#so it was just a chaotic half hour of sorting out whats a priority and what can chill for a bit

[cosmicrhetoric]

woke up this morning after a comical lack of sleep to 59000 emails and a slightly panicked group text from my manager about "coming up with a game plan" like brother it's literally the freaking wknd. its monday but it's literally the freaking weekedn

[athys-obelia]

summary: no one's evil au lmfaooo but make it pt. 2

character/s: anastacius de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, athanasia de alger obelia, jennette de alger obelia

and here's part 1 <3

oh my god okay. okay. so.

ana, claude, athy and jennette - they go on a LOT of vacations

claude complains every single time but anastacius pulls his trump card and sends athy and jettie BOTH after him

u think he's strong enough to say no after that? lmao jokes

and their vacations always go this way:

jennette: isn't this scenery just gorgeous, uncle

claude: indeed it is. and...quiet

jennette: ...too quiet

[cut to anastacius in the distance, fighting a bear as athy cheers him on]

athy + anastacius, hands down the most chaotic pairing yes i will not be taking criticism

they have tea in ana's palace everyday, just the two of them, they're so poised and picture perfect through the entire thing everyone thinks it's just the emperor giving profound advice to his heir

it's actually them deadass scheming,,, ana has no qualms discussing everything from court gossip to military tactics, both of which she's so on top of all the time

if anyone shit talks jennette or claude, this tea party is where their slow and agonizing demise is planned out to the dot

[true story - count sivan once made the fatal mistake of expressing his favour for athy as the next empress, dissing jennette by comparing her to athy sm which inevitably sparked a debate that ranked the princesses. a week after athy's sources informed her of the kindling behind this new debate, the count's sudden divorce became the talk of the town, and the man's business faced bankruptcy all of a sudden. the sivans still haven't recovered.)

athy n jennette were actually allowed to visit kiel in arlanta a few times, except it was too dark at their first arrival, postponing the meeting to the next morning

buttt then jettie can't sleep and she decides on a midnight snack run (their hotel doesn't really have the maids the palace does, but oh well. she's left the palace w lucas n athy plenty of times)

felix tags along btw, he knows this trip is important to the girls since they're leaving the palace without their Overprotective Papas™ for the first time and want some sense of independence, but... she's just so smol n he couldn't bear it if anything happens so he just shadows her

she totally knows he's there

n e ways so there's a juice place right beside their hotel which she aims for, but when jennette reaches it, it's closed

and out of nowhere, a voice addresses her - "hey you, do you come here a lot?" she nearly jumps out of her skin at the brunette, relaxing when she sees he's literally a kid around her age and not a murderer lmfaoo "me neither," he continues without waiting for her, pouting at the closed sign, before he asks for her name and whether she's new in arlanta

she confirms that yes, she's only visiting, and refuses to tell the stranger her name, still feeling strange at being addressed as 'you' for the first time (well, minus lucas, but he was like her brother and had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, so)

he eyes her. "you're so weird. i've never seen a girl out so late before, and alone too. are you stupid?"

(felix has his sword out at this point)

she's flushing now and has no idea why she's still out here, but then this stranger kid apparently senses her mood and tells her the best ice cream store in arlanta is not too far away

(he also explains he knows someone who's starts doing weird things when she's hungry as well, and tries to defend that ice cream is actually a healthy midnight snack, "you can just take a healthy flavour like strawberry or mango, mangos are healthy,,right"💀️💀)

so jettie has travelled all the way from obelia, she loves her papa but he would have a heart attack if he found out she was ever awake this late?? yeah bc she's never getting this chance again, jennette accepts the offer

the stranger boy seems to be taking the whole "i'm not telling you my name," thing like a joke, and asks what he should call her since 'you' was getting boring

she goes with "lady j" and like a knight, the boy becomes "sir c"

(felix is on the verge of committing a crime - the princesses can only have one knight, after all)

they walk as the the boy navigates the streets in the dark, and she asks whether he's from the academy, seeing his uniform

