#me internally immediately after : this is because last time you did repeatedly remind someone every time u had plans because they ditched u

[silphilis]

i hate knowing why i do things thats so fucked. i have medical brainrot and its still not enough to erase the comprehensive collection of data i have on why ive done and felt everything that i have done and felt for my whole life. ruins the fun of it. buzzkill. cockblock. etcetera. shawties that cant even fuck up their own life in peace because they are painfully aware of why they want to act up and how to fix it. fuck you

[alwaysmarveling]

Too Late

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: None, but let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: In an effort to be the best girlfriend, Wanda holds in a major secret until it’s a little too late

A/N: I may have gotten a bit carried away, but Wanda is the cutest thing ever so enjoy! Also I’m now realizing this sounds angsty but I promise it’s just fluff :)

“Milaya, I’m so excited! We’re actually going! Just think, in less than an hour, we’ll be there!” You couldn’t help but laugh along with your girlfriend, who was practically bouncing off of the walls in excitement. 

“Wan, we won’t be there in an hour if you don’t hurry up and eat your breakfast. C’mon, before we get yelled at.” She let you pull her into the chair next to you and reluctantly scooped up some of the eggs she had cooked onto her fork.

“Do you think the lines will be long? I really hope not, I want to try to go on all of the rides. Which ones did you say were the best again?” Your eyes widened as you swallowed, wiggling slightly in your chair.

“I really like the big roller coaster they have. It goes insanely fast and has one of the biggest drops I’ve ever seen-” You stopped yourself when you remembered that you were supposed to have been done with breakfast twenty minutes ago. “Baby, let’s finish breakfast first. We’ll discuss this in the car, okay? I promise,” you added when she pouted at you.

“Alright, but I’m holding you to it.” The two of you ate in silence, both of you trying to shovel the food down your throats as quickly as possible. As you guys finished up, Clint ran into the room, his arms full of towels.

“There you guys are! Hurry up, we’re leaving! Also, have you seen the big tote bags anywhere?”

“I saw them in the closet a few days ago,” you answered, your mouth stuffed with food as you pointed to a door in the hallway. You shook your head as you watched him dash over to the door. Laura was definitely starting to rub off on him; he was becoming a full-blown mama bear. The two of you now done eating, you grabbed the empty plates to put in the sink while your girlfriend followed closely behind you, eager to return to your earlier conversation.

“Babe, we have to go on the ferris wheel! It’ll be so romantic. Maybe at night, you know, the last thing before we leave?” Her arms slid around your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder. “Oh, do you think we’ll have time to play those games? I’ve always wanted to win one of the little stuffed animals. Do you think I could win you one?” You brought your now empty hands down to lay against your girlfriend’s and leaned back slightly, enjoying her touch.

“Love, slow down. You keep talking that fast and you’ll pass out from the lack of oxygen. And of course we’ll have time to play the games, but we should get to the car before someone else comes to rush us.” With that, you pulled her out of the room before she could resume bombarding you with more questions.

---

After a forty-five minute car ride with a very enthusiastic Wanda and Peter—you were convinced Nat was going to let go of the wheel and throttle both of them if it lasted even a second longer—you’d arrived at the park.

“Where’s everyone else?” Peter asked, looking around for the other cars.

“I’m sure they’re here somewhere.” Before the witch could wander off to look for them, you grabbed onto her arm.

“Actually, I just texted Steve and Rhodey and they’re still ten minutes away.”

“Ten minutes?”

“Well, uh, Nat did drive a bit…” You bit your lip, afraid of offending the still-annoyed redhead.

“You know exactly why I did it, Y/N.”

“Huh? I don’t get it. Why’d she do it, Miss L/N?”

“Um, nothing, Peter. She was just excited to get here,” you explained, stifling a giggle. You did know exactly why she did it, but Wanda and Peter might not enjoy the explanation that she was trying to get away from them as quickly as possible.

“You think we can go in first and have them meet us there? I just wanna look around.” Wanda flashed you her puppy dog eyes, complete with the wobbling bottom lip, knowing that you would choose to wait for them in the parking lot if it were up to you. 

“Yes. Please.” The former assassin looked like she was about to go back to her previous job as she pushed off from her spot against the car. Knowing better than to make things worse, you nodded, allowing Wanda and Peter to leave the way.

“I’m sorry about them,” you whispered to Nat, the pair now walking out of earshot from you.

“Don’t worry about it,” she glanced in their direction before continuing, “It’s actually pretty cute.” Nat smirked at the shock on your face. “Don’t you dare tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“That’s why you looked pissed out of your mind? For your reputation?”

“Please, we both know Stark would never let me live it down if I acted the same way they did.”

“You’re insane,” you laughed, but she had a point. “You have any plans for what you wanna do today?” The redhead shrugged.

“I’ll probably go with Sam and Bucky on the thrill rides. That might get a little annoying, but it’s not like Steve’s going to come with me, the big wimp. Or maybe I can convince Pepper to leave Morgan with Tony and we could do something together.”

“You could always come with Wanda and I.”

“Eh, don’t wanna get in the way of you two lovebirds. And as cute as you guys are, I don’t need to see you guys kissing every two seconds.”

“We- we don’t do that!” you stammered, your face heating up.

“Dorogaya, come here! I wanna take a picture in front of the big sign of me kissing you on the cheek! Nat, can you take it for us?”

“You were saying?” Nat smirked, crossing her arms when you caught up to Peter and Wanda.

“Bad timing,” you grumbled, but you couldn’t help but smile when you saw Wanda bouncing on her toes, her hands clasped together in front of her chest.

“Bad timing my ass,” your friend mumbled. Before you could shoot some retort back at her, she held up the phone. “Alright, say ‘Nat’s always right!’” You settled for internally rolling your eyes at her as she took the photo, giving Wanda a kiss after the photo was taken.

“I love you,” the witch reminded you.

“I love you too. You ready for some fun?” Knowing the answer to that question, you slipped your hand in hers and began walking towards the entrance. You used your other hand for something else just as important: flipping Natasha off.

“Miss Romanoff, what’d you do?”

“Shut it, Peter,” the redhead warned him. Even though her tone was playful, you laughed as you heard Peter take a large gulp.

“Yes, ma’am.”

---

“Okay, so I was thinking we start- ahh!” If Wanda wasn’t still holding on to your hand, you would’ve completely fallen on your face when she tugged you off to the side. “Wands, what the heck was that?”

“Look, babe! It’s those game things! C’mon, I’ve gotta win you one.” You bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing and let her tug you over to the water gun game, most of the Avengers following behind you.

“Oh, you bet I’m getting in this,” Sam chuckled, rubbing his hands together before handing the attendant a crisp dollar bill. Bucky rolled his eyes but nonetheless produced a similar bill from his pocket.

“Babe, you gonna play?” You shook your head.

“I’d much rather watch you. Besides, if I play, you know those boys are gonna be some sore losers, and I don’t need to deal with that.” Wanda laughed, giving you a kiss on the cheek before she joined Sam and Bucky.

“Alright, but if I lose we need to go to another game because I need to win you something.”

“Wan, you don’t have to win me anything. We’re just here to have fun, yeah?” But your girlfriend paid no attention to you. She wrapped her hands around the handles of the gun, and her eyes narrowed as she focused on the target.

“For fun, eh?” Nat chuckled as you elbowed her.

“Shut up, she’s cute. And she means well.”

“Mhm… whipped.” As you leaned over to respond to Natasha, Sam jumped up in between you two. His arms were held up high above his head as he fist-pumped the air repeatedly.

“Take that, you two!”

“And which prize would you like, sir?” The attendant asked, their eyelids hooded and voice monotone. Obviously Sam’s excitement was not contagious. You stayed just long enough to see Sam point to a stuffed duck—”Redwing needs a friend! I’ll call him Yellowing.”—before Wanda was pulling you off to another game booth.

“C’mon, I can feel it, I got this one!” You looked hesitantly at the small pyramid of stacked milk bottles.

“Wands, I know this is your first time at an amusement park but, like, these games are usually rig-”

“Hi, I’ll take 5 rounds please.” Your eyes grew wide as you watched Wanda hand a five-dollar bill to the attendant, who handed her a bucket of fifteen balls in return.

“Wanda, these prizes are cheap, we can just-”

“Babe, I love you, but be quiet. I’m going to win you this. You like that one, right?” You followed her gaze to the stuffed dinosaur wearing a party hat and then to the sign immediately below it that stated that it was a “top-tier” prize. In other words, Wanda would have to knock down the entire pyramid of milk bottles to win.

“It’s cute, love, but-”

“Great, I’m getting it.” And with that, you sighed, crossing your arms across your chest. You knew Wanda wasn’t going to let you deter her from her goal no matter what you said, so you might as well support her.

“Alright. For good luck,” you winked before kissing her. Wanda flashed you a small grateful smile in return before turning to the bucket in front of her. You watched as her hand dipped into the bucket, pulling out a ball that she then let roll around in her palm for a moment. She grabbed her lip between her teeth, and before you could blink, she chucked it at the milk bottles. At this point, all of the Avengers had moved on to find you guys, and you couldn’t help but giggle when you noticed their astonished faces behind her. She hadn’t even knocked over any of the milk bottles—they must’ve been secured well—but, with her not being a super soldier or highly trained assassin, sometimes you guys forgot just how strong she was.

Unlike you, Wanda didn’t notice her teammates staring at her, and they didn’t make a peep, so she simply picked up the next ball and threw that one too. This time, she managed to knock one bottle down, but somehow the rest of the pyramid remained largely unaffected.

“I don’t understand why this isn’t doing more,” Wanda frowned, talking more to herself than anything. “If I was in training and these were daggers, the dummy would totally be on the ground by now.”

“You’re doing great, Wands. Besides, you still have 13 more tries. You can do it!” She turned to you, giving you a chance to admire the sparkle in her eyes.

“Thanks, printsessa. I’ll get you that dinosaur. You got a name for them yet?”

“Mm, no. Too busy being distracted by a beautiful, super badass woman.” Wanda laughed and pushed you away gently.

“Start thinking about it now.”

---

“Wanda, maybe we should call it a day…” Clint trailed off gently once Wanda had finished off the entire bucket without knocking down the pyramid. You watched as Wanda’s chest rose and fell a bit faster than usual.

“No,” she gritted out. “I’m winning that stupid dinosaur. Besides, I’ve only spent $6 so far. I’ll just do it one more time.” Getting three more balls in exchange for one dollar, Wanda clenched her jaw as she threw the ball at the pyramid. The milk bottles wobbled but didn’t fall. She tried a second—or technically seventeenth time—and they still stood firmly on the platform. Finally, with one hasty look at the attendant, who was distracted by a screaming kid nearby, you watched as her eyes flashed red as she threw the final ball, the rest of the tower immediately tumbling down upon contact with the ball. The attendant’s eyes went wide at the clatter before he grinned.

“Huh, I guess the Avengers really can do anything, can’t they? That’s the first time someone’s gotten the whole thing down in months. Alright, which one do you want?”

---

“Wanda, I thought we agreed to not using powers for stuff that’s not important,” Steve chastised your beaming girlfriend once you guys had walked out of earshot of the worker.

“But Y/N is important. She’s the most important thing in the world!” It took everything in you to not combust on the spot at your girlfriend’s words and the accompanying hand squeeze she’d given you when she said them. Steve simply sighed, rolling his eyes.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“Oh, relax, old man,” Clint butted in. “They’re in love. Let them have this.” With the matter settled, Wanda turned to look at you.

“So, what’s the dinosaur’s name?”

“Huh?” You glanced down at the green plush in the hand that wasn’t holding Wanda’s. “Oh, um, Dino.” Wanda’s lips slowly flattened out before pursing together.

“Y/N. You had all that time to think of a good name, and you choose ‘Dino’? Babe, even Yellowing is a better name. I mean, like, not well thought-out at all, sounds more like it’s becoming yellow than having yellow wings, but at least the sentiment is there.”

“I like Dino!” You gave her a big grin as you tried to hold your laughter back. She wasn’t actually mad, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy riling up your girlfriend at least a little bit. Before Wanda could respond, you were both pulled off to another side of the amusement park.

“C’mon, lovebirds, we’re going on the big roller coaster!”

“Alright, alright, calm down, Sammy,” you laughed, patting his hand that steered you toward the ride.

---

Luckily for you guys, Tony had splurged on fastpasses for all of you so that you wouldn’t have to wait in any ride lines. Bucky practically jumped with glee as you walked past all the other visitors. Sweat trickled down their faces; some tried in vain to fan themselves with the maps that were handed out at the park entrance, and others leaned against the railing forming the line. Some of them must’ve been waiting for at least two and a half hours.

“Hey, Tin Man, try not to laugh so hard at other people’s suffering, will ya? Not all of them have the benefit of having a very rich, very generous friend, speaking of whom, never got a thank you by the way.” Bucky simply rolled his eyes at Tony’s remark and got in line to sit with Sam.

“You ready, babe? Your first amusement park ride ever.” You squeezed Wanda’s hand gently, giving her a smile that she couldn’t help but return. You had to speak loudly in order for her to hear you over all the noise on the crowded platform, but the distractions all seemed to fade away as you focused on the twinkle in her eyes and the way her cheeks rose as she grinned.

“And the biggest one at the park.”

“And the biggest one,” you nodded.

“I’ve been ready for this all day. Hands up, right?”

“If you think you can handle it,” you winked.

“Of course I can handle it,” the witch scoffed. With that, you guys shuffled into the carts. Wanda’s knee brushed against yours as the two of you sat down and she quickly buckled herself in before turning to you. Her lips were already parted, ready to share her excitement some more, before she noticed your furrowed brows and your tongue sticking out of your mouth like you did when you were immersed in mission reports. Except this time, you were simply trying to get the belt in the buckle.

“Need some help, love?” Wanda giggled.

“It’s not working!” Your girlfriend gave you a gentle smile before taking the belt from you and sliding it into the buckle.

“There.” She brought your hand up to her lips next, looking up at you through her lashes before pressing soft kisses onto your knuckles. “Don’t wanna hurt these, yeah? Tasha would be furious.”

“Yeah, she would,” Natasha interrupted from the cart behind you. “But I thought I taught you well enough to be able to buckle yourself in, Y/N.” You felt her smirk more than you saw it, and without a full glance back at her, you brought your hand up to her forehead and flicked her before she could react.

“Taught by the best,” you laughed, lurching forward so Natasha couldn’t grab you.

“Oh, just you wait for training tomorrow,” the redhead chuckled. You didn’t pay any further attention to her as you listened to the employee telling you to push the safety bar down. Just as the carts started to move, you called Wanda’s name and gave her a quick peck on the nose before she realized what was happening. She settled for a retaliatory poke to your side, and after your giggles died down, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, your hands intertwined and laying on the safety bar. You quickly became busy with looking out over the side of the cart, watching as all of the things that once met your eye level shrunk down to a size that was half of your pinky finger. But a harder-than-normal squeeze of your hand had you returning your focus to Wanda.

“Um, detka, is this a bad time to tell you that I’m afraid of heights?” Your heart, calm less than two seconds ago, immediately began to race. You looked ahead through your wide eyes to see that you were near the top before quickly turning back to the panicking brunette who, sure enough, had her eyes glued shut.

“Wh- what do you mean you’re afraid of heights? You literally fly!”

“Because I’m more afraid of bad guys than I am of heights!” You could feel the coaster practically slowing to a stop as you rounded the peak of the coaster.

“Okay, uh, um, just pretend there’s a bad guy? I don’t know, Wan, it’s a little late to get o-” And with that, you rocketed down towards the ground. All blood flowing to your hand was stopped in its tracks as Wanda squeezed you as hard as she could, but you barely noticed since you were forced to focus on your race to the ground instead. A scream slipped past your lips for a second, quickly becoming a laugh that you couldn’t contain no matter how hard you tried. “Isn’t this great, Wan?” 

A slight turn of your head told you that, no, it was not great for Wan. Her eyes were still glued shut, her lips were pursed together so firmly they were practically white, and you could just make out the trembling of her torso. At this point, you almost couldn’t feel your left hand from how hard she was holding it, and you imagined that if the safety bar were alive, it would be feeling the same way from her left hand’s grip on it. So, even though you were moving at over 100 miles an hour, it was your turn to press your lips to the back of her hand. It was a small gesture of reassurance, but a gesture that Wanda appreciated nonetheless, especially considering there wasn’t much else you could do under the circumstances. 

You were just approaching the bottom of the first hill when Wanda’s eyes shot open, taking in your gleeful face, which contrasted heavily with her own terror-filled expression.

“Is it ov-” She didn’t finish her question before her face practically closed up, but she didn’t need to finish asking it anyway. The rushing of blood to her head told her all she needed to—she was going upside down, and it certainly wasn’t over yet.

---

After what seemed like a lifetime to her and a mere five seconds to you, the ride was over, and Wanda made sure she was the first one off of it. With her feet back on solid ground, she seemed much more relaxed, but you didn’t miss the way her knees wobbled with every step she took. You linked your hand in hers once again and pulled her off to the side of the group.

“Wan, why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of heights?”

“You looked so excited talking about the ride this morning, and I didn’t want to ruin it. And we’re a couple. Everything you love, I want to love too.”

“Well did you love it?” If you weren’t holding her hand, you would’ve crossed your arms to accompany the signature raised brow you gave her in situations like these.

“No, but I loved holding your hand,” the Sokovian admitted as she kicked the ground with her boot. You couldn’t help but laugh at that, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before responding.

“Wan, you are the absolute sweetest, but, please, I don’t want to put you through anything you’re scared of. Especially if it’s not for a good reason.”

“But you’re the best reason I could ever have to do anything.” And just like that, your face felt hot enough to cook an egg on. Seeing the pout on her face, though, you quickly regained your bearings.

“Alright, you’re not allowed to be sweet anymore. My turn. Wan, I’m excited about anything I get to do with you.”

“That’s not what you were saying when I asked you to clean the kitchen with me yesterday,” Wanda grumbled, looking down at her scuffed black combat boots.

“Okay, you got me there,” you admitted, leaning over slightly to meet her soft green eyes before continuing. “In my defense, cleaning is an inherently boring thing. Amusement parks are inherently fun. So when we’re here, we only do things that are fun. Which means, if you’re scared of heights, we don’t go on stuff with heights. Like the biggest freaking roller coaster this park has.”

“Are you sure?” the witch mumbled. “I know you like those rides.”

“I’m positive.” You met her lips with yours as one last reassurance. “Now, let’s go find those tea cups. And yes,” you smiled, not even having to look over at her to know what she was thinking, “You can still hold my hand.”

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: A Child’s Imagination (Female!Reader x Aro Volturi)

WARNING: Character death mentions!

"What do you think? A boy or a girl?" You asked, trailing your fingers over the small bump that was your stomach, leaning back in your seat for better access. Aro leaned against the arm of the seat, smiling fondly at your stomach. "I can't say I know, Cara Mia." "Come on!" You pressed with a playful smile. "Pick one. You'll love them just as much either way." "I am inclined to say a son for reasons I was raised with that are significantly unnecessary and outdated as of this time. Although a daughter would be just as lovely." You smiled lovingly at Aro. "You'd spoil her rotten, you spoiled the twins after all." Aro smirked. "Isn't every child spoiled after several centuries of gifts?" You paused. "That's true. Although you know exactly what I'm talking about. I think that if our baby were to be a girl or a boy. You'd spoil them just as you did the twins." You said. "It's not always a bad thing." Aro smiled slightly. "And your answer, my dear?" You hummed. "A girl. I can only imagine all the battles i’d lose if it were you and our son against me. The men of our large family." You grinned and Aro chuckled. "We only do what's best." He responded before kissing the top of his head. "What would you name them?" You asked him, in sudden deep thought. "Aro, please don't tell me you're going to insist we name our baby some name that's older than dinosaurs." Your eyes widened in dread. "I need to be able to say the name!" Aro chuckled. "Well why don't you give me a name and we'll compare?" You paused. "Nate for a boy? Aiden?" "No, it looks like I'll be naming our son because those names are terrible. For a girl?" You hummed. "Charlotte? Evelyn? I'm trying to go a bit more classic for you." You giggled. "Those two are...decent." Aro said with no enthusiasm. "Meaning you aren't too fond of those either." You laughed. "Alright, what about you then? Girl and boy names." "Cleisthenes-" "I'm sorry, what?" Your tracing stopped as an incredulous look moved across your face. "I don't even know how to say what you just said never mind spell that." "It means Glory and Strength. See names in my era actually had meaning." Aro smiled slyly. "So does my era." You laughed. "We just care less about the meaning and more about if we can spell it and if we can say it. Pick again." You continued to giggle as Aro rolled his eyes. "Heliodoros." You said nothing but pressed him further. "Two girl names?" "Artemisia or... Eumelia." Aro responded. "...It appears we'll be having a lot of discussions for baby names." You giggled to yourself. 

Somehow the two of you made a deal. If a girl, you'd choose two baby names that the two of you would pick which was preferred. The same going if the baby was a boy. Then Aro would pick two names for you both to reach a decision on. When the birth arrived, the baby was a boy and Aro made the decision alone on the boys name. However it wasn't the two names he had first said. "Archelaus." Aro had told his brothers. "The people's ruler'." Caius responded with an eyebrow raised. He seemed almost impressed. "How fitting." Marcus drawled.

"Aro, it's time. You need to decide." Caius said as he hovered over you. Aro tore his eyes away from the baby, yet to be cleaned, but bundled in a towel. He looked at his son momentarily, a flash of doubt in his eyes. Yet he said nothing. Caius stared Aro down as Aro looked at you. You were seconds away from your heart stopping altogether. 

Finally Aro shook his head. Caius nodded and Aro left the room, with his newborn son in his arms. There was a sickening crack as Caius mumbled to a guard about ensuring you wouldn't suffer any longer. It was as of Caius considered that a gift. Your heart stopped and perhaps by coincidence, your son began to cry in Aro's arms. "Mio figlio." Aro cooed in a soft voice. "Everything is alright." 

Aro moved into the next room, Renata already waiting for Aro's next instruction, as always. She had always been the most rigid of the Volturi and in a constant state of internal stress whilst her face appeared void of emotion. Then again, that's what made her a good guard and one Aro trusted with his life. She was constantly on the look out for danger. "Might I ask you get him cleaned up, my dear?" Aro asked lightly and Renata nodded immediately moving forward to take the baby from Aro as gently as she could. 

When Renata moved into the closest bathroom, Aro left the room and returned to the room you had given birth in. "They didn't feel it." Caius assured Aro, who nodded in thanks. Caius stepped back, giving Aro some more room with you. Aro ran his fingers through your hair. "Thank you, my dear. Our son will be remarkable, I assure you. I have no doubt you would have been wonderful." Aro leaned in closer towards you, his head hovering over yours. "I'm sorry, my dear." Aro kissed your forehead and closed your eyes with his hand. This hadn't been the first time he had decided to sacrifice those he loved for his goals and no one really knew if it could have been the last. 

Your son didn't seem very affected by your passing. Aro figured it was that he really didn't know you when it came down to it. Although that thought was sad, you had loved your son in the end of the universe. 

Aro saw you curled up in a blanket, running your fingers along your stomach. You had always got little nudges in return. Your stomach softly nudging back at you. You had looked at your bump adoringly the whole time you were showing and when alone, always telling your unborn son how much you loved him. "I'll always love you." 

