#ill probably only be able to work on this on weekends until summer break starts

[dailyblueberror]

PLUSHIE UPDATE

(block the tag “#plushie updates” if you dont want to see the rest of these, i dont mind :3 i wont tag the finished plush, so you’ll still see that)

i found a good pattern for the body and head that i have ready to cut and sew. Currently sketching designs for the face

I still need to figure out how to alter the body pattern to make clothes? If i even need to?? I could just sew his shoulder armor directly onto his torso but that might not work as well with his sleeves..

And his arm is making me nervous 💔 idk if i should cut the arm pattern in half to make the double colors or if i should find a way to just directly color the fabric. Splitting the pattern will probably look best, but im still thinking about it.

[the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff]

Open your eyes (Chapter 1)

And the madness begins Here you go peeps chapter 1. I’m posting it now because I probably won’t have time during the weekend.  I loved writing this one and I hope you enjoy it. Credit for the characters goes to @lumosinlove​. 

There are mentions of blood and injury in this chapter

@clearsuitcasecookienerd I think you asked me to tag you but i can’t remember so I’m tagging you anyway :)) 

Masterlist

Remus was going to murder Finn. He read over the letter one more time to check if he hadn’t missed anything, he knew he hadn’t. Remus had probably read and reread that letter about a hundred times since Heather had handed it to him three days ago. It’s contents always saying the same thing. Finn was getting married. His best friend had been courting the crown prince of Hufflepuff for a year and now they were getting married, and Remus was just finding out. 

He was happy for Finn, his friend had had his eye out for the blonde prince for years now. That, however, didn’t take away from the fact that Finn had conveniently forgotten to mention he had started courting Leo in any of his letters during the past year. If he thought that would stop Remus from threatening Leo Knut with death if he ever hurt Finn he clearly didn’t know him as well as he should.  

Remus put the letter down and picked up a piece of blank parchment, dipping the tip of his quill pen in the black ink. He thought about how he should respond, if he should respond at all. Maybe he should just go home and congratulate Finn in person, right after strangling him for being a complete idiot. Before he could decide on what to do he heard the door to the physician's chamber open, he didn’t need to see who it was to know Sirius was there. He was the only person stupid enough to come into Minerva’s working space without knocking. 

“Remus, are you here?” There was a pained edge to his otherwise casual tone that made Remus’s eyebrows furrow in worry. 

“One second.” Remus put the quill in the ink pot carefully and stood from his chair. Sirius was sitting in one of the stools when he came out of his room, his left shoulder was bleeding. “Snape needs to calm down”, Remus said in an irritated tone, “that’s the third time he’s injured you this month. And before you say something stupid about how injuries happen, or whatever other nonsense I’m sure is about to come out of your mouth, I want to point out that the injury is on your back and Snape has absolutely no business pointing the sword at your back.” During his rant Remus had gathered what he would need to clean, possibly stitch, and bandage Sirius’s injury. 

Sirius flinched when Remus pressed a wet rag to his bleeding shoulder blade. “How did you know it was Snape?” Remus made a noncommittal sound before answering. “Every time you come in here it’s either because you decided it would be ok to not stay up all night to do work or because Snape got aggressive during training.” He paused for a second assessing the damage now that the blood was gone. “And since you aren’t being carried in here passed out cold in Sir Pascal’s arms my guess is it was the latter.” Remus went silent, concentrating in threading the silk string through the needle. He didn’t like stitching when the person was conscious to feel it, but maybe he could do something to help with the pain. He knew using his magic on Sirius was risky, but he didn’t want to cause the prince any extra discomfort. 

“You need stitches, just so you know.” Sirius groaned, he hated getting stitches. “Just nod when you’re ready.” Sirius took a deep breath, then nodded slowly, bracing himself for the feeling of metal piercing skin. He winced slightly, but was surprised when he noticed it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. 

“How come it doesn’t hurt that much?” Remus stayed silent for a moment, concentrating on the repetitive pattern of knitting Sirius’s skin back together, before answering. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe the pain from the original cut is numbing this one a little.” Sirius hummed, trying to relax as much as he could. He winced every now and then, but barely felt anything. When Remus was done Sirius let out a heavy breath. “Be careful until that’s healed”, Remus ordered in a stern voice. 

“Of course my lord. Anything else.” Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius, he didn’t appreciate the mocking tone. 

“Yes actually. You’re banned from training till further notice.” He took incredible satisfaction in seeing Sirius splutter in indignation. 

“You can’t do that.” 

“I can and I will.” Remus crossed his arms over his chest and met Sirius’s eyes. “No harsh movements with your shoulder means no training. I will strap you to your bed if I have to, you are not training for at least three days.” 

“Fine”, the prince grumbled. 

Remus beamed at him. “Great. Now, you’re not dying and I already took care of you so, please leave. I have matters to attend to.” 

“Trying to get rid of me, huh?” Sirius feigned hurt. “And here I thought you liked me.” 

Remus hummed. “You know I do, But right now I’m trying to stay angry and you being here is not helping.” 

Sirius gave him a confused look. “Angry. Why?” 

“Because.” Remus threw his hands up in frustration. “Finn sent a letter saying that he’s getting married and I didn’t even know he was courting someone. And since I don’t really have an excuse to go to Gryffindor right now I have to make do with screaming at him through a letter.” 

A look of shock crossed Sirius’s features. “Wait. Finn, as in Finn O’Hara. The prince.” 

“Yes. My father is a member of the King’s council.” Now it was Remus’s turn to look confused. “He and I grew up together. I thought you knew that.” 

“You never told me.  How am I supposed to know, I don’t read minds.” 

“Obviously”, Remus’s tone took on a bitter edge. “If you did you wouldn’t be standing here right now.” 

“What do you mean.” 

“Mind reading is magic, Sirius. You would be exiled or worse, dead.” 

Understanding settled over Sirius like a cold blanket. He didn’t get why Remus sounded so bitter, maybe he didn’t agree with his father’s laws, maybe he knew someone with magic. Sirius did not want to think about sweet, intelligent Remus anywhere near magic or it’s influence. He couldn’t stand to see his boyfriend be corrupted. 

“Right. Well.” The silence that followed was uncomfortably tense. Sirius was the first to break it. “Well maybe you could come with the party that’s going to Gryffindor at the end of the week. Minerva has been really occupied with the illness that has taken over the lower town and she won’t be able to go.” Sirius relaxed when he saw the small smile that formed on Remus’s lips. “We need someone that knows their way around medicine.” 

“You do know that Gryffindor has physicians, right?” Remus asked, though the smile on his face told Sirius that he was going to go with them regardless. 

“I know that.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Father doesn’t want…” he trailed off. Remus got what he wanted to say anyway, the smile slipping from his face. Orion didn’t want the physicians that had magic. The irony almost made Remus snort. 

“Right. Magic.” He made sure to keep the bitterness out of his tone this time. “It’ll be nice to go back home. I haven’t seen Jules in three years.” 

“Who’s Jules?” Sirius was starting to realize how little he knew about Remus’s life before he came to Slytherin. It made his chest ache. 

Remus’s face softened. “My brother. He should be turning sixteen this summer.” His smile turned a little sad. “It’ll be nice seeing him again.” 

Sirius didn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything at all, he didn’t know what not having his brother around was like. “It’s a pity Reg won’t be coming. I’m sure he and your brother would have gotten along.” 

“They would probably tear the kingdom to shreds, Julian is very chaotic.” Remus’s honey colored eyes shone brightly. “Gryffindor already has to deal with the chaos that is Finn, and I.”

“I want to meet all your friends.” 

Remus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why?” 

“What? Can’t I want to meet your friends without any ulterior motives?” 

“No”, he responded simply. 

“Ok fine it’s because I want the embarrassing stories.” Remus rolled his eyes. “I need teasing material Re. I have nothing on you.” 

“Maybe I just don’t do anything embarrassing.” 

“That is a big lie and you know it. You trip on air all the time.” Remus glared at him. 

“Must I remind you that I can leave you out of knight training for a month.” 

Sirius’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

Remus crossed his arms, a mischievous smirk appearing on his face. “Try me, sire.” He somehow made the title sound disrespectful, Sirius still didn’t understand how he did it. 

“Ok ok. I’ll behave”. Sirius raised his arms up in surrender. 

“Good.” Remus grinned at him, leaning on his toes to kiss Sirius, nipping at his lower lip. “Come on.” He grabbed Sirius’s hand and dragged him out into the hallway, dropping it once they could be seen by someone else. They spent the afternoon together. They were joined by Logan at one point. The other knight was excited to go to Gryffindor, apparently he and Finn had become friends during the week leading up to Sirius’s coronation, and had been sending letters back and forth for about a year and a half. 

After night had fallen Remus retreated to his room, the letter a distant memory. He passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, his soft snores the only sound in the room. 

~*~*~*~*~*

Two days later they were riding toward Remus’s home country. He was nervous, he hadn’t seen Jules and Thomas in years and last time he saw Finn was two years ago, when Sirius got crowned as heir to the throne. The trip passed him by in a blur. They reached the entrance to the citadel a day and half after departing from Slytherin. By then the nerves had worn off, replaced by a burning excitement. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he had to be careful, but that rarely mattered when he saw his brother, clad in knights armor standing besides Finn and Alex. 

He saw Julian’s hand twitch, his caramel colored eyes, darker than Remus’s own, lighting up when he saw him. His face remained stoic, but Remus could tell he was trying to not smile. Besides him Finn studied the crowd, eyes narrowing slightly when he looked at Orion. The King walked down the stone steps to welcome the guests. 

He and Orion exchanged pleasantries and soon enough the Slytherin party had entered the palace. A group of maids and servants took care of guiding the guards and knights to where they would be staying for the week, some of them nodding towards Remus or saying hello. Julian waited for the crowd to thin before rushing to hug his brother. Remus gave a startled yelp, wrapping his arms around Julian and holding him close. There were tears shining in the younger’s eyes when they broke apart. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were just an apprentice for Minerva.” 

“I am”, Remus answered, “but she couldn’t come. There’s an illness taking over in Slytherin’s lower town.” 

Julian frowned slightly. “That’s awful”, he smiled brightly again, Remus keeping up with Julian’s constantly changing emotions with ease. “I’m glad you’re here though.” He pulled Remus in again, hugging him tightly. 

Remus heard Finn yell behind them. “Jules, don’t be a Remus hog.” 

Julian looked up to where Finn was and yelled back. “He is my brother O’Hara. I will hog him however much I want.” He placed his head just under Remus’s chin, sighing contentedly. 

Remus heard footsteps coming up behind him, Finn appearing on his field of vision. “I would hug you. But I think your hands are full.” Julian glared at Finn, grumbling under his breath before settling into his brother’s arms again. Remus chuckled at his baby brother’s antics. 

He gave Finn a look that promised trouble. “Finn.” The other man visibly paled. “We’re discussing the letter later.” Finn relaxed a little at the small hint of excitement he could hear in Remus’s voice. 

Julian squeezed Remus tighter before letting go, saying he had to get back to training and that he would see his brother at home. Remus looked at Finn who was watching the brothers’ interaction with a fond smile. 

“He looks up to you a lot you know.” Finn said. “The little idiot wanted to use daggers. He got so frustrated when he found out that wasn’t his thing.” 

“What is his thing then?” 

Finn thought about it before answering. “He’s a natural at shooting. Crossbows, knives, bow and arrow.” 

“That’s great”,   Remus said, a proud glint in his eyes. “He spends a lot of time with you I’m guessing.” 

“Yeah. He’s gonna be better than me soon.” Finn sighed. “How do you handle all his energy? I swear even the puppies are less active.”

Remus chuckled. “I don’t handle it. I just let him do his thing until he passes out from exhaustion”, he shrugged, “works like a charm.”

The two of them turned when they heard a squeal. Lily Evans stood near the entrance, her hands covering her mouth. She snapped out of her daze and ran towards Remus. He caught her when she jumped at him, her legs wrapping around his waist. She buried her face on his shoulder, trying to hide the tears that were flowing down her face. 

“What are you doing here? When did you get here? Has Jules seen you yet? How long are you staying?” 

“I’m here because the Slytherin visitors needed a physician and Minerva couldn’t come. I just got here. Yes Jules already tried to strangle me but your giving him great competition.” Lily let her feet drop to the floor soundlessly, but kept her hold on Remus for a little longer. “Probably going to stay for a week.”

“Gods, that’s not nearly enough time.” She looked up at him with shiny green eyes, moving to be at arm's length with him. “I missed you, the castle isn’t as fun without you to help me pull pranks on everyone.” 

Remus laughed, he had missed his friend. “How’s James doing?”  

“Oh you know”, she waved a hand around, “the usual. You just missed him actually.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “He went back to Ravenclaw yesterday.” 

“Maybe that’s for the best. I can’t imagine what would happen if he were to cross paths with Sirius. That’s either going to be a dangerous friendship or they’ll hate each other.” 

She hummed, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the training grounds. “Come on.” He and Finn followed behind her. When they reached the grounds they saw a small group of knights fighting with blunt weapons. Remus noticed that all the sorcerers were conveniently missing from the bunch. 

She guided Remus to the armory. “Go get your things. You owe me a fight after last time.” She had begun strapping leather gauntlets on her wrists. He looked around the armory to where he usually left his personal stuff, everything was where he had left it. Someone, probably Lily, had kept his daggers sharpened and polished. 

After they put on all of their protective gear, Lily and Remus headed out of the armory and went to the sparring square. “Hey Finn”, everyone stopped what they were doing when they heard Lily’s voice, “mediate for us will you?” 

Finn nodded, a grin appearing on his face, and walked to the edge of the square. “You know the rules. One round. First to draw blood wins unless the other yields.” 

The rest of the knights had gathered around to watch the fight. Remus stood at one end completely relaxed, Lily mirrored his stance. They studied each other for a moment, waiting for who would strike first. Tense silence had fallen over the square, everyone held their breath, until finally, Lily moved. 

The only sound in the clearing was the loud clashing of blades. Lily’s steps were near silent, almost like she were floating above the ground. Remus matched her pace perfectly, able to predict her every move like a well practiced dance. Remus punched her in the stomach making her lose balance, falling to the ground with a small thud. He pointed his dagger at her throat. “Yield”. 

Sirius and Logan watched the battle going on in front of them with wide eyes. They had heard the clashing of steel while walking through the castle and went to investigate only to find Remus fighting a red headed girl. His control with the daggers was almost flawless. The girl, who had a knife in her hand and three more strapped to her hips and thighs, battled with deadly precision. She would’ve made a worthy opponent to either of them. She looked at Remus with steely determination, she refused to let him win so easily. If Logan hadn’t been paying such close attention to the battle he would have missed it. Quick as lightning, the red head swiped Remus’s legs from under him, making him fall backwards, his dagger skittering across the ground.

 She stood up, holding two knives now, and lunged at Remus. He got up, stumbling over to where his blade had landed. He felt the brush of Lily’s blade against his back, it was nothing but a feather-light touch, but it was enough to warn him of what would come next. 

He grabbed the small knife that he kept hidden in his boot and turned, quick enough to meet Lily’s blade. There was fire in her gaze, barely suppressed magic burning under her skin. Remus felt the familiar buzz of his own magic trying to get out, but he kept it down with practiced ease. He felt Lily push harder with her blade, saw her other hand move back to slash at his stomach. He jumped out of the way, landing far enough away that the blade didn’t graze him. 

Sirius watched both fighters as they assessed each other with sharp focus, the silence in the grounds was absolute. Remus looked between his dagger laying on the ground and the redhead, he twisted the knife he was holding and smirked. The girl smiled brightly, eyes sharp. Sirius couldn’t figure out who would win, Remus’s usual clumsy self was gone and in its place stood a skilled warrior. 

They met in the middle of the square, the girl’s twin blades blocking Remus’s attack. She pushed back with enough force to make him stumble, before he could get too far she jammed the butt of her knife into Remus’s ribs making him double over in pain. She tripped him, making him fall back again, pinned his hands down at his sides with her knees and put the edge of her blade to the base of his neck. “Yield.” 

Remus’s glare in that moment would have made any man tremble, but the girl seemed unaffected. She put a little more pressure on the blade. “Yield, Remus.” 

He looked at her face for a moment. Whatever he was looking for he must have found, all the fight left him in a gust of air. “I yield.” The crowd erupted into cheers. 

The girl nodded, sheathing her knives and standing up. Remus took her offered hand and stood up, punching her shoulder lightly. She said something to him that made him laugh brightly, the hostile energy between them seemingly gone as fast as it had appeared. 

Remus locked eyes with Sirius from across the field, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. He tapped the girl on the shoulder and pointed towards him and Logan. She said something to him and he nodded before walking over, the girl and another red headed boy walking behind him. Sirius recognized the other man as Prince Finn O’Hara.                              

“Did you know Remus could do that.” Logan sounded as surprised as Sirius felt. Sirius shook his head, unable to form words. 

“Hey guys.” Remus sounded a little breathless, but seemed otherwise unaffected by the fight. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us Re?” The girl’s tone was teasing, but her eyes were looking at Sirius like she was trying to figure out his next move. 

“Right. Sorry.” Remus coughed loudly. “This is Lily. Lily this is Prince Sirius Black.” 

The girl extended her hand in greeting. Sirius shook it. “Please, call me Sirius. No titles unless we’re in my father’s presence.” Lily looked at him with an unreadable expression. She nodded and squeezed his hand lightly before letting go. Sirius felt like he had just passed some sort of test. 

“And this”, he pointed to the other red head behind him who was smiling at Logan, “is Prince Finn O’Hara.” He looked at Logan. “I believe the two of you have met before.” Sirius thought he saw a small blush appear on Logan’s cheeks. 

Finn’s nose scrunched up. “It’s so weird to hear you using my title.” 

“That was a great fight”, Logan praised, “why didn’t you tell me you could do things like that. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting a sparring partner.” 

Sirius made an indignant sound. “I’m standing right here Tremblay.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t know how to use daggers. You almost cut your hand off the one time you tried.” 

Remus looked at Sirius with a disbelieving look, while Lily and Finn tried not to laugh. “You did what?” 

“He’s exaggerating.” 

Logan glared at him. “Really? Because the way I recall it you cut your palm open when the grip slipped.”

A few giggles escaped Lily before she could stop them. She took a breath to try and calm down before speaking. “Let me guess, he tried to handle the dagger like he would a sword.” At Logan’s nod she sighed disappointedly. “Typical.” 

“He never bothered learning how to use them properly afterwards.” 

Remus looked at Sirius, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Well, there’s no time like the present.”  

Sirius made a distressed noise. “No. Remus I can’t.” 

“Don’t worry”, Finn interjected, “Remus and Lily are the best. Besides, Jules will probably want Remus to teach him the basics. You can be his sparring partner.” As if on cue, Julian appeared at Finn’s shoulder, startling him. “I’m putting bells on your feet.” 

Julian giggled, “Sorry.” He moved to stand besides Remus and leaned against his brother, eyes shining with excitement. “You’re going to teach me?” Remus nodded, giving Sirius a look that made him cave in. 

“Alright”, Sirius’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “I’ll try the daggers out.” Sirius smiled weakly at Julian, who was beaming at him and bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Finn grabbed Logan’s wrist and guided him inside to explore the castle, leaving Sirius and Remus with Lily and Julian. Remus chuckled when Lily looped her arm through Sirius’s and dragged him away, he turned back to look at his boyfriend with a pleading expression. Remus shrugged, leaving Sirius to his luck and Lily’s mercy. 

“Is he going to be ok?” Julian asked. 

“Yeah.” Remus answered dismissively, putting his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. “Let’s go home.” The two brother’s walked away from the training grounds and headed to the citadel, laughing and shoving at each other playfully. They were both gasping when they reached their house. 

They walked in, Julian signaling for Remus to stay quiet and go hide before announcing his presence. “Hi mom.” 

“Hey honey. How was your day?” Came Hope Lupin’s from the general direction of her office followed by the soft sound of footsteps. 

“It was great. You’ll never guess who I found.” 

She came into the room and Remus had to hold himself back from coming out of his hiding spot and running into her arms. “Are you going to tell me who it was or am I going to have to start naming people?” 

A soft gasp escaped her lips when she saw Remus emerging from where he had been hiding. “Surprise”. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, resting his cheek on top of her head. She smiled brightly when they separated, a fond look on her eyes. His father entered the room a few moments later, pulling him into a tight hug. There was bright laughter and teary smiles that left a warm feeling in Remus’s chest. They spent the afternoon catching up, laughing and joking like they used to before Remus left for Slytherin.

Hours later, after Jules had fallen asleep with Calliope curled around his shoulders, Remus went into his old room. Everything was the same, the bed sheets had been cleaned and his mess had been organized, but everything else remained the same. His eyes flashed gold, lighting up the candles and stirring the stale air of the room gently. He sighed tiredly, crawling into bed and burying himself under the soft covers, a content smile on his face. 

He thought about Sirius, he wanted to show him everything. All the places where he had spent hours reading or spending time with Finn, the place where he had met Thomas, where he and Lily used to spend time practicing their magic. He knew Sirius couldn’t know about his abilities, maybe someday he could show him, but for now he wanted to share his home with him. Home was everything Remus loved. 

Home were his friends, his family, his magic. Sirius. 

*~*~*~*~*

Two days later Remus found himself alone with Sirius back at the training grounds. Sirius frowned in frustration, trying to make some sense out of what Remus had told him to fix about his technique. He looked to the side, where his boyfriend was standing, staring at him with an amused glint in his eye. “I don't understand why I can’t just use my sword”, Sirius whined, “I’m already good at that.” 

