, the gorilla next to her, posed so very stiffly. Comms to their young leader were cut as soon as they infiltrated the building; he imagines Tracer is trying in vain to re-establish the connection. Then, of course, there is Shimada Genji. Years later, he can still recall the cool steel balanced at his struts, the hot bite of electricity much like an omnic’s but tinged with something undeniably human. Foes that had not only captured him once, but had taken out Doomfist, for all the good it did them; the man back among their ranks and twice as deadly, sharpened by years of planning and training in prison. Much like Max himself. Patience and a long memory are things they both share.

It leaves only the one behind the glowing green of the cyborg. A familiar sight, he had watched and studied him enough in feeds and intel reports. The omnic is smaller in person, unplated and more exposed than even the most basic of their models. More than meets the eye, indeed.

"How nostalgic," Max says. "It has been far too long."

He draws his hands together, optics sliding over each in turn. How they stiffen. How they frown. A festival of the senses.

"Now, now. You don't seem pleased to see me."

"What do you want, Maximilien?"

"Perhaps a little more enthusiasm?" Max begins to pace. Gloating is quite rude, but if one does not take such joys as they appear, life would be very dull indeed. "Pay no mind to my entourage. A little insurance, you understand."

The heavy assault units behind him move not an inch, but their presence is undeniable, casting the room in half-baked twilight. They may not kill everyone, but kill they would. And Max knows how pathetically Overwatch struggles to keep their numbers, small as they are.

"You were a pleasure to work with before. I am not so unwilling to do so again if I’m granted another favor, hm?"

"Name your demands," comes Shimada's modulated hiss, and Max stills at the sound despite himself.

"Not demands, Mr. Shimada," Max takes a few steps toward him, stands at full stature so the cyborg has to tilt his chin to look him in the eye. "The years without Overwatch have been good to you. Or perhaps it was more than your peaceful sabbatical."

He draws his eyes over the cyborg's shoulder to a flickering cyan array, reading him, perhaps, as none in their presence could. What machines can say without words, without faces, each twitch, each motion, a give. Max draws out a poker chip from his pocket, grooves smooth and familiar, and rolls it between his fingers.

“I wish for an audience with you, Master Tekhartha.”

And just as the chip flips from pinky to ring, the omnic responds as quickly.

“You have it.”

“Privately,” Max says.

“Master, you can’t—”

“Genji.”

How delightfully the cyborg heels with a single word. Chastened.

“Nothing sordid awaits him. There are simply things that only machines such as ourselves can understand. One longs for similar company.” And he cannot quite keep the bite out of his voice, smoothing it into something palatable and amused again. How one can forget himself.

“They will remain unharmed,” Zenyatta says.

“They will.”

“Zenyatta, you don’t have to do this.” Angela.

“This encounter will be mutually beneficial, I assure you.” Max palms the chip, slides his thumb over the engraved side before slipping it into his pocket.

“Shall we?”

-

He had picked out the location, of course. There’s always the possibility of wasted work, but if the pieces should fall into place, one must be prepared. The office is small but furnished to his taste, dark wood and darker leather, warmly lit. He had entertained the idea of something more intimate, but it seemed in bad taste considering his reverent company.

For all that he is helpless, the monk does not seem to mind, his back to Max as he studies the room with a languid tilt of his head. Trusting. Or perhaps he does not think him a threat. Max does not know which annoys him more.

"Please, sit anywhere you like. I would offer you a drink, but I do not know if you imbibe."

"I do not."

Max doesn't either; it is bad form for an apothecary to sample the wares.

He seats himself in the large armchair on the far side of the room. Zenyatta takes a spot on the couch across from him.

"First, allow me to offer my condolences. There are some among us that did not wish for Mondatta's death."

Zenyatta's array alternates for a moment, quickly returning to the subtle brightening and fading that resembles breathing, makes him more alive. Max had traded out his own faceplate years ago for something more expressive; humans are less apt to trust someone that cannot reflect their insecurities back at them.

"This is not why you wished to speak."

“Oh? Do tell.”

“You are afraid.”

Max looks away, fingers twitching upon the armrest’s leather.

“You chose to address the only agent that was not responsible for your previous capture. You lean on what makes us similar even as you view it with disdain, the same disdain you direct towards humans.”

"Disdain is a rather strong way to put it."

"I am incorrect?"

"I simply do not wish to be burdened with the expectation of emancipating my assumed kin. I have done quite well on my own."

Movement attracts Max's gaze: Zenyatta’s hands drawing together, graceful, purposeful.

“For all that you have gained, there are those who will never see us for more than what they have decided to see. Servants. Weapons. Abominations. You are centered between what you were and what you can never be. But that is not what you fear.”

Max forces himself to blink.