You did it more so when there was chances you wouldn't survive. So therefore it was no longer just bonding with your unborn child, it was telling him and loving him for every moment you had, in case any of those would be the last. You had hoped he'd remember you if the worst came to be- if you didn't survive the birth. 

There was a pang of sorrow in Aro’s chest. Sorrow for you and sorrow for his son. Aro had really loved you. He had no doubt and he loved his son too, appreciated the gift you had given him. The greatest gift he had ever received. Although he had planned that gift for himself. He had plans for himself, the Volturi and his son. Gaining more power, it was always the plan. Your son was a part of that plan. However you were not and in the end, whilst his love for you was strong, it wasn't enough to discard centuries of plans, reputation and centuries of work. So he let you die, but he made you were comfortable. He had Alec numb your senses, you wouldn't have known when you slipped away and you wouldn't have felt a thing. A peaceful end. Your legacy beginning as you departed from the world with Aro's love and gratitude. 

 Aro kneeled down to Klaus' level faced with answering his son just where his mother had gone. "Such matters are very difficult to tell children- to relay in words that they understand." Aro said softly as he held his son's hands in his own. "Your mother passed away and she's not coming back. She left this world with so much love for you, little one. The last thing she wanted was to say goodbye to you. However these things happen sometimes." Aro paused, searching his son's thoughts, trying to piece together if perhaps Klaus understood even a little bit. "Archelaus..." Aro said quieter, looking into his son's eyes. "Your mother isn't coming home." Aro let go of his son's hands. "She'll always be in here, with you." Aro patted his son's chest lightly, just where his heart sat beating a little faster than before. Klaus, barely looking two years old, looked away from Aro putting his thumb near his mouth as he looked around the room. Although Aro's heart would have shattered if it hadn't already stopped so very long ago. Tears ran down his son's face, his eyes moving back to his father. There was no sound, nothing. Aro couldn't bring himself to say anything, simply watching his son. He wasn't sure what exactly made his son think about you but he seemed to be growing aware of his surroundings, so much so that he is noticing people who are missing from what he remembered. Vampires couldn't cry. No tears could ever fall but to see tears run down his son's face reminded him that his son wasn't just half vampire. He was half human, half you. The human in him cried for the loss of his mother. Aro couldn't help but wonder if you'd have cried too, seeing your son try to understand why he couldn't hear his mother's voice anymore. The moment was brief and ended as quickly as it had began. He had never wondered about his mother before that day and he didn't after that day either. Almost as though Archelaus had forgotten and Aro figured that perhaps it would have been better that way. 

Aro was hoping that Archelaus would meet Renesmee Cullen and when the opportunity arose, he jumped on it. It worked well, checking in on Renesmee's progress, effort to rekindle his friendship with Carlisle and his son meets someone like him who's close to his age.  "Some friends of ours are coming for a brief visit since they're passing by." Aro said fixing Klaus' collar. "They have a little girl who is like you, half human and half vampire." Klaus looked up at his father before nodding. "Would you be willing to keep her company while she's here? I believe she'd be a wonderful friend." Aro asked. Klaus nodded. "Yes, father." 

The two children had ended up in Klaus' room. Klaus having his toy train in hand whilst Renesmee flicked a switch repeatedly to change the lanes. Whilst Klaus knew Renesmee's name, he had yet to introduce himself, giving off the impression he was a rather quiet boy who more than likely kept to himself. Then again, Aro couldn't help but consider perhaps it was due to being around someone who was close to his age. Renesmee was older but it wasn't noticeable in the childrens appearance. "When I get older, I want to travel on a train just like this one!" Renesmee said brightly. "Like the ones in Europe!" "Where would you go?" Klaus asked almost absentmindedly. "I don't know. I just like the thought of getting on a train to anywhere, going wherever I want at the time. So I promised myself that one day I would." "By yourself?" "Yeah!" She grinned. "Unless Jacob says he has to go too. He doesn't like the thought of me going anywhere alone." She looked almost disheartened and Klaus picked up on it. "I know the feeling. I overheard my father and uncles saying I may never get to leave here. At least not alone.” "Would you want to?" Renesmee tilted her head in curiosity. Klaus shrugged. "Maybe. I'd like to see what's out there, I think." Renesmee gasped. "You should come with me! When we're older! We should go together! Wherever we like!" Klaus was surprised. "Really?" "Yeah!" She grinned. "You should tell me your name if we're going to be friends!" "Friends?" Klaus repeated, surprised at how quickly the conversation had escalated. "Of course!" "My name is...a little strange." Klaus admitted. Even he knew his name was a mouthful bit then again, so was 'Renesmee'. "They like to give us strange names, don't they?" Renesmee cracked a smile. "My name was two names mashed together." She said almost bashfully. "Although, I'm mostly called Nessie." "Nessie? As in...?" Klaus tilted his head, trailing off and Renesmee nodded. "...like the monster. Although it wasn't intend as an insult." "My name is Archelaus. It means 'the people's ruler'...but in the human world and some call me Klaus for short." He responded. "What would you prefer I called you?" Renesmee asked. He lightly shrugged. "Klaus is fine." "Nice to meet you Klaus." "Likewise...Renesmee." "I don't mind if you call me Nessie." She smiled and Klaus' mouth twisted. "I'm sorry but I really can't call you that." Renesmee giggled. "That's okay."  "Can I ask you something?" Klaus asked. "Sure!" Renesmee smiled brightly. "Do your parents call you that? " She giggled at the thought. "No! My mum hates it, my dad doesn't like it but my uncle's think it's pretty funny." She paused momentarily. "Does your dad call you by your full name?" Klaus nodded. "Yes. As do my uncle's. Most of the guard call me Klaus though...unless my father and uncles are around." 

After another moment of silence, Klaus spoke up. "My father says you're gifted." Renesmee nodded. "Wanna see?" "How?" He asked. "Like this!" Renesmee cupped a hand to his cheek and he went rigid, startled by her sudden movement. 

Flashes of images rushed through his mind and he began to realise that this was Renesmee's story, showing others her abilities before himself. "Woah..." He said quietly. "Do you have a gift?" She asked. Klaus shrugged looking down. "Don't you ask your mum and dad?" "I think my father would have told me if I did but...my mother died when I was born. I can't ask her." "Oh...I'm sorry." Renesmee said sadly with a sympathetic expression. "It's okay. You know the feeling. I saw it. Your mother nearly died too." Renesmee nodded. "Yes. She was lucky. At least that's what my dad says." Klaus lightly shrugged but nodded. "Do you miss her?" Renesmee asked. "No...I mean, sometimes I do but I just think about how much I love her and that she loves me the same." 

Klaus looked up hearing the door open to be met with Jane. Klaus simply looked back down at his toy train absentmindedly. “Hello, I heard you talking about your mother.” Jane moved to stand in front of him.Klaus paused.  “Would you tell me about her?” Jane asked. "I think I see her sometimes." Klaus quietly and Jane joined him on the floor. Klaus continued to play with his toy train. "Not all the time, only when I miss her the most." Klaus added with a small smile. However Jane could see his sad eyes and understood it. Children like Klaus, children like herself and her brother, they should never have such sad eyes. Yet they did. "Would you tell me about it?" She asked. "Well, I think it's her. I look her at her and somehow I just know that it's my mother. She's always happy to see me. She has a pretty smile." Klaus added, quickly glancing at Jane who smiled slightly in response. "She does?" Klaus nodded. "I talk to her sometimes. She doesn't say much back but that's okay. I asked her once, if I could keep her." "Oh? Did she answer?" Jane asked softly. "She said I could. That she'd always be with me, even when I can't see her." Klaus was completely unaware of the sadness Jane had begun to feel. When Jane's mother died, she wasn't able to face it, being a newborn and learning to trust Aro. After a couple of years, Jane began to think about her mothers death. It reinforced how alone she was and how alone she had always been. Although now she had lost someone, making her life even more empty than it had ever been before. 

It had been Athenodora who comforted Jane and Alec as best as she could. Although all she could say was that their mother would have been relieved to know her children had survived and were safe. Klaus didn't get this same conversation, yet it seemed as though he didn't need it. He had found a way to cope on his own. Or at least, that's all Jane could hope. She couldn't help but wonder if Klaus didn't hear you say much was because he didn't really know you. It was clear ghosts didn't exist. Yet he had created someone in his head that he assumed was you and would respond in his interpretation of what you would have said rather than what you actually would have said. Perhaps that silence he received by his imaginary friend was Klaus not knowing what his mother would say and so no response would be given. "Does it make you sad sometimes?" She asked. "Not really." Klaus looked up at Jane again with a slight smile. "I know my mother loves me and that's all that matters really." 

When Caius entered the room, he entered a war zone. For once, Marcus was mentally and physically present in the room. He was angry. Not only that, angry and arguing with Aro. Both Marcus, and Aro had pitch black eyes and it didn't take long to recognise just what they were arguing about. "I don't need to sympathize to you!" Marcus snapped. "You chose this! You did this to yourself, you did it to her and you did it to your son! You decided she wouldn't be changed so I won't have any sympathy for you because I know I sure as hell did not choose my loss!" "Everything I have ever done, was for this coven!" Aro seethed through a clenched jaw. "(Y/N) would have been apart of that. Spare me your words Aro. You let her die because she didn't fit your goals. You never even consulted us, this decision, and rightly so, was on you. You knew for months where this was going and you made your choice!" Aro scoffed. "You make it sound so easy. Then again, when have you ever made a difficult decision in your life Marcus?" Aro responded icily. "I loved (Y/N) with everything I had and my decision to let her go was not easy. If you cared so much then you wouldn't have sat there for all those months knowing she'd die!" Marcus was immediately on his feet, standing feet away from Aro. "I watched that girl die. You should have been where I was standing. I told her she had a healthy son and my face was the last thing she saw and it should have been you! Furthermore, I was by her side as she gave birth because you weren't there!" Aro snarled before Caius intervened. "Enough!" Caius snapped, stepping in between the two men. "We all knew this would happen. What we didn't know was that Aro would grow attached. Now let me make myself quite clear." Caius began coldly. "(Y/N) died loved and appreciated by Aro and held many of the guards hearts. She was wonderful and she died. We all know that many women have died in childbirth in our time. She brought Archelaus into this world and passed away. Before she could suffer, I killed her. She felt nothing and wasn't alone! We cannot and will not destroy ourselves with the 'what ifs'. We all did what we did and now we live with it because that boy needs it. He is what matters now!" The situation de-escalated greatly after this but Caius continued. "Aro, I understand you are in pain and Marcus is the only one here that knows that pain. So why don't you be help one another with that pain and not use it to tear each other apart?" Marcus and Aro stared at each other before they both back down in unison. "Make me the mediator one more time and I kill you both." Caius growled. "Honestly...see the gift (Y/N) gave you both. Memories, a son and a nephew. Could you even fathom what she'd be thinking right now seeing you both like this!?" 

When night had fallen, Archelaus was taken to bed with his usual nightly routine. Renata was the one who took him to bed this particular night. The guard took turns and later Aro himself would check in on him. As usual Aro received a good report that Archelaus was in bed which left Aro a couple of free hours before he checked in. He spent those hours properly patching things up with Marcus, the two understanding each other by the time he was done. Thankfully the two were able and willing to overlook the incident. 

Aro couldn't help but frown slightly. It was in the middle of the night, the lights were off in many of the rooms down the wing where Klaus stayed. It was to help him sleep, even the lights for the hall were off. It helped the illusion that everyone was asleep at the same time he was. Even though it wasn't necessary, Aro figured it may appeal to his human side. 

However, instead of sleeping he wasn't even in that wing. Aro found his son on the floor below his room in one of the many rooms that had a TV in it. Aro figured his son was sneaking in some TV time or playing when regardless he should have been asleep in bed. However Aro stopped, before reaching the doorway, hiding in the shadows and out of sight. 

His son giggled again, arms stretched out at nothing and grinning up at something Aro couldn't see.  A excited squeal escaped his son and Aro blinked. Suddenly, his son was no longer alone. Someone lifted him into the air, spinning him before setting him down before spinning with him. That someone looking an awful lot like you. "I'll always love you." Aro heard your voice whisper with an echo. Aro blinked again and suddenly you were gone, his sons giggling dying down. It seemed he could no longer see you either, hands dropping to his sides. 

Aro moved closer unable to really pinpoint an emotion, many swirling and battling for the spotlight. His son turned to look at Aro and fully expected to get a scolding at the very least, however it never came. Aro slowly entered the room, barely making a sound and sparing a glance to the empty space you were previously in. Aro looked down at him with a soft expression. "Was that your mother?" He asked quietly. Klaus looked nervous, looking down at his hands. "It's alright Archelaus, I saw it too." Aro explained. "I miss her sometimes." Klaus finally spoke. "When I think of her, after a while, she comes to see me." "Oh?" Aro tilted his head. Klaus continued. "I mean, I know it's not really her. I like to pretend she's here and if I'm patient, she's comes to see me." "Can you show me?" Aro asked holding out his hand. 

Klaus slowly put his hand in Aro's. He was right, this wasn't the first time. He remembered what you looked like, his imagination doing the rest of the work. Whenever he found himself thinking of her, longing for her presence. She'd come to see her son. Of course it became very apparent this was simply his impression of her, Klaus' imagination building the pieces to replicate his mother as best as he could along with what he hoped she'd be like. 

"I'm sorry I got out of bed, father." Klaus said quietly. "That's alright little one." Aro said, unable to punish his son after discovering his son's gift. "We'll take you back to bed." Before leading his son away, he pulled his son into him, bending ever so slightly to hold his son closer. 

Aro had always wondered how his son dealt with topic of his mother although could never bring himself to venture into his son's thoughts for you. However, he held comfort in knowing that his son had found peace and comfort to cope with your passing. He had no doubt that his son would have questions about why you weren't saved when he grew up but he could live with that. He could live with the spare time, your son had unknowingly given him.

[enviedear]

the empty feeling → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which malfoy is consoled by a girl who can’t help but fall for him.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.1k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you thought the reason your heart never fully recovered was because of the fact you had to see him everyday.

every single day you saw him. he was laughing, bickering, looking out a window, eating, reading, and in conversations. you couldn’t help but watch. you tried not to. you tried to make the love you had for him diminish. or maybe at least dull. it wouldn’t work.

you didn’t mean to fall in love with draco malfoy. however you did. your heart overruled your brain. at least when it came to him.

you think back to the day you knew you loved the slytherin boy. it was a foggy and rainy day that truly began at a slug club meeting.

“dreadful weather we’re having right, miss y/l/n?” slughorn asks you.

the rest of the slug club stares at you as you respond, “i quite like the rain. i get the best sleep when it rains.”

he nods and replies,”ah, just like your father. i remember he loved to listen the rain when he was your age. does he still listen? to the the rain, my dear?”

you didn’t want to talk about your father. not that you didn’t love the man, but you knew there wasn’t much you could indulge. he kept his work close to him and never really told you much. you knew slughorn would eventually lead the conversation to your fathers work.

“sometimes professor. he’s usually busy these days though.” you say, looking down at your ice cream.

busy because of people like zabini and crabbe’s parents. as you looked back up at slughorn you didn’t miss the sly look blaise gave you. you quickly turned your attention back to the professor.

“ah! i wouldn’t expect him not to be. amazing work your father does, making such simple objects into wands. you know my dear, i heard he turned a rusty old spoon into a very powerful wand!” slughorn boasts for you.

you smile as a response and allow the teacher to spark conversation with the other club members.

what slughorn forgets to add is that the wands your father has begun to produce are being used by many deatheater families. since the wands cannot be tracked, and are easy to pass off as illegitimate objects. they buy them for their children and it’s not as if your father or the ministry can do much about it.

plus, your father shouldn’t have to loose his job just because others take advantage of him. and even if he did make the damn things trackable that would be putting a target on his back.

as you mull over your thoughts slughorn stands and bids you all a goodnight. you politely tell the man night, and walk out of the room. you were going to head to the hufflepuff common room, but as you passed moaning myrtle’s bathroom you stopped in your tracks.

you heard crying. and the cries weren’t myrtle’s usual wails, but a boy’s. on further inspection you found that they also weren’t just any boys cries but, malfoy’s.

you slowly creeped into the abandoned bathroom, making sure to not alert malfoy that you were there.

he sat by the sinks and looked utterly distressed. his eyes a deep red. he looked completely broken. you’d never seen the boy like this. and it broke your own heart.

against your better judgement you cleared your throat to make yourself known.

he looked up at you, defeated.

you didn’t say anything as you bent down and gave the boy a hug. he didn’t say anything as he hugged you back. he just let his tears escape onto your shirt.

eventually he let you go. you didn’t have the slightest clue what to say. nothing seemed right.

“don’t tell a soul about this.” malfoy grimaced, getting to his feet.

you looked at him shocked, “i wasn’t. i-“ he cut you off with a scowl.

“draco you have to trust me. please i won’t say anything just.. take care of yourself.” you said.

he didn’t reply. he just walked out. leaving you confused.

after that day you couldn’t see draco malfoy as a nuisance. no, after that day you couldn’t help but to romanticize the boy. you didn’t think he bullied because he was hateful. no not at all. you thought he did it because he was lonely, sad, or upset. you found his worst qualities easy forgivable. you knew he was broken. but you also knew it wasn’t an excuse, you just couldn’t help it.

so you continued to watch him daily. eyeing him as much as you could. you began to love the way his face would turn into a sneer at the slighted inconvenience. you loved the way he held his cup. you loved the way he looked over his books. and for some reason you began hoping. hoping that maybe one day he would eye you too.

alas, the boy went and broke your heart by dating pansy. you knew it wasn’t done to be malicious. you knew he didn’t know about your feelings. you knew he was probably very happy with pansy and she with him.

though, you’d still find the boy in the bathroom on a regular basis and have to console him. each time you’d think he’d come around. each time he did not.

you kept hoping though. it proved you detrimental as you went from being a happy and loving person to someone who harbored far too much loathing. you couldn’t help it, you felt so cheated. how could you love and care for this boy and he not even say a word to you?

your friends noticed your behavior.

“y/n you’re taking out whatever is upsetting you on us. and you won’t even tell us what’s wrong.”

then your teachers.

“miss y/l/n your grades are slipping. and you’re not acting like yourself at all. is everything ok?”

then your sibling(s).

“i didn’t do anything to you, stop treating me like this y/n.”

and finally your parent(s).

“honey, are you sure everything is alright at school? you don’t have to go back if something is seriously wrong.”

you were better than before. you were finally home. you didn’t have to see the boy anymore. you didn’t have to be reminded of him every waking moment.

but still, you weren’t you.

you never told any of the people worried about you why exactly you weren’t ok. you hated the thought of being this upset over a boy you genuinely barely knew.

and even though you told yourself repeatedly that you in fact did not know malfoy, your heart proclaimed otherwise.

when you returned to school, this time in your sixth year, you decided that you needed to avoid the problem.

so you did. you ate breakfast and dinner without looking up from your food. you paid far too much attention in class. you never went to hogsmeade. you isolated yourself.

and it worked, more than less. you only caught a glimpse of malfoy a handful of times. each time less painful.

by november you began to forget about your weird fascination with malfoy. but when you received news that he and pansy had broken up your heart fluttered just like it would have a few months ago.

but still, finally you felt more like yourself. you began talking to your friends more. you went on a couple of dates. started helping out first years. everything was falling into place.

you tried to ignore the off feeling of emptiness that still lingered in you.

it’s january when you bump into him, on your way to the astronomy tower to meet your friends.

“sorry.” you say, continuing on your path.

“wait, come here, y/l/n.” he says, causing you to double back.

you turn to face him not even slightly happy that you’re allowing this exchange.

“i- well, i wanted to thank you for never telling anyone about last year. i’m sorry i was so brash to you,” he pauses. “that’s all.” he says.

you look at him stunned. it took him a year to apologize. although you knew he had no idea the amount of internal struggle he has caused you, you feel your blood boil.

“i’m glad you spent an entire year gaining the courage to apologize for your behavior. however, i don’t accept your apology. you’re such a coward, malfoy. i mean, you’re afraid that people would find out i consoled you. as if it’s even a big deal. just leave me alone.” you seethe.

whole-heartedly you couldn’t help your outburst. the boy just aggravated you. how could he apologize now?

“i’m sorry i didn’t apologize sooner, but if i were you i’d take the apology i was given.” he glares at you.

“or what malfoy? what could you possibly do?” you ask.

“i never said i’d do anything! i just suggested you take the apology. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner, okay? you just looked so put off all the bloody time. i didn’t want to bother you.” he groans.

now your ears were hot and eyes stone cold.

“put off?” you spluttered, “it’s your fucking fault i looked so put off. you worried me to no end. i never knew if you were ok! and although i know it’s not my business it still hurt. i was so upset for you. and then you wouldn’t say a word to me. and then you dated parkinson. and-“ you stop yourself.

“you just apologized too late, alright.”

he looks at you bewildered, “i’m sorry i feel like i’m missing something.”

you roll your eyes, “i loved you draco. i don’t know why but i did. i wanted to make sure you were ok. everytime you needed me i was there. i never even asked for anything in return, not even human decency. but i shouldn’t have had to ask for that. you should have been nice to me. i was beyond nice to you.”

he furrows his brows,“i am truly sorry, y/n. i didn’t know. i was being selfish and i can admit i used you for your kindness. but if you’d give me the chance i’d be good to you. good for you. i- i never meant to hurt you.”

your cold gaze didn’t leave, “i don’t believe you.”

he sighs, “come here.”

he holds his hand out to you and you take it cautiously.

he leads you into the place where it all started, myrtle’s bathroom. he begins pulling a book out from his bag, and then he hands it to you.

“just look it over.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

you open the book and are immediately greeted by drawings. illustrations littering the pages, and they’re all of you.

you turn to one page, it’s a drawing of you outside studying. underneath the picture sat draco’s neat writing.

she came to calm me down today. fourth time this week. she still hasn’t told anyone. that means a lot to me. i again didn’t tell her why i was upset. it seems stupid to tell her about my problems. she’s too pure for them. i’d never want to upset her. i think i love her. i don’t know how. i barely even talk to her. but her hugs are nice. and she’s always so kind. i just wish i knew how to tell her what’s going on. i wish i wasn’t so scared of her rejection. it’s all too much. at least i have this. all of these pictures of her. now i cant forget her even if i tried. but of course, i’d never want to forget her.

you look up from the page. you cant help the few tears that escape your eyes.

“you loved me? the whole time? and you didn’t tell me?” you ask.

he bites his lip, “you didn’t tell me either. plus i knew i was a prat. i didn’t think you’d even want to be loved by someone like me.”

you huff out a pained breath, “draco i have loved you since the day you allowed me to comfort you. i wanted nothing more than to help you and to make sure you were ok.”

he doesn’t say anything, instead he envelops you in a tight hug. the embrace eases your worry and soothes the empty part of you. the two of you continue to hold eachother for minutes on end, and by the time you pull away you know draco meant every single word.

“please never stop caring.” he tells you.

“never.” you agree.

and you mean it. you can’t stop the way your heart beats for the blonde boy, and you didn’t want to. you love him. almost as if you needed to.

[nblenasabrewing]

Does Lena have PTSD?