Remus gave him an exasperated glare, Sirius still caught the amused twitch of his lip. “Because, weapon versatility is one of the most important attributes a warrior could have.” He grabbed Sirius’s hand, a small smirk tugging at his lip, and pulled him close. “And, daggers are better when it comes to close range fights.” 

“Is that so?” Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. “And, do tell, why would I want to use a weapon that requires me to get that close.”

Remus shrugged, using the motion to slip the small blade from the sheath at his thigh and letting his hand hang at his side, the point of the dagger clutched lightly between his fingers. “I guess you’re right, but what if you don’t get to choose your range, m’lord?”  

Before he could answer Remus flicked the blade into the air and knocked Sirius feet from under him in one smooth motion. He straddled his hips, catching the dagger, the leather grip landing on his palm, and pressing its razor sharp edge to the side of Sirius’s throat with barely there pressure.  

“Like say, someone catching you unawares and pointing a very sharp deadly object to a very”, he leaned in to whisper in Sirius ear, making a shiver run down his spine, “very vulnerable part of your body.” He took the dagger away from Sirius’s neck replacing it with his lips in a feather light kiss that made Sirius melt a little under him. He stood up gracefully, offering his hand to Sirius who was still slightly dazed. “Come on”, he pulled him up with a grunt, “let’s get back to work.” 

Sirius stared at him, heat spreading through his neck up to his cheeks. “You expect me to concentrate. After that.” 

Remus looked at him with an innocent expression. “After what, sweetheart.” 

“N-Nothing. Work right. Let’s get back to work.” 

Remus giggled, shaking his head fondly and walking to the other side of the training grounds, ignoring his boyfriend’s questions. He had asked Lily to come help him with Sirius’s training, she had a talent for teaching even the most stubborn students. Ha saw her coming out of the armory with her knives strapped to her legs and a pair of blunt daggers. 

“How’s my student doing?” She asked, walking besides him back to where Sirius was watching them with a weary expression. 

“He’s fine. I was just showing him why he should learn how to hold his own with short range weaponry.” She gave him a skeptical look. He just batted his eyelashes at her in faux innocence, she shoved his face away with her palm making him laugh loudly. 

“What did you do?” They were close enough that Sirius could hear their conversation. 

“I just did the same thing you did to James when he tried to show off. Back when he was a pining mess and trying to win your affection.” 

She hummed. “Good”.

“I learned from the best.” They stopped in front of Sirius. Remus gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked back to the entrance that led to the palace. “He’s all your Lils. I expect him back in one piece.” 

“Yeah yeah”, she waved dismissively, “I won’t kill your man. Now go, you’re distracting him and Jules is waiting for you.” 

Lily turned to look at Sirius, a smirk on her lips. He swallowed nervously, back straightening slightly. “Now the real fun begins.” She tossed the blunt blades at him, he fumbled with them for a moment, looking at her with pleading eyes. “Don’t look at me like that Black, I’m not torturing you.” 

“Remus couldn’t teach me how to do this properly. I’m no good.” 

She grabbed his face between her palms, staring into his eyes with a steady look. “Don’t say that. I’m here because I’m the best at this and because you’re my friend.” 

“But what if that’s not enough?” He sounded defeated, shoulders dropping. 

“I’m the one who taught Remus how to aim a knife properly. And I can assure you he was much worse at that than you are at this.” Her hands dropped to his shoulders, pushing them back gently so he was standing straight. “Chin up, your highness. Everyone has to start somewhere, and there’s no time like the present.” 

*~*~*~*~*

Logan walked to the library with his heart in his throat. Seeing Finn again after so long had been wonderful and painful at the same time. It hurt to know that the man he loved had fallen for someone else, but it was worse, because Logan had also fallen for the man Finn described in his letters. 

Leo had no face for Logan, no body, no voice, no features. And yet he had crawled into Logan’s heart and settled there, at least the idea of him had. The man that Finn described with such love and adoration was someone Logan wanted, he wanted Finn, too. 

He wanted to put a face to the idea and see if he could still love Leo the same. He at least wanted to put a face to the man that had won his affection without uttering a single word. Logan didn’t know Leo, he knew of Leo, but that was enough. Enough for him to fall so deeply so fast, the problem was that there was no one to catch him when he eventually met the ground. 

He opened the doors to the library soundlessly and walked inside, halting when he saw Finn, lying on one of the vibrant red couches, fast asleep, book clutched to his chest. The sight made him melt a little, he wanted to kiss the other boy awake, wanted to wrap him up in a hug, but he knew he couldn’t. So he settled for taking the book from Finn’s grasp, draping one of the blankets that were kept there over him gently, watching him shift to nuzzle the soft fabric with his cheek before settling again.

 He ran his hand through Finn’s auburn curls softly, a small whisper of I love you leaving his lips in a breath, and then he was gone. Leaving the library and part of his heart behind. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the third day of their visit to Gryffindor Snape came into the physician’s chamber looking like he had lost a fight with a rabid animal. He had cuts going down his left arm and a bruised collarbone. Remus had seen Snape trying, and failing, to flirt with Lily a few times during their stay at the palace and it appeared she had gotten fed up with his attempts. Remus barely suppressed a laugh and motioned for the night to sit down, turning around to look for the things he would need and so that Snape wouldn’t see him grinning. 

Remus had to fight down a smirk when he heard Snape hiss, the pressure of the wet rag making his arm sting. The cuts from Lily’s knives were still fresh, but no longer bleeding. The knight muttered an insult under his breath that made Remus rub the tender skin none too gently. The man winced, shoulders tense, but remained silent. 

A servant approached them cautiously, eyeing Snape like one would a wild dog. She lifted her gaze to look at Remus, a little of the apprehension leaving her eyes. He finished bandaging Snape’s arms. “I’d suggest you lay off training for today.” The knight rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway, leaving Remus alone with the serving girl. 

Once they were alone she spoke up. “There’s a messenger from Slytherin at the entrance asking for King Orion.” 

A crease of worry appeared between his eyebrows. “Did they say why?” 

The girl shook her head. “He just said that the King needed to head back immediately. I suppose he’ll explain more to his highness than he did to me.” 

“Lord Orion is in the Council chamber discussing some things with the king. Can’t it wait until that’s over?” 

“I don’t think so”, she answered, “he looked worried. I don’t think they would send someone if it wasn’t urgent.” 

“Thank you for telling me.” She bowed her head slightly. “Please tell this messenger to wait for me outside the Council chamber.” She gave another small bow and walked out the door. 

Remus followed behind her, turning to go to the library where he knew Logan and Sirius would be. He tried to think of any reason why the council would send someone to retrieve the king from such an important trip, but he came up with nothing. The only thing he could think was that someone had tried to take over, but that didn’t seem like it was it. 

“If you think any harder your brain is going to melt.” Remus jumped at the voice, he hadn’t heard someone approach him, too lost in thought to sense his surroundings. 

“Hey, Alex. Kasey.” 

The man fell into step besides him, his manservant following a few steps behind them, listening to their conversation in silence. “Something’s worrying you.” Alex looked at him with an unreadable expression. “This has something to do with that messenger right?” 

“How do you even know about that already?” 

Alex shrugged. “I have my ways.” He looked at Kasey with a smile. “So.” He turned back to Remus. “What’s wrong.” 

“I'm not sure”, Remus sighed. “Something happened. Bad enough that the council decided to call the king back knowing he could be about to enter into an alliance with your father.” They reached the entrance to the library. “That’s all I know. I need to get Logan and Sirius to the council chamber, the other knights are probably being notified and should be preparing to leave.”

Remus pushed the doors open, silent chatter feeling his ears. “Sirius”, he walked inside, “are you here.” 

“At the fireplace,” came Sirius’s voice from deeper in the room. “The others are here too” 

He sighed, walking to where his boyfriend was sitting, surrounded by Lily, Finn, and Logan. He looked at them with a weary expression, motioning for his friends to follow him. “We have to go.” 

“Why”, worry seeped into Logan’s tone, “what’s going on.” 

“A messenger arrived earlier today asking for King Orion and his party. He says that they’re needed back in Slytherin.” 

Logan looked at the redhead. “I’m sorry, but who are you and how do you know that?”

“Apologies, my name is Alex. I’m Finn’s brother. And, like I told Remus, I have my ways of knowing things.” 

“Stop smirking like a smug idiot and lead the way,” Finn stood up, the rest following behind. “We have somewhere to be.” 

They all walked down to the Council chamber where a boy was standing, looking at the doors with terrified eyes. He nodded nervously when he saw them, stepping back and vowing deeply. The guards bowed to Finn and Alex and opened the doors, cutting off the conversation going on inside the room. 

“Father”, Alex bowed, “an urgent message was sent to King Orion.” 

“And who has sent this message?” Orion’s voice was ice cold. 

 Alex held the man’s piercing stare. He motioned for the boy to step forward, encouraging him to speak up. “I did, m-m’lord.” The boy bowed. “There’s a s-situation that requires your immediate attention.” 

“And this situation”, the king’s voice remained calm, the boy shivered at the cold tone, “it couldn’t wait?” 

“No, sire”, the boy’s voice shook. “I-It’s prince Regulus.” He took a deep breath. “He’s gone.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The ride back to Slytherin was quiet, tense. Orion hadn’t said a word since they had departed and it didn’t seem like he would. Something had changed about him. His face betrayed no emotion, as always, but everyone could tell something was different. 

They reached the Citadel in the evening two days later. The King strode inside the castle and into the Council chamber, leaving his horse behind for some stable boy to take care of.

 Sirius stared after him with an unreadable expression. Remus took his hand in his, making sure no one was looking at them. “Let’s go.” He nodded, squeezing Remus’s hand before letting go and walking through the palace entrance, his boyfriend following close behind. 

The prince fell into Remus’s arm, silent sobs racking his body and making him shake. He held him until Sirius was too exhausted to do anything more than walk to his bed and letting himself drop on the soft mattress, pulling Remus down and hugging him tightly, burying his face in the soft fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt. 

They said nothing. It had been two long days of unsaid words and silent reassurance when they were alone. Sirius stayed in his boyfriend’s arms, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. Trying to ignore the fact that his brother was gone, missing, and no one knew what to do. “What do you think about everything?” He asked softly, words muffled by Remus’s shirt. 

“It was a targeted attack. Someone knew we would be gone.” 

Sirius nodded. “I don’t want to jump into conclusions”, he took a steadying breath, “but is it possible this was done by a sorcerer?” 

Remus wanted to say no. That there had to be another explanation, but he couldn’t find any. Regulus had disappeared without a trace, his room was completely intact, there was no sign of struggle anywhere and no one had seen him going out or anyone coming in. “It’s possible”, was the only answer he could give him. It seemed to be enough for now. They lapsed into silence, night had already fallen. No one came looking for Sirius, there was no reason to disturb the prince when they didn’t know anything. 

Remus ran his hands through his love’s hair, eyes flashing golden. The other man gave a small content humm, falling asleep minutes later, an almost peaceful sleep. A small trick Leo had taught him, if the mind feels safe it’s easier to fall asleep. So he let his magic flow through his fingers, let it envelop Sirius in as much warmth and love as he could muster. It was dangerous, he knew that, but when the love of his life was suffering he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Another flash of his eyes and all the candles went out. Remus almost felt sorry for whoever had dared take his friend, hurting his boyfriend in the process. Almost. 

[brotanicalgarden]

TW: Mention of Su*cidal/Su*cidal Thoughts, S*xual Ass*ult, Abuse

I’ve taken a lot of time to think about, process, and honestly grieve this news. I don’t usually post things like this and I really don’t like to because I feel like I’m coming off as disingenuous but I really need to share this, for my own sake if nothing else.

Growing up I had a wall in my bedroom dedicated to The Killers. I pinned up their album covers, had posters, printed out memes and pictures. I even bought Hot Fuss 3 times (I wasn’t particularly financially literate between the ages of 12-16 but that’s a different issue). When I applied to Tufts I wrote my “What makes you happy” supplement about screaming along to Mr. Brightside in my bedroom after school. I even posted that essay on this blog after my first year at Tufts. The Killers’ music has always been a source of joy and comfort to me. 

The year Battle Born came out I turned 14. I didn’t have a good home life. This is going to get incredibly personal but it’s necessary to fully understand my current devastation. Both my parents were alcoholics. My mother was also very mentally ill and abusive. While she never hit me there were times where I would respond to her (usually a simple yes or no) or ask her something and should would pull me into the center of the living room. She would then swing her leg up as if to kick me in the face but would stop her foot just in front of me. Then she would lower her foot and say “Come on, I’ll give you the first hit” and lean her face forward so I could punch her. I never did. This is but an example of what I went through. I wasn’t allowed to hang out with friends after school or on the weekends. I had one friend I was allowed to see during the summer because my mom liked her mom. We stopped being friends in middle school, as often happens, and my mom screamed at me on and off for weeks about how I took away her only friend. Again, just a sample. I was deeply depressed throughout middle and high school. I started listening to The Killers when I was 11. The year Battle Born came out I had a suicide plan. I decided to wait until after Christmas because I didn’t want to traumatize my whole family. That’s when I received Battle Born. Be Still changed me. It felt like Brandon Flowers had somehow heard my thoughts and was singing to me. Typical 14 year old thing to think but still, it was enough to stop me from trying to kill myself. If I’m being honest, waiting for that album’s release and getting my hands on it gave me something to look forward to. It helped. Listening to it on repeat every day after school for months helped. I felt less alone when I listened to it.

Wonderful Wonderful dropped my freshman year of college. I hated Tufts. I had no friends, my roommate was snobby and judgmental, and I wanted to transfer. I was miserable. But I kept listening to Out Of My Mind and each time it reminded me how I had longed to go to Tufts. How hard I had worked to get in. It was literally the only school I wanted to go to. In the end, I didn’t transfer and I’ve always owed a little bit of why I stayed to that song.

I was so excited when I heard they were releasing a new album this year. When I found out that Tana Flowers’ C-PTSD was the inspiration for most of the songs I knew I would have to buy the album. I don’t talk about it much because I’m still having a hard time navigating and coming to terms with it, but my sophomore year at Tufts I was diagnosed with PTSD. As you can probably figure out from the previous paragraphs, my childhood was the main factor in my developing the illness. I had hoped that listening to Imploding The Mirage would help me feel less alone, like Battle Born had. And I can honestly say that based off of Blowback alone, it would have. No other song has resonated with or described me better. “Poor, white trash, and always type-cast.” That definitely described my life experience, especially at Tufts. I’m used to people implying the reason I got in is because I’m poor and queer. I fit “demographics.” “But she’s gonna break out boy you better know that.” And I sure as hell fucking did. Not only did I get into Tufts but I got a full ride and I’m on track to graduate with honors. So yeah, you could say that song meant a lot to me even though I only heard the Good Morning America version and not the album version. 

Throughout this pandemic, the economic crisis, and this entire shitshow of a year I have had Imploding The Mirage to look forward to. But I’m not going to buy the album. 

As a long time fan I am devastated and disgusted. I cannot conceptualize the disappointment I feel. And as a survivor of sexual assault I cannot support this band in any capacity moving forward. I’m someone who will never receive justice for what was done to me. I don’t have the necessary physical evidence to ensure that my assaulter and abuser gets banned from campus and I certainly cannot take them to court over it. As sad as it is, that’s probably true for the victims in The Killers case as well. We will probably never be able to get them the justice they deserve but we can stop supporting the people who caused their pain. It is the least we can do to show our support for them. 

I won’t buy the album. I also won’t request Mr. Brightside at any more parties or keep their poster on my dorm wall. I can’t listen to music created by a group of men I know were complicit in rape and sexual assault. I’m horrified to know that I’ve idolized people like this for over a decade. I encourage all of their fans to reconsider streaming their music or requesting them at parties or clubs in the future. 

You can argue all you want about how this is just what the industry is like. That doesn’t make it okay. And of course The Killers’ legal team is going to say that the claims are unfounded. That’s what they’re paid to do. We need to have more open discussions about the music industry and how people are affected by it and we need to be willing to ask for better. Have whatever thoughts and feelings you want about cancel culture but some people and things need to be canceled so we can create a better and safer society. The Killers and other bands/artists who use their fame to take advantage of and assault fans and workers don’t deserve to have their music heard.

All I can think about when I listen to their music is my own assault. I spent my formative years idolizing this band. I’m devastated for the victims involved. I’m devastated for myself. But mostly I’m devastated for 13 year old me wishing for better days while listening to Hot Fuss and how Earth shattering this news would be. How Earth shattering this news is. I’ve always had an answer to the question “who’s your favorite band?” and now I don’t. That’s devastating. For so many reasons. 

[writersrealmbts]

Frosted Glass: Part 3

Description: Yoongi is in love with the princess of another land, and he’s given the opportunity to court her, with the help of his brothers. You are the princess of the country south of the frozen kingdom, but you’ve gotten a deadly disease and your only home is to venture and live in the icy north. Will Yoongi be able to win your hand with the help of his brothers?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 02/06/2020

Tags: Yoongi x reader, Prince!Yoong, Prince!Jaebum, Prince!Yesung, Prince!Yeonjun, Prince!Hwall, Frost Prince, Jack Frost! Yoongi

1,315 words

A/N: Next part tomorrow since I have a long weekend!

Yoongi watched y/n talk brightly with Eira, his soon to be sister-in-law. They appeared to be getting along famously.

“I thought you said she was considered the second-prettiest daughter?” Hyunjoon asked, joining him and Jaebum.

Yoongi shrugged. “That’s what her people say. I always thought she was prettier than her sisters.”

“I’ve seen her oldest sister before, when she passed through with the king she married. You cannot tell me that she is considered the prettiest.” Jaebum arched an eyebrow at Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugged again.

Jaebum shook his head. “Strange.”

Yeonjun came over with Yesung. “So, what’s the plan? How do we get her and Yoongi-hyung together?”

“Well, the obvious start would be to have them spend as much time as we can manage to throw them together for,” Hyungjoon said, folding his arms.

Yesung nodded as well. “Shouldn’t be difficult to get them time together, I’m more concerned about him blowing it.”

Yoongi looked at the floor, using his shoe to break up the frost that was spreading around him.

Hyunjoon laughed softly. “Aw, he’s nervous!”

“Be careful, Hwall. You may be laughing now, but when it’s your turn with a woman, Yoongi-hyung could very well make your life miserable,” Jaebum warned. “He remembers everything.”

Yesung nodded slowly.

Yeonjun tugged on Yoongi’s arm. “So, hyung, how are you going to woo her?”

“Well, I offered to show her the town once she was well enough, and I figure I could regularly offer to show her around. Jaebum-ah, you’re going to have to pretend to be interested at least.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” Jaebum replied, looking over with a certain amount of admiration that made Yoongi want to punch his brother. “She seems friendly enough. I’ll see if I can find out anything that would help you.”

Alright, he wouldn’t punch him. But he might make sure his bath was freezing if there was any sort of overstepping. The princes preferred cold in everything but bathing and sleeping. They could stand it, but even Yesung—who was probably the most powerful of the frost princes as the oldest—would be grumpy if his bath was cold, or he had to sleep in a bed that was anything but the perfect temperature. Even Eira brightened and curled up near the hearth sometimes, and she pouted that her room was too cold the first night she slept in the castle.

“I hope she has enough warm clothing,” Yeonjun said softly, looking worriedly over at her after she had sneezed. “It’s cold in the castle, especially for a human.”

“We will ensure that she has everything that she needs to be comfortable, or rather, Yoongi will. Right, little brother?” Yesung was smirking.

Yoongi nodded. “One step at a time, though. First, we make her feel welcome—”

“Because she really is? It was getting boring around here,” Yeonjun sighed.

Yoongi sighed at the interruption but nodded. “Yes. Second, I try to spend as much time as possible with her without overwhelming her. Third, we make sure her and Eira don’t fight because damn, they’re already talking like they’re old friends.”

The other boys followed his gaze to where the two women were whispering before bursting into giggles that they obviously tried to suppress and keep quiet.

“And Yesung…” Eira’s voice carried over just enough to bring the eldest’s name before it was lowered into a whisper again, saying something that had Y/n laughing unashamedly, not bothering trying to conceal it any longer.

Yoongi and his younger brothers tried not to laugh at the partially shocked and partially terrified look on Yesung’s face.

“Why are they talking about me?” He asked, probably himself, but since his brothers were there….

“They’re probably talking about how awkward you are,” Hyunjoon offered.

“Or your cravat being crooked,” Jaebum said.

“Or how awkward you were when you went up into the ice mountains to try and find a wife before Eira took pity on your awkward soul and approached you first and subsequently had you wrapped around her little finger despite also deferring to you as her future king,” Yoongi added, keeping a straight face.

His younger brothers started laughing uncontrollably at the offended look the eldest gave Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugged. “Sorry, hyung.”

Yesung huffed and walked away, soon joined by Eira who had a happy sort of white glow to her now and seemed to quickly set him at ease.

Yoongi watched them together, grateful that his brother had been so lucky in finding her. He deserved someone who could take his cares and worries away so easily, especially as the future king.

Yeonjun was already taking a seat in a chair near y/n, picking up the conversation he had started at dinner. Asking about summer festivals instead.

“Well, what sort of festivals do you all have in the warmer seasons?” She asked instead, smiling at Yoongi as he joined as well.

“Well, there’s the Spring celebration…the snow melts for a few weeks and it helps all the animals during birthing season, and flowers pop up.”

Her eyes widened. “A…few weeks? How do you grow food?”

“There’s more magic here than anywhere else on the island, but most of our food grows despite the snow,” Yoongi explained when Yeonjun looked a little lost for words. “We also have an active trade system on the coast, and with your country, for other foods.”

