#it is imperative we remember and embrace the good so we know what to fight for

[theacedragon]

As much as I dislike tiktok and all the faults it has, I love the trend of “hopecore” videos

Just posting pure positivity and showcasing the good the world has to offer. I think everyone needs to see some good happening among all the bad that’s been going on

[highpriestess13]

If you would like to book a reading with me, here’s the link ⬇️. If you’re unable to purchase from my website due to finances, you can message me and we can work out a plan. Please do keep in mind that these messages are for the collective, with that being said, not every message is going to resonate with you, if you’re feeling lost/ confused with a reading then more than likely the message/ reading isn’t for you & that’s alright! Take things with a grain of sugar! 😊

Air Signs

Eagles, owls and wolves are your confirmation… Ancient Egypt could be significant as well. Anubis, Horus/Ra is important as well. It’s time to take care of you, you’ve been taking care of others but what about you? What do you lack? Or what are you lacking at this time? Could it be self love? Your self worth? Dive in deep to find what the answers are. It’s time to follow what YOUR heart and soul wants and what it’s been craving. You may be feeling that things are muddled and unclear but soon you will see everything clearly. Pay attention to your third eye, no more rose colored glasses, if you see something/ someone for who it is and what they are believe the first time! There’s abundance flowing into your life at this present moment and it’s time to give back to self. You’ve done so much for others and the world, no matter how big or small and it’s time for you to help YOU! Your angels surround you at this time and they’re around you during your time of healing. Feel their warm angelic embrace and let all the tears that you’ve been holding back… out. You’re needing/ wanting a new sense of direction, the road ahead is unclear for you right now but do rest assured that everything is balancing out for you in the best ways possible. All you’ve been manifesting, dreaming of and fantasizing about are about to become part of your reality but remember it’s imperative for you to keep yourself balanced. Balance is key for you air signs! There’s more inner work that’s needing to be done. You fight with your beliefs and with yourself, compromise with oneself and you shall find your way. Remember that endings are inevitable and they bring about new beginnings. Certain parts of who you once were will come to an end as they are no longer assisting in your souls growth, it may have worked for you back then but it’s not going to work furthermore. These endings that you will experience will push you to pursue your most wildest dreams, you'll be able to produce more than you've ever had. pay attention to your dreams as they do hold hidden secrets that you must know. It's time to bring in your soul tribe, people who you're meant to work & collaborate with. Close out the cycle of the past and know that you have done all that you could & now it's time to shed those tears and move on. success is yours and guaranteed, believe in yourself and your good luck & remember that everything is working for your highest & greatest good in divine time! Archangel Michael is significant too. Asé 🙏🏾

[doctorofmagic]

Strange Academy #12 Review

In which I have tons of mixed feelings.

As I previously posted, we start with a flashback showing how Mr. Misery found Calvin after he escaped into the sewers.

This... This is find odd. Of course, Mr. Misery being attracted to Calvin’s pain is understandable. But Stephen not realizing that the kid was wearing his own depression? You’re asking too much of me.

Another issue I have with this chapter is the fact that Mr. Misery hints, again, that Stephen is using the children. And if this is really true, I’ll riot.

The children try to combine their powers but we’re talking about Mr. Misery here. Not even Imperator was able to stop him.

After everything else fails, Dessy comes up with a plan.

And this is how you ruin the whole depression metaphor that Aaron created with such passion and depth. Mr. Misery is not a monster created the suffering of others. It was Stephen’s suffering, pain and sorrow. Specifically. Also, and this is quite important, you don’t defeat your depression by adding more pain and suffering to the mix. You embrace the pain you’re feeling, you recognize it and then you work on it. This is what Stephen did back in v4.

It’s literally how you can’t escape what you’re feeling because it’s going to manifest one way or another. And unless you accept you’re in pain, it’ll only get worse.

I love Dessy so much. I don’t think she deserves this burden. It’s not hers to carry. It’s not her pain.

Also this not explain why Dessy’s mind is so messed-up. She was raised in Limbo? Her father is S’ym? Alright, how about we talk about Illyana being kidnapped when she was just a kid, had her soul violated by Belasco, was psychologically abused in all senses by S’ym and Belasco, saw several deaths of alternate versions of her friends, including his brother Piotr... Should I go on? And then she defeats Belasco by herself and becomes Queen? And now she’s ruler of Limbo and holding the place together? So it doesn’t really make sense to me that Dessy was psychologically abused this much when Illyana was the one taking care of the place. She’s a nice queen and she had every opportunity to kill Dessy’s father, but she didn’t because she knows better. Why isn’t this addressed? Am I overreacting?

And why isn’t Stephen the one taking care of his OWN depression? Remember when Wong was possessed by Mr. Misery? Stephen had to hurt himself, lying to Wong and saying he didn’t love him. Do you have any idea how much that single statement hurt Stephen, to the point of absorbing Mr. Misery back to his guts? Yeah.

With that in mind, I admit the last panels are the sweetest thing ever. Letting the person with depression know they’re not alone is very important for them to keep on fighting.

I don’t really have much to say. Don’t get me wrong. The chapter is very good, it’s just... the details, you know? I’m very attached to the concept of Mr. Misery and I don’t feel comfortable when I see that Stephen is not involved when he was the one who created this. It’s HIS pain and it’s hurting people he cares about. I expected more, honestly.

[ficsnroses]

Irreplaceable  - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary : You find yourself in bed with your ex, Keanu, which resurfaces old feelings.

Prompt : “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” requested by anon.

Warnings : nsfw, smut. unprotected sex. angst. fluff.

Word Count : 2k. 🤡 im not even calling them drabbles anymore lmao, feedback and comments are so so so appreciated! This is prompt fic #24. Enjoy:)

also we’re going to ignore the fact that as I was editing this I realized this is basically a softer and sweeter version of my last fic and we’re not gonna @ me because I was half way through editing and didn’t wanna edit a different fic :))) im just a tired uni student tryna write sometimes pls be kind ily

His fingers rub feverish circles to your sensitive clit, exasperated groans and breathy moans fallen suit off your pleasure drunk lips. Keanu hovers over your bare body, throbbed cock swollen to a rosy hued tip, gliding effortlessly in and out your soaking wet folds. Proving imperative, his thrusts hit deep, profound, pounding severely through stifled breaths and skin sticking together through thin layer of damp. Whimpers and soft moans flee through tender breaths, encapsulated by his full lips on yours; breasts bouncing relentlessly to his demanding pace as he hovers above; your fingers clawing mauve marks bedecked into his toned biceps.

Keanu knows how to work you; how to treat you so well. Tonight, he’d invited you to his home in desperate need of relief, long composed history between you both had established ground for meetings such as today. “I need you tonight.” He rasped over the broken telephone line. “Please.”

Each time he calls, each time you return, his words crawl up the deep howls of your mind, your throat swallowing dryly as your heart yearns for another meeting. His hair ruffles in espresso hued fluffs tonight, falling ragged in his clenched eyes, complimented beautifully by the rasp of his tender sighs when he moans to the feel of you,

so warm. So snug for him. You wonder if he’d been running his hands through it as he awaited your arrival, if he’d bit his lip with the curve of his sharp jaw clenched; if he absentmindedly fiddled with the base of his sturdy ring finger as he did in deep thought. You remember more of him than you’d care to admit; than you’d want to admit.

Long ago, Keanu and you almost made it. Almost pledged to the bond that held you together; almost made it to the brink of promise. But it wasn’t meant to be. No matter how hard you and Keanu tried, you weren’t meant to be. The agonizing dissolve of your love was hard. The sky never worked in your favour, the fairy-tale ending never chanced.

The weight of his body holds you down, held close in his arms as he pumps into your inviting sanctuary fiercely, holding so dearly. His hot breath kisses the skin of your neck and you feel a wave of warm, moaning, leisurely whining, whimpering, and whimpering-

“Don’t stop, please,”

“I’m close, Y/N.” He chokes through a tensed jaw and gritted teeth. His erection is stiff, splitting your tight cunt inch by inch as his veiny bulk pounds, friction excruciatingly blissful with your sex starved bodies moulding together so naturally; fluently.

On evenings like this, Keanu and you would be reminded of what could have been. Find comfort within each other, release the months of built up crave that would reside deep, condensed within your dreary longed hearts that yearned for each other, still.

Keanu and you died a long time ago; but the love didn’t. You still loved him, and he still loved you. Unspoken, yet holding of pure truth. White lies, deep-rooted in a smokescreen only sufficed so long. Pledges of being “just friends” were far from the truth. Despite how long, how far and how often you’d both recited the prayer off your lovesick tongues; Keanu and you were not just friends. You couldn’t be.

You could never be.

“Cum for me sweetheart, together.” Keanu moans through broken exhales, chasing his high, yet desperate to bring you to the strongest of releases. He dwelled, thrived off making you feel good. He’d called you here tonight because he needed you, needed your body to feel something. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean he didn’t fully intend of making you see the heavens on earth.

He was always an amazing lover.

Amazing at far too much to not fall so deep for him.

Searing tears threaten in the corners of your dismissive orbs, wailing, yelping as his cock relishes, grinding inside your tight, pulsating pussy, creamy releases coated slick to your thighs as he thrusts. The thuds of his skin slapping yours enfold the room, his sizable length rams into your cunt, balls smacking relentlessly as if mould just for you to delight. With his lips placing a soft kiss to yours, he whispers shakily, your orgasm bubbling boils inside the pit of your mid.

“I’m so close, Ke. Please don’t stop.” You sob, fingers clenched into his rosily flushed shoulder blades. “Please don’t…fuck!” You gasp when he rocks, rotating his hips to hit that sensitive plush of nerves inside your velvety walls, encouraging praises and whispers into your ears.

“Come on sweetheart, let go for me.” Within seconds, Keanu spills his succulent load deep, deep inside you as you release, riding cloud nine of your high into oblivion as he works you through your orgasm. Through heavy palms holding your hips close and his tongue lapping, gently sucking your sensitive nipples, Keanu kisses you sweetly, hands gently kneading the soft of your breasts in a soothing marvel, leaving peppered kisses to your neck, your collarbone, your cheeks.

The love was still there. Plain to see. The love had never left; only now, years later, it suffocated you. Killed you when he’d make love to you like this. Destroyed you when he’d hold you so close, reminding you of how you couldn’t be.

Is it easier for him? You wonder.

You ponder.

Cock still sheathed deep inside, Keanu’s chest rumbles a deep baritone, palm of his stocky hand shifting to cup your cheek. “Feel good?” He asks, a final kiss to your forehead as he slips out, landing firm on the bed, your frail, weakened body pulled securely into his chest. In a delicate wrap of arms, he holds you close, your head rested to his broad as you stare, and stare, and stare daggers to the crème ceiling above.

It must be easier for him. You ponder.

You guess.

But it wasn’t easy for you. None of this was easy.

None of this would suffice much longer.

Keanu’s hand stations on your skin, chest heaving up and down softly as you live out your highs, returning to reality. During these meetings, these encounters where you’d steal a few hours away together, the world seemed to melt into oblivion. As if you’d held his hand as he took you to another dimension, soared the stars, drifted away for a sweet while together. These moments with him held a safe harbour away from reality. Away from the cold, harsh reality.

This embrace, this hold, this affection. It held the same sincerity from all those years past, the light pad of his fingers soothing over your skin delves goosebumps peppering over your silky skin.

Bare, naked in his arms, you’d never felt this vulnerable before. And you never thought you would; especially with the man that surprisingly made you feel safest.

Warm, wet.

The familiar, distinct saltiness of silent tears threatens to loom your lips, head still pressed to his flushed chest. Daring, barely above a confident whisper; you finally spill. Quiet. Harsh. Desperate to defend.

“We’re not just friends, and you fucking know it.”

Unmoved, your bodies still lay entwined. Connected. Fiercely connected, as your souls.

Your lost, overdue, lonesome souls.

“Friends don’t…call each other when they need a fuck. Friends don’t kiss each other. Friends don’t visit each other late into the night when they’re feeling alone.” You fight. Your voice raises. The hurt surfaces. “We’re not just friends. We’ll never be just friends. We’re fucking stuck. We’ll always be stuck and I don’t know if…” Words ceasing, the tears threaten to spill. The ache becomes intolerable.

Deadbeat silence. Stillness, cold. All around, the only feel. He stays silent, holding you, eyes still focused to the ceiling above. He’s hurting,

He’s been hurting too.

Quietly, through a hoarse of gruffed tone, Keanu speaks. He wonders if you know the sincerity of his declaration, the weight his pledge holds. “I still love you. I still love you so much, it hurts. Every single day.”

There’s never been pity in those deep cocoa depths, never confusion, resentment, aggravation. Only old understanding, old love, attachment that never died; even when the roots withered. When the skies caved.

You listen, you process, you absorb. You absorb his words, so wholly.

Sitting up slight, Keanu draws your body up as well, never letting your frail frame leave his toned arms. Biceps engulfing, you practically drown into his bare chest; your exposed skins melting together adding tremendously to the connection. “Y/N, I’ll always be in love with you.” He whispers into your hair, soft kisses stippled with strokes to your glossy locks, drawing the silk sheets higher, closer to tuck them around you. To protect you,

-from the cold. Or perhaps something else. Something so unforgiving, a harsh reality you’d both been compulsory to endure.

“But,” He breaks, yet stays composed, calm and confident, for you. “We’re no good together, sweetheart. We can’t be.” He whispers, hold tightening to soothe your plight. “It’s above us. No matter how hard we try, we can’t.” He reasons, voice saddened, yet explanatory. “You know that right, princess?”

The piercing, cold truth. Your lives are far too different, far too many complications come into play. For you and Keanu, a life together would always, forever, remain a distant dream. “We’re not just friends.” Taking hold of your hand, he presses a small kiss to your palm, eyes looking down into your softer, fragile ones. “You’re…you’re the best thing I have. Even if I don’t really have you.” He shakes his head, unable to face the realism. Because the cold, sour truth would always remain.

Keanu and you would rather be this way, than not at all. You’d rather meet this way, feel each other this way through scarce, secretive meetings, than not have each other at all.

Time held too much history. And history isn’t easily forgotten.

You and Keanu, couldn’t be forgotten. You were bound. Bound by something so special, so real. Something that would always stay, never fraying with the passage of a lifetime. Quelling his own emotions, Keanu kisses your lips again, tasting the salt of your dewy tears.

He’d always remained the stronger one. The one that would provide assurance. The one that would remind, even if it was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do. But he’d do it. He’d do it, every single time, for you. He’d do anything for you.

Through the softness of your skin, Keanu relishes, loses himself in how familiar, how right it feels to be so close to you. How badly he wanted nothing more, than to always be close to you. To have you, through sickness and health. To hold you this way forever, steadily, safely within him.

Yet, it would never be. The harsh, cold, truthful reality. Each time you’d depart, a little piece, a part of each other would let go. Stay with the other until you’d meet again. It all hurt, the same way it usually did. Through a soft sniffle, you tighten your hold around him as well, sinking into the deep, radiating warmth of his skin. Sinking away into your escape, your piece of oblivion that was all too well to be real.

All too good, to ever be.

If soulmates existed, if happy endings were real, he was yours, and you were his.

You knew it all too well, all too true. And through a heartbroken mummer, you declare. Declare to him, as you both always did when you’d meet this way.

“I still love you too.” You return to his earlier statement, whispering. 

        “And I always, always will.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[merlindynasty]

oh my god guys.... we did it.

1000 followers babey!! I decided to write a fanfiction to celebrate. its going to be linked below but also pasted, and until i work out how to do that cut thing, its gonna be a pretty long post. sorry about that. You can read it on this link though!

Merlin sits on the lake for the last time.

‘I love you,’ he says, almost offhandedly, like he has done every year since the First World War, when the sounds of pain and suffering were getting too much, when he realised that Arthur wasn’t coming back. When he had realised that Kilgharrah had lied.

He said a lot of things then, too.

A lot of things have happened since then. Yet here he is.

Merlin caresses the surface of the water with one finger, watching it swirl around with his light touch. He’s noticed over the years that his longing for Arthur recedes the closer he is to the lake; a sort of numbing to the agony that never improves, even with age and distraction. Merlin welcomes it, rolling up his pant legs and swinging his legs over the side of the dock where he’s sitting. Feeling the cold water of Avalon wrap around his feet and making him feel something other than the fact that Arthur is mere metres under the ground in the Lady of the Lake’s grasp, and has always been just out of reach.

“This is the last time you’ll be seeing me, old friend,” Merlin breathes, looking down at the reflection in the water longingly. “Don’t worry about me, though. I’m sure I’ll join you soon enough.”

The water doesn’t reply.

“I’ll miss you, Arthur, like always,” Merlin continues, “But maybe I’ll find other things to miss. Ripped jeans. iPods. Who knows? This world always spins too fast for its own good.”

And so Merlin stands up, shaking the lake water off his legs, and wipes away a stray tear that’s escaped from his brimming eyes. Goodbye, Arthur. He voices the sentiment aloud, back turned to the lake at last.

“Not a chance, you idiot.”

Wild-eyed, Merlin spins, and there he is, standing at the end of the dock. Just a few feet away.

There Arthur is, standing there dripping wet with seaweed in his hair, and he looks so real and exactly how he looked all that time ago in Camelot.

Merlin just stands there for a moment, forgetting how to breathe.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says with the haughtiness that he’s always possessed, and Merlin chokes on tears.

Then he runs to Arthur, almost slipping on the wet planks. He grabs onto Arthur's rusted chain mail with both hands, tackling him, and the momentum carries them both off the wooden dock and into the icy waters below.

They sink for a moment, locked in a tight embrace. Then Merlin remembers where they are and kicks up, gasping for air. He tugs Arthur up to the surface with him, and there Arthur is in his arms again.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says after coughing up some lake water, smiling that stupid smug grin. Merlin sobs once more, an ugly wretched sound, and smashes their mouths together.

Arthur sighs and pulls Merlin closer into a tight embrace, and now with no one to keep them upright they start sinking.

It’s okay, though, because Merlin’s got Arthur and he’s never letting him go.

Fast forward now— to them crawling onto the beach and collapsing on the rocks. Merlin can’t take his eyes off Arthur and his blue eyes, strong shoulders, all here on land. He swallows, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Arthur laughs, a joyful, imperative sound, and Merlin feels like throwing up.

It’s like

“Hey,” Arthur says gently. “Merlin. C’mere.”

Merlin wants to tell Arthur everything he’s missed. He wants to scream and dive back into the icy lake, down to the realm where Arthur was kept from him and demand an answer to the question he’s been asking for centuries; why wait this long?

But eventually Merlin just nods and lets Arthur hold him close. He lays his head on Arthur’s chest and listens to Arthur’s heart beating, the way it had all those years ago.

“Why did you say that?” Arthur murmurs after a while.

Merlin sits up, cupping Arthur’s face in his hands. Just because he can. Just so he can feel that cool skin against his palm again. “Why did you say goodbye?”

Merlin swallows. “Is that why you came back? Because I was leaving?”

“I thought you were going to kill yourself, Merlin,” Arthur chokes. “Isn’t that what you meant?”

“I was just going to leave England, Arthur,” Merlins says gently. “I’ve never left, in fear of you coming back and being all alone, but this century I kind of gave up.”

“How long has it been?”

“Arthur, I-”

“How long has it been, Merlin?” Arthur says impatiently.

“It’s been thousands of years, Arthur,” Merlin whispers.

Arthur sighs. “I thought as much. I’ve heard you, you know. Little snippets of stories throughout the years. I’ve known that the world has been changing.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to say.

“I shouldn’t have come back,” Arthur says suddenly. “You were just about to move on, about to live out your life without me; I’ve ruined it.”

Arthur almost sounds like a child, petulant and sullen, and Merlin starts to cry. “Arthur, you coming back is… the best thing that’s ever happened. Please don’t go back there, I couldn’t bear it.”

Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist and holds him for a while. Merlin can’t stop crying, from shock and relief and exhaustion. It’s all catching up to him now, the time spent from Arthur.

“How did you survive, Merlin?” Arthur says softly. “It’s been so long.”

Merlin sniffles. “I don’t feel like talking about it at the moment. Later. Later I’ll tell you,” he promises.

It’s getting cold now; the sun is beginning to set. Merlin doesn’t feel it, but he knows that Arthur would in that chainmail of his. “Want to come home?” He asks.

Arthur smiles. “I would love to find out what small hole you’ve dug for yourself,” he teases. “Do they still have peasants, Merlin? I bet you’re one of them with those holes you have in your jeans.”

“It’s called fashion, Barbara, look it up,” Merlin retorts, feeling a light buzz in his chest at the banter that they’ve already fallen into. He stands up, brushing off his soaking jeans and offering Arthur a hand.

“What did you just call me? Barbara?” Arthur mumbles, but doesn’t get a reply. They make their way across the grass and into the city.

Merlin’s managed to get Arthur into his apartment somehow; he’s been reminded in the past ten minutes how much the world has changed since Arthur’s been gone (he refuses to ever say die, it’s too finite), but also how much it’s stayed the same.

“Look, here’s the bath, see?” Merlin says cheerfully as he peels off a dazed Arthur’s sopping wet clothing in the bathroom of his apartment.

Arthur’s doing great really. He got a little frightened of the cars, almost drawing out Excalibur before forgetting that it was still in the lake, but the tall buildings didn’t seem to phase him too much. Neither did the elevator. Merlin’s proud of him through the shocked haziness that’s been fogging up his mind.

Merlin turns off the water when it gets to an appropriate height, then helps Arthur get in. Then he peels off his own clothing and clambers into his bath without thinking about it too much, then turns red, not wanting to assume, or impose. He doesn’t have to worry, though, because Arthur crinkles his eyes up in a cute fashion and grasps Merlin’s hands in his. The warm water seeps into Merlin’s skin and into his heart.

“I love you, Merlin,” Arthur says suddenly, without warning. Merlin laughs, a happy, bubbly feeling rising up inside him like champagne, and brings their intertwined hands up to his reddening chest.

They’re sitting closer now. “You haven’t changed one bit, you know that?” Arthur asks.

“You haven’t either,” Merlin whispers, realising how close Arthur’s golden face has gotten.

Arthur ignores him in a very Arthur fashion. “Your eyes are still so dark,” he breathes with an air of arrogance, like he’s studying something on the wall. “And your hair is still so messy. Why is it always so messy?”

Merlin fights down the urge to reach up and fix it, because he’d have to let go of Arthur’s hands that are rubbing calming circles on his skin. “Is that a problem for you, Arthur?”

“No,” Arthur says seriously. “The problem is that I find it endearing.”

Merlin laughs, turning even redder with the steam rising up from the water, and Arthur leans in to kiss him.