This excellent post from @drummergirl231-2 goes into a detailed analysis about Della and the examples showing possible PTSD. I, being who I am, wanted to look at the same for Lena. Full credit goes to them for the idea and format!

According to the DSM-5, in order for a person to be diagnosed with PTSD, they must have a certain number of symptoms from eight categories: Criteria A through H.

For a diagnosis of PTSD, someone needs: to meet Criterion A to have at least 1 symptom from Criterion B to have at least 1 symptom from Criterion C to have at least 2 symptoms from Criterion D to have at least 2 Symptoms from Criterion E to meet Criteria F, G, and H

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional. I do NOT have a degree in anything related to psychology and simply enjoy dissecting the layers of a fictional character. If you feel you fit any of the criteria, please see a professional for a real diagnosis. This isn’t something that can be easily self-diagnosed, and a professional diagnosis would open you to more opportunities for help.

Lena does and doesn’t fit the criteria in general for PTSD. She’s certainly suffered from traumatic events, but the event is more... her entire life. She’s a classic child abuse victim, which makes her more of a candidate for C-PTSD. 

Complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD; also known as complex trauma disorder) is a psychological disorder that can develop in response to prolonged, repeated experience of interpersonal trauma in a context in which the individual has little or no chance of escape. Being stuck with Magica for fifteen years absolutely contributes to Lena’s current issues. C-PTSD and PTSD share similarities, there are a distinct differences - mainly that PTSD focuses on one event and the effect it has on a person long term, while C-PTSD focuses on years of repeated trauma. However, there’s no approved criterion yet for C-PTSD. So I’m using the PTSD criterion with some added explanation where C-PTSD would be applicable. 

Criterion A: The traumatic event

A person must be exposed to one or more events involving threatened or actual death, threatened or actual serious injury, or threatened or actual sexual violation in one of the following ways:

Direct involvement

Witnessing the event happen to someone else

Hearing about it happen to a loved one

Repeatedly hearing details about traumatic events, such as police officers repeatedly hearing stories of abuse

The obvious example here: Lena effectively died. Twice. Following that, she was trapped in a realm where she couldn’t be seen or heard by anyone and she couldn’t touch anything for six months (give or take). Her first interaction with anything since she had been trapped there was smacking the Boggle case in Friendship Hates Magic! And even she’s surprised by that.

In addition, she spent fifteen years with Magica in her shadow, who effectively acted as an abusive parental figure. She’s proven to be an expert in gaslighting, and knows exactly how to manipulate Lena - by hanging the promise of freedom over her head and reminding her repeatedly that people will think she’s a monster if they find out the truth about her.

Criterion B: Intrusive Symptoms

Expected or unexpected reoccurring, involuntary, and intrusive upsetting memories

Repeated nightmares related to the traumatic event

Some form of dissociation, such as flashbacks, where the individual truly feels the traumatic event is happening again

Strong emotional distress when exposed to internal or external triggers associated with the traumatic event

Strong bodily reactions (such as rapid heart rate) when exposed to reminders of the traumatic event.

Nightmares: While we can’t say for absolute sure that Lena has nightmares outside of Magica’s influence via the helmet in NOKH, the fact that no one is surprised by her nightmares does seem to imply that’s she probably had more than she’s letting on. Lena’s biggest fear is turning into Magica, after all - it’s no surprise she would have dreams along that line.

Emotional distress, strong bodily reactions: These really come out in Violet’s library, when Lena gets overwhelmed and tries to hide. The fish-eye view of everyone trying to talk to her while she sees Magica over their shoulders was most likely meant to imply she was having at least the start of a panic attack.

In addition, her reaction to Webby calling her (looking like Magica) a monster was pretty extreme. Again, the dream world setting makes things a bit wobbly, but given everything we know about Lena up to this point, and the fact that she yelled at Magica for saying they’re both monsters, it feels safe to assume she’d be angry and upset and scared if anyone ever called her a monster (again, something Magica constantly used against her.)

Criterion C: Avoidance

An individual with PTSD will frequently avoid reminders of the traumatic event in one of the following ways:

Avoiding thoughts, feelings, or physical sensations that trigger memories of the traumatic event

Avoiding people, places, conversations, activities, objects, or situations that bring up memories of the traumatic event

Whether the nightmares were caused by Magica or not, their effect on Lena is real and pretty easy to see. She sets up an entire sleepover just so the kids can help keep her awake. Avoiding sleep to avoid nightmares is pretty extreme.

She also continues to keep secrets from everyone despite Webby’s constant reassurances that they all care about her and don’t think she’s anything like Magica, because the alternative is having to talk about it or worse, have her fears confirmed.

Criterion D: Negative changes in thoughts and mood

The inability to remember important details of the traumatic event

Persistent and elevated negative thoughts about oneself, others, or the world

Exaggerated self-blame or blame of others for the cause or consequence of the traumatic event

Pervasive negative emotional state (anger, fear, shame, etc.)

Loss of interest in previously enjoyed activities

Feeling isolated or detached from others

Difficulty experiencing positive emotions

Lena’s opinion of herself seems to be pretty low. We only get one episode to really see it, but her fear of turning into Magica and active attempts to avoid such an outcome definitely make it seem like she still considers herself “evil”, and is trying to make up for it. She also readily gives in and says, “I am her”, essentially giving up on herself.

The dream adventures also excellently illustrate how Lena feels “Othered” from everyone else - they get butterfly wings, she gets weird monster wings. She falls behind at Dewey High and is separated from the others. She’s the only one in Louie’s dream, aside from Louie himself, to experience any sort of physical change. Even when she tries to be happy with them, she can’t keep up the facade.

And before all of this there’s the classic example of her being jealous of Violet (under the guise of protecting Webby from being tricked again). She immediately assumes the worst of Violet and follows Webby around telling her not to trust Violet.

Criterion E: Alterations in reactivity that started or worsened after the traumatic event

Irritability or aggressive behavior

Impulsive or self-destructive behavior

Hypervigilance (feeling constantly on-guard, or like danger is lurking around every corner)

Heightened startle response

Problems with concentration

Sleep disturbances, such as difficulty falling or staying asleep, or restless sleep

Lena’s personality in season one was mostly that of the sarcastic, irritating cool teenager who can’t be bothered. Under that, she was an unwilling slave to Magica, and while she did show irritable tendencies toward her, those can be forgiven as “Magica is terrible and provokes her.”

Season two, on the other hand, shows us a much different teenager - one who snaps easily and seems constantly frustrated by her own perceived shortcomings. Those emotions, of course, come out on the other kids (i.e. snapping at Huey and Violet). And while all of that can be attributed to her inability to sleep, which is being driven by Magica, Frank’s already said this isn’t the last we’ll see of Lena’s emotoinal growth and negative feelings.

Criterion F: The above symptoms must last for more than one month.

Obviously time is relative in Ducktales. Given everything that was going on around them, we can assume she’s been home for around a month-ish. Donald left for a month-long cruise two episodes before Lena came back, and everything after that has to have taken place within that month or it would have been way too obvious something was up. And again, Frank has said this is going to come up again. But even while she was still in the Shadow Realm, she was showing signs of trauma.

Criterion G: Distress from symptoms significantly impairs the individual’s ability to function in multiple areas of life (social, occupational, etc.).

While we haven’t seen much of Lena’s daily life, we do know a few things - before returning, she was living in Webby’s shadow, presumably following her around and getting comfortable in her shadow-y life. Violet throws a complete monkey wrench into that comfortable life, and Lena reacts... poorly, to say the least. She initially refuses to take responsibility for the tulpas feeding off her own negative feelings, continuing to project all the reasons she hates herself onto Violet (”She’s a spy, she’s a second-rate me,” etc.).

In NoKH we see that the triplets aren’t quite used to the fun, happy persona Lena tries to project, which immediately gets a frustrated yell and fire flaring up. She’s so worried about trying to be Good that her anxiety bubbles over into her life. She’s also constantly keeping secrets, something that is, unfortunately, normal for her, but not normal overall.

Criterion H: The symptoms are not due to substance abuse, medication side-effects, or another condition.

So the real issue comes in here - while there’s no medication or substance abuse, there is an outside force. Most of what we see of Lena’s symptoms are due to increasing sleep deprivation via Magica’s brainwave helmet. By the time NoKH starts she’s already gone at least several days without sleep, and it’s obvious the dreams are deeply affecting to her, to a point where she arranges an entire sleepover with her friends just to keep from going to sleep. There’s no way to know what she was dreaming about (although I have a few theories), but it almost certainly involved Magica, the main cause of her trauma. And we see how understandably upset she gets when she’s finally face to face with Magica.

In conclusion:

Lena is a complicated character with a lot of different factors playing into who she is, but there’s little doubt that after fifteen years of emotional/psychological abuse, two deaths, and six months trapped in what could almost be summarized as an isolation chamber, that Lena has some serious trauma. And while Magica influenced a lot of NOKH, it should also be noted that Magica, as her abuser, most likely acts as her trigger now. She spends the entire dream sequence running away from Magica, terrified to confront her. And while she has an amazing, empowering moment at the end of the episode, I’m sure this is going to come back up again.

(***All GIFs by me)

[wordsablaze]

2~ i’ll make it okay

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: did not expect people to be interested in my ramblings but i’m glad we love jaskel !! oh and @random-nerd-3 , @betaray-jones , you asked to be tagged <3

previous chapter

-

A knock on the door wakes them. 

Well, it's not actually a knock. It's just someone falling into their floor on their way to find breakfast. 

But both Eskel and Jaskier blink themselves awake at the noise, Eskel springing out of bed and grabbing one of his swords where Jaskier just sits up and glares daggers at the door. 

By the time they realise it isn't anyone trying to get or break in, it's far too late to pretend they're still sleepy. 

"You're still here?" Jaskier asks, tilting his head to one side. 

Eskel sheaths his sword before raising an eyebrow. "Was I meant to chase after them for being clumsy?" 

Jaskier frowns before shaking his head, somehow missing the fact that it was meant to be a joke. "No, no, of course not, that'd be ridiculous. I just meant, don't you witchers like to be moving before even the sun is awake?" 

Apparently Jaskier is as much of a mystery in the morning as he is in the evening. 

Eskel nods slowly. "Well yes, that's how we avoid trouble, but it'd be rude to have left without thanking you." 

Jaskier yawns widely before waving a hand dismissively. "You already thanked me yesterday, silly."

Before Eskel can explain that he'd only thanked Jaskier for the drink and bath rather than for letting him stay in his room, in his bed, Jaskier's eyes widen and he's scrambling to find his clothes. 

"Oh, for the love of Meletite, I was meant to perform this morning! How could I forget? Stupid, stupid- Where's my- Aha! Lute? Lute… ah, there you are! Oh, perfect, beautiful as always. Now where did I- of course, wonderful, bless that tailor and his skilled hands… Anyway, do I have time to-? No, probably not but… oh, wait, this'll do!"

Eskel simply stands to one side and watches as Jaskier assembles himself. It's more amusing than he'd like to admit and he's somehow smiling by the time Jaskier finally turns to him with a strange look. 

"Seriously, you're still here? Well, if you don't have anywhere to be, I can offer you another drink?" 

There's hope laced in Jaskier's words and the average person may have missed it but Eskel is used to looking for it so he offers Jaskier a small smile. "Sounds good."

Jaskier quite literally lights up at his words, grinning widely. "Great! I'll go and get started, you should find yesterday's spot still open for you so take your time!" 

And with that, he slips out of the door, taking his lute with him. 

He's seen a lot over the years but Eskel has never seen anyone switch between half-asleep and chaotic so quickly. He tells himself he's only going to stay because he owes it to Jaskier, not because he's curious or worried or anything like that. And it's absolutely not because he hasn't smiled so much in what feels like an eternity. 

Either way, once he's slipped his jacket on - taking a moment to mourn the loss of half his shoulder spikes, of course - he heads down to where he can hear Jaskier singing. 

"Your drink, from Jaskier," a girl says as soon as he's sat down, sliding a mug towards him and slipping away as fast as possible. 

Eskel wonders how Jaskier had managed to so quickly organise that, eat his breakfast, and already have the attention of most people in the room.

And rightly so, because he’s magnificent - nobody would be able to guess how frantic he’d been before. Well, nobody except Eskel, who can’t help but appreciate the way Jaskier makes himself seem so coordinated so quickly; he briefly wonders if it has anything to do with travelling alongside Geralt.

It's a much shorter performance than yesterday but the innkeeper seems satisfied regardless because he's all smiles when Jaskier walks over to him after finishing up and seems to strike up conversation. 

After a few minutes, Jaskier walks over to him with two plates of food and winks. "I really didn't expect you to stay until the end but obviously you needed me to order you food, huh?" 

"What?" 

He's not even sure if he's questioning why Jaskier hadn't expected him to stay or why there are two plates of food or why Jaskier even thought he wanted food. 

Jaskier just pushes one of the plates towards him and settles into the seat opposite, his lute next to him as if it were another person.

"You can't very well leave without a decent meal if you're in my company," Jaskier says, almost daring him to argue. 

He doesn't, only because the food smells fresh and denying Jaskier seems foolish. 

But… 

"You didn't eat before?" Eskel asks. 

Jaskier shakes his head, a puzzled look on his face. "I hadn't performed yet and this way, both of us can save some coin."

It sounds logical enough but what did the bard do when innkeepers didn't want to offer free meals in exchange for performances? Surely between them, Geralt and Jaskier would have had enough coin to eat meals without having to negotiate for them?

Jaskier kicks him under the table. 

Wincing, Eskel turns to him with a frown, surprised when he sees the bard simply eating, not even looking his way. 

"You were glaring at nothing, darling, it's bad for business," Jaskier explains eventually, and Eskel is almost embarrassed for not having noticed he was doing so. 

Not wanting to explain his thoughts, he lets them finish their rather average but still decent meal in silence. 

It doesn't take long and soon enough, they're heading back upstairs, Jaskier taking the lead. He stops to talk to the girl who'd given Eskel his drink earlier and laughs at whatever she says, whispering something to her before continuing. 

As Eskel passes her, she holds her hand out and offers him a coin, smiling hesitantly. 

Oh, the song. 

"Thanks," he says gently and she nods quickly, disappearing to serve someone else. 

"Did you ask her to do that?" he questions Jaskier once they're in his room again. 

Jaskier laughs again. "No, she just heard me play the song yesterday and wanted to convey her gratitude to witchers." 

The gratitude that didn't exist before he'd composed his song. 

"I'll have to thank Geralt for letting you accompany him in Posada, then," Eskel jokes. 

But it falls flat on Jaskier, who flinches.

He takes a deep breath and grins just as Eskel makes to question it, though. "No need, darling, it's not really like he let me, more that he didn't quite know how to get rid of me. I'm very stubborn, you know? Just ask, uh, anyone, really… Although there might be a few more popular choices depending on-" 

"Jaskier," Eskel interrupts, confused again. 

Despite having just called himself stubborn, Jaskier stops talking immediately, biting his lip as regret radiates from him.

"Why would he want to get rid of you?" Eskel asks softly. 

Jaskier only bites down harder on his lip, hard enough for Eskel to smell blood. But Eskel still waits, just in case Jaskier simply needed a moment to collect himself before answering.

Eventually, Jaskier shakes his head. "I can't- It's not… Hasn't he told you already? Or haven’t you guessed yet? Why do you need to make me say it?" 

To Eskel's shock, he sounds like he's on the verge of tears. Never has Eskel so quickly regretted asking something, something that transforms the laughter from five minutes ago into tears. 

"I just wanted to…"

But Jaskier isn't listening. 

"I'm sorry, I'll just- I'll just go. It really was very nice meeting you, Eskel. This room is still yours until lunch." 

He's picked up his lute and gone before Eskel can even process his words. 

And Eskel is left staring at a closed door as he tries to figure out what he'd said that had caused such a reaction. He knows he can sound much harsher than he means to, he is a witcher after all, but Jaskier hadn't been bothered by that right up until… 

Geralt. 

He and Geralt must have fought. And Eskel had unknowingly reminded him of it, repeatedly. 

Eskel curses.

But Jaskier is so much faster than he’d anticipated and he’s nowhere in sight by the time Eskel reaches the bottom of the stairs. 

He groans, heading back up and quickly gathering his things before making his way to the stables where Scorpion seems to share his urgency and makes no fuss as he gets her ready. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs as they set off.

He’s not even entirely sure where he’s going but he thinks he can still smell honey and lavender so he follows the scent, groaning every time he hits a dead end and has to turn back to try another route. 

It’s pointless, though, because he finds no physical trace of Jaskier at all; he seems to have disappeared just as quickly as he’d arrived and Eskel circles back to the inn with a heavy heart.

“He left,” someone says as he dismounts Scorpion.

“Who?” Eskel asks, turning to find the girl who’d given him a coin earlier, “Jaskier?”

She nods, something sad in her eyes. “He left town.”

“What?” Eskel frowns, wondering why Jaskier had assumed that, out of the two of them, he was the one who should leave, as if he didn’t deserve a roof over his head far more than Eskel. 

The girl shrugs. “He didn’t say why, but I thought you’d want to know.”

His expression softens as he looks at her again, offering her a smile. “I do, thank you.”

“Off we go, girl,” he whispers to Scorpion, the two of them heading off once more. 

He’s just glad he’d already finished his contract so he can go after Jaskier rather than having to delay it and risk not catching up with him because, who is he kidding, he definitely isn’t just drawn to the bard due to debt.

Thankfully, Jaskier isn’t running.

He seems to be reluctantly pulling himself along and it’s only when Eskel draws closer that he realises the bard is shaking. 

“Jaskier!”

Jaskier freezes. 

He adjusts the lute case on his shoulders and turns slowly, as if expecting the worst. 

“Jaskier, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“You’re sorry?” Jaskier echoes, his voice shaky and filled with wonder.

Eskel dismounts as quickly as possible before nodding. “Of course. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

Jaskier bites his lip again, only to promptly wince as he puts pressure on the small scab there. But instead of saying something, he just bites the other side of his lip and folds his arms. 

Eskel takes that as his cue to apologise again, pretending not to notice the way Jaskier’s eyes are red and watery. “I mean it, I just wanted to thank you for your, uh, kindness. And I really don’t know what happened between the two of you but I won’t ask again if it’s not my place.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jaskier’s face crumples and he stares at Eskel in nothing short of amazement, as if he’s never had anyone thank or apologise to him before - if Eskel finds out that Geralt had never done either of those, he’s going to punch him.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Jaskier offers him a soft smile. “Okay, okay. I believe you.”

“You do?” Eskel finds himself asking before he can think about it, think about how that might seem suspicious or-

“You came after me, didn’t you? That’s proof enough for me,” Jaskier declares, still sniffling a little. 

Eskel finds himself smiling. 

And with that smile comes a very strange but not so unexpected urge to try and avoid losing Jaskier at all costs. Even if Geralt had idiotically chosen not to embrace what a blessing Jaskier is, there’s nothing saying he needs to make the same mistake.

“Please tell me your horse has a worthy name,” Jaskier says, interrupting his thoughts.

Eskel chuckles. “Jaskier, meet Scorpion.” 

Jaskier gasps like a child, running a hand along her mane and practically giggling when Scorpion huffs at him, undeterred. He pulls an apple out of absolutely nowhere and offers it to her, grinning smugly when she bites into it. 

“She likes you,” Eskel notes, only somewhat shocked at how quickly she’d taken to him since he shares that sentiment with her. 

Jaskier steps back as if he’d been burned, dropping the apple. He curses, swiftly picking it up and holding it out to Eskel. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- she’s just beautiful. I won’t… I won’t touch her again. I swear it.” 

Oh, he undoubtedly needs to punch Geralt when he sees him again.

But more importantly, he needs to clear Jaskier’s misconceptions about witchers and their horses. 

So he just shakes his head. “Who am I to say whether or not you can touch her? If she likes you, she likes you.” 

Jaskier frowns at him as if trying to find an alternate meaning to his words but settles on nodding slowly. “Thank you.”

Eskel lets him finish feeding her the apple and wishes Jaskier didn’t think he needed to thank him for it. In fact, Eskel should be thanking him because he’d forgotten to treat her before starting his search. 

It doesn’t take too long and Jaskier wipes his hands on his doublet before smiling at Eskel. “Well, I hope our paths cross again, darling.” 

“You what?” Eskel asks, raising his eyebrows. 

Jaskier looks alarmed. “You don’t like the name? Sorry, but why didn’t you tell me sooner? I wouldn’t have-”

“No, no, the name is… it’s fine. That’s not-” Eskel exhales audibly, frustrated. “Where are you going?”

Now Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Whichever town appears next, probably. Did you need something from me?”

What a strange time to live in, where a witcher is being asked if he needs something from someone rather than being told someone needs something from him.

“I just mean, what if our paths stayed the same?”

He might as well have punched Jaskier for the way his jaw drops. To Jaskier's credit though, he regains composure relatively quickly, clearing his throat. “Just to clarify, darling… you want me to follow you?”

No, that doesn’t sit quite right with Eskel.

“I want you to travel with me,” Eskel corrects, “even if that means I end up following you.”

If Eskel thought Jaskier had lit up back at the inn, it was nothing compared to the way Jaskier’s whole face all but glows when he comprehends Eskel’s offer.

“Are you sure?” Jaskier asks breathlessly.

Eskel rolls his eyes. “Scorpion likes you and I’ve never been able to say no to her.” 

He’s not quite ready for Jaskier to throw himself at Eskel, his arms looped around his neck as he laughs brightly, but Eskel breathes a sigh of relief upon hearing it, glad that the first side of Jaskier he’d seen is back. 

He feels Jaskier freeze and easily anticipates him pulling back, stopping the movement by lifting his own arms and wrapping one around the bard, not forcefully enough to cage him in but firmly enough to silently reassure him that he hasn’t done anything wrong. 

When the tension melts from Jaskier once more, he loosens his grip, allowing yet another smile to bloom on his face as the warmth of the embrace surrounds them both. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier mumbles into his shoulder. 

Eskel resists the urge to shiver at the feeling and nods, patting Jaskier’s back. “It’s the least I can do.”

Jaskier hums in response and when he peels himself away, Eskel makes a note of every detail in his expression, from his soft but bright eyes to his messy but not unpleasantly so hair to the way his smile threatens to erase the very existence of sadness from the world. 

In the same way, Eskel promises himself he’s going to erase whatever keeps making Jaskier sad from existence, one step at a time.

-

sorry for being mean to jaskier but at least Eskel is now here, right? also lmk if he seems too ooc as idk very much about him !! 

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @geraskifer | next chapter

[lovemychoices]

The Lost Prince - TRR AU [Liam x MC] Mini Series. CH.5

After being married for three years and unable to produce an heir, Liam and Riley are about to give up when Liam gets an unexpected news that changes his life forever.

Genre : Romance, Drama

*THIS SERIES PRACTICALLY THROWS CANON OUT THE WINDOW* YEET!YEET!

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 3278

Chapter Summary: Will they find Theon?

A/N : Hey, so this is the last chapter of my mini series and the there the Epilogue/Prologue that’s going to come up a few days after this. There will be a sequel/Spin off from this mini series and the first chapter will probably be up somewhere in mid May.

So I can’t put the read more option since I’m posting via phone so this I’m tagging this under #long post.