She nodded, but she still looked distracted. Like a curtain had been pulled in front of her. She looked ill.

“Y/n? Are you well?” He asked gently, worried. He didn’t want her to be sick any longer.

“Yes, um, I think I should retire for the evening.”

“I’ll make sure the maids build up your fire, it is supposed to get very cold this eve,” Yoongi told her. “Do you have enough blankets, do you think?”

She nodded, standing and dropping an appropriate curtsy. “Thank you, I believe I do.”

“Then rest well, Princess,” He said, bowing, probably more than he should have.

Yeonjun looked at him in confusion after she had gone. “What happened? She was fine.”

“I think…we reminded her that she would not be experience summers or springs as she knew them anymore. The problem with Yeolbing Fever is that if she’s exposed to a warmer environment for excessive periods of time, she will fall ill again. And it will be worse. She must live in our country to survive, and we reminded her that she left much behind. At least, I think that is what happened.” Yoongi looked away, out the window and into the cloudy night.

“I will check on her tomorrow, when we dine together. I am certain she will enjoy living here, once she is accustomed,” Eira said brightly. “And we must remember she probably is not accustomed to magic as we are.”

“True, she is very much human while we…are something a little different. It may be quite a lot to wrap her mind around,” Yesung said. “I have some work to do. Good night, brothers. Goodnight, Eira.”

“My prince,” She replied softly. “Walk me to my rooms?”

Yesung smiled, shooting a glare at Yeonjun and Hyunjoon who were pretending to gag.

“Remember, no little snow-babies until after the wedding!” Hyungjoon called after them, getting hit upside the head by Yoongi and Jaebum for doing so.

Yoongi excused himself a while later, heading outside and carefully to her window, painting a new scene in the frost, noticing the glow from behind the curtains that suggested she was still awake. He tried to make his design extra pretty since he’d made her uncomfortable. Like an apology.

He hoped she liked it, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to see her reaction to it since he had to ride out early the next morning for a sort of patrol.

–

Previous.  Next.

Masterlist.  Yoongi Masterpost.

Tagging: @alex–awesome–22​  @bryvada​  @missmoxxiesworld​  @knjhe​ @agustdgeniuslab​

(Please remember to comment on the Taglist masterpost if you want to be tagged)

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 9)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 2089

Chapter summary: The summer fête is upon you! And Bucky returns again.

Warnings: a little bit mpre angst...

Previous: Chapter 8

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

The day of the fête dawns bright and breezy. Perfect conditions, you couldn't really ask for more given the time of year, but that doesn’t stop the scowl forming on your face as you make the short walk to school. Going in to work on a Saturday always feels somewhat wrong, and that uneasy feeling is multiplied ten times knowing who's going to be there.

It's been a tough week, hiding how you actually feel about Bucky returning when the children are besides themselves, excited to welcome back such a star. Everyone remembers how inseparable the two of you were when he worked here, and as far as they know, nothings changed, so there's been a few awkward conversations in the past days where you've not known if your fake excitement has been believable. Only Peggy knows the truth. Edwin has his suspicions, you know, after witnessing your less than enthusiastic reactions to the prospect of your supposed best friend visiting, and he'd patted your hand gently when you'd slumped next to him in the staff room one lunchtime.

“Coming back home helps people realise what they've missed,” He'd said cryptically, leaving you to your sandwiches. A tiny flicker of hope had flared at his words, one you'd quickly push down. Edwin hadn't heard Bucky that day, didn't know how vicious he'd been, or the cruel look in his eye as he'd broken your heart. Your colleagues kindness is appreciated, but at this point there doesn't seem any chance of saving what you had.

*****

Reaching the school, you breathe evenly to keep yourself calm. Somebody’s got hold of a cardboard cut-out of Bucky's character, whatever his name may be, and it's currently resting in the entrance hall alongside the crates of bric-a-brac and sweets for the tombola stand you're tending.

Just looking at his picture makes you feel sick. It doesn't help that his face has almost the same look on it as last time you saw him, that piercing glower sending a shiver through you. From what you've overheard the programme he's in is a sort of comedy drama, based around comic book characters, which explains his metal arm and combat gear, and the dramatic, side on pose, that you would have teased him about in better times.

Peggy brushes past you, breaking your staring match with the two dimensional image of Bucky as she grabs a box. You also pick one up, following her out to the table where a Year Three is carefully arranging the prizes on your stall. It takes a while to organise all the items neatly, and you get so sucked into a conversation with your little helper, Edwin's oldest daughter, Isabella, that you nearly forget why you were dreading this day.

A laugh, so recognisable, floats across the playground in your direction and you drop the saucer you're holding. Thankfully it doesn't shatter, and you turn your head subtly to look over, breath hitching as you catch sight of him, flanked by the head teacher and too many students to count. Isabella clearly wishes to join them, and you let her go, needing a little time alone to process his presence.

Your hands are visibly trembling. If you thought you felt ill earlier it's nothing compared to now, you haven’t prepared yourself to actually be within eyesight of Bucky again, and you sag, taking a seat before your legs give out. Peggy passes by, spots the source of your terror, and squeezes your shoulder comfortingly.

“I'm okay.” You smile through your lie, staring over at the growing group of children wanting attention from Hollywood's newest heartthrob. Bucky runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tick of his you remember well, and you notice that the length of his waves is much shorter than in all the promotional pictures and videos.

“I didn't even spot that. Must be a wig.” Peggy muses, thinking along the same line as you. “Why don't you ask?” She looks at you expectantly, remaining confident that you and Bucky can sort out your differences.

Glaring, you choose not to reply. You're still annoyed at her for letting this come to be, even though you know it's not her fault. Realising you're not in the mood to hear her thoughts, she part ways silently to attend to her own duties, leaving you alone to spy on Bucky from a distance.

He appears to be being as friendly and patience with the children as he always was. Watching him smile as they congregate around his feet, he looks so far away from the man who caused you so much pain just a couple of weeks ago.

The student given the honour of showing him around starts to lead him towards your side of the field and you panic and do the one thing you can, slipping off your chair and under your stall, pulling the billowing tablecloth back in front of your body. Keeping quiet, you wait in the shadows feeling like a coward. The group roams by the cave you've made for yourself, and you breathe again, reassured that he's going to be busy officially opening the fête in a couple of minutes. Taking a second to make sure he's long gone, the last thing you expect is anyone to find you.

“Why are you hiding?”

Jumping in shock, you hit your head on the bottom of the table as you're greeted by the face of Isabella again. She's observing you with a slight frown, crouching down to sit opposite you. Rubbing the sore spot at the top of your head, you think of how to excuse your strange behaviour.

“Is it because Mr Barnes is someone else's best friend now?” She asks bluntly before you have a chance to explain yourself. “Or was he mean to you?”

You laugh in surprise, shaking your head at her forwardness. She's spot on somehow, and then you remember meeting her mother and it's obvious where she gets it from.

“He wasn't mean to me. Look.” Shoving a postcard in your face, you take it from her. It's the same picture of the two characters that has been everywhere for the last month, this one scribbled across with a black pen, a rushed copy of Bucky's signature. Not the one he uses for official paperwork, you can see, rather just the first half in a fancier script, and with a smiley face at the end.

The sight brings a lump to your throat.

“That's lovely, Isabella.”

“We always thought you'd get married to him,” She whispers conspiratorially.

Biting your tongue to stop yourself swearing in front of a seven year old, and a pupil, you struggle to find the right thing to say.

“Oh really. And who's 'we'?”

“Everyone. Even Daddy.”

Blinking, stunned, you diffuse the situation quickly, rising from under the table and brushing yourself down as you help her up too.

“I've just had an idea. Wouldn't your parents like to see your signed poster? Look, there they are,” You point her in their direction, “Why don't you go show them?”

She skips off happily and you rest your weight on the edge of the table, overwhelmed. How you were unaware of everyone's gossip about your relationship with Bucky, you don't know, and it must be bad if even the younger children are involved.

Pressing your fingers into your temple, you sigh, longing for this day to be done with.

There's a shuffling in the deserted vegetable patch at the back of your stand, probably another teacher taking a break from the mayhem of the day, and you pay them no mind until they come to a stop behind you.

“Y/N.”

Closing your eyes, you don't need to turn around to know who it is. The universe just doesn't want to give you a break today. When you continue to face away from him, he squeezes between your tent and the next until he's standing directly in front of you.

“Hello.” Bucky offers you a small smile and you gawk at his nerve.

What is he trying to achieve here? Hasn't he hurt you enough? There's nothing you want to say to him, not here, not like this, so controlling your expression you coolly meet his gaze.

“James.”

He winces at the name. You haven't called him that for years, he only allows close friends and family to address him as Bucky, and it became apparent you'd be one of his closest very early on.

Despite your attitude, he pushes on. “Can I talk to you?”

“I think you've done quite enough talking,” You mutter under your breath. He hears, evident from the shock flashing over his face, and you feel a jolt of spiteful joy at the way he takes half a step back.

There's currently no one looking to buy a ticket for your tombola, which you use to your advantage. “Got to get a drink, sorry!” You call over your shoulder, keeping up the pretence of still being on good terms, for the sake of the students.

Bucky moves to pursue you with a desperate cry of your name that you ignore, escaping as he's once again mobbed by his new fans.

*****

Later, as you pack up your stall, it's apparent Bucky doesn't want to talk to you that urgently, as there's no sign of him now the crowds have gone. You don't know if you feel relieved or disappointed. You'd sent Isabella back to her father, mostly to let her enjoy her weekend, but also because you don't think you'd survive another round of her questioning. For a seven year old, she is remarkably perceptive, and her age means she still lacks the social graces to know when to stop.

You've made quite a bit from your sales, the amount in the cash tin picks your mood up, and as a treat for surviving being in the same location as Bucky you buy the biggest cake you can from the catering stand. Today has been exhausting and you crave a little solitude to unwind.

*****

That night, you can't sleep again. The winds picked up during the evening, throwing branches from the small tree in the front garden against your bedroom window, but that's not the sole reason you're awake. Your mind hasn't stopped racing since your interaction with Bucky. Why did he have to come back and confuse your feelings further? Your head hurts, and not from the bump earlier, the swirling emotions preventing you from relaxing enough to get any rest.

Admitting defeat, you sit up and stare at the wall. The clock on your bedside table reads two forty seven, and you decide that that is an excellent time to go for a walk down the lane. Sliding your feet into the easiest shoes you can, your gardening wellies, you pull on your coat and pick up your keys, quietly opening and relocking your front door as you embrace the fresh air. Wandering with no particular destination in mind, you find yourself pausing in front of the school. The pass-code is entered into the side gate before you can really think about it, and you slowly crunch along the gravel path up to the adventure play area.

That's when you see them. Your blood runs cold as you freeze, cursing yourself for not bringing your phone with you, the figure sitting on the swings resembling something out of those horror movies you've always avoided. Assessing your surroundings, you consider the option of blending into the bushes nearby until the stranger has left.

Then they move and you nearly cry in relief that it's not a serial killer out to get stupid teachers breaking into school in the middle of the night. There's no mistaking that hair, even in the artificial orange glow of the street lights, and your heart rate remains at the same frantic pace as a new fear over takes you.

You could walk away, pretend you haven't seen him, and just get on with your life knowing you won't have to talk him ever again if you wish. Or you could confront him, and maybe get some answers to your many questions. The second options wins, even though the thought of your warm, safe bed, that doesn't hate you, is very tempting, you know you won't feel right until you've had it out with him.

Pulling your coat tighter around your front, shaking not just from the cold, you approach Bucky, preparing yourself for a conversation you probably won't like.

*****

A/n: Bucky answers for his behaviour next chapter, promise!

Chapter 10

[ramblingrybo]

Hyacinths? You’ll need some hair lacquer

I have an intimate knowledge of hyacinths. The same can be said of strawberries, potatoes and cocktail onions. It was what we picked or sorted in the fields and factories of Boston when I was young. In those days, most casual work was connected to agriculture and there was plenty of it. It might have been mind-numbing but it guaranteed a ready source of income with which to buy comics, records, guitar strings or cigarettes, depending on your age.

I started working on the land when I was ten. A double decker bus would pick us up after school from the scout huts near Skirbeck church and take us to the fruit fields of Frampton, four miles away. The bus would be crammed with hyper-active school children, harassed young mothers and short-tempered grannies with ill-functioning hearing aids. Nobody talked; everybody shouted. This was punctuated by the odd slap and scream. It was pure bedlam.

When we were finally released from this uproar upon our arrival, all you could see were endless rows of bobbing rumps. All you could hear was the distant growl of a tractor and the trilling of skylarks in the vast skies above us. Within minutes, we were picking our own row, filling a bucket in exchange for a few pence and then repeating the process, more slowly each time. At first, you would start to pick with fast pecking hands. Very soon, however, any sense of urgency would disappear, quickly replaced by a mechanical lethargy until finally a state of paralysis set in. This was reflected in the shape of the body, from bent to crawling to completely inert. Some people, however, took this one step further. One summer, we found Gonk’s younger brother, Rabbit, curled-up asleep in one of the furrows. However, for the rest of us, three hours of routine picking left us with an aching back, knees covered in mashed strawberries and glazed eyes. 

All soft fruit work was piece-work but at least with raspberries and gooseberries you didn’t have to stoop so far. That was the good news. The bad news was that you had to pick with prickles or thorns for company. Raspberries were bearable although the fruit was so delicate, it was like picking soft meringues - easily squash-able. Gooseberries, on the other hand, were savage. Trying to pick gooseberries quickly while only wearing a pair of Marigolds, was like feeding your hands into a factory loom. It was only the regulars who made any money. They could strip a bush within seconds and fill a wicker basket within minutes. I was so impressed the first time I witnessed it. 

‘Wow, that’s amazing. I just tried to do that and left a lot of skin behind.’

‘You know why they’re so good, don’t you?

‘No.’

‘It’s the gloves they’ve got. They have metal palms. You could strip the barnacles from the bottom of a boat with a pair of those.’

Soft fruit piece-work was for the beginners. If you wanted to guarantee full time work for the holidays and enjoy a weekly pay packet, you needed to join a gang. I was lucky. As a fourteen year old, I found Maggie. She was an experienced ganger who didn’t suffer fools gladly. A strict disciplinarian, Maggie hated lateness, sloppy work and anybody answering her back. She had an acid tongue, skin as leathery as an old saddle-bag and a forearm smash that could stun a mule. If you toed the line, working for Maggie was a cinch. If you didn’t, you could be harangued, physically assaulted, summarily dismissed or, worst of all, find yourself walking all the way home from Spalding, a tedious and exhausting trek of fourteen miles. Work could be anywhere in the south of Lincolnshire. We would get picked up at 7a.m. in Boston and be working in the fields of Bicker, Pinchbeck, Dogdyke, Cowbit or Moulton Chapel by 8. The van which picked us up was held together with bits of bailer twine and wire - a description which could also be applied to some of  the regular workers whose company we kept every holiday. Moose was one of them. He was a huge, kindly man with the strength of a cart horse but the brain of a child. Poor thing believed anything we told him. His trousers were always at half-mast, he sported a basin haircut and lived in a shed behind his mum’s council bungalow.

Most of the work was picking potatoes which is back-breaking and relentless. We prayed for the tractor with its plough to break down. When it didn’t, we had to pick two-handed to keep up although heel and toeing could lighten the load considerably. This entailed stamping on the potatoes to bury them with the heel of your boot and then scraping back with the toe to cover the evidence with soil. Well-practised proponents of this skill could tap-dance a whole row of potatoes out of existence. Many of the best workers were women who could work for hours without a break. As most of them smoked and kept their cigarettes in their mouths while picking, many of them sported nicotine stains on their upper lips. As a result, lunch times in the van could be a bit of a trial for the rest of us. Watching a nicotine stained woman eating a fried egg sandwich was not an appetising sight. Many a slice of pork pie was returned to a lunch box, uneaten.

Sometimes we were released from the retches and furrows to work on tractor-drawn potato harvesters, machines which harvested the crop and allowed sorting to be carried out on a mobile conveyor belt. A line of us would pick out the rotten or damaged potatoes. Once again, it was relentless work but at least we were standing up. The only problem came in really hot weather when the fields were dry. The harvester would create dust storms which meant that we had to wear hats, goggles and scarves to protect heads and faces. Looking like flying aces from the First World War, we baked, lost all sense of hearing and dreamt of ice-cold drinks.

Promotion came at the age of sixteen when we moved from the fields to the factory. Thinking we had finally made it, we got jobs at Johnson’s Seeds, working in the bulb packaging department. Little did we know, however, of the suffering which lay ahead. At first, our daily routine was a doddle. No rain, decent breaks, a canteen, good pay. And the work? Undemanding, if a little dull. My job was to load crocus bulbs into a mechanical hopper which vibrated back and forth and graded them. It wasn’t difficult -  a bit of lugging, pushing a couple of buttons and some prodding. And repeat. But then we switched to hyacinth bulbs and for the next few weeks our lives became a living hell.

We should have heeded Beryl’s warning on the Friday afternoon. 

‘Hyacinths on Monday. You’ll be needin’ some hair lacquer, lovey.’

I waited until she had gone before turning to Gary.

‘Hair lacquer? What’s she on about?’

‘Search me. It’s probably the medication.’

‘You reckon she’s off her trolley?’

‘Must be.’

A further clue was provided first thing on the Monday morning when we arrived at the hoppers. Eric, the manager, was positively buoyant. Chortling to himself, he winked at Stuart, the foreman, and both of them began to rub their hands together like two football supporters eagerly anticipating a cup final. 

‘Come on, then, what are yer waitin’ fer? Git them machines runnin’ and them hyacinths tumblin’.’

And we did. And five minutes later, we were scratching crazily at our necks, throats and scalps and emitting high-pitched wails like the noise cars make when they are being crushed slowly in a scrapyard with a giant iron claw. Very quickly, any exposed skin was red raw and nasty welts had been scored by fingernails into our flesh. We jigged and flailed like members of a religious cult while Eric and Stuart rocked with laughter from the safety of their office. 

And what was to blame for this sudden change of behaviour? Sounds implausible I know but it was the waxy skin on the hyacinth bulbs. You see, it breaks down into small flecks when it is tossed about in a hopper. These flecks become airborne and alight on the open pores of necks and throats and cause extreme irritation. The only way of preventing this is to apply a thick coating of hair lacquer to the skin to block the pores. Rather than being off her trolley, Beryl had been trying to protect us. What we took to be the mutterings of a mad woman were, in fact, the kind words of a co-worker.

We didn’t make the same mistake twice. On our way home, we called in at the chemist’s.

‘Five tins of hair lacquer, please.’

‘Blimey, young man, it’ll set like cement if yer use that much.’

If it was possible to protect against the effects of hyacinth bulbs, the same could not be said of cocktail onions. These were what we ended up sorting and grading in the factory job which took us through our college years. It wasn’t that they made your eyes stream. We soon got used to that. No, it was what lingered afterwards which was the cause of much embarrassment. You see, the smell of cocktail onions stays for days, not only on your clothes but on your skin as well. Baths, deodorant, after shave, all were useless in the struggle to remain fresh and wholesome. A weekend trip to the cinema with your girlfriend could be a fraught affair. In the warmth of the auditorium, the smell of onions returned with a vengeance, seeping out of bodily pores and crevices. 

‘What on earth is that smell? It’s not you, is it?’

‘No, of course, not.’

‘Have you had a bath today?’

‘Yes, I had a long soak.’

‘Can you lean away a bit?’

‘That OK?’

‘Actually, can you sit over there?’

Even when we had left the job for good, we were haunted by the odour. Working in a cocktail onion factory might have been good money but it didn’t half play havoc with your love life.

So, there we have it. The trials and tribulations of working in the fields and factories of Boston as a pupil and student in the late 60s and early 70s. And its legacy? A life-long admiration for anybody working on the land and an appreciation of the choices which were made available to me in my own life.

Next time: ‘On the Verge of Orchids (or Where did I put that Herb Paris?)’ 

[mikexfaisty]

My first IT fic and it’s finally reddie! Terrible pun but please go review! I’m going to be posting more IT related stuff on my AOA account. I have a couple ideas in mind. Send me prompts! I’ll write about any of the losers! 

 https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanderrpanderr

Title: Forever

Summary:  Eddie reveals to Richie he's leaving Derry. Takes place after IT Chapter 1.

"My mom's selling the house".

It had came rather abruptly and for once, the loudmouth Richie Tozier was too stunned to speak. He turned to look over at Eddie, who was looking away from him. Maybe he had misheard his best friend. Eddie had his scarf so tightly round his neck, it was covering his mouth. He looked like the little brother from A Christmas Story. Perhaps Richie had just misheard him.

"I'm sorry did I hear you correctly? Your mother is selling your house?" Richie asked when he was finally able to find his voice. Eddie nodded, refusing to look at him.

Richie should have known something was up since earlier that morning. Eddie had been oddly quiet, not quite himself. It was the first week back since winter break. February had been a harsh winter for Derry. This past weekend had brought a lot of snow. It was Thursday and the pair were doing what they had always done, walked home from school together. Usually, they would have taken their bikes but that was hard to do in the winter. It was easier, and safer, to walk in the snow. Lucky for them, the sidewalks were neatly paved. Though it hadn't been that way on Monday. Derry high school didn't close for shit and Richie had spent the whole walk listening to Eddie freak out about how they were going to get frostbite. Though he had played off being annoyed, he secretly liked Eddie's little rants. God, for once he wished it was still Monday.