Everything makes sense now, as Arthur untangles their hands and reaches up to wet Merlin’s hair with his fingers. It’s all coming together for the first time in centuries. He suddenly realises that he would do it all again, wait all these years one hundred times over, to kiss Arthur. He tilts his head to the side and lets Arthur kiss him until the water gets cold.

Later, when Arthur’s dressed in Merlin’s sweatpants and they’re lying in Merlin’s bed, Arthur asks a very important question.

“What do we do now?”

Merlin sighs out a long breath. “We sort things out, I suppose. There’s so much you need to learn about what you’ve missed; we can go travelling. I’ve always wanted to go travelling.”

Arthur smiles. “That sounds good. You teaching me things. That should be interesting.”

Merlin laughs, shoving him a little.

But Arthur frowns again. “What about us? We can’t just say warm fuzzy things to each other forever, you’ll get bored of me. It’s also very improper.”

“I’ll never get bored of you, Arthur,” Merlin breathes, chest tight. “I waited this long, didn’t I?”

Arthur just stares at him then, deep in thought, then pulls him into a long kiss.

When they pull back, Merlin also adds, “And it’s okay to be gay now, okay? No one cares about blokes kissing blokes. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Really?” Arthur laughs, scratching his head. “That’s weird.”

Merlin smiles, then pulls Arthur close again, suddenly not bearing to not be touching completely. Arthur rests his chin on Merlin’s hair and hugs Merlin back gently.

“I love you,” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s bare chest.

Arthur pulls Merlin closer. “I know, clotpole.”

“Hey, that’s my word.”

Then Merlin starts laughing, a strange mixture of relief and joy. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say that.”

Arthur kisses the top of Merlin’s head. “I suppose we’ll be alright then.”

“Yeah, Arthur. We’ll be all right.”

[apenitentialprayer]

(1/4) First I'd like to apologize for the length and controversy of this ask. Feel free to ignore. I've struggled with homophobia, both internalized and externalized, for the past few years, and social media has made it worse. The more open and celebratory the community becomes, the more flagrant and obnoxious they seem in my mind and the more I want to distance myself from them. The worst thing about it all is that I feel very disingenuous when talking about the subject.

I put on this front to appear far more tolerant than I am, because while I whole heartedly believe that same sex sexual relations go against Scripture, I also know homophobia doesn't solve anything and is probably just as sinful. I have had countless conversations in my head where I tell myself that although same gendered sex is never valid, SSA individuals will always be valid as people. But whenever the subject comes up I just go down this wrathful spiral in my mind, though I never voice my opinions to anyone nor do I verbally insult people because of their orientation. I know that my anger is hypocritical considering the likelihood that I might be bi, which is why I said earlier that this may be partially internalized. But every time I see posts on how the church should accept gay marriage, or how the bible was just mistranslated, or emphases on queer subtext and the like. I grow increasingly more bitter and angry at how this is all being normalized and romanticized. I also tire of people saying it should be embraced because it is part of human history, but so are things like adultery and incest. I don't want to waste my time thinking about this, I don't want to hate others, I don't want to wallow in wrath, I don't want to be hypocritical in case I am indeed SSA. I've had this conversation in my head so many times, but I'm just so exhausted.

It’s sounds to me, and if I’m wrong about any of this let me know, that you’re coming from a place of hurt, and confusion, and anxiety about the state of the Church. That is what I’m gathering from the ‘wrathful spiral,’ the need to have ‘countless’ conversations with yourself, and the bitterness you feel towards queer theology (I really hate that word, by the way; its nature as a slur is ingrained into my subconscious, and it’s weird hearing my younger siblings use it in casual conversation). If I’m wrong about any of these points, feel free to correct me. Ironically, you’re concerned about the length of this message, and I’m concerned about the lack of information I have using just these messages. But let’s start with you, and work our way out, huh? There’s a concern here about hypocrisy. Don’t worry about it in this case. I’m hearing “might bes”, and even if those “might bes” turn into “probably ares” or “definitetly ams”, that still wouldn’t make you a hypocrite. You’re trying to live your life in accordance to what you believe to be right, and that doesn’t make you a hypocrite. It means you’re struggling, like everyone else. I’m glad you acknowledge homophobia is probably “just as sinful” as what we’re talking about, because that might make what I’m about to say more tolerable to you (I might get flak for this, but frankly, I’m kinda expecting a lot of flak for this whole post from all directions anyway): it’s probably a good thing that homosexuality is getting normalized. I believe (and I can’t believe this is something that will be controversial to some people; maybe it’s just the wording of the last sentence that will be, I don’t know, but I don’t know any other way to phrase it right now) that a world where people don’t have to worry about losing their jobs, being alienated from family members, or getting bashed (or worse!) is unequivocally better than the world we have lived in where those were all common. And we still haven’t reached the point where that doesn’t happen. My mom fears for the safety of my sister, and we live in New York City. Because a few years back, in New York City, of all places, a lesbian couple had a cup of steaming hot coffee thrown in their faces for being openly affectionate in public. That’s an abomination. Getting to the point where no one has to be afraid because of whom they are attracted to is imperative, in my opinion. And if that means that we have to deal with people outside calling us bigots for standing with the Church, and if that means we have to put up with people both within the Church and without trying to pressure the Church into getting with the times, well, that’s a price worth paying, I think. Christians have had it good for a really long time. Maybe too good, and for too long. We were able to crush those who threatened to put an end to us having it good. And if it comes down to choosing to crush more people to keep up the facade of a Christian society or becoming one of several minorities in a pluralistic society, I know the option I’m going for. But let’s talk about what that means for us Christians who are trying to live out the teachings of the Church as best as we can, huh? I think we can divide this into two parts that I’m concerned about; your exhaustion about the subject, and your bitterness towards the normalization. Let’s talk about that exhaustion. I don’t know what your situation is. But I’m in a place of constant tension; I have friends who are LGBT, I have family that is LGBT, and I love them all. And I... am anxious that one day some of them may decide that I don’t, at least not in the way that they need me to. And, frankly? That’s enough for me. I’ve got enough of that tension in my life, I don’t need to go out and pick fights over what the Church should and should not do. You’re having these internal conversations, and you’re feeling drained? Stop doing it. If you catch yourself working yourself up, take some deep breaths, and try to change subjects. The Church is a big Girl; she can take care of Herself. Not every single member has to be able to handle questions on every single little issue. If you can unplug from the issue completely, do that. You don’t need to exhaust yourself on hypothetical conversations, or Christians being mad at the Church hierarchy, or people interpreting the Bible in ways you don’t approve of. Sometimes, we have to take a step back. And I really recommend that, because this next part is something that we, as Christians, absolutely cannot take a step back from, no matter how exhausted we are: recognizing the inherent dignity of every person we encounter. You said you’re feeling embittered and angry and hateful, and try to distance yourself from people? That’s a no go. If you want a piece of advice? Stop seeing “them” as a coherent community. Because they’re not. They’re a multitude of people with various perspectives, and insights, and gifts to give to the world, with attraction (and the way the world reacts to that attraction) being the only thing that ties them together. It is unfair to judge a person based off of how “flagrant” or “obnoxious” you feel other members of the community are. After the Eucharist, your neighbor is your closest encounter with God. And remember that, while sin is sin, no excuses, there are sins that are only partially incompatible with love (there may be love mixed in with the sin), and there are other sins that completely incompatible with love. And hatred is the big one in that latter category. I don’t know if any of this is helpful. It might not be. I don’t know, it could just be a 2am rant. I hope it’s worth something, because I might get cancelled for this. So, sooooo cancelled. :P But if you want to keep sending anon messages to get into more specifics, feel free to. Or, better yet, if you want to message me for easier communication, don’t be afraid to do that either. I’m going to pray for you. I hope you pray for me, too.

[firewoodfigs]

hug me ‘til you drug me, honey, love me 

(for @royaiweek day 1 - letters & day 2 - little pistol. thank u mods!! 💕)

read on ao3 

Summary: They don’t, can’t remember each other - not when they’ve been stripped of their identities and labelled with letters and numbers, before being slotted deftly into an inescapable hierarchy and social destiny. The only brief memory they have of each other lies within a letter inscribed onto her back.

Rating: M, for Machiavellian bastards!! 

a/n: (i) inspired by many pieces of art - Huxley’s Brave New World (some of the italicised lines, as well as the title, are taken from his book), Wilfred Owen’s Anthem for Doomed Youth, snippets from Mother Mother’s Little Pistol, as well as soterianyx’s analysis of Riza’s tattoo and my friend’s explanation that fire on sand brings glass (hello friend thanks for teaching me physics!!).  (ii) please note the rating - it’s rated for graphic depictions of violence and war, and the context of this piece is based on an autocratic dystopia. (iii) count the alphabets if you’re confused by who’s who xD  (iv) i wanted to experiment with a different writing style - it’s meant to sound more detached etc (quite out of my comfort zone tbh haha because i'm typically a sap) to bring across the ruthlessness of everything that’s going on here. feedback is greatly appreciated!

~x~

Memory. Identity. Emotions.

The Amestrian military has no need for silly things like these. Sentimentalities are but frivolities in a war zone. The military needs people who can kill without batting an eyelid - cavalier about murder, like the Autocrat’s rapier. Soldiers who will mindlessly obey orders; subjugate themselves to the will of the State without resistance.

The individual is not its own being. It is a part of the State.

Bearing this axiom in mind, A-18/13 dutifully accepts his fate as a State Alchemist. He snaps on his ignition gloves, staring blankly at the red sigil - a lost, distant memory, perhaps? Regardless, he does not probe, does not flinch as the heat engulfs his hands and reminds him of a bittersweet embrace that he’s never tasted.

After all, the perfect soldier wastes no time on ruminations like these.

A-18/13 is armed for battle and ready to abide by the State’s decree. What might have once been remorseful reluctance and moral scruples are now replaced by an undying loyalty, an unwavering fealty to the State.

The white coat shrouds him like a cloud, but there’s an inexplicable coldness to it. It’s odd. He’s supposed to be the Flame Alchemist, but using his powers for simple comforts like warmth instead of killing feels rather inane. And so he refrains from doing so.

Instead, he stands ruler-straight with the rest of the State Alchemists, ignoring the subtle hunger and discomfiture bubbling in his throat.  

“For the greater good,” the soldiers chant, mouths moving like parrots. “For the greater good of the State.”

On the other side of the room, E-18/8 likewise accepts her orders. She’s young - hardly an adult by legal standards - fresh out of the academy, but it’s of little import to the State. All that matters is her talent in handling a gun, a rifle; her readiness to be shipped out to the desert. Notwithstanding her relatively petite stature, there’s a stubborn strength in her shoulders that beguiles her age and inexperience in war.

“Stay in the shadows, fire at any threat,” is the command given to her. “Sacrifice yourself for those who are above you.”

At their behest, she salutes before stepping forward to accept her instrument of death. The rifle feels cool against her palm, but she doesn’t flinch. What might have once been a burning desire to protect someone has been quashed and replaced with hands that are cold as ice. Indifferent to bloodshed.

“For the greater good,” the soldiers recite again. “For the greater good of the State.”

Their hollow voices reverberate across the room like the sounds of a lonely, dispassionate choir.

“Silence, silence.” Chanting dies off into light, regular breathing. The air is sibilant with the categorical imperative as they await further orders.

The Autocrat begins his descent down the stairs, into the basement shrouded by a thickening, eerie atmosphere of gray. He enters into the room: regal, powerful and of stalwart built.

The ultimate Alpha.

Everyone bows deferentially. “Fuhrer King Bradley,” his puppets’ voices resonate in perfect harmony across the room.

He looks upon them from the platform on which he stands with an unreadable expression. Then, with a deceptively pleasant smile, he asks, “You know what Ishvala is, I suppose?”

A rhetorical question. The soldiers chime in with the answer he anticipates, without any need for prompting. “A dead religion,” they reply, in perfect harmony.

Deadened, darkened eyes turn to look at him.

“Wonderful. Such excellent soldiers you all are. Well, remember this now, even if you forget everything else.” There’s a gleam in his eyes that’s disgustingly delightful as his lips curl upward, undertones of menace lingering within. The Autocrat draws his sword out. The tip of his blade meets the ground, and he rests his palms on the hilt as he barks out his next command. “All orders are to be obeyed immediately, for the greater good of the State.”  

“For the greater good of the State,” his lackeys reply, an incantation thoroughly internalised by now.

He smiles once more, before letting his gaze linger for a little while longer on A-18/13 and E-18/8. The two soldiers who, reportedly, were the most difficult amongst the lot to deal with during the extraction process.

Amelos potamos, it was called - a process by which soldiers were medically induced into a coma before utilising alchemy to tap into their subconscious, to extract and seal their memories away.

The goal was for them to wake up without any recollection of who they were, save for their fighting capabilities, as the gold-toothed doctor so kindly explained to the Autocrat. Emotional capabilities eroded so that troublesome fetters like - god forbid, feelings! - could get out of the picture. Consciences atrophied, minds brainwashed. All obstacles to the full realisation of their indestructible power in the war erased.

Reduced to subconsciousness, amelos potamos had been a surprisingly easy process to perform on most soldiers. For the general majority there was no struggle against the process, and they awoke into nothingness: nothing but shells of their former selves. For some, their minds had repelled against the procedure initially, as if desperately grappling on to fragments of their former selves, but eventually they’d succumbed as well.

A-18/13 and E-18/8 had, however, proved to be most cumbersome with their startling mental resistance. Even in their subconscious their minds had clawed frantically at the memories they shared with each other, stubbornly refusing to let go of the basis behind their shared bond. The doctors struggled to find a way around this, and even when they arrived at a solution it was a long, painstaking process to go through the elaborate removal of their memories, piece by piece - for there were so many - and -

-- and destroy every single trace.

And finally, at the end of it, they recalled nothing, felt nothing as they arose from their comatose states to a chilly hospital room. To a perfect world, without hindrances to ruthlessness. The perfect soldiers were engineered thus.

What man has engineered, nature is powerless to put asunder.

The Autocrat smiles beatifically at last, eyes crinkling with genuine pleasure. He inspects the soldiers once more with all the coldness of someone debating a pawn’s move on a chessboard.  “It’s time.”

At his beckon, they march out into battle like an army of marionettes.

~x~

Out in the battlefield, the Amestrian soldiers are like industrialised man-machines, way ahead of their time. An inward dehumanisation, an outward mechanisation. The Alchemists, in particular, possess a power so lethal that they could wipe out an entire army of men with the slightest snap of their fingers, the briefest clap of hands.

This they do unflinchingly, without hesitation.

True to the gold-toothed doctor’s predictions, there were no obstructions to the realisation of their full potential. Gone were nuisances like compunction, pity - foreign concepts that didn’t belong in the desert. The soldiers simply stare at their corpses laid out before them with glazed eyes, before continuing to traverse the desert like the very harbingers of doom themselves.

Death and destruction follow them, wherever they go. There is no remorse to be felt amidst the rifles’ rapid rattles; no guilt or sympathy that halts their movements.

Neither does fear plague the brave, heartless soldiers - not even when the soldiers are held at gunpoint or witness an explosive being thrown their way. Epsilons like E-18/8 protected those who were ahead of them in the hierarchy, and were willing to kill, murder; sacrifice their bodies without a second thought.

When A-18/13 was almost stabbed from the back, for example, E-18/8 had fired a shot straight to the culprit’s head that instantaneously killed him without batting even so much as an eyelash.

Her victim’s blood spills in the distance. A bright splash of scarlet, like carmine roses growing on a decrepit wasteland. He falls lifeless to the ground.

She doesn’t recoil in the slightest: her eyes are as lifeless as the cadaver’s.

For the greater good of the State, they cantillate in their heads. An anthem for doomed youths who are slotted into an inescapable social destiny.

A-18/13 notices the sniper hiding in the comforting darkness of a bell tower from the corner of his eye, and makes a mental note to thank the stranger as she begins walking towards their base camp for their lunch break. They stand six feet apart, glassy-eyed amidst desultory conversations.

He approaches her slowly when their eyes meet. There’s an uncomfortable feeling stirring in his gut - have we met before? But he’s quick to quash it, as if stepping on a bothersome insect. “Thank you for earlier,” he says.

“Not at all. It is my duty, sir,” she responds tonelessly, before taking a seat opposite A-18/13 and B-13/8. They sip coffee and eat ration bars in a wordless, somewhat peaceful quietude despite the chaos around them.

The coffee tastes like dirt, and the ration bar reminds them of cardboard.

They eat anyway, without complaint.

Incidentally, A-19/10/11 happens to overhear their interactions. He turns around to face them. “Cadets like her deserve no thanks when they are simply doing their jobs,” he sneers. It's doltish, he thinks, to thank someone for something they're ordered to do.

E-18/8 makes no protests or objections despite the condescension in his statement. In a world without trivialities like memories or identities or emotions, the hierarchy’s austerity elicits no complaints.

Suddenly, a bell goes off. Duty calls. It signals the end of their lunch break, and they're quick to finish the last of their measly meals before standing once more for battle.

E-18/8 slings her rifles and prepares to leave. Her back reminds A-18/13 of the tall, white columns of an estate that occasionally appeared in his dreams.

A ponderous lump begins to form in his throat, but before he can ponder further the bell chimes again. Around him, soldiers recite the dreadful axiom once more.  

War wages on. The Flame Alchemist rises, and the sigil on his leathery glove begins to glow a lethal claret.  

A snap. Bodies burnt beyond recognition. Another snap. Curses and vows of vengeance eventually subsiding to muted prayers.

It’s a mortifying sight to take in: the entire place reeks more of death than sand.

The desert wind carries the howls of pain, the screams for mercy and the broken pleas for salvation from a god who doesn’t seem to hear the dying voices of its people. Please, stop - what did we ever do wrong? Don’t take my lover’s life, take mine instead -

(I pray that you’ll always be that way… May you shine like fire before men; kindness and mercy your strongest traits.  And most of all, I pray that our love for each other will always -)  

A-18/13 simply regards all of this with a vacant, uncaring look. He’s quick to snap once more, incinerating mortals into ash - from dust we were made, and back to that we shall return - as if they were but matchsticks waiting to be lit up.

Unfettered by scruples, carefully curated gardens and entire landscapes are eventually swallowed by a lake of fire and brimstone. Roses are set on fire, and there’s a pistol party going on somewhere behind him.

A cacophony of bullets, a symphony of death.  

(Be thou for the people. You’re… you’re the most honorable of all my apprentices, and you deserve to have it. If you just ask my daughter, tell her you’ll use it for the right reasons… she will give you the key to the secrets of flame alchemy.)

(Can I… can I trust you with my back, Roy? You’re a good man, and I’d like to put my faith in that dream of yours.)

His expression remains unfazed.

~x~

Amelos potamos, despite its promises of creating the perfect soldiers, did not grant its victims immunity from physical sensations.

Pain. It's a complex feeling (feelings? god forbid something like that exists!) - equal parts physical and mental. It's as much biological as it is psychological.

E-18/8 bites her lips to stop herself from screaming in pain when the explosion burns her instead of A-18/13. Jumping in front of him to defend his body was an intuitive reaction, one that doesn't even require any contemplation.

(I would do anything to protect you, Riza. Even if that means sacrificing myself.)

(As would I, Roy. A life without you is not one worth living.)  

Surely, it must have been the call of duty that compelled her to act that way. The words of A-19/10/11 echo in her mind, and she decides that she doesn’t deserve any thanks or show of concern for merely complying with orders. She’s prepared to walk - no, crawl - back to the weather-beaten tent despite the agony that sears through her, but -

-- for the first time since the war, the Flame Alchemist’s expression cracks ever so slightly.

He crosses the distance between them in two long strides and ushers her towards the tent, allowing her to lean on him for support. E-18/8 staggers from the pain, but holds in her scream nonetheless. A subtle hint of worry starts to sneak into his frown.

A-18/13 pushes aside the flap and quickly shuts it for privacy, before setting her down slowly on the bedrolls and deftly removing what was left of her uniform jacket and undershirt so that he could tend to her wounds.

The lacerations that she’s sustained look awful. It’s the worst on her shoulders, angry blisters mottling her smooth skin. His eyes move lower down her back - the injuries there don’t look as bad, and for the most part the ink there remains.

The scene feels strangely familiar, like he’s done this before.

He pours out the antiseptic and dabs gently at the gaping wounds. She winces, but before she can yelp she contains it with another hard bite down her lips.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

E-18/8 thinks it’s strange. There’s nothing to apologise for. In the first place, it’s an oddity why someone higher in the hierarchy like him is even helping her dress her wounds. But she supposed it made sense - she couldn’t reach those wounds herself, after all, and it was best to repair his subordinates quickly so that she could resume her duties as his human shield.

“Not at all, sir,” she manages to exhale through the pain. Bandages are rolled around the injured area on her shoulders fastidiously. He moves on to the wounds on her back.

It is only then that he takes a closer examination at the tattoo, and to his surprise he realises it’s an alchemical array - an array that’s strikingly similar to the one on his gloves.

The epiphany hits him then, like a blaring truck. It bears an uncanny resemblance to the back of the nameless, faceless girl that appears in his dream.

He wonders why he dreams of someone he supposedly doesn’t know.

“Sir?” she asks, snapping him out of his reverie. His mending has come to a pause. E-18/8 wishes he would hurry up so that they could return to their duties. The perfect soldiers, after all, wasted no time on silly musings or dilly-dallyings.

“Ah, sorry,” he apologises again. A frown makes its presence known on her ashen countenance, but she swallows the pain as the dry air kisses her blisters along with the - dare she say, irritation?

“We should hurry up,” she whispers softly through gritted teeth, masking her - well, she didn’t know if it was irritation causing her teeth to grind against each other.

“Right,” he replies. He makes quick work of patching up the last of her wounds, before continuing to trace the tattoo in a dazed trance. There’s a tender sort of carefulness to his movements as he caresses the planes of her back. It elicits a shudder from the blonde, and she pins the blame on the desert wind that blows in fiercely through the little gaps pockmarking the flimsy tent.

His fingers continue their methodical dance down the grooves of her spine. E-18/8 shudders again, but the winds have stopped.

The Flame Alchemist gently thumbs the words that lay below the intricate array. Poems alluding to love and apology and light; frivolities that are unequivocally frowned upon by the State.

(Through fire, we gain knowledge and truth - the same way fire brings clarity to sand in the form of glass.)

(Well, that’s very... poetic, Roy.)

Further down, there’s an inscription that stands out in a gentle blue cursive - like the waters of an ocean, or a clear, azure sky he doesn’t quite remember seeing since time immemorial. The only images they saw in the desert were rivers of blood that drowned land and sky in crimson, the colour of the sigil on his glove and the words above.