Thank you @annekebbphotography @ao719 and @thecordoniandiaries for listening to my ideas and ramblings 😆

Warning : some Mentions of Death. Gun violence.

Catch up with the series HERE

“The prince is missing your majesty.”

Liam’s hand slams straight onto his desk making a loud thudding sound, causing the items on it to shake. “Damn it Bastien, how did this happen!” His voice elevated, he was angry and yet there was fear in his eyes. Riley could see it, she wraps her arm around her husband's shoulder. “Liam, we need to calm down if we’re going to figure out where Theon is.” Liam closes his eyes and counts in his head as he inhales and exhales before opening them up again. “You’re right we have to stay strong.” He said. “Bastien, tell the guards to search every inch of the palace, they couldn’t have gone far if the palace was heavily guarded. Check all the surveillance footage and send them to me if you see anything suspicious.”

“Already on it, your majesty, I have all the guards searching and blocking all entries no one gets in or out. As for the surveillance this was the only thing we got.” Bastien informs them by taking out his phone and shows them a footage of someone holding a package in front of the king's quarters and then the nanny opening the door and letting the person in. They were smart enough not to show their face on camera which means they knew the palace well. “Now here’s where it gets strange, after entering no one goes out. There is no footage of the kidnapper or Theon leaving the room.”

“This has to be Madeleine, I can feel it.” Riley said without a doubt. “But what I don’t understand is why? She’s been internally sabotaging us from the inside for 3 years. Why do something like this? Why now?”

“Because of Theon.” Liam answers before plopping back on his chair with his head bowed towards his knees, an expression of guilt on his face. “This is all my fault, if I hadn’t.. if I hadn’t brought Theon here he would have been safe.”

“Liam, it’s not your fault. Madeleine would have acted out eventually with or without Theon in the picture. All this time she’s been scheming right under our noses and we didn’t even know.” Drake reassures his best friend.

“Drake is right Liam, Madeleine had us all fooled. After Godfrey, we thought she would be a trustworthy ally but in reality she was playing a much longer game with her own agenda.” Olivia added. “The question is how did she manage to get in and out of the palace undetected?” Just as she said the word she looks at Liam and they both share a knowing look. “The secret passageways.” They said in unison.

“I need to head to the quarters now.” Liam said, abruptly getting up from his seat and struts toward the door.

“Maxwell, Drake and Olivia, you three go with him. I’ll stay here with Hana in case Bastien has a lead or Madeleine decides to call.” Riley said, giving Liam an assuring look. “I’ll call you immediately if there are any leads.”

Liam is hesitant to leave his wife but nods in agreement before going off to the quarters.

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

A few minutes after the rest of the gang left, Riley and Hana continue to search for clues to where Madeleine could be when Mara barges into the office with a serious look on her face. “Sorry to interrupt your majesty but one of the kingsguard found something at the docks outside the palace gates. If you would come with me.”

“Is it Theon? Is he hurt?” Riley asks with a concerned expression.

“We don’t know yet Ma’am but you need to come with me.”

Riley abruptly stands from her seat. “Let me call Liam..”

“King Liam has already been informed and is on his way.”

“In that case we should go now.” Riley said, turning to face Hana. “Hana you stay here, I wouldn’t want Katherine killing me if something happens to you with all that’s been going on.”

Hana chuckles. “Alright I’ll stay but do let me know once you have something.”

A short while later Mara and Riley reach the end of the docks but when Riley looks around she notices it’s empty and no one is there, not even Liam. The only thing that was there was a small motorboat.

“Mara, there’s nobody he—.” Riley’s speech is cut short by a piece of cloth covering the bottom half of her face. Suddenly her head starts spinning and soon everything turns black.

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

The group rummage through the king's quarters for almost an hour, pulling on every wall lamp and moving every picture frame to search for the hidden passageway. “How did we not know there was one here in the kings quarters?” Olivia asks as she runs her fingers across the wall searching for a hidden loose brick that could reveal a secret door. “This palace is old and frankly not all the secret passageways were recorded.” Drake answers.

“Guys over here, I think I found something!” Maxwell calls loudly from one of the spare rooms. When the group enters they see Maxwell standing in front of an open wall; inside it is a flight of stairs spiraling down. “Where do you think this leads?”

“Only one way to find out.” Drake answers then turns on his flashlight on his phone and leads the way while the others follow. After what felt like forever they finally reached a slightly closed stone wall. “Maxwell, help me with this would you?” Drake and Maxwell move the wall effortlessly, when they step out of the tunnel they are surprised that it led to the secret dock which was just below the palace outside of its wall.

“Liam, over there!” Maxwell points at the end of the dock and they both hurry towards it. Liam bends over and picks up Theon's favourite stuffed Lion, it was the first thing he gave Theon when he arrived at the palace. He is pulled out of his thoughts by a bright light hitting his eyes, not far from where Theon stuffed toy was found. There was something shiny on the surface of the wooden dock.

Liam walks towards the shiny object, his eyes go wide open when he realises it’s Riley’s engagement ring. No this can’t be not her too. He quickly takes his phone from his pocket and dials his wife, Drake and Olivia notice Liam’s frantic expression. “Liam what’s going on?” But he doesn’t answer them. “Pick up come on pick up.” He murmurs anxiously.

“Hello?”

“Hana? Where’s Riley? Why do you have her phone? Is she with you?

“Liam, I thought she was with you? Mara said you were going to meet them at the Maze, she said there was a lead on Theon’s kidnapping?”

Liam pinches the bridge of his nose trying to figure out what the hell just happened, clearly there he wasn’t told to meet Riley in the Maze or that they’ve found something. This could only mean one thing Mara was working with Madeleine this whole time. But to what end? “I think, I think they took Riley as well.” He said and showed them her ring. “She must have dropped her ring on purpose to give us a clue.”

“How did Madeleine pull all of this by herself?” Olivia asked.

“Mara. We have to get back to the palace now. Drake calls Bastien and asks him to meet us in my office. Him and only him. We’re not sure who else we can trust at the moment.” Liam said, his voice calm and commanding but his expression showed a different thing, he was scared and worried but he knew he needed to put on a brave face for his family. He couldn’t save them if he was a mess, he needed to think straight.

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

Riley wakes up with a painful ring in her head, she could hear the sound of water droplets like they were falling into a puddle, the air around her gave out a misty pungent smell. Slowly she tries to flutter her eyes open, letting out a low grunt before she speaks. “Where am I? What is this place? Liam?”

“Riley, Please wake up, please.” Theon’s voice pleads. “Theon?” Her blurry visions start to get clearer, she closes her eyes once more trying to focus, when she opens them again notices what looks like a cold old basement surrounding her and to her right is Theon tied up to a chair like she was, his expression scared and confused. “Theon!” Are you alright? Did they hurt you?!”

“No but I’m scared. I want my dad.” He said, tears started to well in his eyes. “I’m sorry this is all my fault.”

“No Theon it’s not. And don’t worry your dad is coming for us until then I need you to stay strong. Can you do that for us both?” Theon nods even if he feels scared and misses his dad.

Riley carefully studied their surroundings, a sudden rush of deja vu ran through her mind. It reminded her of when Anton had her and Olivia captive three years ago. “If you can survive that you can survive this. She thought to herself. If only there was a way she could let Liam know where they were, if only she knew where they were. And then it occurs to her. “Please be in my back pocket. Please be in my back pocket.” she murmurs repeatedly to herself.

A while back Riley had this habit of always losing her phone and keys, so Liam got her this little device that acts as a tracking chip and also looks like a cute keychain. Lucky for her the thing works both ways, she just had to press the button so it would give a signal out to her phone which so happens to be back at the palace.

She carefully wiggles herself and moves her wrists until finally she feels something inside her pocket, she presses the button on the keychain and hopes that Liam or somebody notices the signal.

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

Back at the palace in Liams office, he and the rest of the gang look for clues to where Madeleine could be. They’ve searched Fedylia; they've searched every property and estate house Amaranth owns but not even a shadow of her was seen.

“The lake is about 50 acres and then another few acres of forest covers the land after that. The boat could have docked anywhere between here and here.” Olivia pointed on the map that was laying flat on Liam's table. “The guards and the police are searching these areas as we speak but no news yet.”

“They could have hid the boats so no one would find them.” Drake mentions. “We need to narrow it down. Is there any abandoned property around these areas?.” His eyes scan the map once more. “There’s a round 2 miles from this east side. They couldn’t have carried Theon and Riley by themselves so maybe there were vehicles parked waiting for them. Liam what do you think?”

Liam stares at the map, trying to think of any possible places Riley and Theon could have been taken to. “There must be someplace I missed.” He murmurs to himself in an inaudible voice.

“Liam?”

“I don’t know Drake. I’ve had the police and kingsguard check every estate the Amaranth owned including Godfreys. So far they’ve come out empty handed. And it’s been five hours, yet Madeleine hasn’t even contacted us for any ransoms. But we cannot give up.” He turns towards Bastien who is standing at the far corner of the office. “Bastien, have the guards and the police triple the search. We will not rest until the Queen and my son are found.”Bastien nods and takes his leave.

Riley’s phone suddenly beeps continuously, Liam immediately checks to see what it could be. He had hope that it would be her calling to tell him they were alright but he got the next back thing. “It’s Riley’s keychain. She must have had it with her.” He said quickly tracking the location. “Here!” he pointed to the map on the map on the table. “I have to go.” He said in a hurry.”

“Liam wait, what about Bastien?” Drake asks worried.

“There’s no time. I text him on the way.”

“Well you can’t go alone.” Olivia said with her arms on her hips. “At least take Walker and me with you. We don’t know how many people that bithch has over there.”

“Liv’s right. You need some backup.” Drake said in agreement. Liam hesitates but nods. “Let’s go there is no time to waste.”

******

Riley struggled as much as she could to loosen the tight ropes that bonded the wrist together, when she heard the sound of chatter coming from above the stairs. She turns to Theon giving him one more reassuring look. “Whatever happens Theon, stay strong ok? Your father will be here to save us.. soon.” Theon feels scared but nods.

“I see you're finally awake.” Madeleine sneers as she approaches. “Perhaps it’s time we had a little talk.”

“Whatever it is you want Madeleine, whatever beef you have, take it out on me but let Theon go. He is innocent.” Riley said in a fierce and commanding voice, she wasn’t going to give Madeleine the satisfaction of fear.

Madeleine scoffs, taking a sharp blade and pressing it on Riley’s cheeks. “And what good would that be? No, I want Liam to suffer for what he did, I want him to break apart. Starting by killing you then the little prince in front of him.”

“Why are you doing this Madeleine? We.. We trusted you!”

“Because you took everything from me!” She belted, pressing the blade harder against Riley’s cheeks. “I was supposed to be Queen! I was supposed to rule Cordonia with the love of my life!”

“The love of your life? But you never loved Liam!”

Madeleine scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “Typical. You think you’re so special Riley that everything revolves around you or Liam. I wasn’t talking about someone else and you killed him on the night of your wedding!”

Riley thought for a moment. What did she mean by that? And then it dawned on her. “You.. You were with Anton?”

“I wasn’t just with him. I was in love with him! We were both in love and you and Liam took that away.” She seethes, her face turning red with anger. “And now I am going to take away the only thing Liam can’t live without.” She points her blade at Riley then at Theon, a sinister smile crept on her face. “You know what. Killing the both of you and throwing your bodies in the woods for him to find. Where’s the fun in that? Maybe I’ll have him choose? Who lives and who dies? And then after that I’ll still kill whomever he chooses to live.”

“You’re a monster!”

“Maybe I am?” She sneers. “You what I’m bored.” She turns her attention towards Mara. “Mara, shoot the queen in the leg. Make her suffer a bit before we call her husband to come get her.”

Mara nods and Madeleine steps aside, watching from behind Mara as she raises her gun. “Mara why are you doing this? Why are you turning your back on the crown?” Riley asked, confused as to why Mara would do such a thing.”

“Because Riley, I was never loyal to the crown and I will never be. I serve the sons of earth.” She explains, her expression was cold. “Don’t worry your majesty, this won't hurt a bit.” Riley closes her eyes and then…

BANG!

Riley expected to feel pain but instead she felt nothing, when she opened her eyes she saw Mara Lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

“Riley! Theon!” Liam quickly ran towards them from behind with Olivia and Drake behind him. Liam and Drake quickly unite Riley and Theon while Olivia holds Madeleine at gunpoint. “It over Madeleine, there's nowhere for you to run!” Olivia sneers.

Madeleine scoffs. “That’s where you’re wrong, Nevrakis.” She takes a step back pulling a lever next to her, suddenly the room starts shaking and rubble starts to fall in front of Olivia. “This room is about to collapse. We need to get out of here now!” Liam belts, helping Riley to her feet while Drake carries Theon. “Olivia let’s go!” They make it out in time before half of the place eventually collapses to the ground.

******

3 months later..

Riley stood outside the balcony of their suite, thinking about the past few months after the kidnapping.

When they finally managed to clear through the rubble only Mara’s body was found and Madeleine’s was missing. It appears she escaped through one of the secret tunnels just after she pulled the lever. Liam seized all her accounts, he had the guards and police look for her, her picture and name were in every border gate, every station, every terminal of Cordonia. There was no way she could escape without being recognized.

Those few months were terrorizing for Riley, she was afraid that Madeleine might suddenly show up and do her worst. All she could do was pray they would find her and bring her to justice. Surely enough her prayer was answered but not in the way she had hoped, they found Madeleine but by that time she was already dead. Madeleine died in a tragic car accident, the gas tank leaked upon the coalition causing her car to explode. Her body was so badly burnt they had to use her dental records to identify that it was really her.

Adelaide died a week later from a heart attack, without an heir to the estate and not nominating anyone in her will, Liam bestowed the title Duke of Krona to his loyal and bestfriend Drake Walker.

Riley felt the crisp autumn air on her skin, after everything that happened she felt like she could finally breathe again and it was finally time for her and Liam to extend their family.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Riley is pulled away by Liam’s voice, she turns to her husband and is standing by the archway, smiling. “You said you needed to talk? It sounded serious. Should I be worried?”

Riley smiles walking towards her husband, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. “It's nothing to be worried about. I wanted to give you this.” She held out a small blue gift box wrapped with a gold ribbon. “Think of it as an advance Christmas gift.”

Liam chuckles.“If I knew we were exchanging gifts I would have prepared something for you.”

“Eh.. I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.” She smirks. “Now open it!”

Liam gives his wife a curious look before eventually opening up the box, inside it was a clear plastic bag and in that bag was what looks like a white plastic stick that had two red lines. Liam’s eyes go wide open. “Riley is this what I think it is?”

Riley nods excitedly. “I’m pregnant!” Liam picks his wife in his arms, beaming as he whirls her around. “We’re having a baby!” He howls, the words echoing throughout the palace grounds. Liam carefully places her down, tucking in the loose strands of hair behind her ear. He tilts her chin up then seals the gap with a kiss when they part they are both smiling at each other. “I love you Riley.”

“And I love you Liam.” She beams. “Now, I think it’s time we told Theon the good news.”

*****

TRR/TRH @charliejane-blog @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @pixieferry @lodberg @traeumerinwitzhelden @romanticatheart-posts @gnatbrain @the-soot-sprite @texaskitten30 @ao719 @desireepow-1986 @emceesynonymroll @jessiembruno @kinkykingliam @jlpplays1 @annekebbphotography @thecordoniandiaries @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @lauradowning29 @msjr0119 @janezillow w @heauxplesslydevoted @cordonia-gothqueen @kacie-0156 @bebepac @queenjilian @sanchita012

[minervahopebeyond]

Blood Daffodils.

Hello!! So here it is! I hope you like it, we are so near to the battle that I’m internally screaming. Please let me know what you thought!! 💕💕 I love to read your comments, they always make my day a little bit better 😊✨ Ps. I’ve checked but sorry if you find any errors in this one

Chapter 18: Safe house.

He slowly opened his eyes, very aware of the fact that he was alone in Harry’s bed... The memories of the night before flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help but to smile as he turned and buried his nose in the pillow, enjoying the smell of Potter’s cologne. Where was he?

Draco got off the bed and grabbed the night-robe that was on the chair right beside him.

Everything seemed pretty quiet, if Harry had woken up early, normally, he could hear him preparing breakfast downstairs, just because he was bored. But no, nothing.

He started to climb down the stairs, and, with every step he took, Draco was feeling more and more nervous. The flowers weren’t hurting him because they were still too happy from last night, but they were alert and that wasn’t a good thing. When the blond boy opened the door of the kitchen, and didn’t find any sign of Potter, he turned around and ran upstairs.

He opened the door of his bedroom, quietly, just in case that Ron was actually still sleeping and he was just being a paranoid arsehole, jumping to conclusions. The room was desolated, Weasley’s backpack wasn’t on the corner were it always was, and when Draco opened their wardrobe he was not shocked to find that most of his friend’s clothes were gone.

“No no no no no no no.” He mumbled repeatedly as he crossed the hallway to open Granger’s room without knocking.

Clean. Perfectly well made bed, the muggle photographs that she had in her nightstand weren’t there and, just like Ron, most of her clothes weren’t there either.

Gryffindor back-stabbing traitors. No, he wasn’t going to allow this.

He walked to his room again, the house still in silence, and took the map from under his bed. If they were at Grimmauld again he was going to kill them.

And he tried the spell.

And he tried it again.

And again

And again.

And again.

The blood wasn’t moving. It attempted to, it circled but it settled right in the same spot still.

‘Why isn’t it working?’

The flowers were scratching him now, like the drugged haze had finally faded away, and it made him very aware that something was definitely wrong. Like the kind of wrong that he couldn’t fix.

He tried the spell again and the blood still marked the same spot. ‘But they aren’t here, are they?’

“Oh no, weasel. Tell me you didn’t.” Draco pleaded as he reached over to the little drawer in the redhead’s nightstand. The place where he kept the pictures of his family and the little rock that Granger had found in the garden one day, claiming that it had a shape of a heart before leaving it on the grass again, the one that Ron secretly put in his pocket afterwards. Everything that was important to him was kept in that drawer... Now it was empty, except for one thing.

The coughing fit started as soon as he saw it. Fucking weasel, bloody excuse of a best friend, lying to his fucking face, leaving the necklace and leaving him here. The tears started to course down his cheeks, his lungs were burning worst than ever.

He saw a little note taped, almost hidden in the back of the drawer. Desperately, he reached over to take it in his hands. Maybe it was an address, maybe he had tricked the other two stupid parts of the Golden Trio.

He felt like his heart was shattering in a million pieces.

I’m sorry, Ferret. It wasn’t my call.

He let out a cry of pain as he felt the flowers tearing him up inside. His throat was raw from the screaming as he just kept on coughing and crying. Petal after petal, the pain didn’t stop. Not even a bit, nothing.

The daffodils kept on screaming at him, making things worse, they always made everything fucking worse.

‘HE LEFT US, HE DOESN’T WANT US. HE LEFT US, HE DOESN’T WANT US. HE LEFT US, HE DOESN’T WANT US. HE LEFT US, HE DOESN’T WANT US.’

And if that thought alone wasn’t enough for Draco to choke, it was replaced by something much more painful: the truth.

‘HE DOESN’T LOVE US BACK, HE DOESN’T CARE.’

Suffocation. Unstoppable suffocation.

He heard someone running down the hallway, the door being slammed open.

“KID! SIRIUS! COME NOW-“

But Mr. Potter was cut short by Draco coughing even louder, wheezing as the little air entered to be expelled from his lungs as soon as possible. The raw pain in the middle of the chest was something that he felt kind of familiar with... But not quite like this. Never like this.

“HARRY!!” James cried for help and that only made things worse. Because Potter was not coming. Potter had actually abandoned him and left with his true friends. Potter had finally come to terms with him being a fucking liability on the battle field. The same boy that the night before had kissed him before whispering that Draco was perfect.

The unbearable need to expulse the Daffodil took over. He started to force his own coughs, it was like he was finally controlling some of this awful feeling. It sounded horrible, though.

“CAN SOMEONE IN THIS HOUSE COME HERE?? Kid, you are going to be fine, I swear-“

“Harry isn’t here.” Sirius worried voice echoed in the room. He coughed even harder. “Oh, Circe. James! Harry isn’t here” He repeated as he threw himself to the floor and started to hug Draco tightly.

“Little cousin. Listen to me.” His voice was interrupted by the first entire Daffodil coming out from his mouth, all covered in scarlet blood. Yes, the first one, because the chest crushing pain wasn’t going away, which meant that there were more coming. “Oh for Merlin. THAT’S AN ENTIRE DAFFODIL JAMES!-“

“Sirius, you are not helping.”

“Oh, really?” And Draco felt his cousin taking his face in his hands, forcing him to look up, even though the has still coughing and the drops of blood were staining his hands. “Draco: Harry is in love with you. Do you hear me? He’s been in love with you for a long time, he said so. James, tell him.”

“Yes, kid... He would kill us for telling you, but he is.”

And Draco forced himself to cough the second daffodil, all disgustingly red and burning its way up his throat. And once the fucking flower was out, he raised his eyes and hissed.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand, still crying. “He left me here! I’m going to strangle him.”

And, suddenly, with Draco coughing a little more softly, no longer in immediate danger, James and Sirius were slapped in the face with the situation.

Harry had ran away. He left. He took Granger and Weasley with him. Draco felt like the tears in their eyes were even more heart breaking than what Potter did to him.

——————————-

“Pack you bags. We are leaving, kid.”

Draco frowned as he lifted his eyes from his book.

“What?”

“We are going to a safe house. The wards are too weak because you are sick and Sirius level of anxiety keeps his magic out of control. I can’t keep them up for much longer. We are leaving.”

His voice sounded so determined, there was no place for Draco’s opinion there. None. And they couldn’t leave.

“They are not back yet!” He said and that made the daffodils hurt him because it was like he kept reminding them that Potter was not here. He coughed a few times before speaking again. “ Your son isn’t back yet.”

“I am fully aware. Pack your bags.”

“NO.”

And the door of his bedroom was opened again, this time Sirius entering the room. It was kind of weird because he could feel him... his magic. Normally he felt everyone’s magic, but in this case? It was like something that burned him, that made him nervous. Mr. Potter said that the more you live with it, the less you feel it.

“Is everything alright?”

“No. It’s not! “ Draco told his cousin, his voice was desperate, trying to find some kind of support. “I’m not going anywhere. They said not to send anything, if we leave then they are not going to be able to find us.”

Mr. Potter was looking at him, Draco could see the purple circles around his brown eyes, the bags under them, and he could notice that he was tired beyong measure... But they couldn't leave. He loved Sirius and James with his entire heart but if this was a choice between them and Potter... It was always going to be Potter. Even if the arsehole left him to rot in this house and had no intention whatsoever in coming back. Even then.

Sirius walked passing by Mr. Potter, and he touched his arm in a very gentle way as he did. He continued walking until he was beside Draco's bed. He sighed and then spoke, his voice cracking in the middle.

"Little cousin, if they want to find us they can. I know that, James knows that and <cite>you </cite> defenitely know that. We can't send a Patronus, but they can, they just are choosing not to." 

Yeah, that or they actually were in danger, hurt, kidnap or worse... But neither Draco or them had intentions of bringing that up. The flowers were already constant reminder of how worried he was and how unwanted he felt. So fucking lonely and angry... and still, here he was, trying to convince them to stay, hoping to hear the crack of apparation and Potter's voice again.