"Fuck," Richie muttered, before getting louder, "Fucking christ this sucks the rot Eds! First Bev, now you" He kicked angrily at a rock that was in their pathway, watching as it sunk into the snow, "Maybe no one will take it," he added quickly. His mind coming up with a million reasons on why and how this move was not going to happen, "I mean, who in their right mind would move to this shit-hole anyway".

At first, Eddie didn't say anything. He didn't even object to his hated nickname. But then Eddie had stopped walking, which in turn caused Richie too as well. Eddie looked nervous, his eyes darting everywhere except at Richie, "She already sold it," he mumbled softly, twiddling with the zipper on his jacket, "We leave for New York right after school ends..."

Richie was dumbfounded, "Are you fucking serious?! That's only like...four months from now". This was all happening way to fast. He had been to Eddie's house nearly everyday the past few months. Not once did he see a for sale sign or any other indication that Sonia had been trying to sell, "I guess property value goes up when the child eating clown gets killed! Who the fuck knew!" It had been several months since the defeat of Pennywise and nearly as long since they lost Beverly to Portland. The once seven members would soon be down to five.

Eddie had always knew his future laid outside Derry. After all the shit he had been through in Derry, he knew he couldn't stay here for the rest of his life. It was being separated from his friends that was going to be the hard part. He thought he had three years till they would all go off to college. Now he would have to start high school all over again at a new school... with no friends. Eddie shook his head, "She sold it pretty quickly. I didn't know until she had already done it".

"I can't believe we had to spend our last summer together nearly getting eaten by that shape shifting fuckface," Richie said angrily, "What's so great about New York anyway?"

The smaller boy was looking a little green, "My mom's sister lives there. She's got cancer and mom wants to be closer to her. We're the only family she's got," Eddie sighed, "Plus what had happened this summer".

Sonia Kaspbrak had always disliked his friends, that was abundantly clear. After his arm accident on Neibolt, she had sworn that he would never be allowed around them. Hell, if she had had it her way, he probably would have never left the house unless it was to pick up his medicine. Oddly enough it had been Gretta who had freed him from his mother's lies. After he confronted his mother about his medication, it had been a whirlwind. The night he had returned after the defeat of Pennywise had been particularly rough. Unsurprisingly, she had freaked out when he had come home covered in filth and shit. After he had taken a shower and convinced his mother he was physically alright, they had continued their talk from earlier that day. She had once again denied making up his illnesses and was quick to blame his friends for his problems. Eddie had been firm. It took a lot of convincing, and mild threats that he'd never speak to her again, for her to back down. Their relationship was far from perfect, but he had hoped this would set them in the right direction. Although, there was no convincing his mother to at least hold out till he graduated. The house was sold. There was no going back now.

"And the others? Do they know?"

Eddie shook his head, "No. I-I want to but..." he was shaking a little now. His left hand was deep in his coat pocket, digging, "I was thinking maybe tomorrow bu-but,"

Richie stared at the inhaler which Eddie had removed from his pocket. He frowned, "I thought you got rid of that thing," Richie grabbed it, much to Eddie's protest. He shook it and sprayed, holding it out of Eddie's reach, "Gazebos remember?"

"Yeah I know just..." and Eddie continued in his attempt to grab the inhaler, "Stop you're wasting it!"

"You don't need this stuff," Richie said firmly. He had stopped spraying but still help it above Eddie's head, "Not anymore,"

The inhaler had sat on the nightstand in his room since the day they defeated Pennywise. Eddie hadn't thought he would ever need to use it, not since the confrontation with his mother. The day she had revealed they would be moving, he had felt drawn to use it. He had lasted about a week, before he had slipped it on his coat early this morning. It had sat there all day. As soon as he had announced the move, he could feel it weighing down in his pocket. Eddie knew Richie was right. He didn't need it. But there was still a part of him missed the comfort the inhaler once gave him. He stopped reaching, "Fine I wont use it,". Richie didn't look to convinced, "I wont", he insisted again, "Just give it back. Please". At first, Eddie wasn't sure Richie would. But after a beat, Richie had capped it and placed it in Eddie's open hand.

"Fine," Richie said shortly. He watched as Eddie hesitated, before it was slipped back in his coat.

They continued to walk for another two blocks. Neither of them spoke until they had reached Eddie's house. There was no car in the driveway indicating Sonia was still at work. The two stood in silence, as if waiting for the other to speak first. The person ended up being Eddie. He was shifting back and forth in his spot, his bottom lip quivering, "Remember what Stan asked in the club house awhile back?" he began, once again refusing to meet Richie's eyes, "He asked if we'd all remain friends....if we'd still remember each other"

"No way I could forget that ugly mug of yours".

Eddie's eye twitched, but he once again ignored the jest, "We'll still be friends right?"

Forget the losers? Forget Eddie? Richie wasn't sure it was possible to forget them. They weren't just his friends, they were family. The thought of losing touch with any of them was scary to Richie. And he could tell Eddie had similar feelings. But after all they had been through, they were worth fighting for. Richie had to believe their friendship could withstand distance.

"Forever," Richie said, trying to sound as confident as he could. Eddie nodded but the worried look on his face stayed the same. Richie gripped Eddie's arm, "I mean it Eddie. Derry, New York, wherever. You'll never be able to get rid of me," he said teasingly. He let go of Eddie's arm before adding, "No way I'm letting any of you guys go," and for a moment, Richie could feel a twinge of pain on his hand where Bill had sliced it.

"Forever," Eddie echoed back.

Richie could see Eddie was relaxing a bit. He nodded "We'll make sure to do everything," he promised. As he gazed at Eddie's house, he felt a bit uneasy. The thought that by this time next year, some other people would be living there crossed his mind. He pushed those thoughts away, putting on his best smile, "We'll see ever movie the Aladdin has to offer, the arcade, sleepovers with the other guys, panty raids, finally getting someone to touch your dick beside your right ha-"

"Bee-beep, asshole," Eddie interrupted, shoving Richie lightly. He tried to sound annoyed but Richie could tell he was trying not to smile.

"I'm serious spaghetti man! Make me a list of all the stuff you wanna do and we'll do it," Richie was already coming up with a million other ideas, "And...and I can visit New York,". Fuck his parents better let him. Even if he had to do extra chores all year. Hell, he'd hitchhike to New York if he'd have to. Although, he'd probably have more of a problem convincing Eddie's mom.

For the first time of the afternoon, Eddie smiled, "Thanks Richie,". He then made to turn towards the path that led to his house. But suddenly, Eddie stopped himself. He turned back, slamming his body into Richie's and wrapping his arms tightly around him. The hug had took him by surprise, though definitely not unwanted, causing Richie to fumble back a few steps. Then sudden warmth had brought a tint of red to his cheeks and caused his glasses to began to fog up. When he got his bearings, Richie returned the hug. After what seemed like forever, Eddie finally pulled away and headed up to the house.

Before Eddie made it inside, Richie called out to him, "Give your mom a kiss for me!"

He watched as his friend paused at the door. Not bothering to turn around, Eddie slipped Richie the finger. Richie laughed and watched as Eddie went inside.

No way I'm letting you go...

[punkscowardschampions]

Ali & Ro

Ali: One of your kids is here??? Ro: Oh no! Ro: I double checked everyone was aware of the cancellations and everything Ali: You know what people are like, probably received but didn't actually read/listen to the message, like Ali: I'll quickly get in before ma can be her charming self any harder Ro: Thank you Ali: [allow time for that] Ali: Done Ali: Why'd you have to cancel anyway? Ro: Sadly I have yet to master being able to be in two places at once, especially when one of those places is so ridiculously far away Ro: What's more surprising though is that you've remained at home for long enough shepherd my pupil in and out for me without assumedly cursing Tess Ali: Ugh, I feel that Ali: until we're blessed with time-turners, we'll all have to muddle through Ali: and I've been there enough myself to guess where you are, so I won't pout about any potential adventures you could've been on Ali: everyone is DOA and MIA today, plus if I let her shout at me for long enough she might not ground me forever 🤞 Ro: Indeed Ro: Well, I can't deny that would be very much appreciated as I've been subjected to plenty of pouting already as things stand Ro: You can let her know that I'll be making my grand return soon enough which will at the very least give her another target should she desire one Ali: You can probably ignore him, he's just feeling the ill-effects of a 3-day bender, like Ali: some hydration and vitamin c and he'll be over it Ali: can't say the same of mother but my sins definitely outweigh yours Ali: though the offer is appreciated 💚 Ro: He's very much fine in that regard I'd been assured prior to my arrival and of course did my part to truly make it so by making him a late lunch or early dinner once I got there Ro: Regrettably, that offer was taken very much not in the manner it was intended Ro: The tally of my sins therefore apparently exceed the number of yours, in Drew's eyes at any rate Ali: Sounds like Drew Ali: you spoil him Ali: Caleb's mum made him work today, as he was too sick for school Ro: All I've spoilt is his afternoon seemingly Ro: Yet again, I'm a waste of time Ali: Hey Ali: don't take on his bad mood just 'cos he's mad he didn't get what he wanted Ali: you know it's bullshit Ro: None of his grievances are unfounded Ro: I shouldn't break promises Ro: Even if I did make them for less than ideal reasons Ali: No, but you know Ali: you have those reasons regardless Ro: And he has his own reasons to be upset Ali: Which you're clearly giving a fuck about Ali: so he owes you the same in return, yeah Ro: Of course, but his anger is fuelled by how much he does care, obviously Ro: It's because he likes me so much that he wants to take things further than they are Ali: Partly Ali: but I don't think anyone can say that that's all it is Ali: not to discredit how he feels in any way Ali: if anything, it takes into consideration all aspects Ro: He is the only one who can address that with any degree of clarity but its a conversation we're unlikely to have for a while Ali: I'm sure it won't be anything like that long Ro: That almost sounds as if you are in fact discrediting how he feels but I have no desire to get into a disagreement with you about the one I just had with him Ali: No, I'm saying he's nothing if not persistent Ali: trust me, he'll get over it if he has any sense Ro: It's less about the sense he possesses and more about the degree to which my own has abandoned me Ali: Do you regret the fact you didn't or regret the fact you were considering it? Ro: Both regrets somehow exist side by side and I have no idea how that can be Ro: Or which of the many internal voices vocalising my many mistakes I should begin to listen to Ali: Sounds about right Ali: are you in love with him? Ro: Yes Ali: Yeah Ali: it's Ali: the worst kind of headfuck Ali: amongst many other things Ro: What would you do in my place? Ali: About what Ali: specifically Ro: My next move Ro: He says I won't lose him but I know it's more likely than not Ro: Especially now that Carly has her own caravan to host in Ali: You shouldn't do it if that's the only reason why Ali: doing it because you're fearful of any outcome is just a bad idea Ali: it should always be primarily that you want to Ro: I do want to but I also don't want to Ro: It's complicated Ali: It is Ali: it might stop being complicated Ali: or you might do it before it does Ali: either of those is fine and valid Ro: What if it doesn't and I can't? Ali: You will Ali: if you want to, then you will Ali: I said it was the most important factor but definitely not the only, not even close Ali: it's complex but you know, like most things, stressing upon it will never make it less so Ro: I suppose Ali: It's like all this stuff isn't it Ali: thinking you'll never get your period and then it just happens Ali: we've all got our own pace for all of it Ro: And my pace is several steps behind always Ro: Maybe next time I should just go to the party Ali: Well his is coming up so Ali: you will be at that one Ro: Oh my god, don't remind me I haven't even begun brainstorming gifts yet Ali: 😂 Ali: you do have time Ali: but it might distract you from this worry so have at it Ro: You're so fortunate that Caleb's is ages away Ali: I know Ali: so much of me cannot hack that, I'd actually die Ro: After emerging from Carly's mostly unscathed, you could be forgiven for believing yourself immortal, I'm sure Ali: It was pretty hectic Ali: not sure if I'd say life-threateningly so but keep that between us Ali: could tell ma though Ali: keep her from hysteria Ro: I'll use that as my conversational opener when I come in if you'd like Ali: Subtle, cheers Ali: tell her there were no recreational drugs or pre-maritial relations too, whilst you're at it Ro: Carly would appreciate the lack of, I'm certain Ro: More so than Tess would my attempts at such a clearly crafted lie Ali: Can't win with her, like Ali: don't lead with that though Ali: even if that's a truth Ro: It's the kind of day I'm having Ro: I'll simply wish on everything possible that the losses extend to calories as well Ali: Don't waste the magic Ali: I know you skipped lunch Ro: You know because I told you I was busy running around after Drew Ali: Exactly Ro: Nonetheless, I've spent more time on this bus than anything else Ro: It's a pity I can't transfigure my bike here Ali: it seems like a good idea until it starts chucking it down halfway Ro: True, I'd be unlikely to garner any sympathy or permission for more time off from Tess even if I caught my death Ali: Seriously Ali: if she has to see any of us tomorrow at all, she might actually lose it completely Ali: what with Bea and Fraze being their delightful selves all weekend too Ali: the only ones not on the shit list rn are Tommy and Joe and that's only through absence Ro: Precisely Ro: Much like how the idea of finding birthday gifts for Drew is favorable after the nightmarish pursuit we all have to endure in order to provide something that Bea will undoubtedly dislike and return where possible Ali: 😂 s'why I kick it homemade Ali: good luck finding any takers for my sentimental tat, babe Ali: bless Ro: Alas the memory of my childish homemade cards finding their way to the recycling bin earlier than I feel necessary haunts me still Ro: Did Carly like what you made for her though? Ali: 😞 Ali: Yes, thankfully she's far more receptive and forthcoming with her thanks Ali: and the caravan looks amazing Ali: looked, I HOPE everyone kept out Ro: It would be difficult for her not to be, Bea, of course, is without competition in that regard Ro: I was impressed by the pictures despite being well aware of your artistic eye and resourcefulness in gathering materials Ro: Perhaps you should take and utilise all the magic yourself immediately Ro: Protection spells have been employed and succeeded for less Ali: True Ali: and a good idea to boot Ali: I better do it remotely Ali: aside from me leaving the house for anything but school and work rn being a deathwish, I'm not sure of the state I'd find the residents in, like Ro: Hm, yes arguably that is an even better idea Ali: Obviously, I do not plan to be her prisoner for long Ali: but for a great escape, I need even greater plans on the outside Ro: It would be my pleasure to extend such an offer, dear sister, but my own flight of fancy earlier did little else but backfire so it's best I stay under lock and key until I feel suitably chastised Ro: Either by Tess or myself Ali: Self-flagellation is next to godliness, of course Ali: I'll think of something Ro: I have no doubt that you will Ro: But whilst the subject of faltering has been raised, can I ask you something? Ali: of course Ali: scientia potentia est Ro: I was just wondering if you spent much time with Drew this weekend, that's all Ali: Not a huge amount Ali: but I saw him about, doing his thing Ali: if I saw anything like that I would've kicked his arse and told you Ali: in that exact order Ro: Okay Ro: Well, thank you Ali: Of course Ali: sisterhood before everything Ali: especially boys Ro: My favorite religion and the one to which I've been devoted to for the longest and most faithfully Ali: 💚 Ali: What's your ETA? Ro: 13 and a half minutes Ali: Ooh precise Ali: that'll please the jailer Ali: tell her 15 and you'll be back in the good books when you're arse is up the table without her even having to shout up the stairs Ali: 👍 Ro: I already told her 21 minutes so I have enough time to fix my face somewhere that isn't a very full bus Ro: She doesn't need to know that I've been crying Ali: 😕 Ali: Cold water fixes all Ali: we can talk about it properly after Ali: feels like forever Ro: It's not too late to pray for a summer storm Ro: Though it seems everyone misses me until they get the opportunity to spend time with me, so I might be wise to adjust my prayers accordingly actually Ali: Not everyone Ali: just him Ali: and just because he's mad Ali: we'll tea and talk, promise Ro: As long as you share too Ali: I gotcha Ali: you wanna hear all the fantastical and sordid exploits Ro: Fantastical yes, sordid not so much Ali: 😂 Ali: I'll do my best to spin the yarn into something comfortable and befitting Ali: don't worry Ro: Being guaranteed one less thing to overthink about will forever be appreciated Ali: That's my job Ali: one of Ali: labour of love, really Ro: tá mé i ngrá leat freisin Ali: 💚💚💚 Ali: right, I got a table to set Ali: not gonna know what's hit her Ali: Rock even agreed not to throw any spaghetti up the wall Ali: providing I buy him sweets for a week Ro: I'm in awe of your power whether or not she will be Ali: whether a six-year-old can stick to a deal is another thing Ali: did threaten him with a broken pinkie so 🤞 Ro: I'll likewise threaten him with the type of hex befitting a 6 year old promise breaker if needs be Ali: 💀🐸🐀🕯🥀💀 Ro: Our minds have always worked in similar ways, that's a truth which deserves to be universally acknowledged Ro: But for now, go Ro: There will be plenty of time for talking later

[viostormcaller]

Ego Headcanons: Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein

I said I would do Schneep next, so here we go! (This one is probably gonna be a long ass post too, so be warned!):

Henrik is originally from Germany. He speaks English pretty well since he's taken classes in school. German is his mother tongue, however, so sometimes when he's tired, drunk, panicking, or upset he'll switch back to German a lot of times without realizing he's done so

Henrik is a very successful doctor, earning some of the highest marks in college. He has a degree and he used to have his license, but it was revoked after his accountant, Peter, died under his care.

He had a wife and two kids, just like Chase, and also went through a nasty divorce. His wife only wanted him for money (which, being successful, meant he made a lot of it), and while they were together she was cheating on Henrik with a tennis instructor. There was a huge fight between them once he found out. The kids sided with Henrik, but sadly the mother prevented them from going with him when Henrik left. She also barred all contact between them and him, though the kids send him cards in secret with the help of a family friend. Other than that, he has no contact with them

Henrik moved to Brighton and began classes to regain his license. He earned it back, and started working at a nearby hospital. He was just as successful and rose through the ranks quickly.

Schneep worked long hours through the day and grieved the loss of his family at night, usually drinking alone at the kitchen table and crying. When he got sick of this, he began to work double shifts at the hospital almost every day until he broke down and had to go on leave

When he got back to work, he changed his schedule so that some days he worked the day shift, and some he worked the night shift. On one fateful night, he had been assigned to perform an emergency surgery on the town's local superhero, Jackieboy Man. Marvin the Magnificent had been the one to get him to the hospital. They were both pretty banged up, but Henrik was able to fix them both up. He felt a connection between the two of them, and the three of them bonded well and kept in contact after they recovered. He made sure that he worked more night shifts so he could be the one to treat them when they had injuries. Before long, he was the only doctor they would go to

Once Henrik made enough, he bought a big house and offered Jackie and Marvin to move in. The pair had already been sharing an apartment (and it was small so they didn't have a lot of stuff), so the moving process had been fairly easy.

On Halloween of 2016, Schneep was called in for an emergency surgery: a man's throat had been slit open and they needed someone to save him. Somehow, Schneep felt he already knew the man he was saving, despite never having met him before. His name was Jack, and he was in grave danger.

In the process of saving Jack's life, he had brief contact with Antisepticeye. Schneep was able to fend him off, considering having a doctor arrive on scene wasn't a part of the demon's plans.

In the process of the surgery, Schneep was somehow able to save Jack's life, even though the wound on any other person would most definitely have been fatal. He had stitches and wasn't able to talk for a while, but eventually ended up okay. Once he was able to talk again, Jack told Schneep that he already knew who he was, somehow. He realized they had a connection. Schneep mentioned Jackieboy Man and Marvin the Magnificent, and Jack said they both sounded familiar, too. Once they looked into it, making the connection between Anti and them, it clicked. They were all Egos, tethered to Jack, and despite living separate lives they would all find their way to him and to each other.

Jack eventually moved into Schneep's house, and continued recording videos for his channel there. Schneep was able to keep an eye on Jack's condition this way, in case Anti came back to possess him again. This happened once more before meeting Chase

Once again, Schneep was able to miraculously save Chase's life from a wound that would have otherwise been fatal. Marvin encouraged Schneep to look into this, suggesting he may be some sort of necromancer. He said that once Chase was recovered and back on his feet and stable, he would look into it. He never had the chance to.

Chase, Jack, and Schneep all grew close, especially while Chase was in recovery at the hospital. Schneep, Marvin, and Jackie were also close, due to their time living together in the same house, just the three of them. Jackie's life had been saved many times by Schneep, and they shared a strong bond. Marvin and Schneep shared a love for knowledge, and often spent days swapping notes and findings and research. As it turns out, magic and medical information tend to overlap.

Schneep was at the hospital the day Jack feel ill. He got a call from Jack saying he needed to come home immediately. Schneep immediately rushed home to help him. There's a lab space in the house that Schneep took Jack into, closing off the room for treatment. Schneep saved Jack within inches of his life, fighting through corruption and an forced suicide attempt. Schneep fought bravely for control despite it. Right as Jack slipped into a coma, Henrik was kidnapped by Anti himself, who left a message for Jack's community. Footage of the situation was recorded and put on Jack's channel.

Henrik was tortured by Anti nonstop for nine months. About a month or so before his return, an image of a bloodied, slightly glitchy postcard was posted to Jack's blog, updated with more blood over time before it was eventually deleted. The others saved this as evidence for Jackie to use as he searched relentlessly for Henrik's location.

On May 3rd, exactly nine months after he was taken, Henrik was found and returned. He was shaken, barely alive and traumatized. It took him a long time to get back on his feet fully. When he was finally able to get back to work, however, he found an impostor had been taking his place all along, someone who looked just like him and stole Jack's screen name. To this day he swears it was Anti himself.