This particular inscription, though, is different. Aside from the disparity in colour, it speaks not of holy flames or physics or thermodynamics. Instead, it’s a letter, seemingly addressed to someone. It’s intriguing and frightening all the same, because it whispers taboos and a dangerous secret that he can’t quite wrap his finger around.

Nevertheless, he runs a finger across the alphabets spelling out a… a name.

A name.

His face pales, like the posthumous whiteness of marble - does this blaspheme against the State? - but ignoring the warning bells his fingers continue their descent.

It’s not just a name, but two. Two names, framing an inscription of identity. Emotion. Memory.

My dear Riza, dearest Riza Hawkeye,

You will always be your own person, And I will always love you for that.

Lest we forget, Roy Mustang

“Ri...za,” he calls apprehensively. The foreign taste lingering on his tongue makes him feel like he’d just eaten the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge.  “Riza,” he tries again, “Hawkeye.”

“Who is that, sir?”

Riza Hawkeye.

The image of a young girl in a sundress flashes before him. His mind reels like a film-roll as memories flash past, sepia tones of nostalgia colouring them. It’s vague, but he’s starting to see the barely discernible outlines of a girl who looks like a younger version of the injured sniper before him.

The nameless, faceless girl that haunted him in his dreams…

Was it - was it her?

“It’s… I think it’s you.” he says, a desperate plea for them to remember, remember - lest we forget -

“That’s impossible, sir. I go by E-18/8,” she answers, but there’s a nervousness that creeps around her placid tone as she remembers the occasional dreamful slumber.

The picture of a younger her with a nameless, faceless raven-haired man, summertime and sunlight kissing their skin as they sat together on the front porch, feet dangling and fingers intertwining. The dream would always end, without fail, whenever he began to whisper their names to the wind.

But once, just once… she’d seen him mouth a “ri” before the dream came to an abrupt end.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s you,” he says, with more urgency to his voice this time. A desperate plea for them to remember, remember - lest we forget - “There’s another name here - Roy Mustang. Does that sound familiar to you?”

(... Hello, Mister Mustang.)

(Please don’t call me that, Riza. Just call me Roy - I won’t bite, I promise.)

“... Vaguely, sir.”

(Alright… sir.)

(That’s even worse! I’m not some… some old-fashioned lord. I just want to be your friend -)

(... Friend?)

As if possessed by some kind of uncontrollable automatism, they begin to cry. A teardrop falls on an open wound on the small of her back, and she jerks upright.

“Sorry,” comes his third apology.

Acting purely on instinct now, he wraps his arms loosely around her from behind, trying to navigate through the storm brewing in his mind. He finally has a taste of the embrace he’s subconsciously been yearning for. It’s bittersweet and agonising all at once. Desire burns, and he finds himself longing for more.  

She makes no move to escape his hold. Instead, she rests her palms on his scorched skin, feeling the calluses with a rough, padded thumb. It’s warm underneath her. He lives up to his moniker, she thinks, as heat begins to surge through her body.

Hug me till you drug me, honey; kiss me till I’m in a coma…

An almost carnal desire spills from his heart, running to his lips. He presses his lips on the back of her neck to soothe it. She shudders again, and this time she knows - it’s not because of the wind, but him.

“What… what were we, Riza? What are we now?”

“I don’t know, Roy,” she cries out softly, as she turns to return his gesture of affection.

For the briefest of moments, their lips meet. Flames unfurl beneath them, and suddenly the only war, the only tussle is not the one awaiting them outside, but within them - their souls and memories desperately trying to reconnect with their bodies -

(I pray that our love for each other will always remain. I pray, Father, that you forgive us for our sins, past and future, and that the scarlet thread that runs between us will be one of love, not murder -)

The bell rings, again. Any memories that they might have recollected of each other immediately recede like a spectre.

For the greater good of the State.

They break apart from each other in stunned silence. E-18/8 is the first to stand, thanking him for tending to her wounds. “I am alright now, sir. We should get going.”

(Isn’t it interesting, Riza? Fire on sand brings glass. Here, let me show you - )

(Yes, Roy. I’m well aware. You’ve made that clear with your incessant rambling.)

Their consciences remain unclear as they step back out into the arid, sandy wasteland.

[kbstories]

Contingent

con·tin·gent (adj.) Dependent on; conditional.

There’s only one thing Trafalgar Law is truly afraid of.

(Or: Bepo will be damned if he loses Law just when he got him back.)

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Nakamaship, Amber Lead Syndrome, Medical Inaccuracies, Childhood Trauma, Medical Procedures, Bepo Needs A Hug, Recovery, Law whumps well and I have no excuse

Read Chapter 1 here. Content warning for discussions of medical procedures.

***

Two minutes.

That’s how long Bepo gives in to the panic building inside him, back pressed against engine-warmed metal and his head heavy in his paws. Two minutes in which his lungs struggle under the imperative to keep breathing, and guilt reaches for his heart with clawed fingers and squeezes. One beats, two, stumbling, unable to catch the inevitable fall–

Kikoku is with him, the red string slung across Bepo’s chest and its guard digging into the meat between his shoulders, an unkind pressure that’s not-quite-pain. Behind him, he can hear Law mumbling indistinctly in his sleep even through the closed door.

Two minutes since he sent the distress signal to the other two Pager Snails that exist on the Polar Tang and Bepo tries not to feel disappointed because nothing about this is fair. Shachi is just following orders, getting their guests settled on the other side of the submarine and Penguin knows it falls to him to keep an eye on the helm when Law isn’t there to do it himself.

Of course it’s Bepo who should’ve paid attention, who should’ve realized Law is walking around exhausted and near-delirious from fever – and who knows how long that’s been going on. It’s no secret that Trafalgar Law is a terrible patient for all that he’s a medical prodigy and it’s always been Bepo’s job to counteract that.

None of the excuses bubbling up his throat like bile can change the fact that Bepo failed Law.

And yeah, he’s going to have words with his captain once all this is dealt with: They might’ve spent the past few months apart but that doesn’t mean Law has to shoulder everything himself. Not anymore. Not ever again, if Bepo has any say in the matter.

For now, all he can do is drag in a breath that feels like it’s dripping fire all the way to his gut and–

Footsteps echo down the hallway, sure and carefree and unfamiliar, and Bepo’s gaze snaps to the sound with the intensity of a predator.

“Oh, it’s you”, says Roronoa Zoro with some relief, like he hasn’t wandered by at the worst possible moment. His lips twitch upwards, into something akin to an amicable smile. “That’s our room, right? No offense to your ship but all these hallways look the same to me.”

He wanders closer still and Bepo–

Bepo growls, low and rattling in his throat, fangs bared. With one harsh step, he’s between Zoro and the door, instincts roaring to life as Zoro’s hand immediately falls to his swords and a wave of something hits Bepo.

An eternity passes in the span of a second; Bepo huffs, loud in the icy silence, not to be cowed. Something softens in Zoro’s eye then, and the pressure eases.

“Something happened”, Zoro states, voice calm. His smile is long gone.

There’s concern there, though, meant to be read plainly like lines on a map. Bepo’s ears perk up first, rising tentatively where they had been pressed flat – he tempers the heat in his blood to a dull thrum, shaking the snarl off his face for good measure.

“Sorry, I– You startled me.”

Zoro merely blinks, waiting for more. There’s a careful edge to his gaze that wasn’t there before and Bepo really can’t blame him. It’s shameful, for a mink to lose themself like that.

Bepo rubs at the fluff of his cheeks and then his eyes, noting with grim satisfaction that they’re dry, untouched by the emotions whirling within him. Dragging any of their guests into this is the last thing Law needs right now.

“It’s nothing we can’t handle. This is Captain’s room, though. You guys bunk all the way across, over there.”

Zoro doesn’t track the direction Bepo points to. His look flicks to the door entirely blocked by Bepo, mouth going flat with tension.

“Traffy doing alright?”

A beat of silence follows the question and, well, Bepo never was the best at lying. “He will be”, he settles on, shoulders stiff and hackles ready to bristle despite himself. “Any chance you met Shachi on your way here? Penguin, maybe?”

It occurs to Bepo that Zoro might not have memorized all their names yet; before he can start explaining Zoro tells him, “No”, simple and honest. Then: “They’re coming, though.”

And perhaps Bepo should start believing whatever the swordsman says in that serious voice of his since, not a moment later, the two burst around the corner, all but running towards them.

“Bepo!”

“Sorry! We came as fast as we could.”

It takes everything Bepo has not to catch both of them in a hug and crush them close to his chest. Their presence alone makes the buzz of anxiety in his veins dim to a bearable level.

“You guys!”

Penguin practically crashes into him, followed half an instant later by Shachi. Tears jump to Bepo’s eyes but Zoro is there and so he blinks them away. The embrace is brief but exactly what Bepo needed – while Shachi throws a confused glance at Zoro (“Seriously? All you had to do was turn left once!”), Penguin ruffles the fur between Bepo’s ears and whispers, “You or Captain?”

Bepo gives him an unhappy frown and well, that’s an answer in itself. “It’s just a scare, I think”, he says vaguely, Shachi’s attention returning without a second’s delay and Penguin’s ever-present smile fading. “I hope. I have to do research, find out what’s– Yeah. Stay with him?”

“Of course”, Shachi promises without missing a beat, and Penguin nods emphatically. “Bart is watching Command and Umi’s keeping everyone busy with the suits. Just give us an update when you can.”

Gratitude swells inside Bepo, one big ball of love that makes his throat feel tight. He nods too, out of words to say but he knows there will be time for those. Later, when the desperation on Law’s face doesn’t haunt his every step.

Penguin and Shachi disappear through the door quickly thereafter. A few feet away, Bepo catches Zoro scratching his neck and turning to leave, and he’s taking a step towards the swordsman before he can stop himself.

“Zoro, wait.”

He does, one eyebrow raised. “Hm?”

“You guys – Franky, Usopp, Robin, you – you were there, right? At Dressrosa. You saw what happened.”

And Bepo knew that Dressrosa was a mess, but to see a warrior as infamous as Pirate Hunter Zoro grimace at the mere mention of it is… Well. Not a great sign, all things considered.

It only serves to solidify Bepo’s resolve, though. There, with his captain at his back, Bepo bows his head, ears folded to the side as he humbles himself before Strawhat’s first mate.

“I know you’ve already done plenty – you brought my captain back alive, and I can’t ever repay you for that – but… Please. I need your help.”

There’s a flash of surprise on Zoro’s face, then he shakes his head, slowly. Bepo’s heart clenches, paws turning to fists inside the orange sleeves of his suit.

“Raise your head, Bepo. Did you forget? Without you, Luffy wouldn’t be out there, off to fetch our idiot cook – and I wouldn’t be here. Alliance or no, it would be foolish of me to go back on a life debt like that.”

Bepo looks up and catches a glint of anguish, hidden deep in that singular eye of Zoro’s. It’s been years and yet, the question why the Strawhats didn’t follow their captain into war returns to his mind like an old acquaintance.

There’s a time and place for that, too. Perhaps one day, he will be lucky enough to hear the story from the source itself.

For now, Bepo swallows it all down. He whispers, “Thank you”, and he doesn’t apologize: There is no regret in his heart, for any of it.

*

“I need to know what happened. All of it.”

The Strawhat Pirates share a look among themselves, expressions ranging from mild surprise to sympathy, and Zoro nods at Bepo when their eyes meet. In that measured tone of his, he tells them, “Traffy’s sick”, and it seems to be all the context the others need to comply.

Franky says: “I wasn’t there for most of it. Luffy told me to go all out on that SMILE factory, so I did.”

Usopp says: “Same here. I saw flashes of them fighting their way to the palace and I helped where I could but… Well, I’m a sniper, y’know? ‘s not my job to brawl.”

Zoro says: “Law got shot by that bastard Mingo. Looked pretty gruesome. Lost track of ‘em after ‘cause Captain needed his back free.”

Robin says: “I know what happened afterwards”, and Bepo takes a moment to react because he’s still processing the information that Doflamingo shot Law. He shot him. After all he did, he shot–

Law is powerful but his Devil Fruit is a paramecia-type. Underneath it all he’s still human.

Law is strong but there’s a reason why he flinches at the sight of guns, and Bepo hates Doflamingo.

Robin’s eyes are calm, her smile small but kind. An exhale shudders out of Bepo’s mouth.

“Tell me. Please.”

The story, for all it’s full of heroics and victories all around, is not a pretty one. Bepo remembers Law’s voice when he told Bepo, pretty fucking horrible, he had said but there’s horrible and then there’s that.

Robin speaks, and Bepo detaches himself from the mental images rushing through his brain and focuses instead on the list Law gave him. Viruses, iron deficiency, infection– Amber Lead.

“Traffy was barely conscious for the part with his arm but he insisted on doing his own medical care, afterwards. Chopper wasn’t with us so there was no reason to deny him that.”

Chopper.

Bepo’s head snaps up from the blank-eyed stare he’d slipped into while listening, and Robin’s brow moves with subtle emotion. “Do you want to talk to him? They should be at sea still.”

There’s a choice to be made there, one Bepo never even considered because Law’s past is theirs and nobody outside the original three of the Heart Pirates should ever know, much less without Law there to consent to it. Even thinking about it feels dangerously close to betrayal and Bepo would rather run to the next-best hatch and let the ocean crush him into nothingness than go behind Law’s back on anything.

But.

“Did Law… Did he say why he wanted that asshole dead?”

Bepo is nervous the answer will be a resounding no, and all four Strawhats look a little puzzled by the question. Again it’s Zoro who speaks first, humming pensively.

“Luffy wanted the guy gone, too. That was enough for us but… Traffy told Luffy, I’m pretty sure. Captain was pretty vicious and that only happens when one of us is hurting.”

One of us.

It’s that that makes Bepo clench his jaws and blink rapidly, a few tears escaping regardless. Law didn’t just make allies, out there by himself. He made friends, and Bepo feels his doubts melt away inside him, heartbeat by heartbeat.

“Okay. Let’s call Chopper.”

Countless fathoms deep, the snail takes longer to connect. They use the customized one brought along by the Strawhats – a miniature hat is placed on its shell, crafted with a lot of care – and it awakens with surprised, brown eyes.

“Zoro? Is that you? What happened?”

Nami. Bepo motions for the receiver before Zoro can say much. The man shrugs and complies.

“Nami. It’s Bepo, navigator of the Heart Pirates.”

“Oh, Bepo. No need to be so formal, I remember you. We’re allies, you know?”

“Yes, of course. I apologize. Is Doctor Ch–”

In the background, someone asks, “Bepo?” and suddenly the snail’s expression shifts to one that’s unmistakably Luffy. “Future Pirate King here! Is everything okay with Traffy?”

Bepo’s fingers tighten around the snail. Damn Strawhat and his instincts. Around him, the Strawhats share a round of fond eye-rolls.

“Um. He’s not feeling too good right now. That’s why I’m calling, actually. Is Chopper around? It’s important.”

“Oi, Chopper! Traffy needs your help!”

For a third time, the snail adapts to a new speaker, eyes going round and curious. “Doctor Traffy?”

“Ah, no, sorry. It’s Bepo. I need to ask you something.”

“Oh! Sure, go ahead.”

All eyes fall on him. Bepo takes a deep breath, then: “Do you– Amber Lead. Do you know what that is?”

There’s a sharp inhale close to him and Bepo glances over to see Robin’s eyes go wide. That’s a yes, then.

“Amber–? I… think so. I read a paper about it once? It’s–”

“Poison”, Bepo says, voice flat and allowing no other answer. “It’s an ore that was mined at Flavence, North Blue. If… if you read about it then perhaps you know what happened there.”

A noise of protest, coming from Usopp. “Wait, wait, I’m out of the loop on history stuff. What–?”

“Flavence, also known as the White City.” Robin’s brow is drawn in subtle lines. “The town was rich but the population grew sick from being exposed to the ore for generations. The disease was said to be highly contagious and…”

“The Government locked everyone up and killed them all”, Bepo finishes, that old familiar heartache turning the words into a snarl. “All except for one.”

A stunned silence. Even Zoro looks a little pale at the implication, and Bepo closes his eyes and lets go of the tension in one breath, shoulders slumping.

“Amber Lead Syndrome, it… It shows as white blotches on the skin. The poison shortens one’s life span to nothing, and when I met Law, he should’ve already been dead but he wasn’t. He found a cure and lived.”

The snail is teary-eyed and Chopper’s voice is more wobbly than stable. “That’s… That’s incredible.”

“Bepo-bro… Why tell us all this?”

Franky had been so quiet that Bepo forgot he was even there. The cyborg is wiping his eyes furiously, mouth sloped downward but his gaze shines with the sincere need to understand.

“Because I need to ask. What are the chances of an illness like that coming back years later?”

It’s so quiet that the Tang’s monotone song is the only thing to be heard. Bepo’s vision goes blurry around the edges and he sniffs, the weight on his shoulder almost crushing him then and there.

“Don’t spare me i-if… Please. I just– I need to know. There aren’t any new spots but he’s running a fever and he can barely stand straight. Law said there’s no way to tell for sure without c-cutting himself open again and I won’t let him. Not unless there’s any other option–”

“Bepo. Traffy won’t die, okay?”

Even repeated by the snail, Luffy’s voice is strong, rock-solid with determination.

“I kicked Mingo’s ass so he can be free and live however he wants. There’s no way he’s dying after all that. Chopper, tell him.”

And Bepo knows, he knows that Luffy is aware things don’t always work out just because he wants them to; the man stormed a prison and fought a war and cried his soul out to learn that lesson. Hope lights in his heart all the same, flickering bright against the tears still rolling down Bepo’s cheeks–

“I’d have to examine him myself to say for sure but it is unlikely he’s still affected. Even dormant, chronic conditions tend to flare the worst under duress, not after.” Chopper hmms, pensive. “Did Traffy say anything else?”

Shaking his head, Bepo remembers belatedly they can’t see it. He rubs his arm across his snout, wiping away snot and residue tears. “No. Just that his body hurts and that he can’t focus.”

There’s a tap on Bepo’s shoulder and an hand next to his knee, gesturing for the receiver. Reluctantly, Bepo gives it away and watches it wander from palm to palm until it reaches Robin.

“Chopper.”

“Robin! Hey!”

She chuckles. “Hello. Could those symptoms be caused by an old or badly-healed wound? Traffy was already in quite a bad state before being dragged across the battlefield and fighting his nemesis to near-death.”

All Bepo can do is focus on his breathing. Still alive. He’s still alive. “Sorry ‘bout that”, comes from Luffy and he sounds genuinely somber about it.

Zoro huffs. “You did what you had to do.”

“Bepo”, Chopper talks over them without much hesitation, and Bepo straightens up, makes a noise of acknowledgement. “Traffy’s arm. Have you taken a look at it yet? The wound was healing okay last time I saw it but with those symptoms… Infections can always happen, especially given how the wound came to be. It would explain the fever, too.”

Bepo isn’t a doctor – and neither are Shachi and Penguin – yet all of them have served as assistants during difficult operations, the ones that take hours and leave Law wiped out enough to sleep through the night and the morning after too.

All kinds of things can happen to wounds, and Law’s arm was cut off by strings... It makes sense. The thought takes a moment to settle in Bepo’s mind. It makes sense. It’s not Amber Lead.

We can fix this.

“I haven’t but I will. What do I have to do?”

Through the snail, Chopper crinkles his nose. “You won’t like it. If it really is an infection, he needs a full dose of strong antibiotics and… Well, you have to practically re-do the stitches.”

Distantly, Bepo feels his stomach turn. “You mean…?”

“Yeah. If Traffy didn’t notice the wound festering it’s probably because the infection sits deep in the muscle. The wound needs to be drained and cleaned properly and that means cutting it open again. Sorry, I know it’s… not what you want to hear.”

All this time, Kikoku rested calmly against Bepo’s back but the mere thought of wielding it against its owner makes Bepo hyperaware it’s there. He swallows whatever complaints he might have and says:

“Okay. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

Suddenly, Zoro is there, gaze hard as he murmurs, “Don’t be stupid”, and Robin is offering him the receiver before he can snatch it out of her grasp.

“Captain.”

“Hm? Zoro?”

“I’m gonna cut up Traffy.”

Oh, that’s an even worse idea than anything Bepo could come up with. “What?! No, no, absolutely n–”

“Okay. Be nice though.”

Bepo gapes at Zoro and the swordsman stares back. “Look. You can either try your hand at using that without any experience – or you can leave it to me. Besides: Do you really want to raise a sword against your own captain?”

“… No”, murmurs Bepo, eyes dropping to his feet. He wrings the front of his suit with his paws, unsure what to do with the mix of relief and guilt and hope pulsing in his chest.

“I’m in your debt. Thank you, all of you.”

Zoro just groans. “This again?”

Before Bepo can do more than shoot him a disgruntled glare, Usopp speaks up next. “Man, are you kidding?” He looks at Bepo like he’s grown a second set of ears, lips pouted and brow creased in concern. “Traffy’s our friend. And he saved Luffy.”

“Yeah!”, comes from the snail, its head bobbing enthusiastically.

“It’s in our interests to keep our ally alive. Chopper, how much do we charge for medical advice?”

“Nami!” Chopper is laughing, though. It’s a good sound, full of optimism. “Things will be okay, Bepo. Let us know how it goes?”

“We will”, Franky promises in Bepo’s place, an easy-going grin on his angular face. “It won’t do to cut our adventure short. I still need to figure out how the Tang can dive this deep without getting crushed!”

One of Robin’s hands pushes Franky’s mouth shut, another patting Bepo’s back gently. Robin smiles and despite himself, Bepo does too, taking the confidence he finds in her and making it his own.

“Go back to your captain, Mr. Bear. I’m sure he’s already waiting for you.”

*

It gets worse before it gets better. Those had been Chopper’s words, tinny through the speaker of the snail. The pills should help him sleep through most of it. His body needs to replenish a lot of blood on top of everything else but… The worst is behind him. You did it, Bepo!

A part of Bepo’s brain had soaked up the information like much-needed water in a desert: Chopper had sounded satisfied with their work, relieved even, and on some level Bepo had been aware his previous reassurances had perhaps been more optimistic than the situation truly warranted.

Okay, he’d said, and thank you, and he’d promised Luffy to call in a few days time – after the date of the wedding, but that went unsaid. With Law’s life on the line, Bepo had entirely forgotten the other time bomb steadily ticking towards zero.

Bepo sits at Law’s bedside, eyes unfocused and head filled only with the rush of blood in his ears. The room is virtually unchanged from when he carried Law out (barely conscious, questions a half-coherent rasp against Bepo’s neck) and brought him back hours later, deathly still and arm wrapped in thick layers of gauze.

To call the operation gruesome would’ve been a compliment to it. The image of Law’s blood spilling across the tiles of his own operating room is one that will follow Bepo into his dreams for weeks to come.