"of course i am! you could probably tell bc i look so smart, right?"

she snorts. "yeah, that."

she also comes to know that this guy,,,well he might as well be a tourist? she's out here asking stuff like "oh where's the statue of lady alphia?" or "aren't we really close to the museum where they keep the first emperor's sword?" and he goes "lady do i look like your brochure?? but if you turn right from here there's a cool arcade and across the street from there is the best street food vendor you'll ever eat from."

well at least mans had his priorities straight 😌

"so can you take this off?" he asks, pointing towards her dress once they've neared the store

um???????? sir tf????????????

anyways jettie has been living with lucas n her dad farr too long to not take this the wrong way?? "...no?"

the boy raises an eyebrow "look, it looks like an expensive cloak but i promise i'll return it, alright? i gotta hide my uniform."

ohhhhhhh. 😳.

so she unfastens the cloak and because he's kinda just staring at it cluelessly (he can't even tie his shoelaces fight me), jennette sighs and moves the clothing over his shoulder, fastening it in place at his neck

he's literally a tomato when she looks back up and realises that yes, we are way too close rn

bc she's ana's daughter, jennette by default cannot function when she's flustered. so she kinda stumbles backwards like a fish out of water (years of princess training n etiquette? where art thou??) and 'sir c' has to grab her forearm so she doesn't bump into the pillar behind her smfh

the shopkeep is definitely suspicious of this pair that's definitely too young to be out so late, but chalks it down to his sleeplessness

they escape the store with the ice cream before the shopkeep can ask any questions, and 'sir c' escorts jennette back to her hotel. he climbs onto the roof of the building, helping her up as well

(felix wishes he had a magic stone to capture this moment, this is the first time he's seen jennette become such fast friends with someone)

she stands on the roof (it hurts her butt so she doesn't wanna sit)

"my sister would be so jealous right now," jennette murmurs, "she told me her ideal first date would be either a picnic or something like a moonlit walk. we're having like a moonlit picnic."

it's silent for a few seconds the boy speaks up, "is this a date?"

oh-

oh.

"i mean- i didn't- i don't- uh."

give her some time lmfao she's loading

"i don't really mind that," he tells her, and she thinks she might just walk off the roof in her embarrassment - who just says something like that?? "you're probably feeling really lucky right now, right?"

jennette: ✊😔

he does look pretty in the moonlight, she admits to herself, listening as he excitedly tells her about his siblings at home and how she should send an offering to the gods since they gave her the good fortune to be on a date with the most good looking one of all four of them

in turn, she tells him about how she spent her childhood away from her amazing dad and had gotten closer to him recently, about her sharp-witted uncle, her sister and friends

(the 'friends' section includes felix and he's melting)

she smiles - it's almost as if, at finding out he treasures his family just as much as she does, they've gotten a bit closer

and he tries to listen. jennette had guessed that his temperament was somewhat like her dad's - her dad didn't know how to listen, always making his opinion known before anything else, though she supposes as emperor he could do that

'sir c', on the other hand, tried his best, his blue eyes focused on her as he almost burst from the unsaid words he was holding back, trying to let her finish. the sight was an odd mix of sad and insanely adorable that she couldn't help but let him tell her about everything he couldn't hold in

sensing she could pass out from her exhaustion nearly half an hour later, and 'sir c' escorts her to her window and helps her sneak in bc "what sort of knight would i be otherwise?!"

(felix can't stop shaking the entire night)

the next morning, jennette's heart is pounding as kiel shows her, athy and felix across campus - the chance is low, but still...

"ezekiel!" comes a voice, and the four watch as a turquoise haired boy waves down the alpheus heir "are these the guests you mentioned?"

kiel introduces the trio to johannes vastia before asking, "where's cabel?"

"at the training grounds, he asked if you could bring everyone there so he could show them around there."