“Can’t we wait another day...? Please.” Draco begged Sirius with the puppy eyes that usually worked on him. Out of the two of them, Sirius was the most permissive and soft. James was much more ‘If you live under my roof you are going to follow my rules’ but given that he looked like a twenty-two year old... well, it looked rather comical for him to be setting rules and shit. But he still did, like right now.

“Jamie, could you leave us alone for a minute?” He asked kindly, looking at the man behind him.

“No, Padfoot. You are going to cave! I can see it in those stupidly gorgeous eyes of yours.”

But Sirius just held his gaze, the corner of his lips moving sightly upwards, and Mr. Potter huffed before excusing himself out of the room.

It was rather cute, how utterly whipped James was. He always thought that it would be Sirius, the one who gave him all... But after living with them for so much time he realized that if his cousin asked for something, then Mr. Potter would just do it. He enjoyed spoiling Sirius. Draco saw himself in Mr. Potter sometimes, doing things just to make Harry happy.

‘Look how that turned out.’

He couldn’t help to cough a little and Sirius turned to look at him again, this time something that resembled pity appeared in his eyes. Draco hated pity.

“We really have to leave. Someone offered us a safe place and we have to take it-“

“Who?” Draco asked as he played with the pages of his book, just to occupy his hands in something other than this horrible conversation, in something other than the constant taste of blood in his mouth.

“Remus.” Sirius answered.

Draco raised his eyebrows and looked up, surprised. They hadn’t seen Remus and Nymphadora since the wedding... Sirius and James had told him that Dora was expecting almost a month after the six of them started to be locked up in the mansion. Apparently she was a couple of months into the pregnancy the last time they had seen them. Harry was desperate to see Remus and Dora, to know that they were okay... and now he wasn’t even here.

Edward Remus Lupin had been born on the beginning of March and Draco craved to meet him, he just wished that it would have been in other circumstances.

“Sirius... Just one day. Is the only thing I’m asking... Give them one more day and if they are not back yet then I go without saying anything.” His cousin sighed, tired.

“I’ll see what I can do-“

“Yes! Thank you!” And Draco pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Sirius chuckled a little as he hugged him back.

“You are not the only one who is hurting you know...” He said and made Draco’s heart ache. “ This isn’t easy for him, he is trying to keep us alive because he cares, because he loves us too.” There was a pause, he felt like it lasted forever. “Do you think that he doesn’t want to go after him? He already missed so much of Harry’s life and now-“

“I know.” Draco whispered with his voice cracking. “I just- I wished they hadn’t left.”

Draco hated to talk about this because Sirius would <cite>always</cite> reply the same way. This time was no different.

“He is too in love with you, it clouds his judgement.”

And, as always, Draco started to cough, staining his cousin’s shirt with the drops of blood. Sirius stopped talking after that.

——————————

Mr. Potter had to sided apparated both of them. The poor man was getting exhausted and it showed on his face. Draco and Sirius were in no state to apparate by themselves, there was no other choice.

They apparated in the middle of nowhere. At least, that’s what Draco thought because there was literally nothing except from trees around them.

“Well, this brings me back.” Sirius said as he grabbed the luggage. Draco couldn’t even carry his own because just walking was exhausting. He felt so bloody weak.

Mr. Potter offered him his arm as support, saying that the house wasn’t far away but maybe it would be too much for Draco to walk alone.

The flowers were constantly cutting him. He became used to the disgusting metallic taste in his mouth mixed with the flowery taste. And the lungs, Merlin. Breathing was so fucking difficult, it was a chore, a job, he had to do it and force himself to keep on doing it because otherwise he would die... But it was so painful, so fucking painful. Like, right then, Draco could feel the breeze caressing his face, he could smell the scent of the forest, but when he tried to take a deep breath it would just end in coughing. The flowers missed Potter and Draco felt the same way, he couldn’t even argue with them about it.

It seemed invisible at first, the wards were so perfectly maintained that you couldn’t even imagine were the cabin even was. Mr. Potter and Sirius clearly knew the path by heart, as to how... it was a mystery to Draco. The trees all looked the same to him.

“Where are we?”

“Cheshire, in the Delamere forest.” James answered with a kind voice. “We used to come here all the time on summers.”

Draco looked around, it was very pretty although for him it was like being in the middle of nowhere. It looked like all was orange and green with the right light. It was almost noon, the sun rays passed through the treetops and formed a halo over some them. It looked rather beautiful... If Draco weren’t feeling like a walking corpse he would probably take a walk around.

Then, just behind a rather large beech, a small wooden cabin appeared into view. Remus and Nymphadora had adjusted the wards for them so they could get in easily. Still, once they were inside of the wards they found Remus standing in front of the house pointing at them with his wand.

“When did you figured out my secret? What did you tell me when you did?” His voice was controlled and steady. Mr. Potter was the one who answered first.

“Second year, after Halloween. I told you that you were the least scary person I knew, that my mom still had the first place when she was angry.”

Then Remus turned to Sirius, asking him what was the thing that scared him the most, the one thing that he confessed to him at Grimmauld.

“You told me that you were scare of being alone again. After I escaped, you were staying at Grimmauld’s in the guest room with the pink lamp that I hate, we were kind of drunk and you told me that you never wanted to be alone again.”

And finally he turned to Draco. It was rather comical because he was so stressed out and tired and he missed Potter so much that he coughed a few petals right there.

“Hello, Draco.” Remus said with a smile. “I heard that you didn’t want to come at all.”

The blond boy sighed and pushed Mr. Potter to move forward and enter the house already. He wasn’t in the bloody mood.

Remus yelled, telling Nymphadora that it was safe to come out, and suddenly, Draco was in front of a one-month-old baby. His cousin was there too, helding the little thing, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from Edward.

He was so so little, his hair was light blue, almost turquoise, it was one of the proofs of his metamorphmagus powers. His eyes were dark, but most babies didn’t show their true eye color until they were three months old...

He let go of James’ arm and began to walk towards little Edward.

He could hear everyone talking around him, the marauders greeting each other, even Dora joking about the fact that Draco hadn’t said hi to any of them but here he was, enchanted by little Teddy.

Once he was finally in front of him, he said a little quiet ‘Hi’ to Nymphadora and then continued to fix his eyes on the baby.

“Hi, I’m your cousin... I don’t have cool hair like you but we are related.”

Edward blinked, it seemed like he almost understood what Draco had said because his eyes were trying hard to focus in his blond hair. He extended one of his chubby hands towards it with difficulty and Draco bowed his head to let this cute baby touch his hair.

He was too little, he didn’t have a strong grip, he was kind of messing up Draco’s hair and trying to pull it but failing in the process and ending up running his fingers through it instead.

“Teddy seems to like you, little cousin.” Nymphadora said with amusement, he was about to respond when he heard Sirius.

“Hey! Don’t call him that, he is my little cousin, find your own.” He could hear Mr. Potter’s laughter and when he moved away from Edward’s to see them, they were already hugging.

“Ignore him, Tonks! He is just afraid that the kid might like you better-“

“I am not!” Sirius exclaimed.

Nymphadora chuckled before responding.

“He is my little cousin too, stupid! And now, just because you said that, I’m going to call him that all the time.” Sirius gasped and Draco couldn’t help but to laugh. Then, Dora turned around and gestured for them to enter already. “I’m preparing lunch. Honey, would you showed them their bedroom?” And Remus nodded, of course.

Draco made an effort to take a few steps towards Sirius to pull him into a hug, stealing him from Mr. Potter’s arms.

“Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.” He said in a low voice and even though Sirius’ eyes shone with happiness, he just flipped his hair and shrugged.

“Of course I am. It isn’t even a competition because if it were: I would totally win.”

Draco laughed again and tightened his arms around his cousin, walking towards the little cabin. He thought that Potter would love to be here... and the flowers started to scratch him again.

‘WE SHOULDN’T HAVE LEFT.’

And he kind of agreed with them a little.

———————————

At night, Draco laid in the pull out couch in the middle of the living room. The house was quiet and the only sound he could hear was the wind going through the trees, making them move and the animals that chose the night to walk around the forest. That was all he could hear and it was beautiful. The flowers were moving restlessly inside of him. Of course sleeping wasn't an option, these days he could barely get three hour of uninterrupted sleep, they wouldn't let him get more than that. He sometimes felt like they were being ungrateful with Sirius and Mr. Potter... But given the fact that the daffodils were actually Draco, maybe he was the one who was being an ungrateful brat and couldn't admit it.

Draco missed Potter. He actually missed Harry and felt like calling him by his first name did not express how mad he was, or how sad, or even how much he wanted him. 'Potter' was a name that came with so much history, such long years of pining that seemed to never end. Everytime he had let himself think that it was possible, that maybe something  was starting to finally come together... Every single hope he had would get crushed. He hated it, he was tired of it.

But he missed him. He missed him so much that his entires body craved and ached for him. So much that the flowers sometimes would get tired of hurting him, after so much hours doing the same bloody thing...

And he wanted to tell him, he wanted to tell him everything. About the cabin, about Edward, about Remus and Nymphadora. He wanted to tell him about James and how much of an angel he was, that he left this cabin in his will for Remus, that he had to actually fight with him to take it after all this years... He wanted to tell him everything and he couldn’t because he was not there.

No talks after midnight, no stolen kisses in the middle of the day, no listening to Queen while Potter run his fingers through his hair, and no-

He cursed under his breath at the feelin of the flowers cutting him open, coughing wildly. No more nights like the one in the attic.

He moved the covers, freeing himself from them and cursed because of the pain and effort that took standing up by himself. He walked very slowly to the wooden round table in the kitchen and grabbed one of the quills and come parchment that Remus had left there before going to bed. He sat down on the chair, making it creak, look at the blanc parchment and took a deep breath. It wasn’t the same, but it was something. He missed Potter, he missed him and if he didn’t do something about it soon the flowers were going to kill him.

Dear Harry:

[made-me-deep-blue]

kamilah x mc - dear my dear.

prologue; the eternal queen.

-

“When the sap of the tree rests in the blessed chalice, 

The skies shall turn red, the earth shall be torn asunder,

And the First shall walk again.”

A curse that would repeatedly haunt a queen who would continue to live after the Battle of New York in 2020.

Manhattan, New York, 28 January 2120

Exactly a hundred years after the Battle of New York, a young and promising woman by the name of Camila Sayed walked through the lobby of Ahmanet Financial, silently buzzing with excitement for her interview as the CEO’s executive assistant. 

There were both men and women walking around alike, either preoccupied with speaking to colleagues and clients, or talking away to their phones, typing busily on their laptops. The clicks of heeled shoes were familiar sounds to Camila, having been an intern in a major bank office building in the heart of Singapore.

Camila made her way towards the woman who matched the description that she had scrawled out loosely on a piece of sticky note from the email she had received prior. She was none other than the VP of the company, Liliane Spencer, who was dressed in a cream-white blouse and a monotone checkered pencil skirt.

The vice president looked up from her clipboard and eyed the taller woman in front of her. “Are you Camila Sayed?”

“Yes, Miss Spencer,” Camila reeled her enthusiasm in to sound professional.

“Good, you’re on time,” Liliane sighed, turning on her heels and strutted for the elevators. “Lemme tell you, Ames won’t like it if you’re late. You have no idea how many interviewees she had turned down because of their tardiness.”

Sounds like she is the CEO’s best friend, calling her like that, Camila thought to herself. She was immediately reminded of her days in UConn fangirling over the number of financial businesses she could get into, but in the end, she only had eyes for the one and only Ahmanet Financial. It was said that after the Battle of New York, the former CEO’s wife had taken her spot and inherited her wealth as well after her passing.

Camila’s heart throbbed against her chest even harder, with every step that took her closer to the CEO’s door. 

“Mrs Ashryver-Sayeed will see you now.”

-

Camila was more or less expecting the office to be bright with the sunlight streaming in. However, it was instead just the office’s lights above her head, with streaks of sunlight peeking through the folds of the blinds. It was illuminated in a way because she was standing right in front of her idol.

“Yo, Ames,” Liliane said casually to the CEO. “Next interviewee, all the best.”

From where Camila was standing, an arm drifted to the side, with a glass of amber liquid swirling in it. 

“Thank you, Lily,” the cool, soothing and ethereal voice sounded across the room, which made the young woman concurrently shiver with anticipation and sensitivity. “I appreciate it.”

“Nothing big, best friend,” Liliane, or Lily, gave her superior a mock salute before winking at Camila and mouthing ‘good luck’, closing the door behind her.

When the bi-racial mortal turned around, she met the calm, collective and yet piercing gaze of Amy Ashryver-Sayeed. Camila bit her lower lip to hold back the small squeak that was going to slip out of her mouth. 

Right there and then, when their eyes met, it was as if she was transported to the Bahamas, the gentle waves lapping at the shores and the sun’s reflection on the world’s clearest waters. There was no difference between dreams and reality because both her eyes and the seas had calming effects on Camila.

When she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, exhaling, she was back in Amy’s office again. The older woman still had her eyes on Camila, silent, but calculative. Every inch of her just radiated wisdom and elegance.

“Are you feeling better?” Amy asked.

“Y-Yes, Mrs Sayeed,” Camila said sheepishly.

Amy leaned against her chair and crossed her legs under her table. She began flipping through Camila's particulars, running her finger down the boxes of information filled until she stopped right at the very top, where her name would be.

The younger woman saw Amy evidently swallowing hard and her jaw tightened.

"W-Would you mind...running by me your name again?" The sentence was like spoken through gritted teeth. She had forced herself to sound not as harsh as it sounded, but Camila had already felt uneasiness brewing in the pit of her stomach.

Even she wavered slightly as Amy did. "M-My name is Camila Sayed."

When their eyes met again this time, Amy had actually taken notice of Camila for the first time. 

It all came rushing over her mind like a broken dam, she couldn't even gather and process what she saw within that time.

The air was charged with energy as the world around them shifted. There it was, Manhattan, exactly a century ago in its glory. A significantly taller woman that looked eerily similar to Camila was holding hands with whom she presumed to be as Amy, wine glasses in hand, gazing at the nightlife inside of the office.

The scene shifted again, as the bright, glaring signs of Tokyo now shone from behind the glass panels of the windows of the bedroom below a club. The same woman and Amy shared a passionate kiss, with a sombre environment, to find comfort and solace in each other.

The last scene, however, left an everlasting impact on Camila. Amy ran her calloused hands through the fluttering, pale grey ash left on the opera theatre's grand stage. The movement was frantic, one that showed disbelief and utter devastation as realisation dawned on her. Darkness swirled around Amy, the aura so overwhelming that Camila had to take a step back herself.

Amy’s painful and raging bellow pulled Camila back to reality. 

The CEO herself was panting slightly, cold sweat licking at her forehead and on her neck. Camila could not believe what she had just witnessed.

That woman who looked just like her, from a century ago...it couldn't be a coincidence, right?

Amy was shaking, not violently, but trembling. She clenched and unclenched her fists on the wooden table, shaking her head in denial. Then, Camila heard it.

“No, that can’t be her. She died, she died right in front of me. Why did it take so long for the heavens to send a reincarnation of her? Why now, when I’m not ready?”

She...died?

“S-Sorry,” Camila started to freak out. “I...I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” Amy shook her head and let out a shaky breath. “I...I’ll have Liliane reschedule your interview for another day, I apologise.”

“No, it’s fine. Have a good day, Mrs Sayeed.”

-

When Camila finally reached her apartment, she dropped her bag beside her couch and immediately flopped onto the cushions, propping her head behind her arm.

She didn’t want to assume thing straight away, but she couldn’t get the thoughts out of her head ever since she stepped out of Amy’s office. Camila heard it, she wasn’t wrong. She had heard Amy’s voice inside her head, as if their minds were connected with a bond, like those that she had read about in fantasy books about mating bonds.

Camila had dreamt to have someone who was the Rowan to her Aelin from the ‘Throne of Glass’ series. But not in this way; she was brought up where humans lived happily together...the Battle of New York was just a myth. Her ancestors might’ve lived through and fought for their freedom and reclaimed this city, but it was just a myth.

She wanted to shake off the eerie fact that she heard her idol’s voice in her head, but it wasn’t those times where she had mental breakdowns and she imagined Amy comforting her and bringing her back up on her feet.

She remembered the recognition that flickered in Amy’s eyes when their eyes met. As if they had known each other forever.

Sadness that lingered behind the cerulean waves, wisdom exuding in waves off her body. She looked wise and mature for someone her age. Amy was only two years older than Camila, but the calluses and worn out fingers spoke much about her past and the work that she has done for the city. 

Was Amy Ashryver-Sayeed the woman she idolised ever since she entered college? Or was there more than what met her eyes?

-

tag list; @wildsayeed @sayeedbound @mrskamilxh @witchesplayatnight @kamilahsayeed-owns-me @voltos9 @justahumblepie @lightning-fury @iddevouryou @samgtt700 @h-doodles (let me know if you want to be in my tag list!)

[crookedndelicate]

#4 | casual affair

a/n - based on casual affair by panic! at the disco. i’ve had this idea in mind for like... two months? two and a half? before my catfish gig for sure. postponed it as always, had some free time and no wifi the other day and voila. as always, dedicated to @cosmic-hero75 for reading every single draft I had for this thing. and yeah this is still lowkey awkward but whatever. 

warnings / word count: umm... smut, as always. 4k words. it’s becoming my brand, innit?

Clothes on the floor, hands gripping the white sheets, mouths clashing against each other. Moans, sighs, soft cries and names called out repeatedly, like a mantra. Scratches decorating his back and love bites on your collarbones. Your legs wrapped around his waist, his fingers running through your hair, accompanied by the bittersweet knowledge that you might never see him again. Fingers gripping the bedsheets, knuckles turning white, a hug and the door closing behind him.

The first time you and Van had hooked up was after their All Points East performance. With your friends busy at work, you’d decided to go alone – you weren’t going to miss this. And in spite of your inner romantic wanting to tell the story differently, the truth was, both you and Van weren’t entirely sober.  You’d bumped into him and Larry after their set and offered to buy them a pint. It was sunny in London, and with the buzz you got from a day of live performances, your head was spinning; you felt invincible.

Soon, you and Van found your common ground. Both fresh out of serious relationships, neither of you was looking to get involved. You’d had your heart broken too many times to care for that. And Van, a rock star with a broken heart and the world at his fingertips, was finally learn to take advantage of that. Maybe if life was a fairy tale, you would have fallen in love and changed your mind; he would’ve asked you out, and you would’ve lived happily ever after. But life wasn’t a fairy tale, and neither of you was looking for anything more than immediate gratification.

You’d exchanged numbers anyways, mostly because you enjoyed each other’s company. You were sharp and Van was witty; you weren’t used to finding someone so in tune with your sense of humour. The banter went on and on, and by midnight you were back in his hotel room, his necklace dragging along your bare skin.

***

What you thought was a one-night stand turned into a tradition. Whenever Van was in town he’d call you up and you’d get together, usually at yours. He’d come around with your favourite beer and a cheeky smile, a smile you – like many others before you, you found irresistible. You’d torture him a bit before letting him in and you’d spend the night together, chatting, drinking, and eventually curled up in bed, hands all over each other.

“Hands up,” he mumbled and you obliged, allowing him to take off the t-shirt dress you were wearing. He pressed his lips against your collarbones, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your stomach. You could feel him grinning against your bare skin, his fingers stroking your inner thigh, dangerously close to your wetness. You felt your breath hitching as you lost your self-control, devoting every inch of yourself to his touch.

“Van,” you let out of a sigh, eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he focused his tongue on your weak spots. You’d always found it funny how Van seemed to enjoy touching more than he enjoyed being touched, and suspected it was a praise kink he’d never admit. Seeing you, your knees weak and body arching to the touch of his fingertips was enough to drive him wild. Hearing you beg for it, call out his name, was enough to get him rock hard and aching for more. Onstage, he got off people screaming along his lyrics and girls calling out his name. In bed, when it was just the two of you, he wasn’t any different. You found out oddly endearing.

Soon, he started staying the night. You’d share your bed, and for a day at a time, you’d get to wake up to a messy haired, sleepy Van. You’d watch as his eyes fluttered, his freckles brighter in the morning light. He’d pull you closer, almost instinctively, pressing his lips against your bare shoulder. Unlike the night before, those kisses were always softer, almost cautious. As if you’d ever kick him out of your bed.

***

You kept telling yourself it was nothing more than a casual affair. You hooked up when he was in town, and he never stayed over for more than a night at a time. Sure, you’d gotten to know each other, but that was bound to happen; after all, both you and Van were naturally chatty. You’d never met his parents or the rest of the band for that matter, and he’d never met your mates. You’d lived in your little bubble, a night at a time, and when you did, nothing else mattered.

Lucy - your preschool best mate, on the other hand, wasn’t as convinced. “Come on, y/n,” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her vanilla latte. “It’s definitely more than just a casual affair. He stays the night, you share childhood stories and make him tea when he wakes up. You’re way past casual at this point.”

“Luce, come on,” you shook your head, “it’s me we’re talking about. Let me talk to the barista long enough and I’ll start sharing childhood stories,” she chuckled, “it doesn’t mean anything. He comes over when he’s in town, we have fun together and he leaves. Sometimes to go on tour, sometimes to… god knows where. I rarely ask. I’m still not looking for a serious relationship and neither is he. It’s just fun.”

“Alright then,” she took another sip. “What would you say if I told you fans are speculating he’s seeing someone? Apparently, there’s this girl in New York. They say they’ve been together for a while now or something along those lines. Of course, it’s just rumours, but –“  

Her voice faded into nothing but background noise as you took a moment to ponder her question. And truth was, there was nothing to ponder. You should’ve been happy for him; you should’ve had some sort of a neural, ‘good for him’type of reaction. Casual affairs are never exclusive and you knew that… and yet, your first reaction was far from joyful. You could feel your heart breaking, aching to call him up and ask if it’s true. If there’s someone else.

And in that moment, you realised Lucy was right. You’d never meant to, but you were falling for him. You were falling for the stupid, charming, beautiful Van McCann, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

***

You didn’t tell him. Instead, you kept your arrangement going, enjoying the infrequent nights you got to spend together. Knowing Van wasn’t looking to fall in love, you figured some was better than nothing. After all, telling him you’d started developing feelings for him would’ve probably ended your relationship, if you could call it that. Then again, it was Van McCann you were talking about; the man who wrote scruffy love songs and couldn’t imagine not getting married and having kids. Van McCann, the hopeless romantic who kept breaking his own heart, who’d do anything for the ones he loved. If the romantic in you couldn’t stay completely detached, how could he guarantee the romantic in him did?

You kept going back and forth on that, unaware that your dilemma became more and more noticeable. While at first it seemed as if Lucy and you were the only one who could tell there was more than meets the eye, by the third time Van came ‘round yours, even he could tell you weren’t your usual self. And boy, was he oblivious sometimes.