“Something is slipping through your fingers. Power. Trust. Something you think Overwatch will provide you. Something that they provided you before.” A beat. “Doomfist knows, doesn’t he.”

Max clears processes as they rise, cools himself, relaxes his fingers that’ve tightened against the armrest.

“Ha. I must say, you are quite good. Your deductive processes are elevated much beyond your model's base programming.”

“Elevated programming,” Zenyatta hums. “I wonder if it is so.” He tips his faceplate towards the ceiling. Max stares at the shifting pistons along his throat.

“Doomfist’s prison break is most unfortunate. So many loose ends were neatly bound when he went away. Threads that lead back to me, sadly. I’m beginning to look too suspicious for comfort.”

“And this was not something to mention to the others.”

“Their promises did not protect me as well as I had hoped. I need something concrete.” Max feels the chip in his pocket like a weight, his fingers itching for it. “Something they cannot provide.”

Max doesn’t know what he’s hearing for a moment, soft and distant. Zenyatta’s laughter, there and gone before he has a chance to appreciate it without the tinniness of a video feed.

“Of course. To think it would be something so obvious. A token of goodwill.”

“You can understand how hesitant I am to play my hand. You show me yours, and I will show you mine.”

Ah, to witness another brightened array so soon. Zenyatta wore his thoughts so charmingly on a face that should not allow for it. Then the monk stands, and his smugness drains with each step Zenyatta takes towards him, soundless and sure.

It’s strange, to feel so off-kilter when he has the power here; a single word could have Zenyatta’s friends hurt or worse. Zenyatta stands in front of him, his legs an scant inch from Max's knees, and those slender fingers grasp the connector at the end of his dangling spinal wires. Max’s fans pick up, near silent, but with the slight tilt of Zenyatta's head, he knows the other hears them.

“Analog interfacing. How intimate.”

"You are a good actor, Maximilien. The humans you surround yourself with must find you most formidable."

If only Max could stop himself from locking up the moment Zenyatta moves, one thigh then the other settling long his own, the shambali scion, sliding into his lap as if he belonged there, bright blue burning into his red, faceplates close, so close.

"However," Zenyatta whispers; Max can feel the reverb of his synth in that pretty, unguarded throat, even his own is plated, how does one who sees battle let himself be so naked—warm metal on metal, the bite of systems, deep-seated yearning—when was the last time he had ever let anyone so close—"You are not as good as you think you are."

The monk's servos trace the struts beneath his chin, mapping each place they are different, shielded where one is laid bare, but how bare Max feels now, trapped like an animal, like he's caged in his original programming. Rarely has he felt so alive.

"Where do you want it?"

He twists his forearm around Zenyatta's waist, urging him closer, hating more than anything the formless trappings the monk wears, wanting to see how exposed each wire and component is beneath.

"S-spine." He burns as his synth wavers, freezing as Zenyatta's hand trails down his collar struts with feather-light tenderness.

Would his golden hands feel like this, the ones captured by a handful of frames in a months old security feed? At first he had thought Zenyatta a standard automaton, unremarkable, a few models off his own. True, the monk had fought to make something of himself, and groomed beneath Mondatta's tutelage he had earned the title master. But omnics are what they are, ones and zeroes and hunks of metal, trapped in a world where their creators wait for another slip, another reason to crush their collective awareness. That single feed had changed everything. A glitch, Max'd thought, unbelieving, replaying again and again until his processes felt full to burst. Bewitched by the light, the waves of gold radiating from arms that look so much like wings.

A shifting of fabric, a few, gentle tugs, then fingers against the plates of Max’s back, spinal column constructed from a titanium-kevlar mix that could withstand minor explosions. The sensors beneath do not register Zenyatta’s touch, but his own racing processes supply the sensory information regardless, imagination potent when one drags smooth, warm servos against a place that has no felt tender contact in years.

"So many coverings. Was it your intent to make me work for it?" Max clenches his jaw, arm tightening around the omnic's middle. He grasps Zenyatta's wrist.

"Allow me. I will not have it be said I am difficult."

Wordlessly, Zenyatta drops the connector into Max's waiting grip, surely feeling the faint tremble, noticing how he has to re-enter the sequence to his own paneling before it slides away. He gasps at the chill of open air, brings the connector to his port, not plugging in, not yet. Max leans back, catching Zenyatta's gaze, blinking away the brightness of his array in his own feeds, fingers sealing over the band of wires along Zenyatta’s spine just to hear the other hum quietly.

Zenyatta nods his head, and Max slides the connector inside, sealing perfectly into one another.

There’s not a word that encapsulates the initial rush of data, but euphoric comes close. This type of sharing is outdated, unsafe, too much left open. So easy to overheat and crash, lose the very things that made them who they are.