Lethargically, his gaze moves from pristine covers to Law’s face. His features are slack with unconsciousness, the rings under his eyes bruise-like against the pallor of his skin.

Out of the three of them, Shachi has the calmest hands and thus he was the one to sew everything back in place while Penguin stayed behind to clean up the mess. For a while after, the captain’s cabin had held all four of them: Bepo at his spot at Law’s side, eyes fixed on Law’s chest that barely shifted with every breath; Penguin and Shachi all anxious pacing at first and nearly collapsing when the adrenaline inevitably gave way to bone-deep exhaustion.

Bepo practically had to throw them out to catch some sleep. That was the second time in 24 hours he’d had to yell at those he considers family, and it didn’t move a single thing in him. His heart hangs limp in its tangle of veins, wrung dry of any emotion Bepo had to give.

Now it’s just him and Law again.

Reaching out, Bepo ignores the tremor in his fingers in favor of pushing back sweat-soaked hair. His mouth twists unhappily at the heat he finds there. The fever has yet to break, Law’s cheeks tinged an uncomfortable pink – his brows draw together at Bepo’s touch, and he hopes the cool press of his palm brings him some relief, at least.

This is exactly what Chopper’s warning had been all about. It doesn’t make any of it easier.

“It wasn’t Amber Lead, Captain.”

The words come unbidden to Bepo’s lips, a rough whisper that is lost to the suffocating silence around them. Swallowing heavily, Bepo keeps combing ink-black strands and imagines that it makes a difference, that it helps ease some of the tension around Law’s closed eyes.

“You hear me? You’re cured, and it’s not coming back. You’re gonna be okay.”

A drop of sweat trickles down Law’s temple; carefully, so carefully, Bepo wipes it away. He rests the back of his hand against Law’s pulse point. Lingering, just to feel the too-quick beat of Law’s heart.

“B’po?”

Bepo’s own pulse skips a beat. “Law?”, he asks, voice hushed with quiet hope. His thumb traces along the line of Law’s cheekbone, paw pad brushing shifting lashes until–

Law’s eyes are molten gold, shining with fever, not-quite-there.

“B’po.”

Bepo smiles so wide it hurts, eyes crinkling with it. “Yeah, ‘s me. I’m here. Welcome back, Captain.”

Law smiles too, the skin on his lips a little cracked.

“’m alive.”

Bepo nods and he’s crying, tears leaving moist dots on the sheets. “You are. You are.”

With a slow blink, Law reaches for Bepo’s face, the tips of his fingers brushing his nose clumsily. “Don’t… Don’t cry, Bepo.”

Bepo holds his hand and presses it against his cheek, nodding weakly. “Okay, Captain.” He feels Law’s fingers twitch weakly against his, trying and failing to hold on to him, too.

“Hey, ‘s okay. I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know. I’m sorry, so s-sorry.”

It’s like he can’t stop saying it, apologizing over and over against the back of Law’s hand that’s wet with his regret, his guilt. There’s a quiet noise of distress and Bepo looks up to see one, then two tears drip from Law’s lashes, trailing down his face in glinting lines.

“I dreamed of Cora, Bepo. I saw ‘im. He… He looked so happy.”

Bepo whines in his throat but Law shushes him, smile growing, showing a glint of teeth.

“I’m glad. I missed his stupid smile.”

“Law”, Bepo breathes, because Cora is dead and so was Law, almost, almost. “Please. Please.”

What he’s asking for, he doesn’t know – Law understands him all the same, like he always does, like he always will. “Bepo”, and his name is so much more coming from Law’s mouth.

“Don’t be scared. Not leaving you behind, remember? I promised.”

And Bepo has long forgiven him for almost going back on his word. The important thing is that Law came back, just as he returns to him now too, rosy-cheeked and glassy-eyed but there, alive. “Honest?”, Bepo asks him helplessly, nuzzling close to Law’s wrist.

Feeling his pulse against his lips, beating, beating.

“Honest”, Law tells him, soft with affection and it sounds like always, like forever. A promise that paints the Polar Star in Bepo’s sky, ensuring he can bring them home each and every time.

[scifigeneration]

Social distancing comes with social side effects – here's how to stay connected

by Jonathan Kanter and Adam Kuczynski

There are ways to strengthen bonds while keeping physical distance. MoMo Productions/DigitalVision via Getty Images

To fight the spread of coronavirus, government officials have asked Americans to swallow a hard pill: Stay away from each other.

In times of societal stress, such a demand runs counter to what evolution has hard-wired people to do: Seek out and support each other as families, friends and communities. We yearn to huddle together. The warmth of our breath and bodies, of holding hands and hugging, of talking and listening, is a primary source of soothing. These connections are pivotal for responding to and maximizing our survival in times of stress.

Priority number one is to follow the recommended social distancing guidelines to control the virus. The cure is definitely not worse than the disease – experts’ projections of disease spread and mortality without strong intervention make this clear.

But as with any pill, there are side effects. As psychological scientists at the University of Washington’s Center for the Science of Social Connection, our lab studies social connectedness, why it is important and how to maximize its benefits. Our clinical and research experiences help us understand the side effects of social distancing and suggest strategies for addressing them.

Human beings are social beings

In times of stress and illness, being deprived of social connection can create more stress and illness. People who are lonely have higher levels of the hormone cortisol, an indicator of stress; show weaker immune responses to pathogens; and are at increased risk for premature death. Isolation can lead to depression, suicidal thoughts and other clinical conditions.

For those who must be quarantined because they are infected with the virus, this research has one important implication: Depriving the sick of social connection and physical closeness unfortunately may make it harder for them to defeat infection. For example, lonely college students respond more weakly to influenza vaccinations than do non-lonely students.

There are other costs. Loneliness makes people feel more vulnerable and anxious in social interactions. An official mandate to socially distance and isolate may increase what psychologists call intergroup anxiety, the natural threat and distrust people feel when interacting with those who are different.

People may circle the wagons around themselves and those they perceive as like themselves – those with whom they share a common identity – while excluding everyone else. The recent travel restrictions play into these very human fears, and could exacerbate impulses to blame and stigmatize others as the source of this crisis. These fears fuel negative and inaccurate stereotypes of others, rather than cultivating connections to a larger human community that is suffering together.

Technology can help maintain connections when physical togetherness isn’t an option. Thomas Barwick/DigitalVision via Getty Images

Reach out and connect

While social distancing and isolation are in effect, there are things everyone can do to mitigate their downsides.

Now is the time to reach out to friends and family and connect with them however you can. Let people know how much you care about them. While live human connection is best, a phone call, with a real voice, is better than text, and a videochat is better than a phone call.

We believe such social technology-faciliated connections will aid all of us in staying as healthy as possible during this time. Although research on this is not comprehensive, we think it’s valuable to use social technology to mitigate the effects of loneliness and isolation for those who are sick.

What you say when connecting also matters. If you are stressed and upset, talking about your feelings can help. You may or may not feel better, but you will feel less alone. If you’re on the receiving end of this kind of sharing, resist the impulse to dismiss, debate or tell the other person not to worry. Your task is to listen and convey that you understand their feelings and accept them. This process – one person sharing something vulnerable, and the other responding with understanding and care – is the basic dance step of good, close relationships.

Human touch is also vital for well-being. If you are distancing with people who are close to you and healthy, don’t forget the positive impact of a gentle hug, or holding someone’s hand. Safe, mutually consenting physical touch leads to the release of oxytocin. Sometimes called the “love hormone,” oxytocin helps regulate your fight or flight system and calms your body in times of stress.

For those who are untouchable because they’re sick with COVID-19, affectionate therapy dogs may provide measurable benefit. (As of this writing, WHO guidelines suggest pets are safe.)

Things you can do

Other actions can help boost your and others’ well-being as you’re adapting to a world of social distancing.

Embrace others, figuratively. Be aware of your tendency to circle the wagons around your group. Importantly, even though it doesn’t always feel this way, you’re not born with a fixed group that you trust and fixed groups that you distrust. These feelings and associations are flexible and change with context. Imagine, for example, who feels safe and familiar to you when at work versus at a family dinner versus at a football game. Now is the time to expand how you define your group identities. This is a global pandemic. Human beings are in, the coronavirus is out.

Be generous. The practical side of this idea of expanding your identities is an encouragement to be generous, broadly speaking. Giving to others in times of need not only helps the recipient, it enhances the giver’s well-being, too. If you feel compelled to go to the grocery store to stock up on toilet paper, consider checking in with people you know who are more vulnerable and see what they might need. Give them some of that toilet paper. Help others around you, including neighbors you may not know well, people with whom you don’t usually feel a sense of kinship and people experiencing homelessness. Doing so combats the impulse to build walls. It puts you in touch with the better angels of your nature, and gives these angels voice and purpose.

Finally, remember to breathe. In this moment, with all the stress and anxiety, many people feel overwhelmed and disconnected. But you’re still here and those around you are in this chaos with you, too. A few conscious, gentle breaths can restore that connection, slow your mind and give you clarity, at least for a moment or two.

Looking out for one another will continue to be key. Hinterhaus Productions/Stone Collection via Getty Images

This coronavirus crisis may not end soon. Things may get worse. As people hunker down, the negative side effects of social distancing and isolation will shift and evolve. What feels manageable today may not feel manageable tomorrow.

As psychologists, we are concerned that the lack of social connections, increased stress, disruptions and losses of livelihoods and routines will tip some people toward depression. We are concerned about increased family conflict as people are forced to navigate unusual amounts of time together, many in confined spaces.

Flexibility is adaptive. Building a foundation of healthy coping, maintaining awareness of the side effects of our necessary societal changes, and staying connected to our values and to each other are imperative. Human beings have great capacity for empathy and caring in times of suffering. Maintaining social distance doesn’t need to change that.

About The Authors:

Jonathan Kanter is Director of the Center for the Science of Social Connection at the University of Washington and Adam Kuczynski is a PhD Student in the Department of Psychology at the University of Washington

This article is republished from our content partners over at The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.

[jewish-privilege]

...I first learned of Alice Walker’s anti-Semitism in 2012, when I read she declined to have The Color Purple published in Hebrew. Walker claimed this decision was based on Israel’s occupation in Gaza, but she had no problem writing the book in English or having it translated into other languages spoken by people with histories of oppression. This statement associated anyone who spoke Hebrew with the Israeli government and denied an exchange of ideas that arguably could support Walker’s cause for Palestinians. Walker also has a history of promoting Icke as far back as 2013.

Walker’s anti-Semitism is made more complicated and tragic when we remember that her own daughter, Rebecca Walker, is Jewish. Rebecca’s father, Melvyn Rosenman Leventhal, is a Jewish attorney who got divorced from Walker seven years after Rebecca’s birth. Rebecca Walker wrote Black, White, and Jewish: Autobiography of a Shifting Self in 2000. She and her mother have been estranged since the birth of Rebecca’s son. One wonders how this relationship impacts Alice Walker’s anti-Semitism. Rebecca has spoken publicly about her mother’s neglect and prioritizing of ideology over relationships.

Despite this knowledge, it never occurred to me to not read The Color Purple or be grateful for Walker’s other work. I was raised on Alice Walker by my second wave feminist mother. The Color Purple and Warrior Marks (a book written with Pratibha Parmar on female genital mutilation in Africa) were bibles in my house. The Color Purple showed me a world where women were surviving the abuse of men and opened me up to what I now know as intersectional feminism. Walker’s work allowed me as a young girl to read about the experiences of women vastly different than my own, whose fight I wanted to be part of.

Alice Walker was also instrumental in bringing Zora Neale Hurston’s work to a larger audience. When Walker first wrote about Hurston in 1979, all of Hurston’s books were out of print. I can only imagine what her work has meant to black women. In a nuanced thread clearly calling out Alice walker’s anti-Semitism, Evette Dionne described the importance of Alice Walker [in this tweet thread.]

...Unfortunately, like most examples of anti-Semitism, the online discussion of Alice Walker quickly pivoted to justifying it through blame on Israel. As if somehow it would be okay to spread Elders of Zion conspiracy theories if one is trying to help Palestinians. There are so many problems with this — including that Jews and the Israeli government are not synonymous. Perpetuating anti-Semitism does nothing to tackle the Israeli government’s policies but does cause real harm to Jews around the world. As Rebecca Pierce, a black and Jewish woman, emphasized on Twitter, supporting anti-Semitic conspiracy theories also support the white supremacist power structure that Walker has been fighting against her whole life. 

...One of the most important parts of Judaism, for me, is the ability to embrace argument and contradictory thoughts. While not true for all artists, to me it has always seemed imperative to speak about Walker’s anti-Semitism without throwing out the important work she’s done. As intersectional feminists, can we leave room for embracing the good done by a problematic person? As Jews, can we honor the human rights work done by Alice Walker without erasing her harmful views towards us?

Tema Smith, a black and Jewish woman, put it perfectly when she told me, “As the Jewish child of a black parent, it cuts especially deep to know that this is a woman who used her pen to wound her own Jewish daughter and people like her, and yet also a woman who has told stories like The Color Purple that must not be lost.”

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Can I request a story about a girl that runs away from home angst angst angst! And then meets Andy and Bill but Bill has a gf but fights with her and he hits on the girl and maybe they even hook up but Bill is seen with his gf again and the girl feels stupid.... angst and smut and fluff. This might be like too much for one drabble. You are a 👸 and I 💕❤️😍🥰.

Gif is @godfreysteel

This is a really involved request so I’m breaking it into 2 parts. Here’s PART 1.....

Randi has been my best friend since Junior High. We had been attached at the hip, right up to a little over a year ago, when her Aunt died and left her a house in Hollywood. She moved out there, begging me to come but I had a perfect boyfriend that begged me not to go, and since he was a new doctor, it wasn't as easy to move for him. As soon as Randi left, he insisted I move in with him since he was worried about me living alone and my lease was up. He had such a pretty house it was tempting, but i still was hesitant. He said he understood and just loved me so much that he worried. I was actually very flattered he held me in such high regard. He was a gorgeous wealthy doctor, from a prominent family, and I was nothing special.

When he bought me an Afghan Hound puppy I named Danger, I was overjoyed. Since my apartments didn't allow dogs and he was hardly ever home to keep Danger company, it was only logical to move to his home. I didn’t think twice about it. And he was being so accomodating and enthusiastic, I couldn’t help but get affected by it. He told me to donate all my old stuff, and we’d get all new stuff together to start our new life. He was from a really rich family, so money was not an issue for him. He actually called it a non-issue, which as time progressed I learned was his way of saying it wasn't up for discussion.

Non-issues could be positive or negative talking points where he had made the decision for us. Most of the time, they benefited me, or appeared to be for my best interest. For instance; my job.

I actually had met my boyfriend at my job. I worked at a gym checking people in, but considering our turn over, I was often called in to cover or train new hires. His time was limited and he felt very strongly about spending what little free time he had together. The entire month, I’d been forced to come in for one reason or another, and although he made it clear his displeasure, he still surprised me with a wonderful 1 year anniversary gift of two weeks in Hawaii. I was so excited to go until my job informed me it wasn’t possible. When I told my boyfriend the news, he told me to give notice and I could find something else when we returned. It was a bit crazy and irresponsible, but I threw caution to the wind and he was so happy I had chosen him. The trip also made me miss my first week of school, but my boyfriend said that a little time off wouldn’t kill me and I had thought he was kidding and enrolled anyway, willing to just make up my lost week. Not having a job or any bills, would make it that much easier to catch up on.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I had someone that was truly in my corner. My friends thought I was the luckiest girl in the world and even I felt like it was insane, driving up to my huge home on a golf course, that I had decorated with my doctor boyfriends money. The fact he looked like a model only made it that much more surreal, eventhough he was a bit intense. Intense might be the wrong word. Possessive maybe? But I didn’t think of it as a negative, more as a flattering positive trait.

He worries about me, and liked to always be in contact with me. Since he was often in surgery or unable to answer the phone, it was imperative I answered when he called. When he called while I was in class, I knew he’d be upset I ignored his call, but I was sure he’d be ok once I was out and explained why I pressed send to voicemail.

As soon as I got out, I tried to call him repeatedly, but got no answer. This wasn’t entirely unusual, although most Monday’s, he was more readily available since only emergency surgeries happened mondays. I was shocked when I arrived home and found his Range Rover home. The front door was open ajar so I parked behind him and wandered inside. I wasn’t ready for what I’d find.

It looked as though we had been robbed. Furniture was thrown about, the 75” flat screen had been pushed over and smashed. Several decorative items were smashed to pieces. The more I looked around though, the more clear it became that nothing was missing. Just broken. We’d been vandalized!

My poor baby Danger was hiding under the dining room table and upon realizing I had entered, was overjoyed to see me. I bent down and embraced him, giving him ear scratches and loving on him thankful he was unharmed. Things could be replaced, but not your loved ones.

I looked up to see my boyfriend storm out of the office.

”thats fucking rich! You greet the dog before me.” he spat.

”what happened here?” I asked cautiously, slowly rising to my feet to give him a hug and a kiss. He was acting rather aggressively but I was sure he felt violated in a way, by someone coming in our home and destroying it.

”YOU FUCKING HAPPENED TO ME YOU FUCKING WHORE! I AM NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU? YOU CANT JUST BE HAPPY WITH ME? YOU THINK I DONT KNOW WHY YOU WENT BACK TO SCHOOL?” he screamed at me.

I froze. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know where this was coming from and he was looking at me like he expected an answer. When I didn't answer he grabbed a lamp and threw it against the wall, and then made a beeline straight for me. I still was in shock so I just stood there, staring dumbly, expecting to get slapped or pushed, when I heard a low growl.

My skinny little brave Danger was standing between me and my boyfriend, trying to protect me. My boyfriend froze, looked down and started to laugh like a maniac. This reaction was far more unsettling than it sounds, and Danger and I grew more restless if that's possible. I all of a sudden had an overwhelming urge to get out of there. I wasn’t concerned or interested in trying to understand my boyfriends words or behavior, I just wanted to be away from him.

”I’m gonna go. Come on Danger, ” I said as I slowly backed away. I didn't want Danger to bite him, or get kicked or something, and make an already volatile situation even worse.

”Hang on, just a moment. Can you answer me one question before you walk out of my life?” he asked me in a tone I’d never heard, dripping with sarcasm.

Normally I'd say you already asked it, but I didn't feel now was the time for jokes. I desperately wanted to leave but I wasn’t an idiot, and knew that playing along with an obviously bat shit ass crazy person, was safer than pissing them off more.

“Go ahead.”

”Do you know what the best thing about being a doctor is?”

I wasn't expecting that question and almost automatically answered with ”saving lives.”

He chuckled darkly, sending a chill up my spine. How was this the same man? How had I missed the potential lunatic that obviously was just beneath the surface? Lost in thought, I cried out when he suddenly lunged forward and seized Danger. Danger yelped, followed by the most awful crunching sound I’ll never forget. Dangers gangly little body, instantly fell limply to the ground and all I could do was stare in utter horror.

I looked up into his eyes and I didn’t even know who I was looking at. This was just incomprehensible to me. My mind kept spinning in circles, unable to grasp the situation at hand.

My boyfriend stepped over Dangers lifeless body and pulled me into a tight embrace. He sniffed my hair and growled in my ear, before biting me on my neck hard. I cried out and He chuckled before grabbing me by my hair, and dragging me in the restroom, where he made me flush my birth control pills.

“You’re going to marry me and be my perfect little housewife, and never hurt me again.” He cooed in my ear.

When I didn’t say anything he grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. I couldn’t get what he’d done to Danger out of my head and was terrified. He could see it in my eyes, but the look of concern and empathy he gave me made me want to scream. “I love that idea. I’m just sad about Danger.”

In reality, I wanted to vomit, but I let him lead me to the bed to lie down, trying to think of any way to escape. I was convinced I really would vomit if he tried to fuck me. He kissed me gently on the forehead and breathed a huge sigh.

“Will you feel better if I do something with the body? I promise to get you whatever dog you want to replace him, but with us about to have a family, we can’t have an aggressive dog. You understand right baby?”

I nod as he rubs my cheek, looking in my eyes adoringly. He tells me to sit tight while he takes care of Danger, and he’ll be right back.

I wait a beat and peer downstairs at him and watch as he puts Danger into a big black trash bag, and I wait till he goes into the garage before running downstairs. I didn’t care about any of my belongings, I just needed to get to my car.

I grabbed my purse, and I ran. I got in my car and pulled away just as he was running out trying to open my door. Thank God it lockswhen you put it into Drive. I drove off watching him in the rearview mirror running back inside. My phone started blowing up, and I became aware of location capabilities with cell phones so I threw it out the window. Looking back, that was a bit overzealous, but I was terrified.

Somehow I found myself on the highway and didn't stop till I reached Hollywood. I'd been to the house before, and thank goodness by the grace of God remembered how to get to Randi.

I told her everything and she insisted that I was home. She’d just been hired for a big horror film and she said I could be her assistant. She was supposed to meet the director the following morning and shed just bring me along, to introduce us. She was positive he’d hire me on too, so I was amped.

When she told me it was filming in Canada, I was even more enthusiastic. My ex knew Randi lived in Hollywood, so going away a few months to another country was ideal. That way when he inevitably went looking for me, he wouldn't be able to find me, and hopefully would give up.

The next morning Randi shared all her things with me to get ready. We are the same size shoe and since we are both thin, I can fit in her clothing for the most part. I’m taller and bustier, but for the most part, we can share.

I’m not very high maintenance, so the extent of my beauty routine is shower, brush my hair, light make up, and a spray of body spray or something, and I’m good. Randi said I could have a maxi dress since it had always been too long for her to wear, and was too form fitting for her taste.

I was surprised how close we were to the studios, and arrived in no time. Security gave us a little map and instructed us how to get to where we were supposed to go. I had never been to a movie studio, so I was as bad as a tourist looking around. We arrived at the proper building to find a photo shoot underway.

“There he is.” Randi said, pointing out a tall dark haired gentlemen in his late thirties, early forties, having an obvious problem with something. He turned and saw us and did a double take. He made a beeline for us with an enormous smile eventhough you could tell he was having a bad day. I liked him right away.

“Today has been a disaster, we have done all we can do without the model. She’s an hour late! Bill has limited time in LA, and it’s not like the man doesn’t have obligations.” He ranted at no one in particular.

I nodded with a sympathetic look on my face, although I had no idea who Bill was.

“Who have you brought us Randi?”

“Andy this is my best friend Liv. Liv this is our new boss, Andy. And this is a photo shoot for a magazine to promote Something Bill is doing, and Andy is his best friend so he’s here to complain.” Randi teased.