Schneep suffers from panic attacks, flashbacks, night terrors, and hallucinations after he had been kidnapped, corrupted, and tortured. It also took a long time for him to allow anyone to touch him, and an even longer time to believe he had ever left Anti's hold and wasn't just a part of another illusion. He's more stable nowadays, but not by much.

Schneep spends most days at home now, watching over Jack. He fills out paperwork from the hospital often and his shifts are shorter than he used to be, but that's only because his primary patient is at home.

Schneep is an insomniac. He'll stay up for days at a time unable to sleep, and when he does sleep he usually has night terrors. He usually works until he crashes, relying on coffee to keep him awake

He drinks his coffee black, and won't have it any other way

Henrik is able to hyperfixate on his work. Once he's in the zone, it's difficult to break himself out of it. He gets a lot done, but often forgets to eat or sleep because of it. The others often have to remind him

Chase and Schneep bond over the losses they've had, but also because of Chase's naturally childish nature and Schneep's naturally parental one. They often spend quiet mornings in Chase's room, where Schneep will sit on Chase's bed and sip coffee while Chase plays with the many toys he owns. It's their little secret and they prefer to keep it that way

Schneep is Pansexual, and he's dated a lot of people in the past (and is actually known to be a huge flirt). However, he fell out of the dating scene after the divorce, his life growing way too hectic for a relationship. His main priority is getting Jack to wake up.

Schneep loves kids just as much as Chase does. He's a great father, and he adores having Samantha and Grayson over on the weekends. He's very good to them both

Schneep has a natural affinity for ice skating. He doesn't know how or why, but he's naturally good at it for whatever reason. He's gotten into a competition with Marvin more than once. Whenever they go they keep a score count. Right now they're tied and have yet to break it.

Schneep loves music. He envies Jameson's ability to play, and they both bond over the piano.

Vice versa, Schneep is extremely talented at art, wanting to become an artist when he was younger. Jameson, as a lover of animation and art styles, envies Schneep's ability to draw and will sometimes sit and watch him draw or paint

One of Schneep's favorite places to go is the beach. He loved the trips he used to take in the summer as a child, and when the Egos all get together to go on a trip to the beach, it's like he's a kid again. The others have never seen him so happy

Schneep is the only Ego who wears his glasses on a day-to-day basis. He has to, because he needs them to work, but he doesn't understand why the others don't wear glasses (besides Jameson, who gets a slight pass because he owns a monacle)

Schneep is most definitely the Mom Friend(TM). He's always making sure the others are taking care of themselves and are feeling okay and that they eat and get proper rest, even though he has trouble doing it himself. He puts others first, but said others usually turn around and remind him (if not force him) to take care of himself, as well

I think that's everything about Schneep that I can think of! Again, this one was very long because we have a lot of info on Schneep. I think I got everything covered here that I could think of, though. I hope I did, anyway!

[agatharights]

I’ve got, like, levels of salt and guilt going tonight because I’m angry at someone for a personal thing that affects me and my life, but I realized that really I’m angry because of a bunch of additional intertwined psychological bullshit that goes with it? Just. 

UGH a long sleep-deprived sad ramble under the cut. Sorry, mobile users. Just scroll really fast.

My ex and his wife are having a baby. Yay.

I really am happy for them, on...on a level? Well, I’m happy for her, at least, she’s great with kids and loves babies and whatever but they’ve been trying to have a baby for a year or two now so gratz.

my daughter, my daughter with him, doesn’t know yet and they’re really excited to tell her over Christmas but....I dont’ think they realize what’s actually going to happen. She’s going to be excited...up until she realizes that Dad, who doesn’t really spend much time with her anyways because he’s always busy and even on weekends when he doesn’t work, he tends to be going to shows/doing shows/doing podcasts/what the fuck ever so she’s been having issues lately trying to figure out why she doesn’t get to see her dad as much as she likes

She’s going to see so much less of him when he’s taking care of a baby

So, so much less. He’s gonna be helping to take care of a fucking baby, like, his wife isn’t gonna be able to work, because baby, so he’ll be working more and then babying the rest of his time and Ophelia will probably not get squeezed in there very often.

And I’m going to have to deal with the fallout as Ophelia, who is approaching the age where this sort of complex thought process happens, starts to realize “Dad is spending more time with his new baby than he has with me.”

“Dad and stepmom love this new baby so much but can’t see me regularly.”

“I’ve been replaced.”

I have to deal with that fallout. Just as I’ve had to deal with the fallout for EVERYTHING that has happened, from Ophelia breaking down over him getting married to the fucked up situation with his parents being disowned by all of us to just everything in general, because I have Ophelia all the time. All The Time.

So, I was happy for them but also pissed because it kinda ruined all my fucking plans re: having time to do shit on weekends or during the summer since they’re gonna be having a baby and babies take so much time! And I’m pissed because I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with Ophelia this whole time and as is, I struggle with Ophelia a lot anyways so that’s gonna be great.

And then it kinda...clicked.

WHY i was pissed. Why i was really pissed.

I didn’t want to be pregnant. I didn’t want to keep the baby, but it was too late for an abortion. I wanted to give the baby up for adoption, but I got convinced and talked into staying a mother. I didn’t want Ophelia. I love her, but I absolutely didn’t want her and now I go to therapy regularly to deal with the fallout of it, so that Ophelia will never have to, because she deserves better so I go and I do all the shit to make sure that she can be happy and safe and loved, even though she wasn’t wanted.

Being pregnant sucked. Being pregnant when you didn’t want to be pregnant SUCKED. being pregnant when you were a teenager living at home SUCKED. Being pregnant and chronically ill sucked. Everything sucked. It was awful. It nearly killed me, very literally, it did it’s level best to make me bleed to death internally.

Afterwards, I started struggling with Post-Partum Depression which was compounded by the clinical depression that had been going untreated at the time. It got bad enough that I started, uh, experiencing some Wild Psychological Delusion Shit and it SUCKED. And then everything sucked basically for a long time, my job sucked and I got fired, my life sucked, my relationship sucked and crashed and burned in flames and I was suddenly a single mom while my ex (because we were both in our very early twenties at that point) was going out and getting blackout drunk and taking road trips and shit I was at home in a depressive fugue so fucking deep I don’t actually remember it. My family describes me as being like a robot, at the time. I didn’t...respond to anything. I just did routines.

And i mean, he cleaned up. We both started going to therapy. We both got on medication that helped, but nothing can undo the sheer amount of suck I’ve lived through. It clings to me like the scar across my belly, the only scar I have that will not heal completely.

And I realized

I’m angry because I’m jealous

I’m bitter and jealous and FURIOUS.

She’s going to be happy and content in her pregnancy because she was preparing for it, and wanting it, and ready for it. She’s going to be a great mother and considering that the biggest indicator of post-partum mood is your mood beforehand, she’ll be far less likely to suffer from depression or psychosis like I did. Her and my ex are very much in love, and they’re older than we were once and they’re healthier and in a far more stable condition.

She’s going to be happy.

And I’m happy for her

I hope she has a wonderful, easy pregnancy and a lovely life and that their baby is healthy and that they’re happy. I hope all the best for them, and this new being they’re bringing into the world. I hope they get that house in the suburbs and a dog like they want. I’m happy for them.

But there will always be a part of me that wants to crack their ribcages open like woven baskets and eat their hearts out of pure jealousy.

Anyways it’s been a shitty few weeks haha and this horrible psychological revelation definitely didn’t help. I know I’ll be fine, given time to sort it out and my therapist comes back in January so I’ll be seeing her then but.

Just.

I’m filled with mourning for a life I didn’t get to have, while they celebrate making a new one. It’s deeply and horribly unfair.

I will be okay, in time. But right now, I’m kinda not okay.

And I have to accept that before I can deal with it.

Also I wanna run my ex over with a car like COOL I BET YOU’LL ALWAYS BE THERE FOR THIS BABY UNLIKE THE OTHER ONE YOU ALREADY MADE. THAT’S GREAT. COOL. GREAT. GLAD THAT WHEN YOU ACTUALLY GET TO CHOOSE TO HAVE A BABY, YOU’RE ALL-IN.

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 36

The call came four weeks into the Skull Island shoot, just prior to Tom’s short Thanksgiving break.

It was Monday, and I was out on the deck of the waterfront cottage we’d rented at the Paradise Bay Resort, about six miles or so from Kualoa Ranch. They’d been filming there in addition to other locations in the Waikane Valley, and though Legendary provided housing, Tom spent as many nights and weekends with me as possible. I’d passed on meeting any of the cast or team so far, wanting to allow him to work as he was accustomed, as well as preventing myself from interfering and/or becoming a distraction. That, of course, meant super late nights and group activities on some weekends, but I was so buried with Prosper work, Manageall development, fulfilling my maid of honor duties for Simon and starting to plan my own wedding that any time we spent apart went by incredibly quickly.

I reached for my phone where it rested to the left of my laptop and tablet, smiling when I unlocked it and saw the picture of Tom I’d chosen, him laughing, fresh out of the shower, wearing only a towel as he lunged toward me.

“Wow, Maude. Such professionalism.”

The cast, director and producers were scheduled for a lunch meeting today wherein they’d be discussing schedule and script changes, so I hadn’t expected him to call at all, though he normally did when they broke for lunch on set. My phone time read 3:17 PM as I tapped the answer button.

“Hey, you…how was the meeting?”

Silence greeted me, followed by the sound of a woman clearing her throat, then speaking.

“Maude?”

My brain raced through a hundred scenarios as to why a woman would be calling me from his phone, and I not only had to force myself to answer, but it took every ounce of rationality I possessed to not flip the fuck out.

“Yes…who’s this?”

“It’s Brie, Maude…I’m sorry to bother you, and oh god it’s totally weird that I’m calling from Tom’s phone, I know, but I was afraid if I used my own you wouldn’t pick up and I didn’t want to leave a message and risk not hearing from you right away…”

As I realized it was his co-star, a coldness began to work its way from my chest to my extremities. “Did something happen? Is he all right? Where is he?”

“We’re at the house, cast housing. He’s not hurt, sorry, damn, I knew I’d scare the heck out of you no matter how I tried to explain it…anyway, we had lunch at a restaurant and, well, as it turns out the special was grilled chicken Caesar salad and like three-quarters of us had it and whoever ate it now has food poisoning. There’s a doctor coming in just to check on everyone, and Tom’s in pretty bad shape and you’re close by so I figured you might want to come here because there’s no way he can travel right now. He didn’t want anyone to call you but…”

Able to breathe again, I silently thanked the universe for keeping him at least relatively safe. Food poisoning. Okay. I could handle that. Probably. “Of course he didn’t. Brie, thank you, so much. Do you know the address of the house? I have no clue where it is, but I’m guessing I can be there in like twenty minutes or so.”

She gave me the details, and I mapped the route on my phone straight away, then set to packing up some spare clothing for both of us, as well as some water, a twelve pack of Coke, and some straws. I had no idea what to expect, as I’d managed to live on the planet for nearly four decades without experiencing the true horror of food borne illness, other than some occasional diarrhea. Which, frankly, was fucking bad enough. But I’d had the stomach flu enough times to know that what he was currently enduring in all likelihood sucked giant monkey balls. Kong-sized, even.

Traffic was light, which both surprised me and made me realize that I didn’t leave the cottage very often because driving the Jeep was, like, challenging. It was yet another Wrangler, but this time bright yellow. Which I didn’t care for, but the discount at the rental company was awesome and that was all they’d had left. I was, of course, too lazy to check back and change it out for another one…and also aware that such a thing was just shy of totally petty.

As I pulled into the driveway I whistled…it was a huge, beautiful, modern house with SO many windows, and like the beach rental we’d stayed in during the summer, I could see clear through to the ocean. I parked off to the side as to not block anyone in, then got out, grabbed my bag and headed for the door. An adorable woman with dirty blonde hair flung it open, waving.

“Hi, Maude. That was fast. I’m so glad you came…he’s a mess. And so is everyone else. Just him and four other guys here, Tom has his own suite.” She smiled and held out her hand. “So happy to finally meet you, though I’m sorry it’s under such…erm, unpleasant circumstances.”

I accepted her hand shook it briefly. “Happy to meet you too, and thanks again for reaching out.”

“Not a problem. Follow me, I’ll take you to his room.”

The faint scent of vomit assaulted my nostrils as we walked across the tilted open-concept living and kitchen area, then up a flight of steps to our left, the planks made of native wood, the rest stainless steel and glass. She knocked on the first white door to our right, and when there was no answer she turned to me, whispering.

“Maybe he’s in the bathroom…you should probably just go on inside.”

Left brow rising, I whispered as well. “Does he know I’m coming?”

She shook her head, smiling timidly. “No. Sorry. I didn’t…”

I nodded, right hand up, palm extended toward her. “I understand. Totally cool. Far better that I just appear so he doesn’t waste his energy arguing.”

“Yeah, that’s how I felt about it. Oh, his phone…” She pulled it out of her back pocket and passed it to me. “I snagged it last time I knocked and got no answer. Man, I feel really bad for all of them…and I’m really, really glad I had a vegan wrap. Good luck, Maude. I’m going to head out as soon as the doctor gets here, which should be soon. I hope. The smell is making me feel…not so good.”

“It’s…pungent, that’s for sure. Thanks again for calling me, Brie.”

“You’re very welcome.” She gave me a quick squeeze, then headed back downstairs as I turned the knob and opened the door to Tom’s room. The floors were white tile, the walls a pale blue, with a gorgeous view of the ocean out the floor to ceiling windows…and it smelled like I’d stepped into a parmesan cheese factory, which is what puke had always smelled like to me. Mixed in for fun was and acrid sweat and other unmentionables. The furniture was native wood, and the light-blue bedding was all askew…with no sign of Tom. To the right of the bed was another door, and as I approached I heard retching.

For several minutes, I remained silent, waiting for a break in his torment, and when it finally came I knocked gently and spoke his name.

“Tom?”

A groan, followed by another retch, then a reply. His voice was raspy, weak, and I immediately wanted to barge in to…to do…something, anything.

“Maude? Is that…is that you? Or am I hallucinating? Oh god. Somebody make it stop.” More retching, and I swung the door inward. He was completely naked on the bowl with a small bucket, most likely the bathroom garbage can, resting on his knees. His face was ashen, hair flattened with sweat, and the dark circles under his eyes made me flinch when he looked up at me. I walked to his side, placing the back of my hand on his forehead…he was blazing hot, and shivering wildly. His hand reached up, shakily grabbing my wrist. “Is it you? Are you real?”

Nodding, I bent to kiss his forehead. “It’s me. I’m real. What can I do to help you, babe?”

His teeth had begun to chatter. “I…I don’t know…every time I go back to the bed, I have to get up again and I’m so tired but I can’t sleep and I’m sorry that you’re seeing me like this and that you had to come here…” A tear ran down his left cheek and I brushed it away with my thumb.

“Thomas William Hiddleston, there is no other place I would rather be right now. Okay, that might not be entirely truthful. How about there’s no one I’d rather be WITH…”

He smiled wanly, then retched again, eyes glassy when he finished and turned them up to me. “Sorry. I’m just dry heaving at this point…there’s nothing left to come out. Not at this end anyway. Can you…will you step out for a minute?”

I exited, closed the door behind me, and walked over to the windows to allow him as much privacy as possible, waiting until the flushing stopped before going back in. He’d put the bucket on the floor next to him, and was holding on to the sink vanity to his right, attempting to rise. I slipped one arm around his waist.

“Want to go lie down?” He nodded slowly. “Okay. Lean on me. Let’s get you there.”

Our height difference was an obstacle, but we managed to reach the bed without me letting him fall to the floor. He was so feeble it was frightening. I tucked him in, blankets up around his chin, then sat beside him on the mattress, legs crossed in front of me, knees touching his ribs, my sandals cast off onto the tile haphazardly.

Another tiny smile appeared on his so-very-pale face. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry you feel like…like…”

The smile widened. “Death?”

I took his hand in mine and began rubbing his wrist with my thumb. “That bad, eh?”

“Well, maybe more like wishing for death, I guess.” He reached across and placed his other hand on my bare knee. “How did you know to come?”

“Brie called me.”

He frowned. “I didn’t want anyone to call you.” The frown faded quickly. “But I’m very glad someone did.”

I smoothed back his hair. “Me too.” His eyelids fluttered. “Try and get some rest, babe. I’ll be right here if you need me, okay?”

“Oh. Kay.”

Twenty minutes later he woke up moaning and clutching his stomach, racing to the bathroom on his own, powered purely by adrenaline. I helped him back to bed once he’d finished, and every twenty minutes for the next two hours the cycle continued, leaving him more and more frustrated and exhausted. At around ten after six the doctor popped his head into the room after three short, sharp knocks. He was my height, chubby and bald, with dark framed glasses. After examining Tom thoroughly, his official diagnosis was indeed food poisoning, the likely culprit Staphylococcus aureus based on the time between ingestion and onset of symptoms. I was left with a 24/7 contact number, a six pack of adult Pedialyte, and a handout listing signs of dehydration. If any of said signs appeared, I was to take him to the nearest ER right away. The good news was that his symptoms would likely improve by morning, and introducing the Pedialyte whenever Tom expressed an interest was permissible since he was no longer vomiting. One teaspoon every fifteen minutes until he kept it down for at least an hour, then after that, it was fine to follow the instructions on the bottle. Nothing solid for at least another day, and then bland foods until the diarrhea ceased. I took a deep breath, hoping he’d just sail through, but still the worry threatened to overwhelm me and I knew I’d be obsessively checking him for dry mouth and heart palpitations. The sound of his voice pulled me back from the edge of an anxiety attack, and I put the pamphlet on the bed next to me as I felt his hand on my arm.

“Maude? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Totally fine. How are you doing?” Deflect and divert. Go Maude.

“You went rather pale there. This isn’t contagious, is it? I thought I heard…”

I shook my head. “Yep. The doctor said the type of food poisoning you have isn’t contagious.”

“But what if he’s wrong about the type? I don’t…”

Taking his hand in mine, I brought it up to my lips and kissed it. “You should SO not be worrying about me. You shouldn’t be worrying about ANYTHING. Okay?”

He shifted toward me, groaning with the effort. “You’re worried.”

The man knew me entirely too well. I sighed. “Sorry. Yes. I’m worried, mainly about my ability to take care of you properly. I’ve never done anything like this before, other than maybe an after party make sure no one chokes and dies session. And never for anyone I actually, you know, cared about. I apologize in advance for sucking.”

A soft snort escaped him, and I knew there was a suggestive comment on the tip of his tongue, but he dozed off again prior to making it.

Four hours later the stomach cramps had gotten so bad he was no longer able to sleep at all, instead shivering next to me while curled into a fetal position while I rubbed his back lightly. That was followed by another bout of throwing up….this go round consisting of a yellowish substance that the internet told me was likely bile. Afterward, the cramping subsided significantly and he managed to sleep for an entire hour, during which I cleaned the bathroom. It was a challenge to say the least, as I all I had was toilet paper, antibacterial soap, hand sanitizer and some towels, but by the time he woke up every surface had been scoured and most offensive odors eradicated. It was my hope that doing so would help with the nausea, but, truthfully, I had no fucking clue if anything I was doing helped at all.  

He’d called my name, and I approached the bed anticipating another bathroom assistance mission. Instead, he pointed at the Pedialyte.

“I’m thirsty…may I have some of that, please?”

My head tilted to the right, seemingly of its own volition. “Do you need me to walk you to the bathroom first?”

“I don’t think so, no. But I am very, very thirsty.”

Perhaps a corner had been turned. I removed one of the bottles from the shrink wrap, then set it back down on the nightstand when realized I didn’t have a teaspoon.

“Okay. I need to find a teaspoon. The kitchen here’s fully equipped, right?” He nodded, and I kissed his forehead. “Be right back.”

I walked down the steps, turned around and headed for the kitchen. The cabinets were white with glass inserts, stainless hardware and quartz countertops. The silverware was in the top drawer of the island, and I grabbed two teaspoons and washed them off in the sink, just in case. As I reached the steps to return to Tom’s room, the eerie quiet of the house totally creeped me out and I half jogged to my destination. When I opened the door, there he was, sitting up, bottle to his lips and head tilted back as he took three huge gulps right in front of me.

“THOMAS. WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?”

His eyes widened as he lowered the bottle to chest height. “Drinking. Should I not be drinking? I was thirsty. I’m sorry. Is it going to start all over again now? I don’t think I can take any more. I don’t…” His lower lip began to tremble, and I ran over to the bed, gently taking the bottle from him and setting in on the nightstand once again, then wrapped my arms around him.

“Honey, honey…it’s okay. I’m sorry for being loud. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right here, you’re going to be fine. Please don’t cry.” Not only did I not want him to cry because it would make me feel like the biggest piece of shit to ever walk the planet, I didn’t want it to happen because it could impact his hydration level.

He nestled his head in the crook of my neck, and I straddled him, keeping all my weight on my knees. His skin was still warm, but not as blazing hot as it had been earlier. I lifted him off me slowly, hands pushing on his shoulders, and was surprised by his hand suddenly touching my face.

“Maude…I…love you. Tired. Lie with me?”

“I love you too. I’m not sure you should lie flat, though…” I climbed off him, and as soon as I let go of his shoulders he began to slump backward. “Can you sit up just a little longer? I have an idea.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs with his head in his hands. I figured if he remained upright there’d be less of a chance of him throwing up, which I was probably totally pulling out of my ass, but I was hopeful that some sort of instinct was responsible for my thought process. First I piled all the pillows near the wooden headboard on his side of the bed, then grabbed our phones from my pocket and set it on the nightstand. Lastly, I took my shorts off and positioned myself behind him, legs open, back against the pillows.