“You alright, love?” he mumbled against your skin, his fingers absentmindedly caressing your bare back. You nodded, and he rolled his eyes. “C’mon, y/n. We’ve spent enough time together. Hate to say I know you ‘nd all, but I do. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you replied, almost instinctively, and he rolled his eyes once gain. He wasn’t wrong – he did know you, better than you were willing to admit. “Look, I… when we met last summer, we were both fresh out of serious relationships. Don’t think we would’ve bonded the way we did if it wasn’t for that. But…”

You didn’t have to finish that thought. His body tensed, and he nodded. “You want one,” he muttered, and you nodded. “I’m… I’m sorry, y/n,” he took a deep breath, his eyes frantically searching for his clothes. “I’m not ready. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He got dressed and left, not bothering to stay the night, and you didn’t argue. You figured that’s how he would react – after all, life wasn’t a fairy tale. You felt tears streaming down your cheeks as you sat there, on your bed, holding onto a blanket that still smelled like him. You hated the thought of losing him, but you knew it was for the best. And maybe, just me, both you and Lucy were wrong after all; his heart’s been torn apart so many times, and now, perhaps the boy who wrote scruffy love songs and believed in love was torn apart, too.

***

The healing process was a strange one. In an attempt to avoid anything that reminded you of him, the first thing you did was put your Catfish records in your under-bed storage, which evidentially proved itself useless. Apparently, it’s hard to avoid someone who’s an international rock star and keeps performing in festivals nationwide. You didn’t block him, even though you probably should have, but you did duck his calls and texts. You had nothing to say to each other.

The next step – quite possibly Lucy’s favourite, was a rebound. She was a big believer in rebounds, as much as she believed in zero second chances. For men, that is. She was constantly on guard, waiting for the moment you’ll say Van waltzed back into your life. But you didn’t, because he didn’t. The way you saw it, at least he had the decency to stay away from you, even if sometimes you wished he hadn’t. The videos, gig pictures and gifs were definitely not helping. You kept scanning through them, looking for signs of his wellbeing, wondering how he was doing without you. Whether he thought about you, or missed you at all.

And then, came Lucy’s co-worker. She kept insisting you’d make a perfect couple – or, at least, perfect rebound couple. No strings attached, she promised, and you finally gave up and agreed to go out with him. Just one date, no strings attached. You had nothing to lose and everything to gain, and you liked those odds. Especially since with Vans, they were the other way around.

His name was Luke. The first time he called you, he sounded anxious, almost concerned you didn’t want to talk at all before your date. That made you laugh. He seemed to be the antithesis of the confident Van you’d fallen in love with. He asked where you wanted to go, and you’d agreed to meet at a small café down the street. It was the kind of place you’d walked by more times than you can count, yet never went in. To your surprise, he lived in two blocks away, and soon enough you found yourself grabbing your favourite denim jacket and getting ready to go.

***

The place itself was just as adorable on the inside as you thought it would be. With pastel-coloured tables and a wooden floor, it felt more like a newly-designed Barbie’s Dream House than an independent café, but you liked it. Luke met you outside, holding a bouquet of roses he admittedly found cheesy, but you didn’t. As he walked you to your table, you kept thinking how long it’s been since you’ve been on a date. A proper date, that is. And as he pulled your chair back, you realised you kind of missed it.

His green eyes stared at you intently, listening to you. What started out as a conversation about work turned into childhood stories with Lucy, moments in secondary school she’d rather forget and your wildest benders. He prompted you to keep going, asking questions and laughing when appropriate. And as he toasted to your mutual friend for bringing you together, you realised Lucy was wrong. Luke wasn’t the perfect rebound partner, but he would make a damn good boyfriend. Someday.

Even though the café was down the road from your place, he insisted on walking you home. It’s dark, you never know who’s out there, he said. And so, you let him walk you home, your hands deep in your pockets. As you approached your place, you thought you’d seen a familiar shadow move, accompanied by the smell of mint and cigarettes. Your heart skipped a beat as you’d realised where that combination was oh-so-familiar from. Van.

It’s all in your head, y/n, you promised yourself repeatedly. It’s all in your head. You miss him and it’s natural, but whatever it was between you is over. He has no reason to come around, and he didn’t. It’s time to let go.

And so, in a final attempt to let go, you invited Luke in.

***

It took two glasses of wine and a shot of Malibu to get you to admit you didn’t want Luke to stay the night. Perhaps you could’ve said it more nicely – or at all, instead of mumbling something about having to work early the next day, but he quickly caught on and left. No hard feelings, he promised. It’s just a first date. I’ll call you, he added, driving your mind into overdrive over the million-dollar question: did you want him to?

And deep down, you knew the answer was no. Luke was a sweetheart, no doubt, but once again, you found yourself realising you weren’t in the right headspace for a relationship. Except this time, it wasn’t the end of a serious relationship that left you feeling like you weren’t ready, or wondering if you ever will be again.

God, why did relationships have to be so complicated?

A knock on the door forced you to snap out of it, leaving the dilemmas in the half-empty bottle of Malibu on the kitchen counter. Was it Lucy, wanting to know everything about your blind date with Luke? Was it Luke, wanting to know what had gotten into you? Was it your neighbour, fundraising for celling renovations for the pub downstairs, or whatever odd initiative he’d gotten himself into this time?

You opened the door, your heart skipping a beat at the sight in front of you. With a dead look in his eyes and an unfinished pint from the pub he’d walked out on, Van stood in front of you, and you sighed. You’d recognised the glass he was holding – The Black Lion, the pub downstairs. So you weren’t crazy after all, you thought to yourself, an odd wave of satisfaction washing over you.

“Can I come ‘n?” he muttered, and you stepped aside as he stumbled into your place.

“Van, it’s one in the morning. What’re you doing here?” you carefully grabbed the glass out of his hand, putting it aside. He just shook his head and sat down, his back against your kitchen wall. “Van, come on. You haven’t called in months, and now you’re at my doorstep?”

“I….” he looked up, spacing out. “I’m…. drunk,” he finally mumbled. You’d never seen him so drunk he could barely piece together a coherent sentence. In spite of the absurdity of the situation, you found yourself laughing. As if you couldn’t tell he was drunk.  And with him like that, you knew there was no chance for a decent conversation.

So instead, you grabbed his hand, pulling him back up. He mumbled something, but instead, you let your mind focus on the white cotton of his shirt against your skin and the sound of his breath next to you. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” you muttered, directing a very disoriented Van to the bedroom with you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, dragging his feet on the floor, hardly keeping his balance.

“Thought we weeeeren’t doin’ that ‘nymore,” he mumbled, taking the time to finish the sentence. You rolled your eyes as you closed the bedroom door behind you, watching Van stumbling down on his way to your bed. You followed him, helping him to take off his boots. He closed his eyes, allowing you to take care of him. You left the room for a second, and by the time you came back he was sound asleep on your bed.

You slept on the sofa that night.

***

You woke up with a sore back to the sound of someone stumbling into the kitchen. It took a second before the night before came back in flashbacks: the date you had, how you sent Luke home, drunk Van knocking on your door and crashing on your bed. You looked up and watched as he put the kettle on, rubbing his eyes. Not wanting to wake you up, he tiptoed around the kitchen, and you took a moment to study the man in front of you.

You hadn’t realised just how much you missed his slim figure in your kitchen, or the way he hummed his favourite songs as he made his morning tea. Even when hungover, the way he carried himself was mesmerising and you found yourself smiling, allowing yourself, just for a second, to question his presence there.  

But life wasn’t a fairy tale and you couldn’t allow yourself to ignore that. You got up and he turned around, holding a teabag. “Mornin’, love,” he greeted you, standing still. You couldn’t blame him – how do you greet your ex who isn’t quite your ex, who also happened to stop by drunk and crash on your bed? A hug? A handshake?

With neither of them feeling appropriate, you simply sat down. “Cuppa?” he asked and you nodded. You spent the next few moments in silence as he made two cups of tea, only looking up at him when he stood in front of you, handing you your favourite mug. He remembered. “Listen, y/n –“

“Van, enough. What are you doing here?” you put down your mug, and he sighed. “You were the one who walked away, remember? You have no business being he- “

“I couldn’t bear seeing you with him, okay?” he interrupted you, his words dripping with jealousy. “I came by because I wanted to talk ‘nd he was there, and I couldn’t fuckin’ bear seein’ you with him, alright?”. You’ve never heard Van angry before, yet there he was, his breath irregular and his jaw clenched. You felt your head spinning as the anger built up inside of you.

Van. Van who walked away. Van who didn’t want anything serious, yet had the nerve to get mad at you for simplytrying to move on. “Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t want to be with me, and yet you have the nerve –“

“Well, maybe I made a mistake,” he interrupted you once again, his voice low. “Maybe you’re all I’ve been thinking about. Maybe I can’t get you out of my head. Maybe I should have never walked out your door, y/n.”

You took a long, deep breath, aware of your anger more than ever. You could feel your heart racing and your blood pumping through your veins, yet instead of yelling or walking away like you wanted, you found yourself mumbling through clenched teeth, “maybe I’m over you.”

Well that’s a lie, you thought to yourself as soon as the words slipped out. Of course it was a lie. You were far from being over him – you wouldn’t have let him in otherwise, and he knew that. “Then tell me to leave,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on yours. “I’m serious, y/n. Tell me to leave and I’ll leave.”

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him to leave because you didn’t want him to. The last thing you wanted was for Van to walk out the door, leaving you alone once again. So instead you lurched forward, smashing your lips against his. He wasted no time, cupping your face with both hands as he deepened the kiss. Like a smoker indulging in the taste of nicotine, you wallowed in the taste of his tongue ravaging your mouth. You kissed until you were breathless, holding onto each other.

He pulled away, his lips pink and pupils dilated, and you pulled him back in, wrapping your legs around his torso and arms around his neck as he pressed you against the kitchen table. You kissed until your lips ached, sloppy and desperate, teeth gnashing together. You kissed frantically, lips pulled between teeth. Damn, you’d missed him more than you were willing to admit.

“Arms,” he mumbled against your lips. You lift your arms up and he took off your shirt, throwing it on the floor next to you. He kissed hot and wet down your neck, his hips grinding against yours. You weren’t going to argue – it’s been long enough since the last time you felt him on top, hands and lips desperate to touch every inch of bare skin they could reach. You threw your head back and whimpered as his mouth went to your breasts, eager to make up for the last time.

“Fuck, Van,” you hissed, your hands going straight to his jeans. With his mouth on your nipple and his hand between your thighs leaving you breathless, it took every bit of control you had left in you to unbutton his trousers. After all this time, Van still knew your body like the back of his hand, and if you weren’t so intoxicated by the pleasure washing over you, you would’ve probably found that impressive.  

You watched his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his fingers helped you remove the clothes between the two of you. With them lost somewhere on the floor and his mouth making its way down your chest and stomach, your body vibrating in anticipation. He pressed his forehead against yours and grinned as he slid two fingers inside of you. Your breathing grew erratic as he worked his way inside of you, focusing on your sweet spot. The intensity of your eye contact enhanced the skilfulness of his fingers, and you could already feel your release building up inside of you.

“More,” you whimpered, aching for more. He knew you well enough to know exactly what you wanted, and boy, was he going to tease you with that.

“What d’you want?” he murmured, his fingers still working deep inside of you. You groaned as he pressed sloppy kisses down your jawline, your stomach turning into an avalanche. Your eyes squeezed shot and you moaned his name as he whispered, once again, “what d’you want, love?”

“You,” you breathed out, hips instinctively pushing forward. “Please, Van, just… fuck me.”

That’s it. You’d said the magic words. Withdrawing his fingers, he took a moment to look at you. With your lips pink and slightly parted, your cheeks red and strands of hair glued to your forehead, he couldn’t help but appreciating how divine you looked. “Fuck, you’re…” he breathed out and smashed his lips against yours, slowly pushing himself all the way in. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and you could feel every inch of him, every vein, every slight movement. How you could think of being with anyone else was now beyond you.

You begged him to go harder and faster until you could feel him in your stomach, which was kind of fucked but god, you loved it anyways. Then, everything happened all at once, and better than it ever did before. His hands holding down your hips as his thrusts became harder and harder. His necklace dragging across your skin, bright in the kitchen light. Sweat glistening, sloppy hot mouthed kisses and weak knees. Van’s low groans and a string of ‘fuck’s and ‘oh god’s, neck kisses and love bites you would be proud to show off the next day. Your body vibrating in ecstasy as you let go with Van’s eyes fixed on you, mesmerised by the sight of you unravelling underneath him. Van’s mouth falling open as he came, the two of you panting each other’s names until you were completely out of breath. Van, not ready to pull out just yet, enjoying the electricity of your touch and you, not ready just yet to be empty.

When he finally pulled out, you pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbled and you smiled, leaning into his touch. It was soft and intimate and real,more real than any other night you’d spent together.

“I missed you too, Van,” you whispered. “Did you mean it?”

“Mhm. I made a mistake, y/n, and seeing you with him…” he huffed and you chuckled, caressing his cheek. You didn’t need more than that – you know exactly what he wanted to say, and somehow that was enough.

The rest of the night was spent in bed, snuggling and catching up – in every sense of the word, until you finally fell asleep, his arms wrapping your naked body as he pressed his body against yours. You woke up to him caressing your back, planting soft kisses on your shoulder. His hair was messy and the bags under his eyes were prominent, but as he smiled his crooked smile, you couldn’t help but fall in love all over again.

You knew he wanted to take things slow, and you didn’t mind. Life wasn’t a fairy tale – it was complicated and risky and full of obstacles and absolutely wonderful. You had a lot to talk about and even more to figure out and you both knew it, but that could wait another day. In that moment, you were just happy the boy who wrote scruffy love songs and believed in love decided to give it another chance after all.

[purposefullypassionate-blog]

A Brief History of Being Enough

I ruin things. I routinely compare myself to a natural disaster because there is nothing I connect more with than a hurricane. I am the destructive force and the body being destroyed at the same time. If that’s not confusing enough, try being this overwhelming force while also hearing whispers in your ear of “You’re not enough.” How can I be so much and not enough at the same time? One fun word that packs this into one nice little check box is: anxiety

This sounds like a simple word that might appear when you’re nervous for a test or have to publicly speak when you’re not used to it. But for me, this word means an entire universe is compacted into every inch of my body. People throw away this word, because they “feel so anxious omg,” and while there is some validity to having anxiety without a chemical imbalance, I don’t think they understand what it’s like to have every atom belonging to you exploding simultaneously. This happens every time I feel any sort of emotion. It’s an undefinable experience, except to say there are stars super-nova-ing inside me. I become consumed by my heart, and I physically feel it come in waves, like a sea is eager to escape me. Some days, I can’t even get out of bed. It has placed itself under my skin, in my chest, whispering my worst fears, making it hard to breathe. 

Breathing is the equivalent of swimming. I know if I stop treading, I’ll start to sink, but my body becomes so overwhelmed by the water it’s surrounded in that I forget to tread and eventually slip into a numb, unconscious state of drowning. Isn’t that stupid? I have to periodically remind myself to perform an involuntary bodily function. (It’s also incredibly ironic because I believe I am a hurricane, and how can a hurricane drown?) There are times when I realize I haven’t been breathing at all. I’ve just been standing there holding my breath because the thought of existing makes me want to stay under the covers while the morning sun creeps through the slits of my shades, reminding me I need to brush off the dust of sleep. I become so careful and apologetic in every aspect, including physical, due to the fear of becoming the hurricane to another person. While I want to be enough, I don’t want to be too much. It’s exhausting, and at the end of the day I use what little energy I have to collapse into a ball on my bed because I am out of breath. 

This can only happen after I eat, of course, because usually I eat like a bird the entire day because of the nausea. Crackers and La Croix are two of my best friends. I have one pack of saltines I keep in my desk, and there’s always a mango La Croix in the fridge right next to me; I don’t notice it until I get home and sit at my desk and realize I’m starving, but can’t eat anything because I feel like it will only want to escape my body. It’s that fun word back in my life: anxiety. It makes me sick to my stomach. My mom, AKA my anchor, noticed this the week I had to spend about 3 hours a day in the guidance counselor’s office because of issues with a high school stalker. I wouldn’t eat dinner, and my usual after-school-craving for Nutella had vanished. She knew something was wrong, and immediately connected this phenomenon to my disorder. It preys on my empty thoughts, a little voice that for some reason sounds like Bill Murray, continuously reminding “You can’t even eat? Or normally breathe? What’s wrong with you?” (No offense to Bill Murray, of course, I’m a huge Groundhog Day fan.) 

So, if I can’t complete these most basic human instincts, am I enough? That’s not all I think about, though, when being enough crosses my mind. I think of how no boy I’ve loved has stayed in my life longer than three months. If I can’t be enough for the people in my life, am I worth anything at all? This concept of being enough consumes my every waking moment. There have been the very rare occasions, nights where too many of my closest friends cram into a jeep with no roof, and I stand on the seat doing a poor imitation of Leonardo DiCaprio’s classic pose, and everyone’s laughing too hard, that I forget for a moment that I don’t believe I’m enough. In that moment, I am enough for the laughter I’ve created, I am enough for the music I keep messing up the lyrics to, I am enough for the moon that you can see when it peeks out between the trees. We get out of the car and don’t want to part. And when I feel like I’m the only person existing when I get back to my room after a long day of not breathing, I remember my other anxiety-ridden friend hugging me saying that night was the “perfect goodbye” for me before I left for college.  Little did I know that a week later from that night, I would begin to realize more about my anxiety because of a boy.

I hate when things happen because of boys. Not that there’s anything wrong with boys, but I want to know myself because of something internal. I thought I knew everything there was to know about my anxiety, sure it was confusing, but I know myself well. Alas, I arrived at college and met my plot twist. He’s a foot taller than me, grows Bonsai trees, and has severe ADHD. I understand how it feels to have a disorder, but I had never been in love with someone who has one. Unfortunately, his made him interrupt me, forget to kiss me goodbye, say the exact wrong things, and struggle to communicate. All the things that make my anxiety unfold from the ball I tightly pack it in and expand like a gas to fill its container. I had to repeatedly remind myself that it was not him, it was not me, it was the chemical imbalance he tries to exhaustingly keep together. It’s like the universe made both of us and said “Everything will go against their togetherness.” And we said screw it. But that fight against the universe hit me in the face and fought me saying “no, it’s not anything other than you just not being enough.” The mountain of not being enough has always been my steepest climb, so he climbed it for me. At midnight on a Friday that was hotter than it should have been in September, he ended things between us. It was not because I was not enough for him, it was not because the love he had for me disappeared, and it was not because I had done something wrong, and I have always wondered what I’ve done wrong. It was simply because he was not ready to take on anything like the relationship we wanted. It sounds like the most basic, bullshit answer a college boy can give you, but I believe him. He was stressed, overwhelmed, and simply not ready, and he did what was best for himself. Sometimes, timing doesn’t work, or relationships don’t mix with a person even if the people in it do. That is ok. Maybe it was because of my anxiety that makes me terribly empathetic, or the hours of research I did on ADHD to try to know him better, but I understood. And even though we stood there holding on to each other while I cried for what seemed like years, because neither of us wanted to let go for the last time, we eventually did. I shut the door after he reminded me I was more than enough for him. 

I’ve only ever completely felt enough for myself once. I was driving into Colorado at three in the morning, five days after my grandpa had been accepted into heaven, because of course he was. He was my best friend so that practically makes him a saint. My nose was pressed up against the glass because there were more stars in the sky than I realized were up there, and in that moment, I was enough for the stars. They serve as a reminder to the ones exploding inside me. I try and go back to that brief glimpse of infinity every single time I feel the not enough-ness in my heart. I adventure back in my mind to that mountain I was on when I saw my stars for the first time. I felt lost, without a compass or map, but then it turned, as all things do, to wandering. I hiked back paths of my heart, long-forgotten, traveled-across plains. Through forests taller than I remembered, and under a painted, desert sky I missed the beauty of. Over mountains I never realized I climbed, to find what I lost, or why I am lost at all. I have an addiction of traveling although there is no moving involved, since it’s only the emotional and physical journeys I’ve already experienced. This is one addiction I would never medicate, though.

Medication is a scary word to use. I am not medicated, and I get a puzzled look of “why?” every time I say this. I am terrified. I believe I am a coward, I am so frightened to my core of becoming reliant upon something that is not me. I am an actress, and I empathize well with people and have no problem accessing any emotion when I need to perform it. I am terrified of losing these parts of me that I actually like. If I medicate myself, I change my brain. My brain is the part of me that understands that although there are more stars in the sky than we’ll ever know, the night sky isn’t as bright as the sun because our line of sight doesn’t end on stars. This is because there was a point in time when those stars didn’t shine, even though we do live in an infinitely expanding, static universe. While I don’t necessarily need to know this information, it forces an understanding of myself. I know there are times when the stars under my skin aren’t imploding, times when I don’t feel too much, and I can take a deep breath and focus on clearer night skies. This allows me moments where my anxiety doesn’t consume me, just like the stars don’t consume the night sky. We both have a balancing act, which makes it easier to be friends with the stars. I don’t want some outside force changing this composition of my brain, which I actually can fall in love with at moments I know it is enough. 

Now, I am learning how to be enough for myself. That’s step one. I write out all my feelings, remind myself to wash off the day, and focus on every inch of me that is exactly enough, even if Bill Murray is telling me I’m wrong. It’s not easy, and it always circles back to that need to be enough. For boys, for my family, for the people I love, but especially for myself. I want so badly to just breathe without a reminder, and not tell myself that my body, my voice, my love, is simply not enough for anyone. If I were enough, I wouldn’t have had to worry about the days my person was having a rough time communicating. I wouldn’t have to worry about the secret phobia I have of the people I love and who love me waking up and saying “Never mind.” I wouldn’t have to worry during every unfilled moment to show that I can be more. Or less if that’s what you want. But for now, I do worry, and I am afraid. The undertow of anxiety pulls me back out to the ocean of not being enough, and that’s when the hurricane hits, or I become one. Sometimes, in the eye of my hurricane, I catch glimpses of my stars above me, and they whisper to me that there is a world without any hurricanes. So eventually, and I truly believe this, I will be enough. Maybe it won’t be tonight, or even a year from now, but someday I will be satisfied with the acceptance that every imperfect, frizzy curl, every frayed thought, every small moment I forget to breathe is all perfectly ok, because it is just me. I will be enough for me. I will stop seeking imperfection, and see the beauty of being imperfectly enough.