“I’m also good friends with the photographer and we are supposed to have lunch after this. Can you excuse me? Do not move. I’m serious.” Andy said and then rushed away

“He couldnt take his eyes off you! He’s not usually so obvious. He’s usually the most chill guy,” Randi mused.

“He’s just stressed out and I mean maybe I look familiar.” I guessed.

“Oh sure. It has nothing to do with being a living breathing Barbie. Old school big titty Barbie.” Randi chuckled.

Andy and a petite lady hussled over to us, and the lady grabbed me by my face and pulled me down to examine my features. She smiled and turned to Andy happily.

“Oh meu deus Andy! Como você encontrou um em tão pouco tempo? Ela é ainda melhor que a falecida! Ela é exatamente o que eu imaginava. ela é a mesma taxa? diga a ela para se preparar.” She tapped her wrist and rushed off.

“What just happened?” I asked.

“I hope you don’t mind, but you’re first job is right now. She said you were exactly what she envisioned for this shoot, and you need to go to hair and make up immediately.” Andy pleaded, putting his hands together in a prayer pose.

“WHAT? Oh no! I’m not a model. I never want to be famous.” as my stomach did backflips and I felt like the air had left the room.

“That’s something you don’t hear very often in this town but It pays $7500 and I’d owe you one.”

“$7500 to take a couple pictures? I’m wearing clothes right?” I have no desire to be in this industry, but I wasn’t crazy either! As long as I’m not naked, I’m game.

Andy let out a whole hearted laugh, “you’re wearing a gown even. Not that type of party. And you’re taking pictures with the star of the movie you’ll be working on with us. You did want to be Randi’s assistant correct?

I nodded vigorously, and got a thumbs up from Randi. Everything was falling into place! ”lead the way then sir!”

His face lit up and he led the way over to a room that had more make up in it then I’d ever seen. As soon as I walked in, three people pounced on me. One attacked my hair, saying they needed to straighten it, although it was straight. They set to work, raving about they could not believe I had so much hair, and that I was an actual natural blonde. When I told them I was growing it long to donate to cancer kids, they nearly fell over.

“Do you know how much thick natural blonde hair that reaches the lower back is worth?” The hairstylist exclaimed. “And your hair is silky and healthy, girl keep it.”

“I’ll just grow more. No biggie.”

“I think that’s very nice. Good for you, people should be so kind.” The girl working on my nails said, smiling warmly up at me.

“I can’t wait to see where your career goes!” The gentleman doing my make up surmised. “You are a true natural beauty.”

“I’m not doing any more of these. I don’t want to be famous, I just am doing it for Andy.” They all looked at me skeptically, but set to getting me where the photographer needed me to be. As the time pressed on, I could feel my self nodding off, but suddenly movement caught my eye. I couldn’t turn my head, but noticed a gorgeous man glaring at me in the mirror. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been there.

“If It were up to me, you’d never work again. Do you have anything to say for your disrespect?” The tall, statuesque man, with strikingly handsome facial features, and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen sneered.

”I literally just got hired forty five minutes ago and have no issue with never modeling again anyways. I'm doing this as a favor, for my new boss. Thanks for being a dick tho. Everyone has been such a joy, I was starting to think Hollywood had a bad rep for nothing.”

Everyone in the room was silent and all looked to the man for a reply.

”whos your new boss?” he inquired.

”I don’t feel comfortable giving his name to strange men, and since he’s a director it’ll sound like I’m name dropping and I’m not the type.” I said waving my hand dismissively.

He chuckled and rolled his bright green eyes. ”i think you're talking about my good friend Andy Muschetti. Does that sound right?”

”give this man a prize!” I joked. “Please don��t get me fired best friend. Are you Bill by chance?”

“You think I wear a tuxedo and bedazzle my face before i leave the house in the regular?” He asked incredulously.

I looked down at my lap so I didn't have to make eye contact with anyone.

I looked back up to the beautiful man, but he’d disappeared. I wasn’t surprised he was kind of an ass. Gorgeous men often are, I just hoped he wasn’t going to go talk shit.

A short time later they were done and had me put on a Zuhair Murad dress that was was worth more than my car. It was a beautiful charcoal velvet that looked like it’d been custom made for me. I couldn’t believe how awesome I looked, and ran out to find Randi, only being allowed to wave before they lead me to take my solo shots.

I looked around for the beautiful man, and found him standing next to a brunette woman, having a tense conversation, that was very quickly turning into an argument. He was trying to keep her calm, but she was not happy in the least, and I gasped when she struck him. Embarrassed, I put my full attention on the person translating instructions from the photographer, refusing to look back over at them, even as they began yelling at each other in some strange language. Did no one speak English here? He stormed outside with the woman hot on his trail.

“Ok someone go find Bill, we are just about ready for him.” My translator yelled, and I saw Andy and Randi, briskly walk outside to find him.

I felt kinda bad for snapping at him. I was going to be as nice as possible to him. Maybe I had judged him too harshly.

“Perfect honey! Sad confused, not sure look honey! Yes!” Several more people had shown up and were all talking about me like I wasn’t there.

Bill walked up looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, and looked down his cute little button nose at me. I know he was trying to be stuck up, but he was so fucking cute, I just wanted to boop his nose.

“Where do you want me?” He huffed.

“I need you to come up behind her, and embrace her around the waist, with one hand by her face. Sweetie you stand sideways with your back to Bill and look up arching your back a bit.” We were told as we got in our places. He was humming some unidentifiable tune in my ear. I was trying not to think about his hand on my waist, or his hot breath on my neck. I wasn’t sure if the bright lights were the only thing making me sweat.

“Touch up! They’re sweating!” Someone shouted.

“Do I make you sweat princess?” Bill growled.

“No.” I squeaked.

He firmly pulled me against him and when he felt me stiffen up, he chuckled mischievously.

I moaned sexually, causing him to sputter and cough a bit. I turned around grinning ear to ear. “Don’t start no stuff, won’t be no stuff.” I said playfully. I normally am not so confident, but his semi inappropriate behavior and the way he looked at me made me feel strange. Good strange I was pretty sure. He didn’t break our eye contact for far longer than was polite, before taking some hair and tucking it behind my ear tenderly.

“Bill stop giving this poor girl goosebumps! My Lord! And I’m not sure if you guys are aware of how obvious a moment you guys are having in front of all these people. One of them being your crazy girlfriend Bill.” He said as he touched us up. “I mean you’re both some of the most attractive people I’ve ever seen so I can’t blame either one of you, but thought I’d let you know.”

“It’s not me, its all the people staring at how gorgeous she is,” Bill scoffed.

“I doubt your girlfriend likes how you’re looking at her either. Normally I’d stay out of it, but you’re good people Bill, and I keeps it real with my people.”

“I told her it’s over, didn’t you hear us a few minutes ago?” He sneered. He winked and walked away.

“What a weird guy,” I mused aloud.

“Gorgeous though right? Every girl that meets him wants to fuck him but he’s always had a girlfriend. I’ve seen them fight a few times, but today is the first time he’s ever yelled. They’re Swedish so I don’t think they yell very often. ”

“I just got out of a terrible relationship yesterday so I feel his pain.”

“I’ve worked with him for years and have never seen him give anyone a second glance and yet today he can’t take his eyes off you.” He smirked.

“I’ve destroyed my lungs proficiently, she looks perfect, if you could just give me the once over, we can be done before lunch.” Bill said as he walked towards us. He plopped down in the chair beside me and squeezed my hand. “Please forgive my behavior up until now. It’s been a stressful day and flirting has never been my strong suit.”

I looked at him and he appeared to be sincere. I smiled weakly and told him I hadn’t even thought he’d been out of line. He’d put some space in between us when we returned to shooting, and was exceedingly respectful and careful. One of The last shots, they wanted me to be on my knees in front of him, reaching my hands up looking to the side, putting my face right against his crotch.

“I apologize in advance,” he drawled. At first I was confused why he was apologizing, but it became all too clear, the longer my face was pressed to his growing bulge. He shifted uncomfortably, and looked down at me as tho he was in pain. I mouthed the words ‘it’s ok’ and smiled up at him and that seemed to help him a great deal, although not so far as tame his prominent erection. I was actually firmly pressing my face against it now, to save him the embarrassment of his issue, and assuring we don’t have to stretch this out longer than needed. I’m sure It was all very artistic looking but it was hard not to laugh at how not artistic it felt. I looked to Randi, she was smiling with two thumbs up, blissfully unaware that I was battling Bills dick.

“Okay! The final shot is going to be her standing facing Bill but twisting her upper body away, facing the other way, while Bill I need you to press your body into hers with one hand at her chin with your thumb on her lower lip. Her eyes are closed and yours are fierce Bill. Determined but not angry.”

I felt my face heat up as we tried to do as we were instructed. This was all too much, I couldn’t help but giggle. I apologized and tried to look sexy again.

“No smiling honey. You’re a desirable sex goddess, and he wants you, but you know you shouldn’t.” The translator instructed passionately.

“It’s not too much of a stretch,” Bill said quietly so only I could hear. I felt my face flush and blush at the same time, if that’s even possible.

I heard that mischievous chuckle again, and it took all I had in me, not to knee him in his gut. I refused to look at him though. I don’t think I could handle it anyway. Far too much man-pretty had his body pressed against mine.

“Psst.”

I’m going to kill this guy. I’m not looking.

“Are you ignoring me?” He whispered.

“Ok so then I guess that’s a yes.” He hummed.

He was impossible. I’m trying to maintain bitch face and he’s asking dumb questions and making various sound effects! I must say tho, for just having a pretty public break up, he was in a good mood.

When it finally was over, and Bill and I set off to change our clothes and get some make up off, I was surprised to see they’d all left already. The make up I was wearing felt more like ear paint, and soap and water wasn’t having too much of an effect on it.

“You look so helpless, can I help you?” I turned to see Bill standing there looking at me like I was pitiful. “I have make up remover pads.”

“Oh my goodness thank you!” I smiled. “You’re my hero.”

“Can I?” He asked, referencing using the pads on my face.

“Sure.” I said, eventhough I wasn’t sure why he wanted to do it. He was so gentle, I closed my eyes and waited till I was sure he was done. Europeans have way different personal boundaries than Americans, so this was probably normal.

“What’s your name?”

“Liv.”

“What’s that short for?”

“Nothing. That’s my whole name.”

“Me too! I mean my name is Bill obviously but people always think it’s short for something but nope.” He chuckled. “You didn’t really even need any face make up. Your skin is flawless.i left your eye make up on but it looks pretty epic.”

I opened my eyes and we locked eyes for a moment, but Randi came bounding in the room, causing Bill to leap away from me. Randi didn’t appear to notice tho, as Andy and a few other people came in too.

“Everyone ready to eat. I insist that everyone let me buy them lunch at Morton’s.” Andy said.

Randi grabbed my hand and mouthed if I was ok, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Ok maybe she had picked up on something. I looked at her like she was crazy, and avoided looking in Bills direction again.

“Let’s go eat! I’m famished!” I said.

“You girls are coming? Yay!” Andy said enthusiastically. “Most models aren’t big fans of food.”

“She eats whatever she wants and doesn’t go to the salon or have any work done. Just keep her fed and she’s beautiful and sweet. Try to starve her and she’s the definition of hangry.” Randi teased.

I laughed till my face hurt as she told everyone about a party in highschool where everyone brought their own booze, but I brought a gallon of milk and a pound of Oreos and actually finished them. Late that evening, everyone wanted Jack in the Box and since I was the only sober person, I got nominated to drive. It was pretty uneventful, until I turned to get everyone’s money and they were all nude. Randi did a perfect imitation of my total over reaction. Thank god she left out the part about me crying. I really thought we were going to get arrested and they refused to put their clothes back on, so I thought any minute I’d hear sirens. Luckily the drive thru people thought it was hilarious too.

We all made our way out to where everyone was parked, and found Bills girlfriend waiting there. As we pulled out, I looked back in time to see Bill march past her, climb in his car, leaving her standing alone in the parking lot yelling something after him.

“Did you see that? What’s their deal?” I asked Randi.

“Who?” She asked me.

“Bill and I guess that’s his ex-girlfriend or I don’t know...”

I look at Randi and she’s looking at me funny, “Are you crazy? You need a nice guy, he’s like foreign and he’s a celebrity. And I know you, you’re not a rebound type and both of you have no business looking at each other like you were.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m not even asking like that. Last thing I want is a guy!” I sulked. “Was it that obvious?”

“Mmmhmm.” She smiled knowingly.

“He’s around beautiful women all the time and probably has 9 million fan girls. It’s not like he’s gonna follow me in the bathroom or something.”

Randi looks at me doubtfully.

“Don’t look at me like that! If he does, I’ll kick him.”

“I’m kidding. Actors only go for girls that throw themselves at their feet. Their egos don’t allow the risk of rejection.”

“Perfect. I hate feet.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

T&L - pt.30/finale - Hand in hand

Summary: After turning back the clock, Arya is desperate to change her future and save Paul.

Part 29

"Holding hands is a promise to one another that, for just a moment, the two of you don't have to face the world alone."

Aro and his army stand in a line facing us and Carlisle walks forward.

I feel my body jerk forward as if on command, wishing to stop this entire tragedy from unraveling as I knew what was yet to come.

Edward shakes his head slightly without turning to me, stopping me from advancing toward the line of vampires more than ready to kill us all. Paul's steps slightly before me, shielding me from the view. I know he's afraid I'll get hurt. I know he fears them seeing what I'm able to do as they would either kill me as they did with Serena...or they would desire me in their ranks. Either option was making my wolf both angry and terrified.

„Aro, Iet us discuss things as we used to. In a civilized manner.” Carlisle demands politely, but I now know Aro wasn’t here to negotiate. He was here to abolish this clan and anyone who came to their assistance. They wanted us dead and I couldn't let it happen again...Not even if the price was my head..

„Fair words, Carlisle. But a little out of place, given the battalion you've assembled against us.” Aro says, his voice annoyingly smug and arrogant. I can tell he's looking at the wolves with disdain, probably already plotting their demise in that vicious loony bin I call his brain.

„I can promise you, that was never my intent. No laws have been broken.” Carlisle assures the Volturi, however I know those words will do no good. We're just lambs to the slaughter in their minds.

„We see the child. Do not treat us as fools.” Caius spat and I clench my fist at the tone he used, feeling my chest constrict as if my humanity is trying to fight through and take a proper breath. A wave of anxiety floods me and it's suffocating, pushing my body to draw an unnecessary breath of fresh air.

„She is not an lmmortal! These witnesses can attest to that. Or you can look. See the flush of human blood in her cheeks.” Carlisle tries to convince them, but I'm running out of time. If the story simply goes the same way, we'd still end up dead. I had to find a point in today we could come back from. A point in time we could stop the oncoming battle and stop all the pain I had to live through.

Remembering Paul's unmoving body, growing unnaturally cold in my embrace still haunts my and I can't help but place my hand on his fur, digging my fingers into his skin just to feel the warmth seeping through. Paul tenses, looking at me with a million questions about my sudden jumpiness, but I decide to smile softly at him to ease his heart.

„I will collect every facet of the truth. But from someone more central to the story. Edward, as the child clings to your newborn mate, I assume you are involved.” Aro speaks to Edward who looks at Bella then makes his way towards Aro with Bella protecting him all the way. With a single touch Aro realizes the truth once more and I do too. I need to be prepared any moment now for the battle to commence.

„I'd like to meet her.” Edward turns and looks at me before turning his gaze over to Bella and Renesmee, gesturing for me to approach as well. I begin to walk, feeling Paul sink his teeth in my jacket, attempting to pull me back. I shake him off, giving him a small nod to reassure him and turn away. I resume my walk only to feel his shadow follow me, inwardly screaming at him for being so stubborn. This is the one time I needed him to stay and be selfish, to let me go and damn the consequences. But I knew in my heart he never could. I knew he'd follow even if I asked him to stay. Paul loves me just as much as I love him and if losing him had hurt me so deeply before, I knew it was the same feeling he didn't want to know. Ever.

So, Bella, Renesmee, Jacob, joined by Emmett, Paul and I walk towards Aro and I know we've already changed the past, but to what degree? That I could not know.

„Ah. Young Bella. Immortality becomes you.” Aro smiles and then shrieks with laughter as he hears Renesmee's heart beating. I shudder at his behavior, finding him even more creepy and annoying up close. It brought Paul’s attention to me for a moment but with another short nod from me he goes back to staring at the vampires with his ferocious look, prepared to attack should any of them lift a finger.

„I hear her strange heart.” Aro holds out his hand and Renesmee walks closer to him. I tense up, scowling once Renesmee touches Aro's cheek, using her powers on him. I see him becoming entranced, already wishing he could possess her in some way.

„Magnifico! Half mortal, half immortal. Conceived and carried by this newborn while she was still human.” Aro states, looking toward Bella with interest. I narrow my eyes at him, seeing he has yet to notice me.

Caius jumps in: „Impossible!”

„Do you think they fooled me, brother?” Aro turns to Caius with narrowed eyes while we use this chance to return to the group and I feel Paul's scrutinizing my decision to go over there in the first place. I know he'd love nothing more than to go off on everyone present and this is the time I'm usually most grateful he's a wolf without talking abilities.

Irina is once more killed, the same reaction from her sisters following. The first battle is stopped again and I can't help but hide my discontent as the corners of my lips turn down into a deep frown.

„Aro, you see there's no law broken here.” Carlisle tries.

„Agreed. But does it then follow that there is no danger? For the first time in our history humans pose a threat to our kind. Their modern technology has given birth to weapons that could destroy us. Maintaining our secret has never been more imperative. In such perilous times, only the known is safe. Only the known is tolerable. And we know nothing of what this child will become. Can we live with such uncertainty? Spare ourselves a fight today, only to die tomorrow.” Aro speaks to his guards, angering me to the point of thunder cracking, scaring him for a moment. He turned to us, narrowing his eyes at each and every one of us, stopping at me for too long. I now know he had noticed me, the colour of my eyes especially. Paul growls, not liking the attention he’s giving me.

And the two figures emerge the tree line and I know Jasper and Alice have come to join us. The anger I once felt for Jasper for abandoning me disappears and I sigh, simply grateful he's here. I've missed him terribly and the sense of relief I got once our eyes meet. I still don't understand the connection we share, but it's inhuman, that's for sure. He's drawn to me as I am to him, not in the way I'm drawn to Paul, but the need is just as great.

„My dear, dear Alice, we're so glad to see you here, after all.” Aro speaks enthusiastically.

„I have evidence the child won't be a risk to our kind.” She speaks, but Aro looks at her with suspicion. And I know now, this is when I have to step in.

„Let me show you.” Alice extends her hand. Ignoring Caius and his hateful words, Alice walks up to Aro and he takes hold of her hand, but as Aro reads her thoughts Alice realizes that Aro already made up his mind about this whole thing.

„STOP!" I shout, making everyone around me turn with a surprised look in their eyes.

Aro looks to me with narrowed eyes and a sly smile coating his disgustingly blood red lips.

Before Paul had a chance to react, to even blink, I use my speed to move forward and stop in front of Aro. I hear him bark, aggressively whining as the pack and the rest of the vampires tackle him into a standstill position and my heart breaks for him.

I look to Jasper, silently pleading to use his ability on him, to stop the panic from taking over his entire being. The silent agreement between us is clear, the noise Paul made now becoming silent.

„And who do we have here?" Aro questions, tilting his head to the left with wonder. I feel his eyes studying every inch of my body as if I'm a sculpture, art made solely for his eyes and it makes my skin crawl.

I've never felt more human than right now, staring at this monster with a defiant look in my eyes.

„You know who I am, Aro. Don't play coy with me. I remember what you did to her...Serena." Upon hearing her name, Aro steps forward, the smile on his face now non-existent, replaced with rage and terror.

„That's impossible! She's dead!" Aro hisses in my face and I chuckle, nodding.

„And yet, she's here. You can't kill an elementalist. Now, take my hand and let me show you just how you and the rest of your army will die here should you start a fight. Unlike Alice who can see certain futures, I've lived one."

Aro grabs my hand forcefully, so much that the skin cracks under the pressure as his eyes slowly widen with the image of his death and the defeat of his people.

„It doesn't matter what we show you. Even when you see. You still won't change your decision.” Alice frowns, but I stop her.

„Oh, he will. He'll change his mind because he too will die in this fight." I explain and a series of whispers spread in his ranks as the old vampire stumbles back in shock.

„There's no crime committed here. We shall take our leave, immediately." Aro speaks up, running before he even finishes the sentence.

Once his army follows I fall to my knees, taking a deep breath. A small whimper escaped my lips, signalling relief and only relief. It wasn't comfort, simply relief. I look out into the distance, feeling my entire body crumble inside with the terrors of yesterday finally letting up as Jasper puts a hand around me, letting his ability take over and my eyes slowly close.

Paul nuzzles into my neck, dragging his tongue across the skin with hopes of getting a response. Instead, his touch only makes my body let go, eyes closing shut and the world turns dark.

Without opening my eyes, I could already feel his scent filling my nostrils.

Paul.

„You're really trying to kill me, aren't you?" Paul's voice cracks and I smile, sitting up.

„Quite the opposite, my love." I feel his hand find mine, our fingers intertwining on instinct. The simple touch of his hand upon mine is what centres me, anchoring me to reality.

„I know. Edward told us." Paul bites his lower lip, using his other hand to move back my hair in order to settle his warm palm on my cheek. I lean into his touch, tilting my head just enough for my ice cold lips to connect with his tan skin, static forming around us like electricity we feel had become real as well.

„I'm so sorry you had to live through that. I cannot even imagine what I'd do if anything happened to you. I remember when I thought you were dead and my whole world turned bleak. Every breath I took was painful, each beat of my heart slow and dragged out like my own heart couldn't beat without you. My mind wouldn't work and there was nothing in this world I wanted more than to have you awake and lecturing me about something stupid I did. It's the worst thing I've ever lived through and I hate that you know the feeling too. I hate it." Paul leans his forehead on mine, his warm breath fanning my face and I relish in the feeling of his closeness.

We have feelings that are not visible, we do things to prevent ourselves from being miserable. Being honest is what makes us believable, for our feelings may not always be reachable. No one but Jasper and Edward can fathom this connection Paul and I have, the intensity of each every thought we have of the other. There's nothing quite like it in this world.

I still remember my life before Paul, the feeling of being unimportant and rejection from anyone who was supposed to love me. My own blood never wanted me, but he did. Since the first moment, Paul had made me feel loved. Not only Paul, but my brother Sam and Emily, Embry and the rest of the pack AND the Cullens of course.

„I'm so grateful for you Paul. For all of you. Losing you was hell, but you're here now. That's what matters." I connect our lips for a moment, knowing any longer would make us want to stay in for the night, but my brother needed to see me as well. I had to be mindful.