“Okay, all you need to is slide back. Can you do that?”

Instead, he turned himself to the side, legs flung over my right thigh with his ass centered between my own legs.  His right arm slipped around me and he again nestled his head in the crook of my neck, the side of his torso pressed up against my front, left hand resting on my right shoulder. As I began to embrace him, he pulled back and tugged at my shirt, his voice barely audible.

“Off. Skin.”

I removed it as requested, then wiggled out of my bra. He snuggled back into me, a small smile upon his lips. In that moment I was struck by the fragility of this life, how quickly things change, and how loving so deeply was both a blessing and a curse. A terror began to grip me as I realized that one of us would more than likely leave this earth before the other, and I just couldn’t imagine not wanting to die myself right then and there if I was the one left behind. He kissed my neck, and I reminded myself to try to be grateful for every moment. Every single one. All the time.

“Maude?”

I took a deep breath before replying, afraid I might burst into tears. “Yeah babe?”

“Sing to me?”

“Absolutely. Did you have anything particular in mind?”

“A song.”

After running through my repertoire, I decided on “You’ve Got the Love”, the Florence + the Machine version. Doing the whole thing acapella was going to be interesting, and never before had I wished that a magical harp and band would appear out of thin air to rescue me. The song had religious undertones and was essentially about God, but in my head I always un-capitalized everything to make it, you know, NOT. I took a deep breath and began, lowering my normal volume considerably, singing as if it were a lullaby.

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air I know I can count on you Sometimes I feel like saying, "lord, I just don't care." But you've got the love I need to see me through Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough And things go wrong no matter what I do Now and then it seems that life is just too much But you've got the love I need to see me through When food is gone you are my daily meal When friends are gone I know my saviour's love is real You know it's real You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love Time after time I think, "Oh, lord, what's the use?" Time after time I think it's just no good 'Cause sooner or later in life, the things you love you lose But you got the love I need to see me through. You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love You got the love Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air 'Cause I know I can count on you Sometimes I feel like saying, "lord, I just don't care." But you've got the love I need to see me through

Midway through I felt his breathing change and his body relax, and sure enough, by the time I’d finished he was out cold. I placed a gentle kiss on his temple, then eased back into the pillows and stared at the room around me…I’d neglected to turn out the light, but there was no way I was disturbing him to rectify the situation. The contents paled in comparison to what I held in my arms, so I opted to gaze upon that instead. He was so peaceful in sleep, and the way he was curled up against me made him appear almost childlike, delicate and ethereal. I counted freckles, still one of my favorite pastimes, and it was exceedingly difficult to not trace them with my fingers. The worry reared its ugly head again, and I pushed it back by telling myself that he’d kept down liquids for at least a little while, and that he seemed to be resting comfortably. He stirred briefly, and I wondered if perhaps he was chilly in the air-conditioned room, so I used my right arm to reach the blankets and pull them over him. That seemed to do the trick, and I must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing I knew it was morning.

“Maude?” A hand on my shoulder. The sound of someone drinking and swallowing. My eyelids felt as if they were made of lead, and opening them seemed an almost insurmountable task. I squinted, waiting for my contacts to clear enough for me to actually see, and once they did there he was, face inches from mine, still paler than normal, but his eyes had light in them once again, despite the huge dark circles beneath. His rear end was still between my legs, but he was sitting fully upright, the bottle of Pedialyte in his right hand three quarters of the way gone. He smiled, that adorable adoring smile. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How long have you been awake? How do you feel? Do you need help getting to the bathroom or anything…”

“About twenty minutes, like I might actually survive, and I’m not sure yet. What I do know is I’ve never been this thirsty in my entire life.” He finished off the bottle. “Can I have another, do you think?”

I placed the back of my hand on his forehead…no fever as far as I could tell. “Um, probably? But maybe you should wait a few minutes…”

He swung his legs and spun around so they were now resting over my left thigh, his arm reaching out to tug another Pedialyte from the shrink wrap. After grabbing it, he simply said ‘shit’ then leaned into me again.

“What’s up? Nausea? Are you dizzy? Do you feel like you’re going to pass out? Bathroom?”

His voice was mildly muffled, his breath on my neck. “Just a little light headed. Perhaps I moved too quickly.”

I snorted. “Ya think? Take it easy, Thomas. Let me do stuff, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you for the song last night.” He fumbled for my hand, gripping loosely when he found it. “I love that one. Hearing you sing it just for me was…and you taking care of me…I feel so...”

“Light headed and thirsty?”

He laughed softly as I helped ease him back into a sitting position. “Loved, actually. But that too.”

After another full bottle of Pedialyte, I escorted him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth and then served as his official shower aide, shampooing, soaping and rinsing. He sat on the wall bench within the enclosure while I cleaned myself up, watching me and smiling when I met his gaze, but when I snuck a peek now and again the fact that he was far from well was glaringly apparent. Once dried and dressed, he stretched out on the bed, sighing heavily.

“Maude, I’m knackered. Completely. I don’t think I can be Captain Conrad today.”

I’d just latched my bra and turned to him, mouth hanging open. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I need to call Jordan. I hate to hold everyone up but I just…well, maybe some coffee will get me going?”

“Dude. No. Just because you seem to be done puking and stuff doesn’t mean you’re, like, BETTER. You need to rest, drink lots of clear liquids and maybe have some chicken broth. You’re not supposed to even eat solid food until tomorrow. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who’ll be MIA.” I retrieved his phone from the nightstand and handed it to him. “Here. Call.”

I finished dressing as they spoke, wrestling my hair into an elastic, coming in on the tail end of the conversation.

“Okay, man. Thanks. No, no, it’s cool. You can’t tell about these things. It was a really nice place. It happens. I’ll see you next Tuesday. Happy Thanksgiving. I will. Thanks again.” He ended the call and looked up at me. “Jordan decided to shut down early, so we’re done until next week. He also said to say thank you for coming down and helping out. And Happy Thanksgiving.” He grimaced.

“Babe?”

“Just gas, I think. Doesn’t seem possible that there’s anything else left.” A few minutes later, he exhaled with a whoosh. “Okay. Better. I don’t suppose I could convince you to drive me back to our cottage, my love?”

“No convincing required. I have to stop and pick up a few things for you, though…cool?”

He nodded, and I gathered our stuff, brought it out to the Jeep, then came back for him. The steps were rough, but once he was belted in the vehicle and able to rest again I determined the trip was possible. He smiled.

“Would you mind, you know…”

I laughed. “Going slow? Yeah, I guess. But just this once.”

He laughed in return, took my hand and kissed it, and I felt as if another corner had been turned.

****************************************

We spent the rest of the day in bed, binge watching Mozart in the Jungle on my laptop. He’d told me he didn’t mind at all if I needed to work, to which I replied with a ‘fuck that shit, it can wait’. The Pedialyte stayed down, and around five PM I microwaved some chicken broth for him to try. That, as well as the two cans of Coke he guzzled down, in part, I suspected, because he was experiencing some serious caffeine withdrawals, stayed where they belonged too. After he crashed out at nine, I managed to get two Prosper client sites up and running before crawling in beside him at two AM.

Wednesday found me in bed alone, and I’d slept so soundly that I hadn’t felt him depart. I leapt up and half-jogged the eight steps into the bathroom, expecting to find him there, sick all over again…but it was empty. I padded back into the bedroom, opened the folding door and, just as I was about to freak out for the millionth time, spotted him sitting out on the deck, stuffing his face, clad only in a pair of shorts. I slipped into a robe as I walked to join him.

He grinned, chewing messily, cracker crumbs landing and sticking in his scruff. I grinned in return, taking note that his color had returned to normal and his dark circles were much improved.

“Well, someone’s feeling chipper today.”

He swallowed, then wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I’m not certain about chipper, but starving, yes.”

I moved closer, resting my left hand on the back of his neck as I inspected his feast. “Let’s see…chicken noodle soup, saltine crackers, toast – which had better be sans butter, by the way- three banana peels, and two Cokes. Gourmet breakfast if I’ve ever seen one.”

He slurped another spoonful of soup. “Lunch, actually.”

“Lunch? What time is it?”

“One or so.”

“Well, shit…sorry. Why didn’t you wake me up? Did you have breakfast? Are you okay? Any…issues?”

Motioning to the chair to his left, he snorted as I walked around the table and sat down. “No issues. All digestive system components seem to be fully functional. Breakfast was identical to lunch, and I devoured that at around six this morning. And, I didn’t wake you because I figured you might be in need of some solid rest. I’m tired still, but the ocean air seems to be doing wonders for me. I’ve just been sitting out here, watching, listening, thinking…sometimes not thinking, which is a rarity for me, but decidedly peaceful.”

It was my turn to snort. “Yeah, I think they call that ‘relaxing’. But it’s an activity I’m unfamiliar with so I can’t be, you know, SURE.” My gaze turned to the water in front of us and the mountains in the distance. “This is right here, every day, and I swear, most times I don’t even notice because I’m so busy adulting. Embarrassing. Shameful, even.”

His hand found mine, our fingers entwining. “We have today, and ahead of us five more glorious days off. Together. Let’s make a pact right now to not do a single shred of work. Sound good?”

I nodded. “It sounds fucking exceptionally good. If you see me working, stop me, and I’ll do the same. Deal?”

“Deal.” He kissed my cheek. “Thanks again for taking care of me. You…you’re just…amazing.”

“You’re welcome. It scared the crap out of me, man, how sick you were.” He chortled. “Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. Anyway. I’m just thankful you’re all right. So I did okay? I had no fucking idea what I was doing, dude.”

He kissed me again, this time on the lips, his tongue tentatively seeking entrance into my mouth. I opened to him, connecting, tasting the odd mixture of chicken broth and bananas, then forgetting about it quickly as he began gnawing on my lower lip. Our contact was severed as we came up for air, and I realized immediately that his panting wasn’t completely rooted in desire. I grasped his chin gently with my right hand, staring into his eyes.

“You okay?”

He nodded as I released him, taking another several seconds to catch his breath. “Yes. Though I’m mortified to admit I may not be quite well enough to take advantage of you at the moment. Forgive me?”

My eyes rolled. Twice. “Thomas. Please. You’re supposed to be resting. I’ll clean all this up, you go lie down.” His mouth opened, and I cut him off before he could begin. “NO. GO.”

He smiled. “All I was going to say is that I was planning on taking a shower first.”

“Oh. Fine. Carry on. If you need help, holler.”

We both stood, and he pulled me into a huge, warm embrace. “I love you, woman.”

“And I love you, man.”

“I know you just got up, but I don’t suppose you’d join me in bed again after I’m done washing?”

“Absofuckingloutely I will. I just need some fuel…the chocolate pie in the fridge should do the trick.” A sheepish half-smile from him. “Thomas. Tell me you did NOT eat the pie.”

He laughed. “I didn’t. I wanted to, but thought better of it. Though I wasn’t sure which would be worse…my stomach acting up again, or your wrath upon discovering it gone.”

I poked his shoulder. “Get off my deck, you cheeky bastard. GO.”

He let me go, turned and headed back into the cottage, moving at human speed instead of Tom speed. Every day at some point, I fell in love with him all over again. This was today’s moment, watching him walk away, feeling grateful that he was able to do so under his own power, and that he was…mine.

I’d just finished doing the miniscule amount of dishes his lunch and my breakfast had created when he came around the corner and into the kitchen, totally starkers.

“Oh my…Thomas, I had no idea there’d be a SHOW before we retire to the boudoir.” He grabbed me from behind, arms around my waist, lips on my neck. “And I’m sure our neighbors didn’t, either.”

He glanced to our left and saw that the curtains and the blinds were wide open, releasing me to go close them with a flourish. “My apologies, dearest neighbors…this show is by invitation only.”

When he turned around to face me, I was not in the least surprised to see that his cock was hard and at half-mast. I raised a brow, pointing.

“Well, I guess what they say is true…you really can’t keep a good man down.”

He blushed adorably, shrugging slightly, hands outstretched. “I thought maybe, just maybe, that if I didn’t have to move very much we could…”

“So you want me to ride you like a pony, is that it?”

At that, his cock twitched and grew fully erect. The blush deepened, turning from baby pink to nearly magenta, and I roared with laughter. “Oh my GOD you are so CUTE I can’t EVEN.” He covered his face with his hands, and I laughed louder, bent over with my hands on my thighs, my words sporadic and between chuckles. “If you…if you’re not…on that bed…in the next thirty…thirty seconds…I’m going to have to…SPANK YOU…”

Once I composed myself, I washed my hands, dropped my robe on the floor, and joined him in the bedroom, closing the folding door behind me. He was waiting, lying in the middle of the mattress, still red as a beet. I straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss him briefly as I took his cock in my left hand.

“Just lie back, relax, and enjoy, my love. If it’s too much and you need me to stop, just say so, okay?”

He nodded, and I ran the tip of him up and down my slit and against my clit a few times before sinking down onto his full length.

“God, Maude…you feel so good. So, so good. I love being inside you. I wish I could be inside you, every second of every day. Just like this, all the time. Divinity. All mine.”

I began rocking, slowly at first, upping my tempo as his moans grew louder, finally resting my hands on either side of his head, angling forward to ride him in earnest, our eyes locking.

“How’s that, baby? Am I your cowgirl? Riding my wild stallion, taming him, teaching him how to please me, how to behave?”

“Oh yes. Yes. YES. Please don’t stop.” His hips began bucking up into me, and I paused.

“Ah, ah…there will be none of that. This is MY rodeo, sunshine.”

He ceased, and I moved faster, the head of his cock pressing into my G-spot with every tilt of my hips. “That’s a good boy. You do as your cowgirl says and let her have her fun, and maybe you’ll earn yourself a treat, too. Would you like that?”

More nodding, his eyes closing as he forced himself to remain still, though I could feel the tension in his thighs, the desire to pound into me nearly overwhelming him. It pushed me over the edge, and I came, my own muscles tensing and releasing, squeezing him, pinning him in place inside me as my hips jerked wildly.

“There it is. Oh yeah. FUCK YEAH. Your cock is so fucking HARD, it feels so fucking GOOD my god OH MY GOD…”

He let himself go then, fucking up into me, thrusting no more than five times before he came as well, warm cum shooting up inside me, his head thrown back on the pillow, eyes still closed, mouth open, silent. The sight made me come again, my own eyelids falling shut, then snapping open in concern at the sound of him whimpering.

“Babe, you okay?”

His hand reached up to cup my jaw, slightly-unfocused gaze meeting mine. “I’m perfect, thank you. Sorry I came so quickly, love. It’s been since Sunday…how I am I ever going to manage when I’m in Australia and you’re in London for two weeks in January? I need you. I need to have you…”

I lifted myself off his softening cock and rolled onto my back beside him, his hand slipping off my chin in the process. “Skypesex. Lots of Skypesex.”

He shifted, turning his head toward me, and when I did the same the look on his face made me melt…the sweet, gentle smile, eyes wide open and full of light and love, blinking slowly, those damn lashes brushing his cheeks…I inhaled sharply at the beauty of it all, and his hand reached out again, this time to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“I’d be remiss to not mention that I’ll miss your company most of all. Your physical presence in my sphere, your laugh, your voice, your scent…you. You’re just as much a part of me as my own heart is, and living without either is impossible.”

“Well, I was going to say it’s just two weeks, it’ll go fast and we’ll be fine but now I’m going to have to quit my job and hide in your suitcase instead.”

He grinned. “I fully support that decision.” The grin faded, countenance growing serious. “I know it will be fine, and we’ve been apart a few nights here, but we’ll be halfway across the globe from each other and I’m going to miss you, Maude. Like I’ve never missed anything else before in my life. And, I have to be honest…I’m frightened, even if it’s just a little.”

I rolled over fully and propped my head up with my arm, elbow resting on the bed. “Frightened of what?”

He rolled as well. “Distance. I’ve never been good at it. I think I’m better now, but…what if you discover that you don’t want to deal with it? Or me? What if you realize while I’m gone that you liked your life better without me in it? I…”

I kissed him, sucking his tongue into my mouth, the released him quickly. “There is NO life for me without you in it, Tom. Don’t be afraid. It’s going to suck, but we’ll handle it. Just like we’ll handle anything else that comes our way…together.”

“You’re right, Maude. I know that.” A sigh escaped him, followed by a deep inhalation. “I just have remember that past experiences are exactly that…the past. I need only focus on now, and the future. Our future.” His left hand first cupped my left breast, then worked its way down to rest on my lower belly. His gaze followed, remaining there for ten seconds, then returned to my face, his eyes questioning. “Speaking of which…I’ve been meaning to ask but you have far too much on your plate already and I don’t want to add to your stress but I guess I’m going to anyway, aren’t I? Sorry, but you singing to me Monday night, it was so like a lullaby and…” His hand began to caress me gently, and I suddenly understood what it was he wanted to discuss.

“You want to know if I’ve thought about when we should start the whole let’s-try-to-knock-up-Maude business?”

He chuckled, then sobered. “Yes. So, you have, then?”

“Oh yeah. A lot, actually. Let’s face it, I’m no spring chicken, which means time is of the essence. So, I want to say, like NOW, but…and this is going to sound utterly ridiculous because I’ve been married before, much to my horror, and in this day and age no one really gives a remote shit about such things, but I am totally not comfortable with the idea of being visibly pregnant at our wedding. I’m sorry, it’s stupid…”

He kissed me then, deeply, moving the hand that was on by belly to my backside, propelling me toward him, then pulling back to reply.

“Maude, it’s not stupid, not one single bit. It’s actually rather adorable, honestly. And hilariously contradictory and god, how I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m perfectly fine with fucking your brains out constantly but visible, tangible proof of said fucking in the form of a preggo belly? Oh, no, not THAT. I’m insane. But you knew that going in, right?” He snorted, and I pinched his nipple. “So. I’m thinking if I wait and go off the pill in February, that should do the trick.” I frowned.

“What is it?”

“Well, there’s another conversation we need to have.”

“Which is?”

I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Since I AM older, it might not be easy for me to get pregnant. I might not be able to get pregnant without fertility drugs, or other assistance. And there’s a possibility I might not be able to get pregnant at all. Or, since the only time I was pregnant I had a miscarriage, I might not be able to maintain a pregnancy. You need to be sure you’re okay with those things before we get married. I know you want a family, and if I can’t give that to you…”

He placed his hand over my mouth, gently silencing me. “You’ve been worrying about this.” I nodded, his hand remaining in place. “Don’t. Not ever again. We’re very fortunate that if things aren’t easy, we’re financially able to pursue any and all options available to us. And yes, I DO want a family…but Maude, there are all kinds of families. My gut tells me it won’t ever be necessary, but I’m open to anything, including adoption. Or, no children at all. YOU are what’s most important to me. It’s all I need in this life…everything else, it’s gravy. Like you just said…we’ll handle anything that comes our way, together. Right?”

I nodded again, and he removed his hand. His stomach gurgled, and he smiled at me. “Could I, do you think, possibly get away with having a teeny, tiny piece of that chocolate pie?”

“By get away, do you mean outrun me? Because that’s what it’s going to require, dude. PIE. MY PIE.”

He leapt up off the bed, opened the door just enough to squeeze through, then closed it behind him to slow me down. I didn’t bother to get up, shouting from the bed.

“Fucker. If you eat all that I’m never sleeping with you again.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah. I totally am. Bring my piece in here please, Sir Asshat.”

“As you wish, my love. As you wish.”

[wallsinner]

Title: So Much For Summer Pairing: Marco Bodt x Reader Warnings: None Summary: You weren't, however, expecting to see a very, very, wet Marco Bodt standing there, freezing out in the cold. “Hey.” He said, as if it was completely normal to be standing on your doorstep in the middle of a freaking storm. “Can I come in?” Notes: Old, Unbeta’d. 

You stared out the window, basking in the light breeze that blew over your face as you looked up into the sky. It was dark now, but still a pretty clear night and so you could see the stars twinkling up above you. It was a nice end to what had actually been a good day and you were taking the clear sky as a good sign – it obviously meant that those stupid weather reports you'd seen earlier about rain and storms had been utterly wrong and the blissful weather that you'd been experiencing was going to continue. You inhaled one last breath of the crisp, summer air and closed the window, pulling down the blinds for the night.

This past week had been amazing, it was right in the middle of June and the sun had been out in full force every day. It'd been great, you'd been able to take enjoyable walks to work (instead of having to resort to a bus because of the rain or the wind), eat lunch in the park (instead of at your desk) and you'd even been able to sit outside in your yard with your laptop until the sun was setting. Yeah, you loved summer because it just made you feel good, you'd always been one to hate the cold, wet and rainy weather that you had to suffer through most of the year ad so you found it a refreshing change to wake up in a good, productive mood every day due to the sunlight streaming in through the gaps in your blinds.

It had improved your social life too. Sure, you were used to spending your weekends hanging around with your friends, but this week it had seemed like everyone had cleared their schedules and wanted to do something after work or classes and so you'd hung out with someone almost every night over the past week. You'd gone out for meals, watched a movie in a park last night and had spent lots of time just sitting outside chatting, either in one of your yards or your local beer garden. The summer was bringing out the best in everyone and you were currently thoroughly enjoying life and you were looking forward to being able to continue feeling like that.

Tonight you'd been to an impromptu barbecue that your friends Jean and Marco had thrown. It had been a good night just chilling together as you ate and drank with pretty much the entire group (a couple of them had had to work late and hadn't been able to make it, which was no big deal because it gave you an excuse to recreate this experience over the weekend) of your friends. It had been entertaining too, because you'd gotten to watch Jean get angrier and angrier at the grill for 'not working the right way' until Reiner had had to step in and take over for the sake of Jean's (and everyone else's) sanity. That had been a relief, because you all too well remembered last summer (well, what felt like the one day of summer you'd gotten last year) and the blackened burgers. Yeah, Jean really should just stick to omelettes.