[hopeishappinessff]

Chapter 55

After sleeping what felt like half the day away, we were both finally up and Chris seemed to be in a much better shape than he’d been earlier in the morning. He was still weak and queasy, but his headache had disappeared along with most of his dizziness. As he continued to rest in the bed watching early afternoon cartoons, I made my way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. It took me maybe twenty minutes to shower and wash my hair, and before I knew it I was dressed in an all-white strapless romper with my hair pulled up into a sleek top knot at the top of my head. By the time I walked back into the room, Chris was still lounging on his side of the bed staring at the television. “Are we just gonna sit in this room on our last day in Florida or what?” I asked with a smirk and one hand on my hip. He turned his gaze from the TV to me and slowly allowed his eyes to roam from my face down to my feet then shamelessly back up again “Nah, I was just waiting for you to finish.” “Well I’m done… you can go ahead.” He stared at me for a while, then finally sat up and eased off the side of the bed. I giggled as I watched him rid himself of his t-shirt and whip me on the back of my thighs with it on his way past me to the bathroom. While I waited for him to shower, I headed over to my suitcase to pull out my accessory bag. I plucked the silver watch he’d given me for Christmas and the matching linked heart necklace. Once all my accessories were on, I pulled out a bottle of my favorite body spray and doused myself with it. A short while later, Chris emerged from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped loosely around his midsection. I silently stared at him as he moved past me to his suitcase on the opposite side of the room. He plucked it from the ground and dropped it on his side of the bed, immediately pulling out an entire outfit for the day. My stare shifted down to his waist just as he unraveled the towel and dropped it. I couldn’t contain my smile as he stood there, naked and proud. Just as he turned to face my gawking self, I whipped my head around to focus on putting my jewelry bag away. “What?” He asked amusedly. I shook my head, refusing to turn back to face him “Nothing.” “You know, you can look if you want to. Not like you’ve never seen it before.” He chuckled. With a scoff and a playful roll of my eyes, I giggled and stood from where I sat on the floor. “Whatever… I’m gonna go wait downstairs. Can you please hurry up?” “Perhaps.” He said, smiling as he watched me walk out of the room. I’d completely forgotten about the plan the girls and I had discussed earlier this morning and was surprised when I walked downstairs and realized everyone was gone. I moved into the living room and plopped down on the largest couch directly across from the television. Scooping up the remote to the theater style television, I turned it on and began to flip aimlessly through the channels. I grew bored of channel surfing and just as I set my mind to head to the bottom of the stairs to call for Chris, I could hear the sound of his footsteps skipping down the stairs. I turned to face him and immediately bit into my bottom lip with a smirk at the sight of him in his outfit. I shut the TV off just as he walked into the room and plopped down beside me, giving me a full waft of his delicious aroma “What we getting into today?” “Well, I figured we could take it easy and go down to International Drive... something simple, you know.” I suggested. He stared at the blank screen of the TV for a moment then slowly nodded and stood up from the couch “Where everybody else at?” “Um… I don’t know. I guess they all decided to go somewhere else.” I fibbed, staring at his back as he moved away from me. He didn't respond as he continued to make his way toward the door and for that, I was thankful. I quickly slipped my feet into a pair of white and silver sandals then grabbed my cross-body bag before trailing along behind him. -- My eyes scanned excitedly over the scenery around us. The sun was starting to set and Chris and I had had been roaming around the bustling streets of Orlando for most of the day. We’d been to just about every store on the strip and we had even gone to the Wonderworks Museum and played a few serious rounds of laser tag. I was prepared to spend a nice, quiet afternoon out with him, but the moment we got into that museum that whole plan went right out the window. The museum offered six different “Wonder Zones”, a glow in the dark rope course, and a 4D Motion Theater and of course, Chris made sure to drag me around to each of the attractions like the big kid that he was. The time was nearing eight o’clock and we were now sitting in the outside patio of Bahama Breeze, a beautifully Caribbean themed restaurant in the heart of International Drive. I sat across from Chris at a table for two and enjoyed the live island tunes as a band played off in the corner of the patio. The warm wind tickled at my face and I fought the urge to stand up from my seat and jam out to the music. “You ready to go back to Richmond?” Chris asked, snatching my attention away from the music. “Honestly… not really.” I confessed with a sigh. He chuckled softly and licked his lips, reminding me in only a second of the accessory in his mouth “Why?” “Well, because. I mean… look at this place,” I said, gazing all around us, “It’s beautiful. You know, I love home… but this place is just perfect to me.” He gazed at me for a moment, nodding his head as he fiddled with the droplets of perspiration forming along the base of his cup on the table. He turned to stare out at the bustling strip just across the way from the restaurant and released a deep sigh. “Can I ask you something?” He asked suddenly. “Yeah…” I muttered. With yet another sigh, he dropped his gaze down to the ground and licked his lips once more “Besides the whole Trey bullshit, have you ever had feelings for anyone other than me?” What?” I blurted, brows furrowed to match the confusion in my tone. “Have you ever had feelings for any other nigga?” He asked with raised brows as his eyes remained glued to the ground. “No,” I answered confidently, shaking my head to emphasize my response, “I haven’t.” “What about Shad?” He asked quietly, cutting his eyes at me. My head jerked back in surprise and I stared at him as if he’d just slapped me, hoping he would burst into laughter and tell me that he was only joking… but after several seconds of silence, that laughter never came… “What about him?” “Have you ever had feelings for him? Or even thought about him like, more than a friend” “No Chris, what…” “Don’t lie to me Sy, if you have just tell me.” He blurted. “I’m not lying, at all… where are you getting this from?” He didn’t bother to respond… he only twisted his lips to one side with an attentive expression before turning his body to face me and crossing his arms down on top of the table. “If you ever broke up with me, would you stay single or just hook up with someone else… like Rashad?” “This is ridiculous Chris, I don’t plan on breaking up with you anytime soon… why are you asking me these weird questions? What’s going on?” “Did you know that nigga been feeling you for a while now?” He asked quietly. I froze in my seat and stared at him utterly dumbfounded. I couldn’t bring myself to respond to him… I could barely even bring myself to form a logical thought to make what he’d just said make sense. “Who?” I spoke just as hushed. “Shad…” “Is… is that what last night was about?” Nodding slowly, he tore his gaze away from me and slouched against the back of his seat “Yeah. He uh… he said he fucked Gabby too.” It felt like the wind had just been knocked right out of me in that exact moment. My mouth hung open with shock and I blinked slowly as I digested his confession. I knew there had to be a valid reason for him to fight his best friend, but I would have certainly never imagined this to be it. “He was just drunk you know… we all were. But Shad was so fucked up and the nigga just started going real fucking left. He looked me right in my eyes and told me he fucked that girl while I was still with her. That’s not even what had me so fucked up though… like if I woulda found out about that while we were still together, that woulda just been more of a reason for me to break up with her ass.” He chuckled humorlessly and shook his head as he stared down at those perspiring water droplets on his cup again “He was just popping off so fucking much. I knew I shoulda knocked him out. I was too soft on him… the bitch don’t even deserve to be walking around breathing right now. Talking about ‘Breezy, you stay getting them bad bitches man. The fuck your lame ass do to get a bitch as fine as Gabby? And…” He hesitated and shook his head more furiously as his jaw clenched repeatedly and his right knee began to tremble “And he said you were the baddest bitch I’ve bagged yet… and he couldn’t wait for the day when you got fed up with my crazy ass so he can ‘fuck you how you deserve to be fucked.’ My mouth flew open and I gasped harder than I intended to, nearly choking over my own breath as I stared at him, utterly stunned by what he’d just said. I barely remembered to blink as I hopped up from my chair and raced around the table to sit directly beside him. “Chris,” I started, pausing briefly to gather my thoughts, “Chris, listen… I don’t care what Rashad or anyone else says… the only people who have the power to tear this relationship apart are the two people sitting right here. You told me the night of my birthday party that you’ve been waiting to make this happen for years… well it’s here now and we cannot allow anyone to come between us. No one has the ability to make me turn my back on you, especially not Rashad. I have never been interested in him and I never will be… I promise you that. And just like I told you the other night, as long as you’re willing to give me your all then so am I… I’m not going anywhere.” His saddened eyes danced around my face, from my eyes down to my chin… he gazed at me like this was his first time ever seeing me then finally lifted his hands to place them on either side of my neck “You’re so good to me… you’re amazing.” With a smirk, I brought my hands up to clutch onto his wrists and allowed him to pull me closer and mesh his forehead against mine “I know I was drunk off my ass last night… I was completely fucked up. But I know what I said to you and I swear I’ve never said it to anyone other than my mama..." he paused to lick his lips and smirked handsomely, "… I love you.” I shut my eyes and focused on containing my sudden brewing emotions. While I sat there, eyes still shut, he leaned forward and planted his lips against mine in the sweetest way. I clung to him tightly, because I knew I never wanted this moment to end. Our kiss only lasted a few seconds longer and it was so simply perfect, I didn’t want him to pull away… but he did… and I stared him right in his beautiful eyes and beamed… “I love you too.” -- We’d been home for nearly a week and the drama between Chris and Rashad had yet to subside. It’d even went as far as an unanticipated conversation between Chris and Gabby, which eventually led to the argument of who exactly was the father of her son? Though she attempted to deny all allegations that she had anything to do with Rashad, Chris explained to her that a paternity test would be done whether she liked it or not. So when Wednesday morning arrived, I quietly climbed into the truck with Chris and rather than heading off to school, we made our way to ArcPoint Labs for the scheduled DNA test. We argued just the night before about how I had nothing to do with the entire process. I felt it both inappropriate and unnecessary for me to be there and I just knew the moment I set foot in that office, it would instantly become awkward for everyone. Chris on the other hand could care less what anyone else thought and insisted that I be there by his side. As we rode in complete silence, I could see subtle signs of his anxiety. I held onto his right hand and noticed that it was clammy to the touch. Every so often he would even inadvertently squeeze my hand and he strummed the tips of his fingers along the top of the steering wheel as he steered the truck with his left hand. “Chris.” I called out, finally breaking the silence between us. “Hmm.” He hummed, never taking his eyes off the road. “Are you okay?” I asked. I watched him as he stared out through the windshield intently with furrowed brows “Yeah… I’m good.” I continued to stare at him, but never uttered another word and soon we were pulling into the parking lot of the lab. After hopping out of the truck, we moseyed into the building and Chris immediately signed in at the front desk. I followed his lead as he turned to move into the waiting area to await the arrival of the remaining members of this party to arrive. I knew he was nervous… I had already sensed that on the way here. But as soon as I plopped down in the seat beside him, I couldn’t help but believe that perhaps my nerves were more on end than his. Though I maintained a calm and collected demeanor all morning, internally my emotions were raging out of control. It was easy to sit around and speculate all the possibilities of who could be the father of Gabby’s child. It was even easier to assume that Chris was definitely not a candidate, since the girl had been with so many other guys through the duration of their relationship it seemed nearly impossible for him to be a runner up. But just sitting there in the clinic preparing to find out the truth once and for all made the situation entirely too surreal. I breathed in a long and slow gust of air, hoping that would help with calming my nerves, but when that only ended up making me nauseous, I released a deep sigh and leaned my head over onto Chris’s shoulder. “You alright babe?” He asked quietly as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pressed his lips against the top of my head. I nodded but kept quiet as I shut my eyes, reciting a silent prayer that this child was not his.

[scripttorture]

This blog is extremely helpful. Thank you for running it. I'm gonna try and be as detailed a si can be with this ask since that seems to help you, so forgive me if this runs a bit long. So I'm writing a fanfic in which my MC was in a mobile suit explosion at the end of a war, then captured by enemy troops and held until he was stabilized from his initial injuries, then was repeatedly sold off. Information on the MC: He's in his mid twenties, prior to the explosion he was in fair health, (1/?)

(2/?) He has a history of past childhood family abuse and bulimia but has been recovered from both for several years at the time of the explosion. His physical health is fairly good as he is a well trained and wealthy soldier. The explosion left him with extensive scare tissue and internal damage as well as some muscle damage in his legs, all of which were treated by his initial captors only to the extent of keeping him alive, not making his comfortable.Once he was passed on to new captors(cont.(3/?) (cont.) he was subject to several types of abuse common for prisoners of war: long-term starvation, basic beatings, periods of solitary condiment, sexual abuse, and psychological manipulation. For the last part, since he was being held and traded mostly by his direct enemies, he would be repeatedly told that he was a monster and other worse variations, and they would attempt to force him to hurt other soldiers from his own side and left him with their bodies, or force them to hurt him.(4/5) He would also be made to watch the news coverage of post war damage, and a subsequent war that occurred where his daughter (whom he was unaware of) was used as the "face" of the war. He has extreme guilt for his actions in the first war (as he provoked a lot of trouble and he was aware of it). He also did NOT plan on living through the first war. He survived by chance and because his enemies wouldn't let him die. And they used any information they could get on him and is past against him.(5/5) My questions for this: after he is rescued, would it be realistic for him to be able to put on an act some of the time that he's fine/indifferent, but have extremely low swings and periods of dissociation and self harm if he's triggered? What are some possible symptoms he could have that I may have overlooked/are underutilized in fiction? And what sort of care would best help him learn to function again? He does have a few people who have stood by him after the wars that could help him.

While I realise this probably isn’t the period and placementyou’re going for it’s reminding me a lot of the period immediately post WorldWar 1 in Europe. A lot of people came back with pretty deep psychologicaldamage and that was the first time European society really attempted toconfront it. The ‘treatment’ of veterans with mental health issues was reallynot pretty. There was widespread lack of understanding and sympathy.

Conversely the treatment of physical injuries was pretty good for the time. Popular feeling inmany European countries after the War was strongly in favour of giving veteransthe best possible care. Institutions to help the disabled sprung up quickly anda lot more effort than before was put into helping disabled people remainemployed or learn new skills.

 If you’re based in the UK the Science Museum in London has anexhibit particularly on injuries in WW1, both psychological and physical. Icertainly found it moving and inspiring (though more Curie would always begood). If you’ve got any chance to access it you might as well.

 Back on topic-

 It seems to me that if he wascoming across as fine/indifferent initially that probably indicatesdissociation. It sounds like you’re having him swing from dissociating (andhence ‘looking’ fine) to depressive. That’s a perfectly reasonable pattern ofsymptoms.

 ScriptTraumaSurvivorhas a spread sheet designed to help people keep track of their character’strauma symptoms. You might find it useful. Icertainly found a testing-version useful.

 In terms of under-used symptoms, well honestly there are a lot but I’m going to narrow them down tothe ones that fit what you’ve already described about the character’sresponses.

 With depression particularly I think the physical symptoms are under used in fiction. A common symptom isnausea and difficulty eating. Stomach pains and intestinal trouble are alsopretty common. A feeling of lethargy is common, being tired and yet havingtrouble sleeping. And I think all of these fit pretty well with your scenario.

 At the risk of over-sharing I threw up a lot during my first major depressive episode. I got nausea prettybadly, but I was hungry and/or actually enjoying my food. The result was Itried to eat a ‘normal’ amount for me when I couldn’t manage it and I’d bringit all back up within ten minutes. It took months to figure out how to managethat. (Smaller meals and more of them, plus bland foods. In the meantime I was constantly hungry).

 I’ve never seen a character written with depression manifestthose symptoms. But apparently it isvery common.

 Another symptom of depression that I don’t see very often infiction is the character being….apathetic and lethargic to the point of notbeing able to get out of bed. I’ve seen this in real life but I’ve never seenit in fiction. This would especially tie in if his depression makes itdifficult for him to take care of himself and where he lives.

 A symptom that’s rarely used and fits with dissociation (andself-harm) is……..particularly extravagant self harm fantasies. Things that gobeyond self harm and into self mutilation. Wanting to amputate a limb, orbreak/crush it. Wanting to cut off the nose, scar the face, sew up the lips anddrill a hole in the back are all examples I’ve heard of.

 This can be separate to thedrive for pain that feeds self-harm and more about body image or ratherdisconnection from body image. The character may not feel a strong desire to carry out these fantasies or attemptthem but have repeated intrusive thoughts about, for example, cutting off theirarm.

 You’re giving a strong impression that this character hasvery low self-worth and self-esteem. Following the sort of ordeal he’s beenthrough that’s normal. He might havevery narrow ideas about what he’s ‘good for’. I know that turns up in fiction alot but it does so for a reason.

 I’ve been talking to ScriptTraumaSurvivor about triggersquite a lot over the past few weeks. Theyhave a post on them here, which you might find useful.

 Issues with hygiene are another symptom that comes up a lotin real life but not in fiction. The character suddenly not caring about hisclothes, hair, when he last showered- Not keeping his living space clean andtidy is more commonly how that’s shown.

 Irrational fear of everyday objects (or being triggered bythem) is another one that I’ve not seen come up. I’ve not seen a characterdevelop a fear of the shower, even if they’ve been through something that mightmake confined spaces a problem.

 You said he’s rich. He might well throw a lot of money intotrying to get rid of his injuries and scars. Things like that can serve aspotent physical reminders of what happened. But…money and the best surgeons inthe world won’t necessarily be able to wipe it all away in the sense he mightwant. Surgery, physio and the like take timeand aren’t always successful.

 I’ve seen a couple of things in fiction where people havecovered scars with tattoos in an effort to reclaim them, which does happen inreal life. It probably has a better prognosis than extensive surgery to reducescars that are already pretty old.

 Memory problems also rarely seem to show up in fiction butare hugely common in real life. Or perhaps more accurately the way memory problems show up in fictionisn’t accurate to real life. Victims rarely forget who they are or key elementsof their past (ie childhood before torture). They don’t forget their names orwhere they live.

 But they do oftenstruggle to learn new skills. They often have trouble remembering details oftheir abuse, or conversely remember it in great(but not necessarily accurate) detail. He may have forgotten a lot of littlethings about his friends and family, which could be distressing especially withhis already low self worth (how couldhe forget his best friend’s birthday when they’re so much better than he deserves?Etc-).

 He might have forgotten things about his hobbies. He may wellbe constantly forgetting little things like his keys, or what someone asked himto do that morning and that can feed into someone feeling ‘useless’ or likethey’re ‘going mad’.

 I think….in order to make the symptoms you’re using seem realyou should have him try to reduce contact with the people who care about him.Have him avoid people sometimes and try to reduce contact to....contact on his terms. This means the time periods when he ‘seems fine’are….balanced by long stretches when no one has seen him. The less direct contact timehe has the more likely he’ll be able to come across as normal.

 As to the last part-

 Recovery take a long time and it’s never easy. This charactercan and should access professional help (you should take a look at ScriptShrink’sblog to see what that might look like).

 Having a support network is incredibly important though.Having friends and family who won’t judge him: a character he can rely on toturn up at 3am if he phones because he’s having nightmares, someone else who’swilling to come by every day and make sure he at least eats breakfast. Thatsort of thing.  

 There isn’t a….agreed on treatment method for torture. Weare, to be frank, making this shit up as we go. At the moment we just don’t know.

 But this was a war. And that means this character was not alone. His experience will havebeen shared by other veterans andthere are likely to be groups and societies of these people. Seeking them out(perhaps with encouragement from his friends) could well help.

 It could help put his feelings and experiences inperspective: he isn’t going mad, other people are having these memory problems,he isn’t useless other people have the same low self-esteem.

 I hope that helps, I realise the treatment and recovery stuffis a little vague. A strong support network, shared experience,professional help and being believedwhen he says he was raped/tortured- those are all important. With all of themtogether he’d have a relatively good chance of recovery and learning to livewith his symptoms.

 Oh and if this is a Marvel/Iron Man fic, I’d very much like alink when you’re done.  

Disclaimer

[taesthetes]

maelstrom [ jimin ]

noun : a powerful whirlpool in the sea or river ; a situation or state of confused movement or violent turmoil.

you don’t know if you want to hit him or kiss him.

pairing: park jimin x reader genre: fluff type: college au word count: 2,101 words warnings: none author’s note: happy birthday to my other half #rat @dreamscript whom I love very much despite her swerving ass that goes from jimin to namjoon to inseong and maybe back to jimin someday if he’s lucky. you’re so rad and wonderful and gorgeous and memetastic, and you meme so much to me, and i’m so glad that I sent you a message a little over a year ago screaming over your writing. I heavily based this on your recent messages lmao and I apologize because I know nothing about naruto (but i think it means whirlpool in japanese, hence the title lol) but anyway ily neo phoenix congrats for surviving another year!! *cue congratulatory pterodactyl screeches*

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You enjoy being a part of the UN Conference Club your college hosts very much. But do you enjoy the people in the club? Maybe not so much. First of all, how can some people be so dumb? And second of all… well, there does not really need to be a second of all because stupidity covers all of it.

During the three-day conference, there is a historical crisis committee for the Spanish American War where the main focus centered on how to avoid the war entirely in 1898. On the first day—which is the most formal day—the attorney general, Inseong, immediately requested $1.2 million dollars to fund biotech companies to end tuberculosis. In response, someone asked if he knew just how much $1.2 million dollars amounted to in 1898. He insisted that he knew and that it was only a small price.

It was equivalent to 7 billion dollars today.

And he had planned to fund that entire sum of money that into biotech companies, which were most likely nonexistent back then.

How did this kid even win Best Delegate? Granted, his face paled considerably when the 7 billion dollars were announced, and he revoked his statement, but still.

Thus, there was example number one of idiocy.

Example number two?

Park Jimin and his ridiculous antics.

On the committee you were assigned to—which was the international monetary fund—you all are tasked with coming up with a solution to the 2017 oil crisis. You think of several ideas, plotting them out and organizing them. Things are currently going smoothly for the most part, except for one damn person.

“Psst!”

You disregard the noise, furiously scribbling down more ideas onto the paper.

“Hey!”

Don’t look back, you constantly remind yourself, ducking your head down lower towards your notebook.

You hear an exaggerated sigh before you feel something light hit your head. Frowning and narrowing your eyes, you finally turn around to see an innocent wad of lined paper on the floor next to you. It is the fifth one that you have received today. You already know who it is from.

Park Jimin.

As a fellow member of the UN Conference, he is the delegate for South Korea. But, he is more known for his reputation as the one who keeps fooling around and framing his friends with ludicrous accusations. But more notably, he is the nuisance that continues to send you silly love confessions, war declarations, and “yeet” notes all throughout every meeting and conference.

Letting out a long exhale, you lean over to pick it up and uncrumple the ball. You are greeted with the sight of yet another love note scribbled by none other than the pink haired boy. You wordlessly turn around and continue to write out your proposals, ignoring the boy. A few minutes later, you hear a whine, and you roll your eyes.

“_______!”

Slumping your shoulders, you turn around and fix the culprit with a piercing glare. “What is it now, Jimin?”

He stares at you straight in the eye, a serious look fixated on his face, and you soften a bit. Perhaps, he is finally seeing the importance of the conference. Maybe he actually has a good idea that will—

“I love you.”

Or not.

Okay, so maybe your heart did a teeny tiny somersault at that, but you refuse to admit that to his face and inflate his already big ego.

Instead, you give him the stink eye, debating whether you should roast him in front of the entire delegation or not before deciding to keep your mouth shut. You realize your resolution needs votes to be passed, so you silently reface the front and quietly tuck away the notes from Jimin into your folder as potential blackmail if needed.

After that, you are pretty sure Jimin got the message. He even tried to participate in the conference.

However, the one time he attempted to be serious and attack the problem turned out to be a dud. As a solution to the crisis, Jimin proposed that all oil exporting companies make their energy sectors 50% renewable by 2021 and make profits off of the renewable energy from that.

You almost wanted to tear your hair out in frustration or maybe beat him with the growing stack of love confessions he gave you. But because violence is never the answer, you very civilly wrote him a long note, explaining why the hell that was a terrible idea because the entire point of renewable energy is that it is inexpensive because it comes from nature. Let’s be honest, how the fuck are you going to make a profit from that? What are you going to do? Sell the sun? How about the wind? Tidal waves? Seriously.

This dude is going to make you lose half your brain cells.

However, at the end of the last day, it turns out that your resolution passed just fine without needing to resort to underhanded methods. Oh well. But hey, you can always use those love notes for other blackmailing purposes another day. You turn around in your seat to aim a smug look and maybe one last roast at Jimin, but your gaze is surprisingly met with nothing. Jimin’s chair is empty, and the satisfaction you had felt for having your proposal passed ebbs away. Somehow, victory does not feel as sweet as it should.