„I love you so much and no matter how I wish to just lock us up here and be selfish, not sharing you, I can't. I know you need to see them just as much as they want to see you." Paul pecks my lips once more and we part reluctantly.

Hand in hand we walk through the door, only to be met with a room filled with everyone. My brother wastes no time in hugging me, kissing the side of my head in the process while Embry, Jared and the rest of the pack join in the bone crushing hug even my indestructible body can't handle.

„You're gonna crush me." I mutter and they finally let me go, laughing loudly much to Rosalie's discontent.

I see Leah and Seth, hugging them once more for good measure because the pain of losing them was still palpable in my heart.

Turning to Jasper, I fold my arms across my chest and frown.

„I was so angry at you." I tell him, seeing him suck in his bottom lip, shifting from one foot to the other nervously.

„But I'm so grateful you're back." Hugging him tight, I feel Jasper reciprocate the hug. We sway left to right and I feel his lips spread in the crook of my neck, forming a smile I've only seen once we parted.

„I promise I'll never leave you behind again." Jasper gives me a promise I know I can count on, feeling my eyes sting with unshed tears.

Hugging the rest of the family, spending the night talking and laughing, I keep a hand in Paul's for comfort. I need him and I know he needs me too. Too much has happened for us to even consider being apart now, clinging to each other for dear life.

Once the night came to end, I laid my head upon his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Each beat sung a love song only to me and I found my peace right then in his arms.

„What now?" I whisper, tracing patterns on his chest.

„We spend an eternity together. It's a good thing I'm never gonna stop phasing. We can travel the world and come back here every hundred years. Even be with the Cullens whenever you want. Hand in hand." Paul runs his fingers through my hair, the other hand rubbing my back soothingly.

„What if the Volturi come for us?" I ask quietly, knowing they most certainly won't let me go so easily.

„We'll find a way to survive. We always will. Our love is stronger than anything." Paul responds, leaving a kiss atop my head and I sigh.

„Hand in hand?" I ask, kissing his chest.

„Hand In hand." He confirms and I feel his breathing even, falling asleep. I watch him sleep fondly, caressing his cheek lovingly.

„I love you. Forever."

Tags: @5secondsofapermanentvacation  @snapplejuice @cecedofficial @mixedmelanin

[ayyoitsalex]

Chapter 1 - A Whole Different Story

I haven't spoken to you all lately and I think that needs to change. A lot has been done over the past few years that may surprise you, and some might not. I of course am your host for this program; Selena Joy Ryan. As I've been for years past this part of the story begins with me and where I am now. When I finished my college career I got my teaching credential and moved back home with my then girlfriend Sam Collins. You all remember Sam, she was the girl who became my best friend on the basketball team in high school, and a whole lot of shit happened. With her boyfriend being a psycho, mine dying, which I'm not speaking of lightly by the by, Sam being gay, me discovering I have a love for girls too, moving away to college together, and yeah. After a few years being back home we both felt it, and when I say it I'm talking about the feeling of just finally settling down. Sam proposed to me and I said yes. Our engagement didn't come without it's own backlash as some people within the community didn't feel comfortble with my sexuality while being a teacher. They tried as they might to get me fired but my bitchin' lawyer of a sister Natalie helped me in suing for prejudicial termination. We won and it was a big deal for Sam and I. Eventually we married, my sister Natalie being my maid of honor, Aunt Haley, Sophia, and Kelsey acting as bridesmaids. Elizabeth was our flower girl, so it was a whole family affair. Sam decided to take my last name to hyphen along with her's, so she is now Samantha Ashley Collins-Ryan. The next logicial step was to start our family but with us being two ladies some issues arose. We thought about adopting, but in the end we decided to go the donor route. We couldn't really decide which one of us would be the one becoming pregnant at first. In the end I was the one who went through the pregnancy. Our first son Cole Harrison Ryan was born and I'd never fallen in love so quickly. He's got my dark brown hair and green eyes it's like if I were born a boy. Cole is sort of a mix between myself and Nathan when it comes to his personality. He's very observant of people and isn't super social right away until he feels comfortable with the people he's with and then he's great. Though we didn't just stop with Cole, Sam took on the next pregnancy my thinking is cause she just didn't want all of our kids looking like me haha. Then our second son Adam Justin Ryan was born, but cause we're cool moms we call him AJ sometimes. AJ reminds me of Sam's brothers with their messy dirty blonde hair, freckles, blue eyes, and goofy smile to go along with their sense of humor. He definitely gets it from his Collins family influences.  YOU THOUGHT WE WERE DONE?! Nope, we finally had our baby girl Charlotte McKayla Ryan, but we like to call her Charly. I may be a bit biased but she is absolutely the cutest child I've ever seen.  I took on that last pregnancy, and after that I can say we were done. At last our whole squad was finally complete. My brother and sister have families of their own, and I'll let them tell their story when it's their turn. But until then you're stuck with me. I still teach at my old high school, but now I've upgraded from teaching freshman to seniors with regular and AP english. My parents are still around so they help me out with the kids from time to time as do Sam's parents. Our parents both were over the moon when we told them we'd be having kids, and their love translates to them spoiling the crap out of them every chance they get. Weirdly the person I didn't expect that from my dad is the biggest culprit of this especially with Charly. I think it's cause she reminds him of me when I was a baby. Well let's get into a day in my life? -5 am- *CRY* I turned over from my face being buried into my pillow. Sam still fast asleep I let her be to go and get Charly. As soon as I opened the door to her room she stopped. She's too smart for her own good. She reached out for me and I smirked. I'm getting out worked by someone that's not even two years old. I picked her up to snuggle her a bit. "You know exactly how to get mama up don't you.." She flashed a toothy grin at me. "Mhmm yeah don't act like you're all innocent Charly girl." I laid her on the changing table. When I finished cleaning her up we went downstairs so I could fix the boys breakfast and pack lunch. Sam followed downstairs sleepily her eyes barely open. The smell of coffee immediately revived her while myself I popped open an energy drink. Don't even begin to judge me. "Morning." Sam yawned before kissing me. "And hows Charly this morning." Sam's voice got progressively higher as she proceeded into her baby voice, it's the cutest thing. I gave Sam food to give to Charly and she fed her while I got things started. My mom always set the example of eating breakfast was imperative for a good day, so I made sure when I had my own family I continued that belief. Hell look at how I turned out. I'm not attributing it all to breakfast but it had to contribute somewhere. Boom eggs, bacon, and toast. Nothing super fancy but it'll get you to lunch. Sam struggled to finish feeding Charly, so I had to laugh for a minute while watching the fight. "Charly. We are not doing this. Please just ahh for mommy." Seeing Sam make the most ridiculous faces to coax the baby into eating is one of the small joys in my life. She heard me snicker and Sam immeditely glared to me while trying to hold in her own laugh. "Need me to finish that?" I said sarcastically. "No I'm perfectly capable getting her to eat." She flipped her head back around to Charly determined to prove me wrong. I rolled my eyes then went to wake the boys. I got AJ first and he slowly crawled out of bed before going downstairs he's the easy one. Cole isn't exactly a morning person, so I proceeded with caution. I sat at the edge of his bed nudging him gently. He stirred for a minute bfore pulling the covers over himself. I nudged him again slightly firmer, and again he didn't wake up. The last attempt I took a deep breath and YANKED THE BLANKET OFF. He shot straight up hair a mess and practically falling over. "Wake up Cole!" He plumetted back onto his pillow letting out the loudest sigh. "Aha c'mon bud gotta get ready." He nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Morning sleepy." I leaned in and kissed his forehead before he gave me his own morning kiss on my cheek. He thinks he's too grown for that but HE NEVER WILL BE. "Breakfast downstairs we're leaving at 7:30 no later okay?" "Mhmm.." Cole stretched out his arms. He followed behind falling onto my back for me to carry him downstairs. He laughed as I obliged. What can I say he's my first born, my dad did it plenty for me. When we got to the kitchen, before sitting down at the table he gave Sam a morning kiss as well. "Morning mom.." He yawned again shaking his head to waken himself up more. "Morning honey. Did mom have to pull the covers off?" Cole refused to answer so Sam knew she was right. "Gotta get up when she gets there the first time bud." Sam shrugged her shoulders. I took Charly out of the high chair so she could play in the living room. I put on some PBS kids show I'd never seen but it keeps Charly company. Sam would continually remind me of time to make sure we'd be out of here on time. I heard some laughing at the table come to see Cole and AJ horsing around with each other. "Hey!" I developed my mom voice slowly over the years and they both looked at me stopping whatever it was they were doing. "Let's get cleaned up and ready quit playing around." They shoved their way up the stairs. It was really satisfying to have things like that happen so quickly. Sam just nodded smirking. When it came time to leave I kissed Sam bye before loading the kids up. "Ah! Say bye to mama first." I pointed the boys back to the direction of Sam who was waiting at the front door. They hugged her and sandwiched her face with a kiss on each side. "Bye loves have a good day!" Sam waved as we pulled out of the driveway. I dropped the boys off at school walking them to the gate while holding Charly. I knelt down so they could say their byes. "Bye guys learn some stuff." I hugged them tight. "Bye mom I l-o-v-e you." Cole smiled. "Love you mom." "L-o-v-e you too Cole. Love you too AJ. Say bye brothers." Charly waved her hand. They both waved back and it was small things like that, that make me love these guys so much. "Okay let's drop you off with grandma." Mom met me at the front door always eager to care for Charly. "Ah! There she is there's my Charly girl!" She knew exactly who my mom was now and was always eager for her embraces. Some times she'd even reach for my mom first before Sam or myself. "I'll be here at like five to get the kids. Unless Sam can get them before I can. You gonna have fun with grandma Charly?" She smiled big clinging to my mom. "We always do, and I think everyones gonna be here today so we might do big dinner if you all wanna stay for that." "What's the occasion?" I tilted my head confused slightly. "No reason just sometimes we don't get together as much. Besides you know all the kids love being together." "Hope you and dad are making a lot haha." "Don't worry we have a good helper huh Charly!" Mom looked at Charly who proceed to throw her hands up. "Okay you get going we got it from here." I hugged my mom before leaving for work. As far as works concerned I still work with my aunts Sabrina and Camryn. They make eating in the teacher's lounge more tolerable, plus sometimes they share their snacks. Along with just my school hours job of teaching English, basketball always called for me. I was also the boys coach. I'd taken over for coach K and while some of you are wondering why didn't her daughter Kayla do it? Well Kayla's off doing big WNBA things playing for the Seattle Storm. She'll drop me tips from time to time cause to be honest she's better than I am no question, so it's always good to get some advice from her. When work finally finished I blew my last whistle to end practice. "Alright good job today guys no practice tomorrow." I walked away with thank yous from the collapsed players on the hardwood floor. The days of wanting to just die after practice still lived vividly in my head as I walked by my championship banner. *RING "Hello?" I answered pinning the phone between my ear and my shoulder. "You having dinner at mom and dad's tonight?" Nathan asked. "Most likely, I'm sure Sam will appreciate a night of not having to cook or wash dishes. What about you and the girls?" "Yeah we'll be there, Natalie called me before this so it'll be full house." I smiled from ear to ear, I love being surrounded by my family. Sam called me immediately after hanging up with Nathan to just let me know she'd be heading over after work. I rang the doorbell hearing the commotion already going on inside. Elizabeth answered the door giving me a tight hug. "Hi sister!" Elizabeth's going to school not too far in San Diego but it's still a bit of a drive to get here. "Mm hi there Liz, how’s everything?" Before I knew it voices called out for me. "Aunt Sel!" Daisy ran up from behind me hugging me. I twirled her around to face me. "Well hi Daisy!" "Can we play basketball later?" I love that the legacy of basketball is continuing within the Ryan family. "We'll see what time we finish dinner sweetie. We can play if it's not too dark out later." Daisy is Nathan and Sophia's only child and shes a year younger than Cole. She ran back to hang with the boys while I saw Nathan.  "I can't wait until I can coach her." "She's getting really good. Though Soph is always trying to steer her towards dancing." Another knock came at the door. "Late as always." Nathan smirked at Natalie while she rolled her eyes. We all hugged a big sibling group hug. Natalie's son Julian came in behind her with her husband Wes who was holding their daughter Alexis. "Hey guys, and hi Lexi!" I greeted them all as we walked into the living room. We were soon summoned for dinner by mom. The tables were split into parents with the babies, and kids at a table in the other room. Every now and then one of us would check in to make sure food was actually being eaten. "So how's everything at school Liz?' I asked her while sucking up bits of spaghetti. "It's okay just still getting into the groove of the semester after being on break for so long. Anything new with the kiddies?" All of us took a minute to think if there was actually anything new to report. "Oh! Daisy is joining an AAU league soon with some of her friends. She's pretty stoked on that." Nathan said. Both my dad and I high fived just at the notion of basketball with everyone laughing. "So proud." Dad said smiling. "What about you Nat?" "Well I mean nothing from work. You'd know dad haha" Dad being Natalie's boss at the law firm. "As far as the kids go I mean Lexi's talking more huh sweets. Say yes mama." She looked over at Lexi in the high chair next to Charly. She looked back almost thinking hard about it before repeating it back to Natalie. So cute. Before I could get a chance to answer calls for mom rang from the other room. So Natalie, Sophia, and myself all went to investigate. "What is it guys?" I asked peeking my head through the doorway. "We're all done can we go out back to shoot the ball?" Cole asked. They all awaited the verdict. The moms all looked at one another practically thinking the same thing. "Alright but clear up here first. Then thank grandma and grandpa for dinner, and properly." I hate to say it but I sound more and more like my mom every day. It's such a cliche that you grow into your parents but it's true. In a line they brought their plates to the sink and washed them before giving the grandparents hugs and thank yous. Afterwards it was a dead sprint to the backyard to play. "Only for a little while guys we still gotta go home to do homework." Collective groans came in response. My mom looked proud at me as I took my seat. As soon as I took my seat it hit me. I turned to Charly who as always flashed this sheepish grin. Both Sam and I winced at the smell before laughing. "Charly! Oh my god did you just-" "Augh Charly we’re eating!" Sam got up to get her. "I'll take care of this babe. Does she still have stuff upstairs mom?" Sam asked, holding Charly a bit away from her body. Mom nodded before Sam proceeded upstairs. Lexi followed Charly's example so both Wes and Natalie looked at one another. Natalie leaned her head against Wes as if to say PLEAAASE. To no avail, Wes just smirked and shook his head. "No way it's your turn after what I dealt with this morning." Natalie let out a groan. "FINE! C'mere smelly..I mean Lexi. Haha just kidding mommys just being silly." Nathan and Sophia looked at one another giggling. "See aren't you glad we're past all that with our one?" Sophia smiled. "I still think you guys should have another one." Mom shrugged her shoulders. "Aha maybe mom we'll see. For now we're happy with just Daisy." When Sam returned with Charly I checked the clock. We let the kids play out a little more while we continued talking with everyone. When it came to be about seven we called them all inside. "We gotta get going the boys still got homework. C'mon Cole! AJ!" The two boys hustled inside. I said bye to my parents along with my siblings. "Hey say bye to everyone okay?" Cole and AJ made their rounds to everyone as I watched content at my beautifully behaved children. Well they’re beautifully behaved most of the time. We all have our moments. When we got home Charly was in the process of passing out, and I took the liberty of putting her to bed while Sam made sure homework was done for the boys. "C'mere sweet girl." She curled up to me as soon as she left the car seat. As I brought her up to her room she slowly woke back up but still laid her head over my shoulder clinging like a baby koala. "Let's change into some jammies." I undid the bazillion snaps from her regular clothes to put her into cozy fleece pajamas. Still awake I sat with her in the rocking chair in her room, and I did what never seemed to fail to put any of my children to sleep. I started singing, Slowly as her eyes closed my singing just turned to humming. Cole stood at the doorway of Charly's room just watching us. "Hey sweetie." I said softly smiling at him. "You finish all your stuff?" He nodded as he continued to lean against the door frame. "C'mere." I scooched over a little to make room on the rocker. Hesistant Cole slowly sat down with us. I put my arm around him and continued humming while running my fingers through his hair. "Can you give Charly kiss goodnight Cole?" He leaned in slowly and pecked her chubby cheek. "Aw thank you." I could feel Cole's body slowly succumbing to the rocking as well as his eyes batting to stay awake. I got up slowly and put Charly into her crib. Cole and I crept out so we could go to bed as well. "Good night cole lights out twenty minutes." He nodded slowly closing his door behind him. Sam was in AJ's room reading him to sleep. She tucked him in and we both kissed him good night. Sam and I slipped into bed pulling the covers over ourselves. I yawned slowly curling up to Sam as she put her arm over me. We kissed good night. "Love you.." I said slowly while my eyes began to close. "Love you too Sel.." Sam replied letting out a yawn of her own. Before I knew it we were both falling asleep. I looked over at the clock on my night stand and it said ten thirty.  Not exactly the times I was sleeping in my prime but hey I've got three kids. Before falling asleep completely I made sure to turn on the monitor. It's the life I always thought I'd have when I was younger, okay sure I thought I'd be married to a man..but things change! Here I am living the dream. -2 am- *CRY What was that about living the dream again?

[jessikahathaway]

Into Eternity - Part VIII

Oh shit, this beetch is back. 

Pairing: Park Jimin X Reader

Words: 6,771

Warnings: Jimin being a lil shit, light sexy times, Hoseok being a brat. The usual.

The picture isn’t mine.

Jimin’s arm ached as he sat on the balcony of his room. It had been almost two weeks since the attack on the palace. And the world still seemed off kilter.

You hadn’t left Jimin’s side for almost the entirety of the past days. You couldn’t sleep alone, fearing the worst could befall him. Watching you doze and try to be strong for him was endearing, however he worried for your health as well.

So Jimin ordered your handmaidens to pamper you for the day. Warm baths mixed with lovely floral scents he picked himself. Even though Jimin wants to think he is doing it  purely for your well being, it would be a bold faced lie. He needs to speak to everyone without you there. Because they’re running out of time. The castle attack and the village being razed is nothing compared to what could be coming. They need to think of a solution, and fast.

Jimin thought back to Namjoon, the sacrifice he made to ensure everyone’s safety... it broke his heart to know someone so dear to him won’t ever get to meet his family. The family he wants to make with you.

However Jimin knew that now wasn’t the time for tears... now was the time for action. And not the kind he was hoping for the other night...

Jimin was surprised at his disappointment. But you had long been surprising him with the magnificent way you purely exist. How every single part of you drives him insane with desire and pride.

“You seem to be lost in thought,” your voice carried over the air. Jimin turned and found you in a silk robe, hair down and damp as you stood in the doorway. His breath wooshed from his chest.

“D-Darling, I wasn’t expecting you,” he stuttered, taking in your appearance. You smiled and walked up, offering him a soft kiss to the cheek.

“You certainly tried to make it so I wouldn’t be able to find you, huh?” You reprimanded. “Those handmaidens wouldn’t stop fussing. Which is peculiar for them, because they care not where I go... but today was different,” you tsked. “So that means, either you’ve told them to occupy my time... or I’m extremely obedient and never gave them a reason to be strict with me. However, I’m certain we both know the answer.”

Jimin sighed and looked down at his feet. “I should know by know that nothing gets past you,” he murmured. You chuckled and came up to place your hand on his face.

“Now, the real query is to why you felt the need to trap me in the baths all day?”

Jimin bit his lip and tried to keep his nerves at bay. He wanted to make a plan for the witch with his guards today. Begin a counter attack to the atrocity that happened in Albion. He wanted to show that even while injured he was ready to lead his Kingdom. But he didn’t want you involved... it was far too dangerous. He’d almost lost you more than once and the thought of that made him sick.

“I thought you deserved some pampering. No doubt the new oils I had brought in could help with your nightmares,” Jimin offered.

“Mmm, you could always use them on me...” you smiled when Jimin’s face went pink. The thought of you lying in your bed with warmed oil cascading down your body made his mouth water.

He shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Darling, I think a day of relaxation could truly benefit you. I just want you to feel good,” he smiled, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear.

“I feel the best when I’m with you,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. Jimin leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I have some urgent business to attend to today, I merely wanted you to enjoy your alone time. Think of the warm water and the lovely scents I picked. Just for you,” he bribed.

“It does sound lovely, but why can’t you enjoy it with me once your business is finished for the day? I bet the relaxation would aid your shoulder,” you whispered. Jimin watched your face fall as you examined his arm in it’s sling. He was doing much better, but the wound still ached when he slept and proved to give him trouble.

“If I say yes will you go and wait for me there?”

Making a face of mock concentration you tapped your chin.

“How long is this business going to take?” you pondered.

“Darling,” he warned.

“It’s merely a question, Jimin,” you appeased. “What is the business?”

He remained silent. Your face furrowed in frustration and hurt. “You won’t tell me?” you stated.

“There are some things I have to keep from you. If we both know everything then it puts us in a vulnerable position. Imagine yourself captured and they torture you for answers, my dear-”

“You think mere torture would make me betray you? You have that little faith in me?” you balked.

Jimin shook his head. “No one knows their breaking point until they reach it my darling and I-”

“Jimin, I’d rather die than betray you.”

The room was silent.

“Don’t say things like that,” Jimin warned. “Don’t you dare say such a thing.”

“Don’t speak the truth? Would you rather me lie to you? I won’t ever betray you Jimin, as your wife and future Queen it would go against everything I believe in,” you whispered.

Jimin tried to beat down his temper... He tried so hard. But it was difficult when you weren’t being cooperative. Normally you listened to him, and you understood but now? Now when it was so imperative that you listen, all you did was defy him!

“Y/N!”

You jumped back, eyes wide with fear. He hadn’t yelled at you like that in a long while. Jimin was reasonable, and he was patient. But even he had his limits.

“As your Prince and Husband, you are not allowed to leave this wing today. That is an order,” he demanded.

You scoffed, tears welling up in your eyes. “An order? You’re ordering me?” You felt a few tears escape you. Jimin felt pain rip through his heart at the sight. He upset you. He hurt your feelings and frightened you. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do... But you didn’t listen! How else was he to make you understand.

“Please, my darling listen-”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” you said, taking your robes and bowing before him.

“Y/N, please try to understand-”

“I won’t leave this wing today on order’s of my Prince. Please, enjoy your business,” you said. Turning to leave Jimin longed to reach out and pull you into his embrace. Walking out the door you ran into Jungkook.

“My Lady I apologize I didn’t know you weren’t decent,” he said, looking away from you.

“Whatever business Jimin is attending to today, please keep him safe for me?” you pleaded.

“It is my honour to do so my Lady,” he affirmed. Nodding you walked down the hall, heading for your room you hadn’t used since before the Forsaken’s first attack on you. Jungkook raised a brow as he entered the room.