The one complaint you had (that wasn't really a complaint really) was that things had dipped and gotten a little awkward towards the end of the evening, when everyone was all talked and laughed out and your friends had started to couple off. It hadn't really occurred to you just how many of the people you hung out with were in relationships with each other until that moment. You'd just been casually looking around and you'd noticed that Connie and Sasha were trying to re-enact Lady and the Tramp with a leftover breadstick. And then you'd seen the way that Ymir and Christa were sitting together, Ymir playing with Christa's hair as Christa looked up at her and babbled what appeared to be nonsense. And then there was Annie, sitting snuggly in Bertholdt's lap, occasionally smiling and nodding at whatever it was he was saying to her, he was keeping his voice low so that nobody could overhear them. Hell, even Mikasa – who was most definitely not one for public displays of affection – had wrapped the red scarf she seemed to wear rain or shine around Jean's neck.

That had left three of you as the only single people there – you, Marco and Reiner. Though you weren't so sure that Reiner counted at that specific moment because he wasn't concious to witness the goings on around him like you and Marco were, because by that time he'd passed out after an ill-advised drinking contest with Christa. He'd lost.

Marco had definitely noticed that you were out of place too, because he'd leant forward in his chair to engage you in a conversation and you'd longed to ask him how he felt about everything, but really the last thing you wanted to was was make all your friends uncomfortable.

Or make the raging crush you had on him too obviously.

Shortly after that everyone had started to say their thanks and leave. You'd helped Ymir bundle a sleepy Christa into the backseat of a taxi (and you suspected that Ymir would be a facing a fine, because there as no way Christa was going to make it back to their apartment without puking everywhere) and Bertholdt and Annie had decided it was best to leave Reiner in Jean's care and so he and Mikasa had dragged him inside to put him to sleep on the couch, before disappearing inside because they knew it was time to clean up. You had opted to stay a little later to help Marco, even though he'd been very, very insistent that you really didn't have to, but you couldn't leave him alone to do everything.

And anyway, helping Marco with anything most definitely was not a chore. You liked spending time with him rather a lot and the two of you tending to drift towards each other anyway. And there was a part of you that hoped he would at least mention if he'd felt awkward during the last part of the night when you'd been surrounded by couples and you'd be able to find out if he thought that it sucked to be single, because Marco always seemed kind of okay being single.

He didn't bring it up and you certainly didn't have the guts to incase he thought you were being bitchy, but you hadn't let that spoil your night. Instead you took it as a plus because you'd gotten to talk and laugh with him alone for an hour and he kept smiling at you in the way that turned your stomach into knots. And when you'd gone to leave, he'd offered to walk you home because it was getting dark and had seemed really concerned, which for a moment made you wonder if he did return your feelings.

But he was Marco. And he was sweet to everyone. So most likely not.

You threw yourself down onto your bed and unplugged your laptop from where it had been charging next to it. It was getting pretty late now, but you weren't ready to settle down and go to sleep just yet, you were still a little buzzed from the couple of wine coolers you'd drunk that evening and Netflix sounded like the best idea right now.

Besides, with all the activities and excitement of the last week you hadn't had a chance to watch the new episodes of a show you really like that Netflix had released during the week and if you didn't start it soon then there was a change that you'd get spoiled at work, or by Ymir.

You left your laptop to set up and went to get changed into your comfortable pyjamas, brush your teeth and pee and grab a bottle of water from your fridge so you'd be all set for the night and could just go to sleep when you wanted to. You grabbed your headphones so you wouldn't disturb the elderly couple next door who had probably been asleep for hours (and so if this series was as love scene heavy as the last one they wouldn't hear and think you were a pervert) and prepared to get lost in your show.

You were two episodes deep and ready to start the third one when you decided to take a bathroom break. You tugged out your headphones and stretched, climbing up off of your bed and walked into the bathroom with a yawn. As good as the show was, you probably should go to sleep soon.

A familiar sound filled your ears and you froze. You could hear the rhythmic thumping of something battering against your windows. Heavily.

No! No! It was summer, this wasn't supposed to happen! Those weather reports were not supposed to be true! You looked out of the bathroom window and sure enough, it was raining and not only was it raining, it was like the heavens themselves had opened up, it was so heavy. It seemed as if you dared step outside you'd be soaked to your skin in about ten seconds.

And was that hail?

Oh, brilliant. Well the one damn week of summer that you'd gotten had been good at least. And fuck those weather reports, was this seriously going to be the one time that they were going to get it right? Usually they promised sun when you got wind and rain. How could it have gone from being so blissful to... so... sucky in the space of a couple of hours?

And as things couldn't get any worse, you saw a sudden streak of light in the sky and jumped back.

NO. NO. NO.

Of course it was followed up by a loud rumbling, crashing noise.

No.

You stumbled back from the window in fear your back hitting the wall, as a whimper passed from your lips. If there was one thing you didn't like, it was thunder. You'd been absolutely terrified of it for as long as you could remember and your usual way of hiding from it was to cuddle up with your Mom until it went away.

Well, even if your Mom was here that wouldn't have been an option anymore, you were an adult now and you needed to act like it. It was silly to be so scared of something that was simply natural and that wasn't going to hurt you, you were inside and you weren't going to use your phone or anything. No, you could deal with this, you'd just go and get into bed until it had passed. Maybe you could put your headphones back in and ignore it. Yeah, you could definitely do that.

There was another flash of light. Followed by an even louder crashing noise. It was getting closer. You yelped out again, your legs gave way and you slid down the wall and onto the floor. You pulled your knees into your body and buried your face in them, trying to control your shaky breathing because the last thing you needed right now was an actual panic attack. No, you just needed this to be over with, now.

Another flash of light, a louder rumble, another attempt at controlling your breathing. Another flash, another noise, then another.

You were bracing yourself for the next one when you heard a different kind of loud noise. Well... more like a succession of loud noises. What the hell even was that?

Oh wait... was someone knocking on your door? Great, knowing the way your luck had been going for these past few hours, you'd probably go downstairs and open it to find someone who was using the storm as an excuse to pretend to be looking for somewhere to stay, only to turn out to be a serial killer who just wanted to murder you and steal all of your possessions that were actually worth something. You tried to ignore it but they were persistent and were rapping at your door again and you shakily got up onto your feet and gripped onto the banister as you walked downstairs to keep yourself steady.

You cautiously opened the door, not quite sure who or what would be on the other side of it.

You weren't, however, expecting to see a very, very, wet Marco Bodt standing there, freezing out in the cold. “Hey.” He said, as if it was completely normal to be standing on your doorstep in the middle of a freaking storm. “Can I come in?”

Wordlessly you held the door open and let Marco inside.

He was so wet from the heavy rain, that he dripped water all over the floor. You blinked up at him as he stood there, shivering and soaking in your hallway. “Are you lost?”

Marco shuffled awkwardly and cleared his throat before he spoke. “No, I'm not lost.”

You crossed your arms. “So, you're not going to tell me why you're here?”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, then seemed to reconsider what he'd been planning to say and instead, after a pause, replied with “It was thundering.”

“And is running around in the pouring rain and thunder something you do now or...?”  You frowned.

“Well...” Marco sighed. “You're afraid of thunder.”

Wait, what? Your fear of the thunder wasn't something that you tended to bring up a lot, because it was kind of embarrassing to admit that there was something you were afraid of, especially with how afraid of it you actually were. Maybe you'd mentioned it in a passing conversation or something, but it was definitely something you'd never discussed at length with Marco. “I... told you about that?”

Marco nodded. “Once.”

Once. You'd brought it up to him once and he'd remembered? You were quite touched by that, there weren't many people who'd remember something like that about you. “Oh.”

“Yeah...” Marco shivered again. “And I guess I just wanted to make sure you were okay?”

Ugh, why was he so perfect? And more importantly why weren't you like... married right now? Or why couldn't he return your dumb feelings, or at least ever give you a sign that he did? “Oh.” You said. “You could have just called me instead of coming out in the weather.”

“Well... would you have picked up if I'd have called?”

You remembered the horror stories you'd read about using phones during a thunder storm and shuddered in fear. “Probably not.” You admitted.

“Well then.” He said. “You're okay?”

Ugh, this was so awkward. “I guess.” you paused. “Thank you for checking on me.”

Marco smiled his stupidly adorable smile. “You're welcome. You're sure you're okay? It seems to have stopped now.”

That was true, you hadn't heard any more crashes or seen any more flashes of light through the window in your door, so it seemed like the thundering part of the storm had at least passed over now. It was still pouring it down with heavy rain though, so there was no way you could send Marco back out in it to go home. You were sure he was already going to get sick from his little visit to you now, let alone if he went back out in it. “You're soaked to your skin.”

“Yeah...” Marco said again. “Do you have a towel or something? And uh... can I maybe hang out here until it stops?”

You couldn't help but giggle. “You can hang out here as long as you want,” you told him. “And yes, I'll go and find you something to dry off with.” There was no way that just a towel was going to fully dry him off though. You cleared your throat. “Hey you know um... if you want me too, I could throw your shirt into the dryer for you?” You could throw his pants in too, but you weren't going to mention them because you would bet money on whatever he was wearing under his pants were pretty soaked too and you definitely couldn't offer to throw those in to and there was a strong chance that they would have gone see-through from all the water and it would make things even more awkward for the pair of you if you had to see those. Though you did wonder if he had freckles on his...

“___!”

“Huh?” You blinked.

“I said are you sure you don't mind?” You blinked a couple of times trying to erase your previous thoughts from your mind and remember what he was talking about. Oh right, drying his shirt.

“Oh, no I don't mind. It's the least I can do anyway.”

“Thanks.” Marco replied as he tugged the soaking wet material from his body and over his head, exposing a toned, freckled chest to you.  You kind of really wanted to throw yourself against it, maybe lay your head against it and go to sleep, but mainly just push your body against it.  

“____? Are you okay, you've gone kind of red?”

Shit, you weren't drooling were you? Please say you weren't drooling. You forced a laugh. “I'm fine, just... thinking about the storm you know?” You tugged the shirt from his hands. “I'll be right back, oh and you don't have to stay in the hall you know.” He followed you into the kitchen, but stayed there and didn't follow you into the small laundry room just off it. You closed the door behind you and leant against the wall, giving yourself a second to pull yourself together. You opened the dryer and shoved it inside, setting it and grabbed a fresh towel from the laundry basket that sat on top of it. You braced yourself before you re-entered the kitchen.

He hadn't really made himself at home, he was just standing there in the middle of the room, his arms wrapped around himself to try and warm up in the cold. He looked up and smiled when you walked back in though and could he just please stop smiling at you now? Because any more and your thirst for him was going to become obvious.

You don't know why you did it, maybe because you were ridiculous, but you didn't just hand the towel to him like a normal person would have, instead as you approached him with it you mumbled; “C'mere, I'll dry your hair.” You guessed you just wanted to be a little closer to him.

He didn't seem to find this weird though, instead he just ducked a little so he was at your height and you put the towel over his head and rub at his hair. You were well aware of how close the two of you were. You were also well aware that his eyes were focused on you instead of elsewhere and it made you feel a little uncomfortable. “You know... you're cute when you concentrate.”

You immediately stopped what you were doing, feeling warmth in your cheeks and you were sure you were blushing.

Marco straightened up, letting the towel fall from his head, you watched as his opened his mouth again. “You're even cuter when you blush.”

You tried to think of a witty retort, but all you could focus on was the fact that he'd just told you that you were cute and the beating of your own heart. Did Marco even know what he was doing to you right now? You looked up at him, your eyes finding his own and breathed out, desperate for wards to come to you.

And then Marco's head was tilting to one side and you were instinctively moving towards him. His hands gripped your waist, yours around his neck and everything was the feel of Marco's damp hair as you raked your hands through it, the fast doki doki of your heartbeat ringing in your ears and Marco's soft lips on your own.

Just as quickly as it had started, it was over and you were looking at the freckle-faced man before you. “You... just kissed me.”

“Yeah...” Marco swallowed. “I'd say sorry but you kissed me back... and you don't know how long I've wanted to do that.”

“Oh, okay.” Were the only words you could find. You were feeling incredibly overwhelmed. “How long?”

“Since Mikasa introduced you to us last year.” Okay, well yeah that was quite a long time really. “Do you want me to leave?”

You shook your head. “No, I want you to stay. And I want you to kiss me again.”

Marco made no move to actually lean back in and kiss you again though. “I want to kiss you again.” He admitted. “But I want to know how you feel, because I don't want this just to be some stupid kisses we're going to forget about, okay? Because if we're doing this then I want to do it properly. Be an us.”

“Marco...” you breathed. “You could never be just some stupid kisses to me... I've liked you for a long time too, probably since Mikasa introduced us but I never thought that you would ever... Please can we be an us?”

Marco smiled that smile again and nodded. “Okay, we're an us. Now where were we?” He didn't give you a chance to reply, instead those soft lips crashed against your own in a passionate kiss that left the pair of you breathless when you had no choice but to come up for air.

“Come on,” you smiled. "Lets get you dry."  

“How're you feeling?” You asked, a couple of days later, as you pushed your bedroom door open. Today it was the way mid-June was supposed to be again, the weather outside was so warm and lovely, but you weren't out in it and it wasn't effecting your mood because you'd been in a great mood anyway these past few days. You balanced the tray of soup, juice and crackers you were carrying carefully so you could kick the door shut behind you and turned your attention to the curled up lump in the middle of your bed.

It coughed and replied “I'm dying.”

You bit your lip so you wouldn't laugh out loud as you put the tray down on your bedside table. “You're not dying, Marco. You have a cold. You'll be fine in a few days.” You climbed onto the bed next to him and he fidgeted, straightening up and freeing his arms so that he could pull you against him. You laughed as you felt your boyfriend snuggle his head against you. “I made you soup.”

“Missed you,” he muttered. “And how do you know I'm not dying?”

“Because...” you turned so you could press a kiss against his messy bed head. He looked more adorable than usual with his hair stuck up and the redness of his nose contrasting with his freckles. “People don't die from colds, you're just sick because you came outside in a freaking thunder storm, got drenched and stood around with wet hair and clothes being awkward with me. Told you, you'll be right as... well... rain in a few days, now eat your soup before it gets cold.”

Marco contemplated what you'd said for a minute as you picked up the soup bowl to hand to him, you really didn't trust him with the whole easily spilt tray. “Yeah, but you know what?”

“What?”

“It was totally worth it.”

[throughamillstone-blog]

Tragical-ish Ill-Advised Romantic Backstory

The spring of Charlie's senior year of high school he decided that, in addition to being pressed into work at the Lodge alongside the rest of his siblings (as it's the lot of Lodge owners' children everywhere to wind up helping out around the place from time to time, whether or not it's in a formal employment capacity of just as able bodies assigned "chores" that happened to be related to the family business) he was going to take a part-time job at Book Ends, a bookstore, bar, and cafe down on Main Street in town.

Book Ends was always one of his favorite places in Millstone, a slightly overcrowded shop with overstuffed bookshelves everywhere, slightly battered armchairs and loveseats scattered throughout the rooms of the three-story house, a dozen nooks and crannies where a book-loving kid could curl up with a spiced hot chocolate and read. It didn't hurt that Lynn Wyatt, the owner of the bookstore, was beautiful and always had a smile for him, and didn't seem to mind -- or at least kindly pretended not to notice -- when he found himself unable to tentatively flirt with her shortly after he started driving.

Lynn Wyatt, who'd been separated from her husband for about a year the spring she put up a help wanted ad in the window, was perfectly happy to hire Charlie part-time to help out with the shop.  She was nearing thirty, feeling a bit restless as she looked back on the last ten years of her life wasted on a man who'd run out on her, but if she'd been harboring any thoughts of playing Mrs. Robinson to the handsome young man who flirted inexpertly with her more often than not when he came into the shop these days they were passive thoughts at best, and certainly nothing she *intended* to act on.

But as the days went by, and Charlie started working more shifts over the summer, stocking away some spending money for his upcoming freshman year of college, those passive thoughts of *probably shouldn't* slowly changed, becoming *why not* and then *when*. They started lingering over closing, pouring stiff drinks from the shop's small bar before heading out to the little back patio to talk and listen to music  under the strings of fairy lights hung over the scattered chairs.  Books at first, and what Charlie was planning to study at school, life in Millstone in general; moving slowly, in an almost careful dance, around to topics like her life growing up in Seattle and how she'd met her husband and why their marriage had fallen apart, and their thoughts on anything and everything until she finally leaned over and kissed him.

Charlie, all of eighteen years old and completely infatuated with the gorgeous older woman whom he'd gotten to know over the past few months, fell head over heels for her -- though, at her insistence, he agreed that they should keep things casual.  She was separated but not legally divorced yet, after all, though her husband had moved back to Seattle without her the previous fall.  And he was leaving to go away to college in a few months, and that wasn't exactly the best start for anything serious.  Unspoken was the idea that explaining their age difference might have been an issue as well, especially for his parents.  Charlie nodded, agreeing completely, even as he kissed her under the fairy lights and wondered if it was actually possible for someone to be this in love and not die of it.

They might have agreed that things between them were going to be "casual", and perhaps Lynn might have even meant it, but as the summer wore on Charlie spent more and more time with her, even sneaking out to spend the night with her a few times instead of coming home to lay awake and alone in his bed after having just been wrapped around the woman he loved in hers.  It was heady stuff, for a young man with a strong romantic streak, this clandestine romance with a beautiful older woman, and while he agreed, the night before he left for college, that they were both free to see other people -- since, Lynn told him, she didn't want to be the reason he missed out on his college experience -- he knew that he wouldn't.  He loved her, though he couldn't tell her that yet -- but maybe, by Christmas, he'd have worked up the nerve to say as much, to ask her to give it a shot, even with the age difference and the distance.  Because love was worth the struggle, and the hardships; because if they had each other, nothing else mattered.

Charlie enjoyed his first few months of college, though he missed Lynn dreadfully.  He tried not to be *that guy*, though, texting occasionally and sending her some emails here and there, worried about coming across as too clingy.  She replied more often than not at first, then slowly less and less as the fall wore on, leaving Charlie torn between storming home one weekend to sweep her off her feet and take her in her arms and declare his love and counting out the days between his texts so as not to seem like a creepy desperate stalker. Her texts were a bit more frequent in the days before Thanksgiving break, and when he came home for that week he found, to his relief, a smiling Lynn happy to see him, and while he'd told himself he wouldn't haunt her shop every night seeking attention, he found himself coming over right around close every evening, helping with close-up and having a few drinks before falling into bed with her again.  They joked about the state of the place, boxes everywhere, books piled up all over the store like a tornado had hit it, but she told him she was switching over inventory systems and that's why it was such a disaster, and how she was sure she'd be happier once it was over but right now just pretend it wasn't such a mess.

Charlie was happy to pretend all manner of things, now that he had Lynn in his arms again.  It might have been better for him, in the long run, if he hadn't been.

Charlie went back to college more in love than ever, and even though he didn't really hear anything from Lynn over the next few weeks other than the odd text here and there about being busy with the shop, he didn't think too much of it.  He had no idea that Lynn's husband had showed up back on the scene in October, determined to win her back and convince her to come back to Seattle with him.  He had no idea that she'd gotten tired of Vermont and small towns; no idea that she was looking at her upcoming 30th birthday bitterly wondering what she'd done with her life.  He'd had no idea, when he'd come home for Thanksgiving, that the reason the store was a mess was because she was already, quietly, going about the business of packing the place up and liquidating her inventory -- something she kept secret in town, because she didn't want anyone knowing her business, and because she wanted one last, long tryst with her young lover before going back to be with her husband as a little *fuck you* for what her husband had put her through.

She didn't *intend* to be cruel to Charlie while doing so, but then she'd never really thought all that much about what Charlie was really feeling in the first place.  He was young, she thought, and he'd be fine -- when she thought about how he might feel about it at all, which was something she rarely did, if she were honest.  To Lynn, Charlie was just the beautiful boy she'd found during a strange time in her life, and nothing more; even when she'd started to think that he might be falling for her, she decided to ignore it, because she *deserved* this, after what her husband had done.  Besides, he was eighteen years old, he'd be fine.

Charlie came home for Christmas break excited to see his family, catch up on some sleep after exams, and to tell Lynn that he loved her.  He stopped in town on his way to the Lodge, intending to casually drop by Book Ends for a quick drink and a hello, only to have his world come to a crashing stop when he pulled up in front of an empty storefront.  Book Ends was gone -- and so was Lynn.

The rest of that day passed in a daze, as he made his way home and somehow managed to casually ask what had happened to his bookstore.  No one was really all that sure -- it had been open the day before yesterday, they were pretty certain, and then all of a sudden it was gone.  He shrugged along with them, before going up to his room and texting Lynn, his heart pounding so fast he thought he might faint, and after two horrible hours he received a reply that she'd gone to Seattle to be with her husband, and that it was for the best if he never texted her again.

Charlie made it through the holidays somehow, though he spent a lot of his nights brooding in his room and wondering what he'd done wrong if Lynn had chosen her estranged husband, whom she'd sworn up and down she loathed, over him -- not realizing how much of that protestation had been Lynn trying to convince herself, by way of Charlie, that she was over her ex.  The holidays were a thousand years long and were over in a blink, and when Charlie went back to school for the spring term he was a bit more subdued, and determined not to ever be such a fool again, or to let anything matter so much that it could hurt like that, ever again.