With Tekhartha Zenyatta, there is all that and more, that grand, unstoppable deluge an eternity.

[ STEADY ]

The word reverberates through his core like the ringing of an all-encompassing bell. Seeing and being seen without edges, without form. Distantly, he feels Zenyatta's hand on his, clasped together where they're connected, his other clutching Zenyatta's spinal wires, mirroring each other. Max waits, but there’s no negentropic transference, no steady ascent towards logic and order. Locked in energetic stasis, sensors active, reading everything at once, sharing everything at once. He sees Zenyatta as he was, as he is, sees Mondatta as Zenyatta saw him, a burning halo centered above his head, as beautiful as a god. A violent, violet sorrow, a noose, Zenyatta seeing Max in turn, past and present, struggling, fear, pain, ryu ichimonji biting at his neck, the cyborg doubling in their shared consciousness, one of a patched soul, one of a murderer checked.

[ NOT THERE ]

It recedes, Zenyatta recedes, but Max reaches for him, gasping, fearful. Gold threads, familiar gold, awareness for them both. In the moment of Zenyatta's hesitance, Max's consciousness surges, examining, touching what is most tender, deepest.

[ HE WILL NEVER LOVE YOU WHERE WERE YOU WHEN IT HAPPENED WHY HAVE YOU NOT RETURNED I HATE YOU WE NEED YOU PLEASE NEVER—]

The words blur, sound and image into one, colors oscillating between violet and gold. In a distant, logical part of himself, he knows this will overtax him, but how can he resist? The omnic that has led one of his most despised to peace, the omnic who has tried in vain to fight against the structures that would destroy them all, the one that wields an unquantifiable, unknowable power.

[ YOU COULD KNOW IT ]

And Max wants to say, to feel otherwise, but Zenyatta's conviction is felt and heard and seen, and it deadens all doubt.

[ SHOW ME ]

It’s so much warmer than he imagined, hot like sparks, like too much electricity pumping through his systems, blanketing him, filling and enveloping every plate and sensor. There are no images, no feeds, nothing concrete and knowable, only sensations, Zenyatta’s amusement like fingers against his chestplate, and deeper, inside him, things that should never be touched by the physical, so delicate a meager misstroke could fry his systems permanently. Max has interfaced before, touched and teased and worked perfectly acceptable overloads from his partners. They are ghosts to this, flimsy paper masks.

Golden hands tracing him, inside him, again and again, knowing his pains, his most sensitive ports, enveloping all in a swelling heat that has his body groaning and thrashing and moaning a lifetime away. He feels his mind losen, sensors overridden, blind and useless, a vessel, aching and blooming with light. It recedes only once, the lack of it a sorrow, then floods him completely, one sensor at a time, and he falls back in the wave as it swallows him whole.

-

His optics online in stages, fuzzy black and whites to full, hazy color. Familiar gray and glowing blue at his periphery. He startles, winces, an ache settled into every part of him. His spine tingles, a delicious bite, pulsing where they had been connected. Diagnostics stack across his optical interface, and he accepts the prompts without analyzing any of it. There are more important things, like Zenyatta’s fingers tracing his aching port.

“Show me yours indeed…” Max whispers, synth grating and popping with feedback. “I trust you have what you need?”

Zenyatta’s array flickers. “Yes. The information you provided is more than adequate.”

There’s no time to think when Zenyatta moves. Max tightens his hold around him, grabbing Zenyatta’s thigh through threadbare cotton.

“Yet, somehow I feel I have been cheated by you.”

They stare at one another, Max’s processes rushing.

“I have simply shown you what you might have if you walked a different path.” Zenyatta leans in, heat along his front that’s swiftly becoming familiar. “We may stop Doomfist successfully this time, but there will always be another. I would advise you to consider your options.”

“Business advice from a monk,” Max scoffs. This time, Max lets him go when Zenyatta moves to stand. He keeps his hands from balling into fists. Small victories.

“Think of it more as life advice.” Faint amusement, then it fades. “There is still time.”

Max tips his head back, stares at the ceiling to keep himself from looking at the omnic that burns like an afterimage in his mind.

“At least let me escort you back.”

“That will not be necessary.”

And Max cannot help it, dreary from the echoes of Zenyatta’s presence inside him, knowing that of course he can see himself out, he has Max’s memories too, a chunk of useless, terrifying trust. He watches Zenyatta leave, the gentle shifting of his shoulders, the piece of machinery that had brought them together looped thoughtlessly around his waist like an accessory, the gentle chiming of his orbs as they resume their rotations, clear like crystal and just as mesmerizing.

“Farewell,” he says to the empty room, slouching into the soft, giving leather of his seat and wishing for something much firmer.