Jimin stood with his hand covering his face.

“She’s too stubborn, Jungkook... How am I to make her listen when all she wants to do is defy me!” he huffed in annoyance.

“Your highness, the last thing Lady Y/N wants is to make a situation difficult for you. If she is pressing, she has her reasons for doing so. I no doubt know that to be true. Every day she sat by your bedside getting you water, food, whatever you requested. She didn’t have to do those things, she did it because she wanted to. She didn’t back down when Father Jin or Yoongi-hyung tried to get her to go and rest. It’s her fighting spirit that you like so much. Did you not tell her of the days proceedings?”

“Jungkook how am I to tell her we’re planning a raid of a Forsaken camp to the west of Albion without her feeling guilty? She thinks all of these things are her fault. She believes that her death would solve all the issues we have... Because damned Hoseok filled her head with these ideals,” Jimin growled.

“You must understand Hoseok’s reasoning for doing so,” Jungkook reminded.

“I know, I know Jungkook. But he outright attacked my wife, how am I to trust that man who wants her dead?” Jimin sighed. “I need to send him away, he’s mourning Namjoon and it’s all too volatile a situation for Y/N,” he decided.

“Let us not remove him, but direct his anger on the person it’s being caused by. Y/N isn’t the one he is truly mad at. He believes that she’s the catalyst in this situation. But in reality, she’s just a descendant from a line that merely fell in love. Like he did. You heard of his wife and child did you not?” Jungkook asked.

“I know, she died in labor and the child passed not long after that... It was horrible... I feel truly sorry for him,” Jimin said. Thinking of you passing in child labor, and not even being able to have a child to remember you by would break him. Hoseok was a strong man, but he was still devastated and blinded by loss and anger.

“Seeing you and Lady Y/N is hard for him. Because he thinks of his wife that you sent him away from,” Jungkook reminded.

“I did what I had to, he was the only one who could do pull off what was requested. His skill is unmatched,” Jimin defended.

“I understand that your Majesty, but think of how leaving his heavily pregnant wife must’ve worried him. Then returning home to discover she and the babe died? He no doubt believes if he was there then things would’ve been different, even though there was nothing to be done for either of them.”

Jimin sighed and looked out the window. “The witch destroyed his village after that, the graves of his wife and child tarnished. If that was Lady Y/N’s grave-”

“Don’t finish that statement,” Jimin glowered. “Don’t speak of my wife in such a manner,” he warned.

Jungkook nodded. “I mean no ill will by these statements, Majesty. I know you care for Hoseok and Lady Y/N, we just need to keep them both safe. Lady Y/N would understand if you told her, spoke to her and expressed your concerns with her. And Hoseok has to understand that your wife isn’t the one who killed his family, it was the witch. Whom we can destroy,” Jungkook announced.

“I hope you’re right, Jungkook,” Jimin breathed. “I hope you’re right.”

* * *

Jungkook, Taehyung, Father Jin, Yoongi and Hoseok all sat around a table in the war conference room of Taehyung’s castle. Jimin stood at the head, looking at his men with a cool stare.

“I’ve called you here today on an state of emergency in our kingdom,” Jimin began. “There is an individual out there who threatens every person under our protection, our friends, families and allies. Her name, is Morgana,” Jimin stated. “She has lived on this Earth supposedly since the Gods themselves roamed. She is powerful, dangerous and malicious. She cares not for human life, takes when she can and tortures those who fall under her feet. She created the Forsaken that now plague our lands as they did years ago. Too long we’ve bent to her will. Too long we’ve allowed her to torture those we care for. But no more. I refuse to let her continue to live while she’s hurt so many that I care for. We must fight her... We must destroy her,” Jimin concluded.

“Highness, this is a powerful speech... But you’re forgetting the easiest way to appease the bitch,” Hoseok growled.

“Hoseok, we are no longer attempting appeasement with her. If we continue to lay down before a carriage, we will be crushed,” Jimin announced.

“How are we supposed to fight someone as powerful as her? We do not know magic that counters her own, nor do we have the manpower to attack the Forsaken,” Yoongi sighed. “She may be too powerful for us to overthrow.”

“She isn’t, because she has a weakness,” Jimin declared.

“What would this be?” Father Jin questioned.

“In order for her to use magic, she must have a sacrifice weekly. Blood magic is one that is dangerous to keep. It always requires more and more until the debt cannot be paid,” Jimin informed.

“And how does that help us?” Taehyung wondered.

“If we make her use her magic until she can’t then we can attack her with everything we’ve got. Controlling the Forsaken must use a great deal of magic power for her. Also, if she has to continue to make more of the Forsaken, then we can essentially run her dry.”

Jungkook nodded his head. “I follow your Majesty. However, there still is the question of how we are to protect Lady Y/N and defeat Morgana.”

“I know a way,” Father Jin said, looking down at the table.

“What is it, pray tell?” Yoongi asked.

“I-I used to practice the Arcane arts...” he winced. “It was long ago, before God’s light shed upon me, and rescued me from those dark words,” he shuddered.

“Father, in truth you did magic?” Jimin asked.

“I am not proud of who I was before, but I know that Lady Y/N is dear to all of us. And to this kingdom. I know of a spell that can conceal her and one other from any magical detections. But, if she’s nearby other peoples, then the spell can wain... She’d have to be sent away, your Highness,” Father Jin stated.

“Then send me with her,” Jimin pleaded.

“Your Highness, be reasonable, we need you here with us to plan the battles,” Jungkook countered.

“I can only send one, the spell will be at maximum, and require much from me,” Jin sighed. “But if it means protecting Lady Y/N, then I will do whatever is necessary.”

“Send me with her,” Hoseok stated.

“Absolutely not,” Jimin growled. “You aim to kill her.”

“I still need revenge for my wife and child... I won’t kill her, no matter how it tempts me. If the witch is truly the one who killed my family... Then I will not stop until she is defeated. If keeping Lady Y/N safe is what will bring an end to this all? Then so be it. As much as I despise her... Morgana won’t stop until she’s killed,” Hoseok announced.

“Hoseok is skilled in hand to hand combat, up close is where his talents lie. He would make a good body guard,” Jungkook informed.

“I don’t like the idea, I won’t allow it,” Jimin refused.

“Highness, my brother died protecting her and you. If that is what Namjoon wanted, then who am I to go against his dying acts?” Hoseok grimaced.

“This is an oddly quick change of heart, Hoseok. You must understand my thoughts.”

Hoseok nodded and stood up. “Taehyung isn’t able to leave his castle, these are his people as well. Jungkook needs to be here with you to aid you in battle. Father Jin is no good with weaponry. Yoongi needs to train his archers and isn’t well adapted to up close combat. The best option for her safety is myself.”

“However, you are the one who has been threatening her life since you arrived,” Taehyung countered.

“All I’m asking is for you to trust me, it’s never been an issue before. Why is it one now?”

Jimin stood and slammed his hand on the table. “Damn it Hoseok, listen to me!”

The room grew quiet as everyone looked at their enraged prince. “If you lay a hand on my wife, I swear I will rip you to shreds. She is the one thing in this world I hold dear. And if you take her from me, I won’t hesitate to kill you. If what you are saying is true, then swear to me. Swear to me on your wife and child that you will not harm my wife,” Jimin snarled.

Hoseok glared at his Prince before walking over and taking his hand in his own. “I swear on my beloved wife and child that I will not harm Lady Y/N, Prince Jimin.”

“Do not betray me, Hoseok. It will be the worst decision of your life,” Jimin warned.

“When should we make preparations to move them?” Jungkook posed the question to the group.

“I would say as soon as we can, it’s the safest option,” Taehyung said.

“How soon?” Jimin asked, a pain in his heart.

“Possibly within the week if we are able. I need to gather ingredients for the spell and muster my strength, this will be a large feat for me,” Father Jin stated.

“Within the week?” Jimin croaked.

“I understand your fear, Highness, but this is for her own good,” Jungkook soothed. Jimin bit his lip and winced at the thought of you leaving his side.

“I know, she needs to be hidden away. It’s just, I know she won’t like it,” Jimin said, rubbing his face.

“Highness,” Yoongi started. “She would understand if you told her your worries.”

“You don’t know my wife very well,” Jimin chuckled. “She’s headstrong, and doesn’t want to take no for an answer. I’m worried that she’ll hate me for it.”

“I don’t believe she could ever hate you, your Majesty. Lady Y/N cares for you very much,” Father Jin comforted the young man.

“The question still remains, where do we take her?” Taehyung questioned.

“I know a place,” Hoseok stated.

“I’m wary,” Jimin stated.

“There’s an old castle that your ancestor’s used back in a time that predates this century. Your father had guards stationed there for a few years before the Northern Wing collapsed. I know a few people in the village nearby that could aid us with supplies and things of the like, she’ll be safe there. I know it,” he said.

“I know the palace,” Jimin said. “It was the first Palace of Kings... The one before the Castle in Albion was constructed. But the building suffers from weakened structural integrity. Due to it’s placement on the Northernmost Peninsula of our Kingdom. What if something collapses with you both inside?”

“The center hold is still strong. It was the last thing placed and the thickest part of the Palace. I assure you, this is where she should be,” Hoseok pressed.

“Highness, that is a very easily defendable castle. High walls with an outer gate. It was the first Palace of Kings as you said. It’s a fortress,” Jungkook stated.

“Won’t Morgana know of it?” Jimin worried.

“She knows of all Palace’s occupied by the Royal’s. But, this one isn’t a running and functioning Palace. She expects you to stay with Lady Y/N, so she imagines you would stay in a Palace fit to your standards. It’s a bold move,” Hoseok urged.

“One that could throw her off,” Yoongi agreed.

“That could be long enough to buy us some time. She’ll also use spells to find Lady Y/N. All of this extra magic use will drain her. Honestly, this will work Highness,” Father Jin acknowledged.

“How do I tell her?” Jimin wondered aloud.

“Tell her the truth, Majesty. She appreciates honesty more than anything,” Jungkook appeased Jimin’s frantic thoughts.

“I hate this idea,” Jimin pouted.

“We know you care for her, sire. But if you do want her safe, at your side isn’t the safest place for her,” Taehyung encouraged.

“Try telling her that,” Jimin complained. “She never listens.”

“All she does is listen to you, Highness,” Jin stated. “You’d be surprised how reasonable she can be.”

Jimin looked up at the ceiling and knew he had been beaten. Defeat tasted bitter on his tongue, but if it meant your life was safe... How could he refuse?

“You’d be surprised how unreasonable she can be as well,” Jimin sighed.

* * *

The fabric in the room was cold.

Jimin’s harsh words made your heart ache. You wanted him here with you, more than the warmth of a fire.

However, the chill eventually encouraged your legs to carry you from isolation. Following the familiar path to the baths you frowned. Jimin was normally so agreeable. He was attentive to your thoughts and ideas, but what would make him act this way?

He must be worrying about something. It’s the only time he lets his emotions take over and rule his logic. The thought of him worrying and not telling you made your heart clench in frustration.

Did he not know how much you cared and worried for him also? Did he not know how many nightmares involved his death. Where he left you because you weren’t enough for him? Your biggest fear was losing him.

Fighting with him made you sad. Because you knew he meant well, and that he wanted you to be happy. But he also hid things from you, claiming you didn’t need to know. However, you wanted to know. He didn’t have to carry these burdens alone. You were there for him, whenever he needed you.

You hoped that this fight wouldn’t leave such a sour taste in your mouth for long.

Walking into the baths you discovered the water already ran and your husband sitting on the polished marble. You bit your lip and crossed your arms, waiting for him to speak first.

“Y/N,” he said, looking at you with soft eyes. “My darling, I’m sorry.” He opened his arm, the other still sitting in a sling. You could tell the position pained him, but he kept them open anyways.

You couldn’t help yourself from rushing forward and tightening your arms around his neck. Tears burned in your eyes as you whimpered. You hated Jimin being angry with you, and you were sad that you two fought.

“My darling, shh, it’s alright,” he soothed. Placing gentle kisses to your head you just cried into his neck.

“I’m sorry that I angered you... But I feel like you don’t trust me, that you don’t want me to know about you. That you don’t want me to help you... I just want to be there for you, I just want to care for you.”

Jimin pulled you back from his neck and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. You melted against his mouth and let him kiss you deeply, so much so that you were bending from the force he was exerting.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and conveyed his care for you with his mouth. Gently licking your lips and along your jaw.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your skin. “I’m sorry I yelled, I’m sorry you felt as though I don’t trust you... Y/N, you may be perhaps the only person I truly trust in this whole world.”

“Then why don’t you tell me the truth,” you breathed as he looked you level in the eyes.

“Because I’m scared of the truth,” he swallowed. “Because the truth is ugly, and it may hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Tell me the truth, Jimin. Even if it hurts, I still want to know.”

He sighed and cradled your cheek in his palm. “You need to leave me.”

Your eyes bulged in panic as you gripped his hand tight. “No, I won’t. You can’t expect me to!”

Tears ravaged your cheeks as Jimin fought back his own. “I don’t want to send you away, I never have. But, my darling this is the only way... This is the only way I can keep you safe.”

“No! No please! I’m sorry for making you upset, but please don’t send me away. Jimin please, I’m begging you!”

“Darling, Y/N, please listen,” Jimin croaked, eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want to do this. If I could stay by your side I would, but I can’t. It’s not safe with me here, and you know it.”

You shook your head vigorously. “I won’t leave you. Absolutely not. It’s out of the question!”

“Sweetheart listen to me,” he urged. “I can’t lose you. I can’t let you die. Not ever. But if you stay here with me, the likelihood of your death increases. It’s no fault of your own, but of those who want your demise. The closer you stay to me, the more danger I put you in.”

“But I want to be with you,” you cried. Jimin let a few tears fall down his cheeks.

“And I want you with me,” he assured. “But dear, my side isn’t safe for you. You need to be away from the danger. The Forsaken are becoming bolder. The Palace in Albion was just the beginning. We know not what they’re capable of, but I know that there will be more bloodshed before this is all over. And I can’t let a single drop of it be yours.”

“You’ve already lost blood because of me, imagine how helpless I feel,” you begged.

“I know, Y/N, believe me that I am not doing this because I want to upset you. I long to keep you here with me. I want you with me where I can see you, where I can kiss you...” he whispered. Placing his mouth against yours you held his face against your own.

“Don’t make me leave you,” you implored, breaking the kiss slowly.

Jimin rested his head against yours. “I want you to stay,” he whimpered, interlocking his fingers with yours. “But I can’t be selfish and keep you here with me. You’ll die.”

“I’ll die without you,” you cried, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Please Jimin...”

You held your breath for a moment.

“I love you...”

Jimin froze under your touch. The words he never thought he’d hear just escaped your beautiful lips.

“Jimin I’m in love with you,” you whispered.

Jimin pulled you away from his neck and wiped your tears away. Holding your puffy cheeks in his hand. He saw your eyes glimmering with fresh tears and the fact that he was the cause hurt him greatly.

“My darling, I love you too,” he breathed.

He never thought those words would be spoken to you. He didn’t think he could love someone as much as he did you. Fate had an interesting way of turning his life on it’s head. He had been so sure this marriage would be the end of him. All of his happiness gone. However, it was the beginning of something so dear to him.

The idea of losing you now, was unthinkable. He’d surely die if you were to disappear from his life. Your beautiful eyes that shone before him, your kissable lips that drew him in, your laughter like tinkling bells. Every part of you made his heart soar with love and endearment.

“Jimin,” you whispered, leaning against his good shoulder.

“Yes my love,” he answered.

“Do you truly think me leaving will keep me safe,” you asked.

“I do believe it to be true, yes,” he agreed.

Sitting up you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to his lips, placing your forehead against his and smiling through your tears. “Then I’ll go. If that’s where I will be safest, then I’ll go wherever you send me. But you must promise the first chance I get to see you again, you’ll come get me.”

“The very moment,” he assured, wrapping his arm around your waist. “To the second I swear, I will come for you.”

“On your honour then,” you laughed.

Jimin smiled and pulled you into his lap. “I prepared a bath for you my love, I have many samples of soaps and oils for you to enjoy.”

“Just me? Won’t you join me?”

Jimin smirked. “The last time I offered to share a bath with you, you seemed to be scandalized.”

“We almost made love that night, once on the shore, then in our room,” you reminded.

“I’m aware... If it wasn’t for this sling, I’d have you already,” he groaned. You smiled and kissed him chastely.

“We can still enjoy a bath together, don’t you think it will be nice?”

Jimin bit his lip and thought about it. “Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” you assured.

Jimin sighed and tapped your leg so you would stand. Helping him up you walked over to the rack of lotions, oils and soaps. “Which would you prefer?” You asked, turning to him.

“I care not, whichever one you find attracts you the most I know I’ll enjoy,” he smiled.

You nodded and turned back, looking at all the different bottles. A slightly pink colored one jumped out at you. Taking the top of the bottle off you let the scent move through the air. Gardenia and Jasmine. It made your heart flutter.

“I like this one,” you said, turning to your husband. You almost dropped the bottle.

Jimin has his sling removed and his shirt was at his elbows.

You’d never seen him in a state of undress before. His chest was toned and smooth. His biceps strong and chiseled. He raised an eyebrow to your leering. “Do you see something of interest my darling?”

You swallowed thickly and bit your lip. “I-I found a soap I like,” you said lamely.

“Then by all mean, put it in the water,” he urged. You nodded and shuffled towards the large basin that was filled with steamed water.

The Palace was doing quite innovative things in the matter of restrooms and water purification. They had an underground well that was filled. And to fill the tubs in the washroom stones and counterweights were utilized to bring the water to the service and then it was pumped through by the kitchen staff and pressurized to spigots that emptied into the tub. And underneath it was a fire stoked by the kitchen staff.

A bell was placed next to the tub when the water became to hot, and a when the water was too cold, there was a chime.

It was truly incredible.

You stared into the warm liquid and poured in your soap of choice. Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist while you did so. He kissed your shoulder, placing a teasing bite against your neck. You jolted, almost dropping the glass into the water.

“Careful, you don’t want to take a bath with broken glass I’m sure,” you warned. Jimin chuckled and shook his head.

“Apologies my darling, I can’t help myself,” he whispered.

Setting the soap down you went to remove your robe.

With shaky hands you gripped the fabric, tight enough that it made Jimin worry.

“If you aren’t comfortable, then we don’t need to bathe together,” he said. You shook your head.

“I want to,” you assured. Pulling the material from your shoulders you breathed in deeply. The scent of flowers filled the room and it helped ease your tension. Jimin watched quietly as you began to undo  the top of your nightgown.

He’d seen you disrobed a few times before, but nothing like this. He was going to be able to look... Without fear of you being ripped from him. He could see you in your purest state without worry...

The satin ribbons holding the material together dropped to the floor. Jimin was jumpy with anticipation. He’d waited so long to see you like this and now the time was here. He could barely keep his hands at his sides.

The fabric covering your body pooled at your shoulders, then at your elbows. You carefully pulled your arms from the sleeves, making the nightgown hold fast at your hips. Your nipples hardened in the air, and it made you shiver.

Jimin’s warmth covered your back, making you hold onto your nightgown tight. He wrapped his arms around your middle, interlocking his fingers with yours as they held your dress up. “Let me see you,” he pleaded. Placing a gentle kiss below your ear you let the fabric fall to the floor.

He almost moaned at the sight of you bare before him. You looked too incredibly good. Your chest moving as you inhaled, making your breasts jolt ever so slightly. Your bare skin was against his and it felt so... right...

Bringing his hands down from your waist he felt your hips flare out in an alluring fashion. A sign of your fertility and ability to bear him young. The thought made a small noise escape from the back of his throat.

“Shouldn’t you disrobe now too?” you asked softly.

“I want you to watch me,” he murmured, pulling away from your back. You did as he asked and turned to face him. You crossed your arms over your chest as you felt the chill of your nudity slip over you.

Jimin smiled and gripped his trousers and unfastened the first button. You found yourself unable to look away. His hands hovering over what you knew to be his... well...

Undoing another button his pants began to slack on his hips. You watched as a defined V began to appear from underneath his clothing. Jimin bit his lip as another one came undone. Only one was left and then he would be in his undergarments.

The last fastener for his trousers came undone and they fell to the floor. Jimin watched as your eyes shot up to his face and cheeks turned red.

He wasn’t wearing any undergarments. You quickly covered your eyes and tried to keep yourself from fainting.

Suddenly, warmth encased you. Slowly looking up you saw Jimin’s bright eyes and warm smile waiting. “Did I surprise you?”

You scoffed. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” you said.

Jimin laughed and kissed your cheeks. “Come, before the water cools.”

He grabbed your hand and helped you step up and lower yourself into the water. It was warm and he watched as you relaxed. He followed suit and stepped in as well, resting on the other side of the bathtub.

You watched as the mangled scar of his injury disappeared beneath the water. You heart rate quickened at the sight of him bare before you. All you had to do was move and you would be able to feel his-

“You’re turning pink, is the water too warm?” Jimin asked, his eye peeking open.

“No! No it’s fine,” you rushed.

He cracked a smile and sat up. “Then why are you so red over there?”

“You know why,” you avoided.

“I haven’t the slightest. I’m not pink you see, so I’m just wondering if all is well with you,” he teased.

“Perhaps you should come find out?”

Jimin froze at your tone.

Did you really just...?

He stood and made his way towards you. You sunk out of instinct and tried to keep your eyes from straying too far. Jimin kneeled before you and brought his lips to yours softly.

“You’re embarrassed to see me?” he asked.

“Not exactly, it’s just... I’ve never been like this with anyone... I-I’m a... maiden in all senses of the word,” you said.

“You won’t be for long,” he whispered. “At least not in every sense.”

“Jimin?” You raised a brow.

“Turn your back to me, I’ll wash your hair,” he offered. You nodded and slowly turned and let your hair drape into the water. Jimin marveled at how long and beautiful it was. Bringing your head back he lowered you into the water. You closed your eyes and let him lather the soap and clean your locks.

His fingers massaged your scalp gently, making you shudder in delight. His hands ran down your luxe hair, watching as it disappeared into the water below. Jimin smiled as your leaned into his touch.

“Dip your head back into the water my love,” he encouraged, making you lean backwards as your body was submerged in the water. Jimin ran his fingers through your hair, getting all the tangled and soap out.

Pushing on your shoulders you sat up. Jimins arms wrapped around your body. He smiled and pressed his lips against your neck. “Mm, you smell so good my darling...”

You blushed at his words that were hot on your skin. “I’m glad you like the soap you purchased,” you offered. Jimin nudged your jaw with his nose gently.

“I wanted you to like it, but I won’t lie I was hoping Gardenia would appeal to you, my mother adores them.”