Since that time he's had his share of flings and one night stands, and has never been shy about flirting with a girl across the bar and taking her home if she seemed interested -- but nothing ever went further than that.  He didn't sit down and decide that he was never going to fall in love again, not out loud or in so many words, but it was there, in his mind, and has been for the last eight years.

He let himself be hurt once, by someone he loved, and that was more than enough for him.

[wewontliveforeversomakeitworthit]

My Story

Hi, my name is Lisa and I am an alcoholic. My sobriety date is January 3rd 2017 I have a home group, love and service in Rochester NY, i have a sponsor, i have a service position and I am currently working the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. Today I shared at the forensics unit at our psych center and nothing came out right and i didn’t actually know how to share my story so I’m going to try to gather my thoughts and share it on here before my next share. I grew up in what would appear to be just a totally normal middle class home in Henrietta NY. I have 4 older sisters and 2 incredibly loving amazing supportive and sometimes absolutely insane parents. While i was growing up I felt exactly how alot of people say that they did too, i felt different, left out and not good enough for anybody. In elementary school I was already a compulsive liar, telling people that i had boyfriends and stupid stuff like that. I turned to food to hide my feelings and to hide myself and that turned into me being bullied for being over weight. And even from that young age i took the things that those people said to me straight to heart and it was gospel and they were right, I was fat, i had awful acne, i was ugly and nobody would ever love me because of my appearance. I decided I wanted to lose that weight when i was going into 8th grade and I lost some of it and was actually pretty normal for the most part at that time. I then thought i was completely in love with a guy in 8th grade who was also my best friend and we hung out over that winter break and i thought something was going to happen, like obviously we were going to be in love and get married but instead he told me that he didn’t want me in that way, turns out hes actually gay now but it sent me on a downward spiral into mental illness that was lurking in the shadows of my life since I could think. I developed anorexia and starved myself every day until i got down to about 100lbs, my family and I went on vacation and being around them i wasn’t able to eat (well not eat) the way that I was. I cried every single night on that vacation because of how utterly disgusted with myself i was. I then came home and developed bulimia because the control of the starving was completely gone. But the night that boy told me he didn’t want me, something else happened. I drank, it was NYE at my sisters house and I was 14 years old, her friends asked me if i wanted a drink and god did i want a drink. I wanted to feel the careless joy the people around me were feeling. They made the mistake of showing me where their green tea vodka was and i started drinking and didn’t stop until it was gone. I remember while i was drinking that something inside of me started to change, i wasn’t shy and concerned with what other people were thinking of me anymore, i didn’t care at all about anything. I remember my tongue and my cheeks getting numb and i was on cloud nine.  After that night i was too preoccupied with my ED to give a fuck about drinking or drugging until bulimia came into play. I started snorting adderall so that i wouldnt eat and that went on through ninth grade until i went to program for my eating disorder and those people saved me from dying from that disease. But after i got out of that program, life got real. I had about a year of decent normalcy but at the beginning of my junior year things started to progress. I started to not give a shit about school at all, i started skipping classes and going to parties on weekends and drinking whenever it was an option for me. I started dating guys who were really just not good people and i had only one friend. We went out when we could but it never dawned on me that I was drinking any differently than any of the other kids i was around because really I wasn’t but the way it was affecting me and the way i was thinking about it was COMPLETELY different from those kids. They would stop drinking so they could drive home or they literally had DD’s but to be honest i dont remember much about those couple of years. I graduated highschool early because i hated literally everyone and i was convinced that they all hated me and judged me because most of the time they did. In my senior year i started using the tinder app and i would go over to random guys houses and meet them and every time that happened id get to drink, in my bio it even said “alcohol enthusiast”. boy was i wrong. I thought it was normal to do what i was doing, i really didnt think twice about it. Meeting these guys and being able to get black out drunk and then maybe sleep with them just seemed like a normal thing to do. Until my parents started asking questions about where i was going and why there were alcohol containers in my car and i would lie and say they were someone elses but theyre not stupid they knew they were mine. Things slowed down a little while i was in my first couple semesters of nursing school, i still drank but just on weekends with my boyfriend at the time and his roommates, and i thought i was drinking normally but i guess blacking out and starting fights on purpose because of your drinking isn’t neccesarily normal. I wouldn’t walk around the park ave area with him at night time unless he wanted to drink and that became a norm for me. I needed a drink if i was going to do anything at all, go to the movies? drink. hang out with literally anyone? drink. watching some tv? drink. While my boyfriend at the time went on vacation for christmas i decided to go to a party because if i saw anything about anyone drinking on social media i was on top of it, i made sure i had a way to get drunk whenever and i went to that party and i did cocaine for the second time in my life. the first time i really dont remember much but it was before i had met Kenny. So he went away and I went to a harmless party and kept my drinks near me like they were my children. I heard they were doing shots downstairs and i went down there and took probably 7 tequila shots in a row and blacked out, i came too when i started doing lines and by the time it was 7am i was calling him asking him to help me. That was a thing of mine, was to get drunk one place and then message or text as many people as possible to help me because i needed to go somewhere else or do something else because i didn’t want the fun to end. I kept on drinking the way i was drinking but because of how sick and awful i had felt i didn’t touch drugs again for a little while but i did wind up finding them again. but then all of a sudden over the summer of last year, shit hit the fan. I was drinking every single night and one night i went and hungout with a guy i had met probably on tinder and he said he needed to stop by a friends house for a birthday gift and i was like oh yeah ok cool, turns out his friend was the supplier for the whole town he lived in and she offered me some and i actually said no. i scolded him for his awful decision making and we went to Durand beach to get drunk and by the end of that night i had at some point asked if i could have some of his drugs so that i could safely drive home and obviously he said yes and then life went crazy. i went back to durand with that same person but met a whole bunch of other people and some how met a small group of people another time on that night and i wish i had clearer details but i was really a black out drinker and i wouldnt come to unless i had something else in my system. So we met this other smaller group of people and my life changed. some how i started attracting people who had what i thought i needed and wanted and id switch back and forth between these peoples houses getting free drinks and drugs and staying up for days at a time and not coming home and moving from job to job trying to keep my head above water. I wouldn’t stop thinking about being able to get the next drink or drug. Id go to morning classes after not sleeping in two days and be completely strung out or just not go at all. I got to a point where i couldnt drink without putting a drug in my system and i tried. I tried to stop myself from getting too drunk by switching drinks or not having as many and i was convinced i didn’t have a problem because i didn’t drink during the day so i clearly wasn’t an alcoholic. I would try to drink around people who didn’t approve of me doing drugs and i still somehow managed to go from house to house to house getting drinks and drugs until there was nothing left. One night i was at a house with all of these people i had been drinking and drugging with who i thought i really was just living the life with and i went upstairs and had a panic attack. I wanted to go home because something in me created a feeling that told me i no longer belonged there. So after 3 days of not being home and countless cries for help to my therapist and other people i called my parents at 4am and told them i was coming home and sobbing i told them i needed to talk to them. That night i told them about what i had been doing and got myself an intake appointment for outpatient. And i still at that point thought i probably only had a drug problem and that it wasn’t the drinking. i really didnt think it was the drinking. But once i started outpatient, i couldnt for life of me stay sober but i wanted it i really did. and when i tell you that night i went home that i was desperate for help i mean i wanted to die. i spent so many days of coming down just praying for god to take my life because truly i couldn’t live it anymore. Times id come home so sick and dehydrated my mom would have to run IV’s through me and id lay on that bathroom floor wishing it would all just end. I had known about AA but it was introduced to me through a girl in my outpatient and she told me she was going to a meeting and i told her i wanted to go. I had just relapsed for what would be the last time and i wanted to be sober more than anything and i couldn’t handle the constant relapses. My first AA meeting was wits end when it was upstairs at Rosedale and i was not buying any of it. I was convinced that all those young people car pooling were getting drunk directly after the meeting and that they were all just liars and fakes. I was texting someone ABOUT getting drunk at that meeting but luckily nobody would comply because on that Sunday i went to a womens meeting in fairport and i felt so engulfed with love and acceptance it was incredible. These women gave me a coin and hugged me and even though they talked about god they were something i hadnt experienced in a long time and that was happy without needing a drink or a drug to do it. I was handed that 24 hour coin and I decided maybe I’d do a couple more of these meeting things but i wouldn’t get involved like they were. My friend and i started going to a 5:30 meeting that was mostly old people or people off the street who were drunk but i stuck around for long enough to meet Pat and he was the FIRST person i heard share within my 2 months of meetings that i could actually relate to and for the first time i went up and talked to someone after they spoke and i told him how much i related and he told me to go to his home group Love and Service and that he wanted to introduce me to someone and that someone turned out to be my sponsor. I had no idea what i was doing and i knew that if i didn’t start to actually do something other than meetings that i was going to drink again and i didn’t want that for myself anymore. So my sponsor and i didnt even discuss her sponsoring me it just happened and she told me to get phone numbers and find a home group and a service position and it took me a couple weeks but i did it. meanwhile, my friend who introduced me to AA asked me if i was calling my sponsor every day and i was like uhhhh what do you mean call her everyday?????? and my friends like yeah duh thats like an unspoken aa rule and i called my sponsor right after that i was like OMG IM SO SORRY I DIDNT KNOW I WAS SUPPOSED TO CALL YOU EVERY DAY. Mostly i just didn’t have any idea how the hell to communicate with people anymore without being drunk. My social awkwardness was at level 100 and im still working on that lol. but we met up and she started to pray and she said “hey god” in the beginning of the prayer like he was just a friend and i was like oh good i got a crazy one idk how well this is gunna workout. but she started taking me through the book and something else changed, i started to grow. this is the longest ive ever done literally anything in my life and it has changed my life drastically already even just at almost 6 months sober. Today I have a full time job that i actually go to every day, today I’m able to be a daughter, a sister, a friend. Today I am learning who i am and how to deal with life on lifes terms and im becoming patient and im just in this constant growth and its absolutely amazing. I’ve found a higher power that i dont understand at all but I know its there and im able to learn things about myself every day and get called out when i’m wrong and just begin to actually live and its amazing. I’m still a work in progress but I am so beyond grateful to be here. Thank you

[nraeducationalfoundation]

Connecticut Soldiers compete for prestigious culinary achievement

This is a guest post by Staff Sgt. Jerry Boffen, 130th Public Affairs Detachment, Windsor Locks, Connecticut. 

After sweating through the pressure and near 100-degree heat last summer to earn a regional win in the 49th Phillip A. Connelly Excellence in Army Food Service competition, a team of Connecticut Soldiers shifted gears and braved below freezing temperatures and blistering winds for a national-level evaluation to be named the best field food service section in the National Guard. The Soldiers, from the Connecticut Army National Guard's Echo Company, 1st Battalion, 169th Aviation Regiment, are members of one of four National Guard food sections that are in the running for the title.

According to the U.S. Army Quartermaster Corps website, the Connelly award was established on March 23, 1968 and is designed to encourage professionalism in Army food service teams and recognize excellent performance. The award is named in honor of the late Philip A. Connelly, a former International Food Service Executive Association president, who was responsible for obtaining IFSEA sponsorship of Army food service awards. In 2014, the Department of the Army partnered with the National Restaurant Association Education Foundation, replacing IFSEA as co-sponsors of the competition.

Before getting to the national level competition, E Co. had to first win the July 16 regional competition by beating out teams from Massachusetts, New York and New Jersey.

Unlike many competitions, the teams do not compete side-by- side. Instead, teams are scored individually in their home states and the evaluations are then compared to determine the winner. A team of evaluators from the National Guard Bureau and Department of Defense was on-hand to score E. Co. in the various aspects of field food service operations. Roman Davis, director of food services for The John Cooper School, The Woodlands, TX, was one of those judges and was there representing the National Restaurant Association and DoD.

“The Connelly competition judges every aspect of a food service operation for the military,” he said. “We look at from the moment that hungry troops show up at the tent to get a tray and pay for their food until the moment that you break down and you shut everything down and shut the generators down. We look at every aspect of it from if the lights work to if the field sanitation tent is set up properly to make sure nobody is going to contract a food borne illness. Was the pork loin tender? Was it juicy? Was it seasoned well? We also look at regulatory compliance to the (task manuals) and everything that governs everything you do.”

“Finally we look at the attitude and composure of the individuals that are doing the cooking,” said Davis. “What’s remarkable is the amount of hospitality and the quality and level of the hospitality that see coming out of these Soldiers. Yes, it’s their duty but they truly do care about what they’re doing.”

Davis heaped high praise upon the Connecticut Soldiers that he was here to evaluate.

“At this level we represent the Department of the Army and we are evaluating the final four (teams) at the National Guard Bureau and, of course, Connecticut is one of the final four,” he said. “So it’s a testament to the training and the performance of the Soldiers who are actually competing, that do the actually cooking, that stir the actual pots. They are literally the best, not just in the state of Connecticut but they’re competing on a national level with every other culinary team across the country.”

“It’s incredibly impressive to come to a National Guard unit level here in Connecticut and see the competencies, talents and skills that these citizen Soldiers have compared to the active duty counterparts and Connecticut has got some of the best,” added Davis.

This is not the first time that E Co. has taken part in the Connelly award competition. 1st Lt. Jamie Cuticello, commander of E Co., said they also competed the first year he was in command of the unit two years ago.

“We had kind of a rough start (last time),” he said. “So we had to do that competition with about half of our given staff for food service. It was tough. Anything that could’ve gone wrong did go wrong.”

He added that this time around, things have gone much better.

“This past year when we won the regions the exact opposite happened, but it was very weather restrictive,” said Cuticello. “It was a very hot day with a lot of humidity and if you’re in the combat kitchen… when it’s ninety-five degrees and ninety percent humidity it’s probably a hundred and thirty or a hundred and forty in there. If it’s not the checklist of the inspectors that’s going to get you, sometimes it’s the weather.”

This time out, unlike during the regional competition, high heat and humidity were not a problem. In fact, it was the absence of heat that gave the unit some extra challenges. It was so cold that the valve on one of the water buffaloes that supplied water to the mobile kitchen for hand washing purposes froze just as the event was set to begin.

This didn’t deter the Soldiers though. They got right to work thawing the valve with a heat gun and came up with contingency plans for their hand washing needs had they not been able to get it unfrozen. It’s quick thinking and teamwork like this that makes this unit strong, Cuticello said, and the development of that is one of the reasons his unit decided to do the Connelly competition.

“Like any training in Echo Company, it’s my main focus to always keep each section on top of their game,” he said, “and one of the best ways to keep focus and a sharp edge as a Soldier, as an athlete, as anything is to compete. If there was a maintenance competition available we would do that. If there was a weapon servicing competition available we would do that. There is a food service competition and that’s exactly what we wanted to do.”

Cuticello added that competitions like this also serve a purpose in giving the Soldiers a reason to want to come to drill and be a part of the mission.

“This is a competition and I absolutely love to win but this gives these Soldiers the opportunity to actually do their job that they raised their right hand to do,” he said, “Monday through Friday you may be a doctor, a lawyer, work at [a pharmacy] but that one weekend a month you feel like you’re directly contributing to the success of an organization that’s bigger than yourself.”

He added that these types of events help to build strong unit cohesion and trust, which results in greater performance from the Soldiers.

“As far as the strength of this unit goes, I’m very confident and proud of the team development,” Cuticello said. “As far as leadership goes and problem-solving goes, it starts with the individual Soldier and the only way you’re going to have that is with buy-in. If this Soldier believes that the [Soldier] at the next highest level trusts him or her, then he’s going to perform.”

“If they truly believe that we have their best interest in mind, they’re going to perform,” he continued. “They’re not doing it for the money, they’re doing it because they believe in our mission and they believe in the teamwork that we’ve developed.”

The winners of the competition will not be announced until the end of April or beginning of May. Win or lose, though, the Soldiers of E Co. can, at least in the eyes of their commander, already count this competition as a success.

Watch a video of the competition here.

[unrelletable]

Dear 2025 me, 

if you’re reading this it means that time has fast forwarded of five years. It’s currently 2020 now, and knowing that I will be able to go back and see what I was up to such a long time ago makes me feel a little nervous. A couple of weeks ago I opened a letter tthat I had written to myself back in 2015, and I laughed at the cringeness of it. On the other hand, I felt like it was only fair to write a new one for the future me to open in another five years. This is why I will print this blog post, put it into an envelope and glue it. I won’t touch it until 2025, and only then I will allow myself to travel back in time. But let’s get back to us.

If you’re reading this, it means that by now you have probably already finished all your studies. You’re about to start your Master Degree, and that shouldn’t take more than a couple of years to be done. Who knows what expects you after that, but I hope that when you read these few words, you’ll have found your path in life. I hope you’ve done another Master in Gender Studies, preferably abroad. Even though that means that you will have had to leave all your loved ones for at least six months. I already have a couple of good options in mind, but I’m curious to see where life has taken you. Or better, where you have taken life.

2020 hasn’t been the greatest year so far, and that’s why I hope that the next five ones will be definitely better. The entire world is still in the middle of the greatest pandemic of the past century, and it seems hard to predict when this whole situation will actually get better. Here in Italy things started to improve a little bit, but we’re all waiting anxiously for fall and winter to see the real outcome of it all. I hope that by the time you’re going through this letter scientists have found a way to cope with new forms of illnesses, but I also deeply hope that a significant change has occurred in the way we live. In my own little bubble, I’m trying to reduce meat consumption and I am planning to become completely vegetarian once I move out. I know that it won’t be easy, but I don’t find the taste of meat as enjoyable as I used to. So it shouldn’t be that hard at the end of the day. I hope you’re still trying to eat as healthy as possible, given the fact that I am striving to incorporate more vegetables and fruit into my daily food intake. I’m still struggling sometimes to leave out sugary snacks, but I feel like I’m slowly finding a balance. I hope you’re still working out regularly, that you feel comfortable in your own skin and that you don’t compare to other girls - women - anymore. I hope that you don’t mind eating a huge slice of cake wondering whether it will show up on your thighs or if your chin bends when you yawn. I hope you have learnt how to take care of your body from the inside out, that you look at yourself in the mirror and like what you see. I hope you feel confident when you meet new people, and you’re not afraid anymore of them not liking you for who you are.

I hope that you’re still drinking your eights cups of water every day, that you walk for five kilometres, that you have your daily cup of tea for breakfast in front of a good book. I hope that you’re a morning person, but you still enjoy your nights out. I hope you don’t use your phone as much as you used to, I hope you leave it aside when you finally come home after a long day and that you don’t check social media on weekends. I hope you’re still into meditation and yoga, I hope you still have cold showers in summer and hot ones in winter. I hope you get to put your favourite smelling lotion on every night, and that you get to fall asleep without too much trouble. I hope that you wake up happy every morning, and that you’re satisfied with the direction your daily life has taken.

I hope you don’t wait for weekends, but enjoy every single day of the week. I hope you don’t buy too much unnecessary clothes, but when you do, they make you feel amazing. I hope you’ve become more conscious about your planet’s health, and that you’ve reduced plastic to a minimum. I hope you don’t buy cheap drugstore makeup anymore, but you try to purchase only cruelty-free options for the care of your skin. I hope you don’t feel the pressure of society to look in a certain way, but you have found your own voice and you make it louder and louder everyday. I hope that your schedule isn’t too busy, but that everyday life is full of surprises. I hope you’re not buried on work, but that you love what you’re doing and wouldn’t change it with anything else. I hope you still get time for yourself, that you can lay on your bed watching a good tv series on a Wednesday night and that you can enjoy a nice plate of pasta without having to rush out the door.

I hope you’re achieving all the goals you’re aspiring to get to. I hope you’ve learnt French and Arabic, and maybe a third language too. I hope you keep writing weekly, even only to let your thoughts out of your head and distress. I hope you take some time to read daily, and you still get the chance to read forty books a year. I hope you’ve travelled and discovered new places. I hope you’ve finally been out of Europe, you’ve fallen in love with cultures so far from your own, you’ve tried food that you’d never tasted before. I hope you’ve taken planes, catched trains, missed coincidences and rode bikes for miles. I hope you’ve met new people, formed new connections and kept the old ones that make you feel safe. I hope you’ve managed to become completely economically independent, that you manage your finances wisely, that you don’t have to constantly worry of the amount of money available in your bank account at the end of the month. 

I hope you’ve become more confident and less afraid of people’s judgement. I hope you walk with your back straight and your head high. I hope you look the person you’re talking to directly into their eyes and you’re not the first one to break eye contact. I hope you’re brave, bold, corageous. I hope you’re not afraid to speak up your mind, even when it’s uncomfortable. I hope you keep educating yourself on topics that are relevant and that you don’t have the arrogance of knowing it all.

I hope you’re happy, and I really mean it. I hope you can be happy with your own company, and that you don’t need anyone else but yourself to feel complete. I hope you don’t depend on someone for your own well-being, and I hope you’ve learned how to linger on yourself for all the little and big things. But if you’re in love, I hope you are with all of your heart. I won’t wish that you have settled with someone or that you’ve already found the one, because life has taught me that you can’t take anything for granted. If I have to be honest about this, I hope you’ve found a way to make things work with that particular person I can’t take my mind off right now. Because deep down we both know he might be the one. But in case scenarios have changed and the plans you two have made don’t follow your willing, I hope you’ve outgrown yourself so much that you’re now able to look back at everything you’ve shared with love and gratitude, but you’re moving on. I hope you don’t live stuck in the past, but you look at the future with hope and curiosity. I hope you’ve become the kind of person I want to be.

The best of luck,

2020 me.

- dear 2025 me