“Hey, _______!” Startled, you look over to see Byulyi waving at you from the doorway. Her conference had finished ten minutes earlier than yours, and she had been waiting for you. Waving back, you walk over to her, and the two of you exit the building, now strolling towards your dormitories.

“How did your committee go?” asks Byulyi, pulling the strap of her bag over her shoulder onto a more secure position.

“It went pretty well. My proposal was passed as the resolution for our oil crisis,” you answer, kicking a loose pebble across the sidewalk.

“And yet, you don’t seem very happy about it. Is something wrong?” she questions. She glances over at you, concerned, and analyzes your dejected disposition, smiling mischievously a few seconds later. “Did you not receive the usual amount of love letters from Jimin today?”

“He wasn’t there today,” you grumble, then hastily add on, “But not that I care or anything.”

“Of course not, you don’t like him at all.” Byulyi grins, elbowing your side a little too harshly.

“I don’t like him!” you protest, stopping in your tracks and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Alright, alright,” she relents, tugging at your arm to pull you along once more. “Have you started studying for the chemistry test yet?”

“Ah, well, um, I took out my books and notes and everything to study but… I kind of got sucked into Naruto instead,” you confess.

“Mm, why am I not surprised?” Byulyi laughs.

“Okay, but I learned this new super cool move from the latest episode I watched. Look!” You move a few paces away from her before striking a pose and moving your arms around wildly. “So, first… it goes like this… and then, punch here and… I just gotta move my foot here… thrust my elbow out… and BAM!”

“Ow! What the hell?!”

Fuck.

You were definitely not aiming to actually hit someone. Panicking, you look at Byulyi, who only points behind you in shock. Whirling around on your heel, you come face to face with a gasping Jimin. God damn it. Of all the people on campus, it had to be him. You are completely wrapped up in this thought until you are pulled back into reality with a realization that there is an actual human being doubled over in front of you who probably needs medical help. And cue the panic alarms in your brain.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Shoot, let me take you to the medical center!” You rush over, grabbing his upper arm and hurriedly pull him towards the center, calling over at Byulyi to go to the dorms without you. She nods in understanding, motioning for you to go on, and you speed walk Jimin towards the center for treatment. “We’ll get there in less than five minutes—I—oh, god, I’m so so sorry!”

“Wait, wait, ______—Wait!” He stops walking, and you reel back slightly by the sudden stop. Jimin drags you over to a bench to sit down, and you scan over him worriedly. “Oh god, you can’t walk anymore? Did I hit a nerve or something earlier? I’m sorry!”

“No, I’m fine,” Jimin wheezes slightly before giving you a large grin, eyes curling into crescents, as a carefree laugh slips out. “But if you had wanted to hit on me that badly, you didn’t have to hit so hard.”

“What th—” Your eyes grow wide before realization hits you. You burst out angrily, jabbing him in the chest repeatedly.  “I can’t believe you! I thought you were seriously hurt!”

“Wh—Ow! Wait! Ow! Hey, sto—Ow! What are you doing?! Stop! Ow! Would you quit it?!”

Jimin grabs your hands, tightening his grip on them slightly to stop you from flailing. Startled by the unexpected contact, you can only stare at him silently, mouth slightly agape in surprise. Screw Byulyi for asking you about chemistry. Screw Naruto for making you try out that move. Screw Jimin and his stupidly handsome face for making you feel so irritated, giddy, and confused towards him all the time.

But most of all, screw your heart for giving away your true feelings with the way it nearly palpitates out of your chest.

Jimin tilts his head to the side, looking at you in wonder, and you bite your bottom lip, forcing yourself to breathe as your heart takes a dive under his intense gaze. Tugging you towards him, Jimin leans in closer, and your breath hitches in your throat. He is so close that you can count the number of lashes framing his pretty chocolate eyes and his nose is millimeters away from brushing your own. Jimin is so impossibly close, and your eyes flutter close when his breath fans against your face.

“Hm,” Jimin looks at you thoughtfully, and you open your eyes in confusion. The corners of his lips then upturn into a genuine, but still impish, smile. “You wanted me to kiss you.”

“I—No,” you stammer, “No, that’s not it, I—”

“You like me, you want to kiss me,” he exclaims happily in a lilting tone. Beaming, he slips his fingers in the spaces between yours now, squeezing your hands gently.

“No, I don’t,” you feebly deny, face becoming warmer every second as Jimin leans towards you once again, grinning and noses touching. “I just… um… well, you see…”

Jimin does a pretty effective job at stopping that trail of thought.

His lovely, pink lips are soft and plush as they brush against yours endearingly in a way that stirs up colonies of butterflies in your stomach. You kiss him back as he gently bites down on your bottom lip. He tugs you onto his lap, wrapping his arms securely around your waist as your hands grasp loosely on the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. You can feel his heart beating just as rapidly as yours is, and you smile happily, your lips curling in the slightest of ways, before you pull away. Jimin gazes at you so adoringly, and you can only imagine that you look the same way towards him.

Jimin tangles his fingers with yours once more and steals another kiss, musing with a quiet laugh, “Our relationship is so backwards.”

You tilt your head in slight confusion as the two of you stand up, hands still intertwined. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I said my first ‘I love you’ to you yesterday, had my first kiss with you just now, and will be taking you on our first date in a few minutes.”

“First date?” you wonder aloud, a smile making its way across your face as an identical one has already found its place on Jimin’s.

“Yeah, I’m bringing you to one of my favorite ramen shops.” Jimin swings your hand playfully, then nudges your shoulder, struggling to hold back his laughter. “Would you prefer that we Naruto run to the place?”

“… You know what? I actually learned a couple of other moves from Naruto that I’d like to try out.”

“… Or we can just… you know… walk there calmly and happily like any other couple.”

“Good choice.”

[qpjianghu]

What I loved and hated about the Molly Hooper Scene

I’ve been deaded along with most of the rest of the fandom, so I haven’t done much of my own writing on the finale. Howeverrrr, Louise Brealey’s tweets in response to Steven Moffat’s interview with EW got me going, and, alas, here we are. The first half of this piece has been published on Bustle, but I had to cut it significantly, so I’m posting the extended version here.

In “The Final Problem,” one contentious scene stood out among the many, many, many (Tumblr is making lists) other contentious parts of the episode: the forced love confession scene between Sherlock Holmes and his pathologist friend Molly Hooper. The scene – which was actually a last-minute addition to the script – has polarized the fandom because it seemingly reduces Molly to a one-dimensional, love-sick sop, while proving to Steven Moffat’s staunchest haters that the “Sherlock” writer and creator is a diabolical misogynist.

On the Steven Moffat front, I happen to love his female characters. Even when I hate them – cough Clara Oswald cough – I love that I hate them, because it demonstrates that they’re real and layered enough for me to approach them in an ambivalent way. Molly Hooper is actually one of Moffat’s more complex female characters, both in personality and narrative arc – the latter of which is why people are so irked by the Molly Hooper scene. I have other problems with the scene (which I will get into later) but I do not think it necessitates a reductionist view of Molly’s character, despite the implication that Molly has not progressed past her season one self.

Molly starts out as a Sherlock fangirl of sorts, fostering an unrequited affection for the great detective. In season two, we learn that she is more than her love for Sherlock – she stands up to him, gains his respect, and becomes an integral part of Sherlock’s plan to fake his death. Season three moves her further into the friendzone (which, in the context of the “Sherlock” universe, is a huge step for both of them), while establishing that she has – or tries to have – a life outside of the pathology lab and the morgue.

Her character in “The Abominable Bride,” is the most interesting: “Molly” is known to all as “Hooper,” the “man” who runs the morgue and takes no shit from anyone, least of all Sherlock. When we find out that the whole plot of “The Abominable Bride” is a fiction concocted in Sherlock’s head to help him figure out a case, it makes Molly’s re-characterization as a man even more fascinating – not because Sherlock would only respect her as a man, but because he now recognizes her inner steel, and believes that if Molly did live in those more, ahem, genteel times, she would have had to pretend to be a man in order to be respected as the smart and capable person that she already is.

Season four shortchanged a lot of characters, Molly included, and she only appears in the first two episodes to help take care of John’s baby and to remind Sherlock that he’s too doped up to function. Then came “The Final Problem.”

“The Final Problem” centers on the sudden, psychopathic appearance of Sherlock’s secret sister, Eurus, and her desire to understand Sherlock’s “emotional context.” To do so, she puts him through a series of Escape Rooms and presents him with a different ethical conundrum in each. One room contains an empty coffin, which Sherlock deduces is meant for Molly Hooper. Eurus tells Sherlock that Molly’s flat is rigged with explosives, and unless he can convince Molly to say the code phrase “I love you” before the timer runs out, Molly will die.

It’s cruel. In a way, that’s what makes the scene brilliant. For Molly, it’s a painful phrase to utter “because,” she says, “it’s true.” And even though Sherlock succeeds in the challenge – “I won! I saved Molly Hooper!” – the cost is high, and, Eurus explains, unnecessary. Eurus reveals that Molly was never actually in any danger, so Sherlock hasn’t actually “saved” her, and whatever he thinks he has “won,” he’s now lost much, much more. “Look what you did to her,” Eurus points out. “Look what you did to yourself.”

“Look what you did to yourself”: Immediately afterwards, Sherlock Hulk-smashes the coffin with his fists in a primal rage, an indication that, as the entire series thus far has aimed to show us, the most impressive aspect of Sherlock Holmes is not his brain, but his heart. Sherlock is deeply, deeply emotional, and it’s gut-wrenching to see him so distraught over causing emotional harm to someone else, someone he used to slight without a moment’s hesitation or afterthought. Now that’s character growth. Plus, this scene is a callback to “A Scandal in Belgravia,” when Sherlock humiliates Molly at a Christmas party, completely blind to her affection for him. Sherlock is surprisingly chastened when he realizes his mistake, and the moment marks an important crack in his emotionless facade.

The scene in “The Final Problem” is so agonizing because we know how much Sherlock has grown since then. But what about Molly? It seems she hasn’t changed a bit. In “A Scandal in Belgravia,” Molly plays the part of the pining, unrequited lover, and she is thrust into the exact same position in “The Final Problem.” Many fans are furious over this static characterization of Molly, a woman who seems to exist only to support the emotional growth of the main, male character. In fairness, the show is called “Sherlock,” ergo, every character – male or female – essentially exists to support the emotional growth of the main, male character. However, is it fair to say that this scene indicates that Molly is nothing but a stock female character with no internal growth or struggle?

Yes and no. No, because Molly is far from being a prototypical damsel in distress of yore or a one-dimensional, ass-kicking heroine. In fact, what I love most about Molly Hooper is that she turns the dreaded trope of the Strong Female Character (™) on its head. Here is an original female character (she does not appear in the Arthur Conan Doyle stories) who is pure-hearted yet complicated, emotional yet entirely competent. Though she has some form of a relationship with the main, male character, she also has her own career, dating life, living space, and stressful days unrelated to said main, male character. What stood out to me most about Molly and Sherlock’s exchange in “The Final Problem” was Molly answering the phone with “Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent? Because I’m not having a good day.” Those six words – I’m not having a good day – hint at an entire life outside of whatever’s going on with Sherlock Holmes, and imbue her character with immediate depth.

The fact that she is still pining for him arguably makes her feel even more real. In response to fan criticism, Louise Brealey tweeted her own assessment of the scene: “Loving someone after years is not reductive, retrograde, antifeminist or weak.” (The actress views herself as a proud feminist and has been outspoken about women’s rights and her own struggle with body image issues.)

All of which makes the fallout  – or lack thereof – from this scene at the end of the episode so shocking. We see how this conversation has profoundly affected Sherlock (“Look what you did to yourself”), but not how the conversation has affected Molly (“Look what you did to her”). Molly appears in one subsequent scene in the episode, as part of an ending montage that shows her happily skipping into 221B Baker Street. Wait, what?

In a post-finale interview with Entertainment Weekly, Moffat addresses fan concern with the careless treatment of Molly in this episode with a repressive: “She gets over it!” He then goes on to explain that their resolution obviously occurs off-screen, and ends with: “She probably had a drink and went and shagged someone, I dunno. Molly was fine.”

Oh, Steven. If anything, this makes matters even worse, and Louise Brealey herself tweeted that she disagrees with Moffat’s assessment of Molly’s reaction to this scene:

The Molly Hooper scene in “The Final Problem” is supposed to feel horrible. It’s supposed to feel brutal, and it feels that way because of the careful development of both Sherlock’s and Molly’s characters over the course of the series. We witness Sherlock’s agony, but Molly’s is completely brushed aside. That’s the real tragedy of the treatment of Molly’s character – not what happened to her within the “emotional context” of the episode, but what wasn’t explored by the writers afterward.

But there’s another ick-factor as well, and that’s the larger issue of the whole “no homo” feel of this episode. This scene bothered me on a more meta level because it felt like it was capitalizing on Sherlock’s one heteronormative relationship. If the words “I love you” mean so much, why not have Sherlock say it to John? (Sherlock himself says “I love you” to Molly because she will only say it if he says it first.) I could write – and obviously many of you have written – hundreds of pages on how Sherlock’s love for John Watson drives nearly every episode, so that’s another essay entirely. But if you’ll take it on good faith that Sherlock and John’s relationship is what powers the heart of the entire series, why have Sherlock utter such a sincere-sounding declaration of love not to John, not even to his brother Mycroft, but to the one straight female character on the show? (Apologies to Mrs. Hudson.)

BBC deliberately mislead fans by including Sherlock’s “I love you” in one of the promotional trailers for the season – and that, I believe, was cruel. Not cruel towards fictional characters, but cruel towards real-life fans who devote so much of themselves to this show. A large proportion of “Sherlock” fans were exhilarated by the prospect of seeing John and Sherlock finally get together as a couple, despite the fact that Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss have repeatedly denied that that was ever going to happen. For my part, I didn’t need to see the two of them engage in a dramatic, public display of affection to close out the season, and I believe something that grandiose would have been out of character for these two emotionally repressive men.

But that’s why the final hug between Sherlock and John at the end of “The Lying Detective” was so meaningful and so cathartic. That’s why Sherlock saying “I love you” to or at John (hey, I would have been happy with a Mind Palace love confession too) would have been a natural follow-up to the emotional vulnerability finally laid bare at the end of “The Lying Detective.” And that’s why it felt so cheap to have Sherlock say it to Molly. “I’m not an experiment,” she angrily scolds Sherlock, as he desperately tries to get her to say those three words. But in the larger, “emotional context” of this show, she might as well be.

.

[fantasysuiteleague]

Week 6: The Chokey

At the beginning of this week’s episode, Taylor rises from the depths of the bayou to remind us one more time that she has a Masters and Corinne is not here for the right reasons. While I applaud her resolve to get the last word and very much enjoyed the anxiety she gave Corinne while talking with Nick, this ultimately felt like a lazy waste of everyone’s time. Of course Nick knows that Corinne is lying but he doesn’t care because he makes the majority of his decisions based on his dick, and the rest based on whatever the producers want. So sure, he’ll begrudgingly go outside and get scolded by Taylor for falling for Corinne’s shtick because he has to at least pretend like he cares about and respects these women. But ultimately, he doesn’t. And so instead of spending an extra 3 hours getting some quality time with the remaining women, he cancels the cocktail party under the guise that he promised himself if he knew where his heart was, he wouldn’t waste anyone’s time. But then he wastes everyone’s time with a rose ceremony...

I’m really sad to see Alexis leave as I imagine everyone else in the house is as well seeing as she’s probably one of the only girls I’d even want to have a prolonged conversation with. If you told me that the aspiring dolphin trainer from Jersey would end up being my season favorite, I’d have told you to get that fake news out of my face.  And yes, she’s not the right match for Nick but that’s not really the point of this show and like, who is Whitney?

An Orphan Emerges

The first stop on the International Bachelor Tour is the island of St. Thomas, where The OA gets her first 1-on-1 date immediately on arrival. They take a water plane to a private beach where Kristina begins to unravel her long awaited back story that explains her thick Russian accent. She’s only able to reveal she was adopted and has 8-9 brothers and sisters before Nick gets tired of the serious conversation and asks her to go swimming. Later that night, after a prep session with the producers, Nick starts to ask more targeted questions about her hometown in Russia and her parents. 

In response, Kristina tells a horrifying and heartbreaking story of child abuse and abandonment of a 5 year old girl by a woman who surely had mental health issues. After a few years in a Russian orphanage (woof), she found a US family to adopt her and she was able to exchange a life of prostitution and a bleak gray country of despair for a colorful life in America where she can go on national TV and compete for the “love” of a man who wouldn’t know struggle if it smacked him in the face. Being unable to relate and without a producer near him to hold up a cue card so he can give an appropriate response, Nick says “wow that’s..wow.” To be fair, it’s a lot to take in for someone with such a small brain. He tries though, which leads to some classic Viall tears and Kristina getting the rose and officially becomes the Jubilee of this season: beautiful orphan who has been through way too much shit to put herself on this show alongside fame whores looking for their 15 minutes of fame. Get out of there, girl! You’re better than this and you deserve more than Weepy Nick and his dysfunctional dick.

Do you like to be choked?

I can’t tell if this date was set up to fail or if the producers were just too lazy to come up with a better idea for a group date, although I’m guessing this all went according to plan. We’ve reached the point in the season where everyone is emotionally exhausted after needlessly obsessing over an instagram model and competing for time and attention only to get seconds of feigned reassurance to “just be patient.” Foolishly, the girls think they’ll have more time with Nick on the group date since there are fewer people to compete with, but instead they’re made to compete against each other all day. After the producers get everyone liquored up, they cruelly engage them in the absolute worst activity you could give tired drunk girls: beach volleyball. Having been on a spring break or two and found myself playing drunk beach volleyball I can confirm that this shit “fun” for about 30 seconds. The girls are #sports about the whole thing for awhile, but tired drunk girls can only take so much before they crack and say:

While Rachel is the first to really put her foot down and say “fuck this, I’m out,” everyone quickly follows suit and retreats to their respective corners to cry (or nap) until it’s time for round 2. Nick pulls Rachel aside first because he knows she’s smarter than most and could tell she was done with this shit, which gives him anxiety because up until this point he was under the impression that everyone would want to be with him and this would all definitely work out. But ... Rachel doesn’t want to be with him? I mean, come on. He’s Nick Viall. Either way, she certainly is done with this show and all the game, and he gets it, to an extent, as he tells her that she should still stick around because even though she hates this (him), he “thinks something great can happen.” AKA, she can be the first Blachelorette and he can get credit for making it happen.

Everyone else spends their time talking to Nick about how hard this is getting while Jasmine continues to unravel. She talks non-stop in a downward wine-fueled spiral about how Nick doesn’t see her; she’s never had a 1-on-1; she’s been to St. Thomas before so she doesn’t even need to be here; and wants to physically assault Nick. When Nick finally calls her off the bench, she absolutely blows it. Not that I had any faith in her playing it cool after the 5th time she mentioned getting violent with Nick, but like, wow. After repeating to Nick a condensed version of her earlier downward spiral, Jazzy hammers the final nail in her coffin when she repeats to Nick that she’s so frustrated she wants to choke him. And then she tries to choke him. Repeatedly. 

To say that his conversation with Jasmine didn’t go well is an understatement, but she should have known that when you criticize the Bachelor for not paying enough attention to you, your time is probably up. Nick tries to gracefully wiggle away from Jasmine and apologize for dumping her, but she’s not buying his apology and doesn’t want his sympathy because she (like the rest of us) can see right through him. Then again, there’s not much to see other than a pair of pastel short shorts and raging insecurity, but here we are.

Beauty Doesn’t Always Win

In a move that puzzles everyone in the house and at home, Whitney and Danielle L. (or should I say D-Lo) are tapped for the second 2-on-1 date of the season. D-Lo is confused because Nick was really into her in the first few weeks of the show and she seemed like a front runner until this assignment. Whitney, on the other hand, is that beautiful shadow they cast every season to float around in the background and offer nothing worth airing until someone realizes she’s still around and it’s time for her to go. Nick has absolutely nothing of substance to say to her, but just tells her she’s beautiful and has a nice aura around her. 

Nick stumbles through his breakup with Whitney after she questions his choice to keep D-Lo around because she doesn’t seem to think that D-Lo is right for Nick. Neither do Vanessa and Danielle M., who are sitting at home saying the same thing, leading me to wonder what has been going on behind the scenes that they aren’t showing us? Has she been a bitch? Can they tell she’s fake? Or is it just because she’s very stupid? Ultimately, I’m guessing it’s a combination between being dumb, fake, and unable to have a substantive conversation about anything. Take, for example, the beginning of her conversation word for word with Nick later that night:

Nick: I’m excited about tonight. It was a great first date

D-Lo: Yeah t was a great first date I had an incredible time

Nick: I don't think it's a moment I’ll ever forget, I just don’t know how many people in a lifetime will ever experience something quite like that

D-Lo: I know like looking back, dancing has kinda become our thing. It’s fun.

Nick: I certainly like that. It’s fun to goof around that way.

So. Much. LOL. D-Lo continues this awkward conversation by saying all the things she thinks she’s supposed to say at this point in the competition (like “it’s hard to be away from you” and “I like social things” and “I really have feelings for you” and I could totally see us together at the end of this,”) because she doesn’t have a brain and doesn’t seem to notice that Nick is sitting there looking painfully uncomfortable:

Finally, D-Lo tells Nick she’s falling in love with him and is so glad they’re on the same page, to which Nick responds that they are not, in fact, on the same page even though he really wanted it to work out with her because she’s so hot, but sadly he just cannot take one more minute of listening to her talk. And finally the reality of this whole week sets in for Nick: he can’t force himself to “fall in love” with a hot girl without a brain just going through the motions, and he might not be able to force these girls who are clearly better than him (Rachel, Kristina, Vanessa) to actually fall in love with him either. Realizing that he might be trying to hard, he retreats to the girls locker room to cry...

He proceeds to tell them how breaking up with one of the hottest girls made him realize this might not work out for him and at any moment he might just get up and leave ... and then he does. No one should feel bad for Nick at this point because he’s a pathetic baby bitch boy who, after parading himself around on this show 3 separate times, needs to take off that Livestrong band, stop trying to make people feel sorry for him, and get a real goddamn job. 

Did you notice . . .

Jaimi’s dress at the rose ceremony was all sorts of wack

Nick’s sweater on his date with Corinne was also wack 

It was refreshing to not have a Corinne-centered episode for once, although it looks like she’s going to make it all about Corinne again next episode.

Corinne’s face when Lorna, aka Black Raquel, shows up to essentially wait on Corinne. It was all very staged and edited and such an eye roll, but the look of horniness on her face at the beginning was great.· 

The editing of the group date was incredibly sloppy and lazy. We didn’t see how things devolved after the volleyball game and if Nick talked to anyone or if he just retreated to his suite like the bitch he is. We also didn’t see Raven get the group date rose or see Nick tell them that he just dumped Jasmine. I can’t tell if it’s because Nick and the girls aren’t giving the producers enough material to work with, or all just refused to play along after that. Either way, bored. 

Nick held that rose for a long time before not giving it to D-Lo·         

“Maybe I just wasn’t perfect.” - D-Lol

Minority Report: And then, there was one.