You remembered the smell faintly wafting around the Royal Palace, but it had been a long time since you’d been there. “Jimin, do you miss your parents?”

He was silent behind you. He even stopped breathing for a moment. “I do in a sense... However, I need to get used to being separated from them. Once Father passes, mother wants to move out to a smaller mansion in the country to live out her days. She says she’ll focus on being a Grandmother, not a Queen.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” you reminded.

Jimin chuckled and you turned to face him. He looked at you with clear eyes and a calm smile on his face. You wondered if he did truly miss his parents. No doubt they didn’t directly raise them... nannies and things of the like doing a majority of the work... that thought made you frown.

“I do miss them, but I don’t know them very well.” Jimin admitted, running his hand through his hair.

“I won’t let my children feel that way. Absolutely not. If I’m birthing them, then I will choose how they’re raised.”

Jimins brows raised at your fierce tone. But, a fire was sparked in his stomach at the thought of you being swollen and pregnant. Carrying his child in your womb. And the fact that you wanted to do the hardest job on this Earth. Being a parent. You wanted to be there for them first, not a Queen first.

He couldn’t help himself as he pulled you in for a needy kiss. Wrapping his arms around your waist Jimin kissed you with such hunger you had a hard time keeping up. Jimin gripped your hip with his hand and brought you closer to his lithe frame.

You went to move your arms around his neck, when you pumped his shoulder. A hiss of pain came from between his teeth. You jumped and began apologizing profusely.

“I’m so sorry Jimin! Are you alright? Does it hurt badly? Should I go get-“

“It’s nothing, kiss me more,” he pleaded, bringing his lips back to yours. You kissed back hesitantly, unsure of your husband’s behavior.

He brought you into his lap, unaware of your lack of clothing. Your bare thighs touch Jimin’s skin and you felt yourself flinch. Jimin pulled back, gazing into your eyes with curiosity. “Would you like me to stop?” he asked, panting slightly from the effort.

“It’s not that, I just,” You murmured.

“Am I going too fast, love?” He asked. Being with you in an intimate setting made his heart race... but if you weren’t ready then he wasn’t either.

“No, truly. Your kiss, it makes me lose myself,” you blushed. “But I believe we should wait.” You stated.

“For how long?” Jimin couldn’t help the whine-like tone his voice took on. You felt a smile grace your face.

“It feels too much like a goodbye if I give myself to you now. It seems like you want to do it incase you won’t see me again. I won’t have that. You will see me again, don’t you dare think otherwise,” you demanded, holding his face in your hands.

Jimin smiled and rested his forehead against yours. You were right, and he knew it. He wanted to not feel rushed when you took that step. As if he could die tomorrow. That wasn’t the love he wished to culminate with you. He’d waited seven months, what’s a few more weeks?

“At your will, my love,” he agreed.

“But...” you trailed off, blushing in embarrassment.

“Yes, my darling?” he teased, tracing your side with his hand. You shoved his good shoulder while scowling.

“You’re such an insufferable fool,” you groaned.

Jimin leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your lips. “I may be, but you’re mine. Into eternity.”

[kiruuuuu]

Blitz/Spectre oneshot in which she and Blitz get a little closer. (Rating T, fluff, ~2.5k words) - written for @ruaniamh​! Thank you again for commissioning me and I’m glad you’re happy with this piece ♥♥ You can find out all about Quinn “Spectre” Roach here! My commission info is over here :) 

.

In a – as Spectre finds – deliciously ironic twist of fate, Blitz fails to react to her approaching due to the blinding light of the afternoon sun.

She’s crouched behind the low wall marking the beginning of the bridge’s balustrade and waiting for her next victim: Mira’s heavy boots gave her away earlier and allowed the Canadian to catch her off-guard, and even Smoke’s lighter steps proved insufficient as Spectre swiftly climbed a tree when she caught a glimpse of him nearing her position. She’s keen on racking up a few more ‘kills’, her competitive spirit awakened by Bandit’s boisterous claims of ending up as the winner and nurtured by the crisp October air.

Ultimately, it’s a child’s game they’re playing, a more advanced tag – they were all given a piece of fabric and told to tuck it into their trousers’ waistbands on their backs, a little like a bright red tail now trailing after them and marking them as potential targets. If someone manages to snatch it from someone else for safekeeping, that someone is out and has to return to base and whoever has collected the most pieces at the end wins. Simple enough, though Sledge claimed it’d serve to test their senses and spatial awareness, challenge their manoeuvring skills and showcase how well they work on their own for once. Spectre, however, suspects that the mild temperature and unimpeded sunshine played a not insignificant role in this decision to allow Rainbow to roam the fields outside of the base freely.

In any case, she’s not complaining, instead she relishes the fresh air and warming rays on her skin, has always liked this mixture as it keeps her focused and cheerful whereas the sweltering summer sun often leaves her content yet tired. Proof of this are the four stripes of cloth in her pocket, courtesy of a lot of stalking around and observing carefully. Some of the others declined the opportunity to swarm out in order to find a suitable starting spot away from everyone else, and instead tackled each other head on right outside the gate like children playing football for the very first time, all clumped up and shouting. Spectre managed to grab Maestro’s fabric before he even joined the fray and was already halfway over the hill before he noticed her demonic cackling was directed at him.

Right now, she’s listening to the gurgling of the small stream next to her and to footfalls probably wishing they were quieter. A quick peek lets her catch a glance of fair hair, golden in this light, sharp cheekbones, a compact silhouette – she doesn’t need more than a fraction of a second to be sure of who it is. She’d recognise him by the sound of his laugh, the adorable cow lick on the back of his head, the unusually shaped birth mark on his wrist.

Don’t turn around, she instructs him silently and almost kicks herself for doing so. They might be impressively in tune for most of the time, but they haven’t figured out telepathy yet. Slowly, she creeps around the solid stone railing, follows him as he steps down the river bank, probably to check for anyone below the bridge. Anticipation is making her giddy, she’s looking forward to the dumb expression on his face when he’ll realise what’s happened, and so she makes a mistake, produces a noise, causes him to turn around. But the sun saves her.

In the moment of confusion, the second he blinks and squints, she shoots up and reaches around him to get a hold of her prize, yet the sudden movement makes her lose her footing and crash into the solid body; now they’re both flailing (and was that a squeak from Blitz?), an arm wraps around her waist to regain balance where she has none to give – and the next thing she knows is the horizon tilting and ice cold water enveloping both of them.

.

“Of all the things I wanted to achieve today, a bath in the river was not among them”, Blitz chides jokingly as soon as he’s emerged from the dressing room wearing his spare clothes and a grin which tells Spectre that he doesn’t mind. His hair is sticking up in all twenty cardinal directions simultaneously and she ponders whether to comment on it, eventually deciding against it. She doesn’t want to seem like she’s paying too much attention to his appearance.

“Not like you couldn’t use one”, she shoots back good-naturedly while they make their way towards a well-deserved lunch break.

“What, are you referring to the information retrieval again?”

“You call it intelligence gathering, I call it dumpster diving. Now which of these is a euphemism, hm? Didn’t you have to wade through sewage in Sevilla too?”

“I’ll have you know that both of those missions ended up successful and not everyone can be as limber as you. You probably would’ve climbed along the walls like a spider instead of stepping into that muck.”

Their playful back-and-forth is as familiar as it is comfortable, one of the constants in Spectre’s everyday life she looks forward to the most. Both of them enjoy poking fun at anything and everything, including themselves and each other – which is one of the reasons why they became fast friends. A sunny disposition in their job isn’t that common, usually it entails a much darker, morbid kind of humour. “I definitely wouldn’t have used an entire can of Lynx to get rid of the smell at least. That’s one way to keep the ladies off of you.”

As soon as the comment has left her mouth, she once again feels the impulse to kick herself. Because while Blitz laughs, it sounds oddly hollow to her ears. She shouldn’t have gone there, she knows he’s been wanting someone by his side for a while. She knows he even has someone in mind, overheard Jäger mention it to someone else. Felt strangely betrayed that Blitz would entrust him with this detail and not her, felt a stab of jealousy because who does Blitz call in the early morning after a bad dream? Whom does he send drunk texts which are as illegible as they are hilarious? Not Jäger, that’s for sure. She knows he doesn’t message anyone else, he never does so when they’re out together. She would like to see herself as his best friend but after that she’s had her doubts. If he kept this from her, what else did he keep?

Going down this path is futile and depressing, so she does her best to snap out of it but it takes a few minutes until her smile stops hurting.

A hiss is what finally distracts her mid-chew: “You are a fucking cat, young lady!”

Both she and Blitz snort at Mira’s accusation. “Did she sneak up on you too?”, he asks, amused.

“Please tell me who eliminated you so I can thank them for avenging my honour. You gave me the worst fright I’ve had in a while.”

While Spectre just grins proudly, the German opposite her replies: “More on accident, but we got each other.”

Mira lifts a brow and suddenly, it’s imperative Spectre doesn’t blush so she doesn’t give herself away. All the jokes and questioning glances whenever they playfight or feed each other unhealthy food to create the most disgusting combination are more than enough already. Still. It sounds nice: we got each other. “Is that why you’re looking like a drowned rat?”

“Watch out or you might hit someone in the face with all that charm you’re throwing around”, Spectre grins. Her mauve hair is still damp and probably hanging down sadly, so Mira might not actually be far from the truth – but she finds that she doesn’t mind, no, not at all. She can still feel Blitz’ loose embrace, hears his laughter bubbling up as they dragged themselves out of the stream, shaking the water off like a pair of dogs.

The Spaniard leaves them to their meals, still mock-grumbling, but gets replaced by Jäger immediately. “Can I interrupt you guys for a moment?”, he asks and Spectre idly wonders whether there’ll ever be anything he’d interrupt.

“I don’t know, can you?”, she replies and fights down a giggle when she realises Blitz just uttered exactly the same thing. They exchange a glance and a grin when he lightly kicks her under the table.

For a moment, she’s worried Jäger is going to hurt himself with how dramatically his eyes roll skywards. “Bunch of nerds”, he mutters. “All I wanted to know is whether you’re ready for tomorrow.”

“Of course! Tomorrow is a very special day.”

Blitz’ answer comes so fast that Spectre’s heart skips a beat. Did he – did he remember? She let it slip before, more than half a year ago, didn’t think he paid it any heed, didn’t think he’d care enough. He’s awful with remembering dates, only remembers Sledge’s birthday because it’s the same as his own, and his friends usually remind him of everyone else’s. But could he have -

“Yeah, I know how much you love Halloween.” Jäger earns a nod from Blitz and oh, that’s right. Of course that’s what he means. “You’re coming to Julien’s party too, right, Quinn?”

“Yes”, she replies curtly and contributes no more to the chatter about the Germans’ plans. She’s not hungry anymore.

.

The next afternoon, Spectre is in a rotten mood and hates herself for it. She adores Halloween, even decided to go all out this year and whip up a full-fledged zombie costume, ordered liquid latex for fake injuries, white contact lenses to max out the creepy and went so far as to buy blood capsules. Her plan was to dramatically announce her insatiable hunger for human flesh at some point during the party, and then gurgle crimson – Rook made the mistake of letting everyone know there’d be prizes for the best costumes and she’s determined to make it to the top three.

Well, was determined.

It’s silly and she knows it, yet this changes nothing. She received the usual greetings and best wishes from her family and friends, had Buck and Frost congratulate her inconspicuously, the two shoving candies and other important Canadian foodstuffs they know she misses into her pockets, and it’s how her birthday normally goes. She refuses to make a big deal of it, keeps it secret so people rather worry about enjoying Halloween than to procure impersonal gifts or, even worse, sing for her, and still -

Part of her had hoped she’d be important enough for Blitz to remember, yet she hasn’t even seen him all day. And the fact that this is what brings her down makes her feel even sillier.

No, she’s going to have a good time regardless. It’s not the end of the world. She’s going to freak everyone out by groaning and reaching out when they walk past, she’s going to unsettlingly stare at people and it’s going to be glorious. Rook hates zombies and she’ll have a whale of a time chasing him around his apartment.

Just as she’s made this decision, her doorbell rings unexpectedly.

For some reason, Blitz is holding a mug with the logo of a local wildlife resort in his hand, looking sheepish and apologetic at the same time. “There’s still time before we have to leave for the party, right?” He sounds out of breath, cheeks as red as his ears from the cold and looks adorable.

“Sure, more than an hour. I’m just starting to get ready.” Frowning, Spectre peers into the mug. “Did you bring… compressed dirt? You’re missing a few tentacles for your Davy Jones costume, I’m afraid.”

Blitz just laughs and enters the place where they’ve spent countless hours together, her kicking his ass at her favourite video games, them attempting to bake together, coming down after intense training or when they’ve just returned after a mission. He prefers visiting her, he’s said as much, thinks her flat is more inviting and homely and she secretly agrees. He toes off his shoes, hangs up his jacket and rummages in his pockets for a few more objects before herding her into the living room, taking his usual spot on the couch next to her.

Nothing gets clearer even as he sets the cup on the low coffee table and places an unassuming envelope next to it.

“What are you doing?”

The genuine confusion in her voice seems to amuse him for some reason. “You’re an idiot, Quinn. Did you think I’d forget? Happy birthday.” And with this, he conjures up a small candle and pushes it into the soft mass inside the ceramic. This is when it clicks.

“Is this – a mug cake?” She can’t believe it.

Blitz shrugs with an embarrassed smile. “I’ve destroyed your kitchen often enough that you know how bad I am at baking. This is all I could -”

A hug cuts him off and he seems happy to reciprocate it instead of talking. His strong arms pull her closer, squeeze her reassuringly and her heart sings. She can only imagine how long he must’ve agonised over what to gift her – because she also knows how bad he is at choosing presents. “Thank you”, she whispers and means so much more, but for now it should suffice. Another squeeze. She could get used to this.

And then the quiet, serene atmosphere vanishes as soon as she opens the envelope. Blitz watches her bounce and flail and cheer for a solid minute before he points out: “There are two tickets. I figured you might not want to go alone.”

“Two tickets to fucking Gamescom?”, Spectre squeaks ecstatically.

“And the flights, and a hotel room.” He seems extremely pleased with how excitedly his gift is being accepted – and this is the best thing Spectre could’ve hoped for, it’s the largest video game convention in the entire world. She’ll get to try out upcoming titles herself, collect all the swag, stroll around among like-minded people and this is amazing. “You can take whoever you like.”

In her exhilaration she misses his tone of voice but doesn’t miss his surprised expression when she punches him in the arm. “You hoser, of course you’re coming with me.”

“Really? I – I mean, I can probably be useful since it’s in Germany, so -”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to go with me even if it was in France, or Canada, or wherever.”

And now she notices his blush still hasn’t disappeared despite his breathing long having calmed down. …maybe the cold wasn’t really its cause. Maybe, just maybe -

“I’d love to go with you”, he says and oh, he’s not really that interested in gaming normally, and he said a hotel room, and maybe, just maybe, he told Jäger instead of her because…

It clicks. And suddenly, she knows with vicious clarity that this is going to be the best birthday of her life. “Elias”, she murmurs and waits until he finally gathers the courage to meet her fond, helpless, hopeful gaze, “do you like me?”

And the bright red colouring Blitz’ face only deepens.

Seems like she won’t be using the blood capsules today after all, not when she’s pretty sure her mouth will be occupied otherwise for the majority of the party.

And only mere minutes later, she starts considering ditching her zombie costume entirely because there’s no doubt they’re going to be late anyway. Now they really, finally, eventually got each other.

[thesimplyluxuriouslife]

225: Trust the Transition: How to Step Through and Embrace the Change You Seek

“Times of transition are strenuous but I love them. They are an opportunity to purge, rethink priorities, and be intentional about new habits. We can make our new normal any way we want.” —Kristin Armstrong, three-time Olympic gold medalist - road cycling

As September arrives I find myself torn between the schedule I love during the summer months and the rigorous schedule I know that awaits me with school's commencement. 

It doesn't mean I don't enjoy what the new school year brings - new students, new connections, an energy of excitement and curiosity that is a large part of why I love teaching, but when any transition knocks on our door, if we are happy with where we are, it is hard to welcome it in. No matter what amazing opportunities it may be bringing as a hostess gift. 

In such a scenario where there is the gift of what we have loved and the potential for something awesome to be revealed as we go through the transition that is letting us know, that just the way it is, if we shift our perspective to one of gratitude, the moving through and forward becomes easier. 

How fortunate are any one of us to not remain stagnant? Think for a moment about a stagnant individual. They may feel safe, they may feel certain, but such certainty is false. After all, as children the reason it is imperative that we learn how to communicate, how to care for our bodies and feed our minds is to initially survive, but then to thrive and enrich our lives. This momentum, this way of life is a good way to live our entire lives. Why? Because the world never stops shifting, progressing and offering opportunities to improve. Never.

It can be tempting as adults when we think we have figured it all out to slow down, and even stop and just be. This is not to say we shouldn't relax from time to time, find a healthier balance, etc., but so long as a new generation is graduating, growing up and trying to find their place in the world, there will always be new ideas, and often, so long as we remain nimble, we can benefit from them as well, and even partake in the sharing of knowledge.

Part of a civilized society is knowing how to move and work together with a diverse breadth of people, and along the way enabling all to find their way without taking away the basic rights of any human being who is living consciously and respectfully of others. 

With all of this said, transitions can be scary or exciting, exhilarating and even full of learning opportunities. It is simply a manner of how we view them. Today I'd like to share with you eight ways to step into and through any transition that you may be confronted with at the moment, and even go so far as to embrace it. 

Grasp the reason for the difficulty

Psychologist Shannon Kolakowaki points out that a significant reason for the difficulty of any transition in which are lives are changing as we once knew them is because our identity, how we may have defined ourselves or were seen by others, is changing.

Recognize the power you are giving the transition to affect your emotions

Psychology Today reminds that there isn't a predefined type of transition that is harder than another. We give a transition the power of either being difficult or easy to maneuver through. In other words, our minds play a crucial role in how we approach the changes we are going through. 

If we choose to see the transition as an opportunity or a goal we have worked long and hard for, such change would be reason to become excited; however, if it is a change that is thrust upon us, we can drag our feet and make it even more difficult by fighting what is inevitable. 

Honor the transition

Any life transition, whether it is relocating to a new city, moving through a divorce or going through menopause benefits being recognized for playing a role in our life journey. As Sonia Choquette shared in our conversation about her own divorce after more than 20 years, she wasn't angry at her ex, but rather appreciative for the love and time that was shared, but also observant that it was time to move forward. 

One of the hardest transitions in nearly everyone's life has been found to be the relocation from a home we have felt safe in or found great peace. During such times of transition, pay homage in your own unique way in order to provide closure, but also to celebrate the time you spent and the memories that will forever be with you. 

Become a great student of the transition that awaits

When you know a transition is in your future, perhaps transitioning from college to a career or from a career to retirement, become a student of the transition you will inevitably go through. By learning all that you can, you maximize the experience, enabling it be as positive as possible.

Reflect and remind

Everyone goes through some type of transition throughout their lives, and often many. If we take a moment, we probably have moved through some transitions quite effortlessly because we didn't think twice or try to fight it. But on the flip-side, there were inevitably transitions we can remember vividly - during adolescence, making career changes, making relationship changes, making lifestyle changes.

As you go through the transition you are in at the moment or will be in due time, reflect on those transitions that went well for you. And even regarding those that were hard, assess why they were hard and how you can change what was in your control to improve the next transition in your life.

Celebrate the opportunity for a rebirth of sorts

Whether the transition is something you want or something you'd prefer not to have to go through, shift your perspective. Something as common as getting older, shift how you perceive "getting older". As we are seeing today, those in their fifties and sixties are far from what I recall of generations past in the same decade. With more knowledge, comes better ways of living and improving the quality of one's experience. In such an instance, celebrate all the experience and knowledge you have acquired and keep using those tools to learn more, explore more and enrich your life even more as well. 

Surround yourself with positive energy

Maybe you have children who are leaving home for college which opens up your schedule, maybe you are moving into a different line of work - taking on more responsibility, maybe you are returning from a life-changing experience and want to transition into a new way of living. Whatever your transition is, step fully into it and spend time with those who will support you along your new path.

As there will be times of excitement where new adventures and experiences have your full attention, there will also be times when you question what you have chosen to do (or if not chosen, question if you can be as happy as you once were). In these moments, having people that will be understanding of your journey, but not wallow and wax nostalgic about the past, wishing in some small way, that the way it was would return, is imperative to navigating successfully through these hiccups that are inevitable. 

The good news is that they will subside, but perhaps never entirely disappear. After all, that is a good thing, in my opinion, as it means your journey has been rich, memorable and deeply and intensely lived fully. 

Trust that what is not being revealed is worth seeing and experiencing

Even when we do step eagerly toward a new way of living, we can begin to doubt that we made the right decision. When in fact, what you are feeling is probably fear rather than doubt (read this post - The Difference Between Being Scared and Having Doubts). And if you are feeling fear, it is actually good sign as it an indication that you are indeed living a life that is true to your most authentic self. Why? Because what you are feeling in that moment is a deep ache for what you wish you attain, or a way of living you wish to make your own. If you didn't want it, if you didn't believe in it, you wouldn't be fearful that it wouldn't happen. 

The universe will not tell us how it will all work out. Nope, that is where faith in yourself, trust in your instincts about what is best for you and what you are willing to work for comes into play. 

Transitions are opportunities. If we shift our perspective to accept this, the journey through them becomes far easier to navigate and even at times quite pleasurable to enjoy. 

SIMILAR POSTS/EPISODES FROM THE ARCHIVES YOU MIGHT ENJOY:

Why Not . . . Extinguish Self-Doubt?

Why to Do When You Don't Know How the Future Will Unfold, episode #205

How to Let Go of Self-Imposed Limitations, #186

~The Simply Luxurious Kitchen has begun its first season! View the first episode here and tune in each Saturday morning during September and October for a new episode.

~Sign up for TSLL's Weekly Newsletter

Petit Plaisir:

~Visit your favorite local bakery to pick up a fresh loaf of bread for the week. 

Whether you enjoy toast in the morning (such as avocado toast), bread for sandwiches for lunch or bread with dinner, knowing it is homemade and a varietal you love welcomes a simple extra flavor to your week.

-my weekly fresh bread pick-up at a favorite local bakery in Bend (I often pick up my loaf bi-weekly as I freeze half of the loaf)~

~my favorite loaf from the bakery - Black Butte Porter - in use with my breakfast avocado toast (recipe here)-

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~The Simple Sophisticate, episode #225 ~Subscribe to The Simple Sophisticate: iTunes | Stitcher | iHeartRadio | YouTube | Spotify

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