"... they're my guests though?"

athy is quick to befriend johannes (i mean she and his sister are practically the same person, so) and at the grounds, jennette's blood runs cold

(so does felix's)

the brunette doesn't notice her at first, arguing with johannes about something as kiel introduces him as cabel ernst

jennette is hyperventilating?? actually back up is this girl even breathing??

cabel ernst from kiel's letters? the 'loud and obnoxious cabel ernst', who gradually turned into 'my acquaintance cabel ernst', then 'hardworking, passionate cabel ernst', and finally 'my friend cabel'?

she'd actually rather admired this slow build of respect between her friend and the ernst boy, and had even expressed her interest to meet him

"this is the first daughter of his highness prince claude de alger obelia, princess athanasia-" cabel mock salutes the princess before his mouth forms an 'o' and he remembers to bow, "-and here's the emperor's only daughter, her highness princess je-"

andddd his eyes widen comically "-hey, lady, it's you?"

yeah jettie is on the brink of literal death - her entire face reddens as this...cabel, grins at her

she watches as he glances behind her, "and you're the guy who was following us - sup?"

felix flinches "...you knew...?"

cabel shrugs. "i mean you do kinda suck ass at the whole subtle thing."

"don't say it like that," jennette retorts, "felix was trying his best."

"princess 😭😭 you knew as well?"

"uhhhh no?"

athy + kiel in a corner: 👁️👄👁️

they watch as cabel's eyes widen all of a sudden and he just,,,runs away

...🐦...🐦...🐦...

yeah well anyway he comes rushing back a few minutes later, a piece of cloth in his hand "...*huff* here *huff*...you go."

athy totally flips out "jennette is that your CLOAK???!??"

"uhhhhh no?"

"um do you realise uncle would literally wage war at this."

and as if it would make everything better,

"i washed it," cabel offers with a grin

"you didn't," the vastia heir deadpans

"i mean, johan helped a little bit."

kiel smiles murderously at the pair. "johan, did you know cabel took the princess out?"

"wait, you're a PRINCESS??"

your honour they aren't very smart

so the group orders some coffee (milk for cabel smfh) to find out what happened, cabel mentions "date" and everything goes to shit again lmfao

kiel and felix scheme against poor cabel while athy n johan get over that stage pretty quick ("listen. MY sister will be living with ME after the marriage and if your friend wants to be with her he'll have to come with us to obelia." and johan's just like "fine by me ✌️😊") and start planning the wedding

cabel + jennette dip n sneak out of the academy again to get the juice they couldn't the night before bc shit is getting awkward here

on another note, our uncle cius' musical intelligence is actually very high - he can probably play more instruments than i can name tbh, but he feels most comfortable singing and i shit you not, this man has straight up an angel's voice

(didn't like singing in front of others coz he was secretly a nerd and only knew old love songs with deep lyrics, athy found out and educated him)

jennette tends to have nightmares often, most often regarding their family - she's seen her father murder her uncle for the throne, and vice versa, athy admitting her affections towards jennette were a front to get the position of crown princess, her uncle killing her to solidify athy's claim, etc - her family is her everything, so despite however many times these horrible scenes play before her, she's left sobbing uncontrollably

and on these nights, she leaves for her father's room, who holds her close and sings her to sleep

also lucas n jennette are like sibling duo# 1,,, jettie is an active lucathy shipper even though he denies it sm - like their dynamic is just peaceful walks in the gardens as she watches the plants n lucas shi talks the nobility and kiel

claude and athy have a thing for each other's sleeping on each other? idk it's weird

athy once fell asleep on the couch while reading with him, and claude moved her head onto his lap so she wouldn't be uncomfy sitting - well, she woke up to his hand absentmindedly raking through her hair and it was just so soothing that whenever she's tired and he's working or reading, she just plops her head on his lap and zzzz

and claude wondered what was up with that, so she proposed they switch roles and he felt so awkward trying to lay down in front of her lmao

obviously athy noticed and she just started reading, thinking he might be more comfortable if her attention isn't on him completely - she ended up reading out loud while playing with his collar and he just,,,passed out

also anastacius has definitely pulled jennette aside regarding the issue of his heir at some point - she had been hesitant at first before admitting she wouldn't like to be the empress at all

i know we'd all love to see empress!jettie and her sister duchess!athy ruling the court, but i really really really can't see her wanting the title?

so thus start athy's empress lessons, but holy shit her teacher is mean

like this man makes me want to bash his face in?? so he doesn't like the idea of athy becoming empress over jennette at all, all bc of both hers and claude's mothers being commoners

he has one of those long ass sticks that you use in presentation to point at stuff?? idk but basically mans has athy name every region, its lords and their vassals during their first lesson

the first time she gets one wrong, she's too shocked as the stick meets the delicate skin of her forearm to react

now the thing is, wmmap!athy would probably stand up against this bc her dad is the emperor and she's his only heir, but i imagine with anastacius' social nature he holds many parties / balls where she's probably heard claude's mom + diana slander and it wouldn't be unreasonable for her to be self conscious abt it (now she's the emperor's heir while jennette, 100% royal + noble blood, is right there which probably makes her feel even less legitimate)

so she endures it, the light marks on her arms as well as the taunts of his she's too smart to not understand - perhaps this is the price to be accepted in jennette's place?

and honestly, no one really notices until at breakfast a few weeks in, where jennette mentions how her dresses are still so modest when sleeveless dresses were more in fashion - ana is suspicious because athy is always on top of these things, societal trends and such, and claude is sus from the way she hesitates slightly in her answer, "i haven't had the time lately, i suppose"

the lesson after focuses on ettiquete since everyone knows she's good at politics and such already, but now tears of frustration are pooling in her eyes because what the hell?? this guy had made an opinion of her long before he even met her, so anything she did would be wrong in his eyes

he gives her a sinister smile, "tired, princess?"

"no," she insists, keeping her voice level. he's about to spout some other nonsense, when anastacius enters the room, taking a seat across from her

anastacius watches quietly as athy answers the teacher's questions in her "public" voice. he watches as her usually cheery disposition is replaced by something far more...dead, despite the front she puts on for him. he's soundless as she hesitates in her answers where she normally would've been louder, more confident. he stops watching in silence when his niece flinches at the sight of the stick

oh.

he interrupts her lesson, not missing the way she winces almost imperceptibly when he grabs ahold of her arm, announcing, "we're going."

he just- it's just that that was the moment he knew for sure - the sight of his niece emotionally disheveled for the first time reminds him too much of how his own brother had once been, and he'd... he'd promised he wouldn't let anyone hurt his family anymore

he ends up taking her to the port with some of his advisors to welcome some royal guests, insisting that she would learn better from experience rather than books - but the guest delegation gets so boring that he sneaks her out of the meeting n they end up in the streets

now athy has no idea where they are, but apparently her uncle does?? ana has his hand on her head as he navigates the streets of the capitol as if he comes here everyday, using magic to casually disguise the two of them

in the meantime?

felix is at the port trying to cover for them smfh, he makes up this huge story about how the great wise emperor wanted to familiarize his heir with the locals, understand her subjects, yada yada

back at the palace prince claude is currently dragging a man by his collar and only upon jennette's insistence does he throw him in prison rather than literally kill him

(jettie visits him later in prison to give the guy a piece of her mind, after felix's visit he's sporting a few noticable bruises and the prisoner is practically unrecognizable once lucas visits)

back to athy + ana, they end up stuffing themselves with some super good street food as anastacius confesses that yes, he has definitely been sneaking out of the palace ever since he was a lil kid

athy almost mentions that she, lucas n jettie sneak out too but that might give him a heart attack, so

"it's so pretty, uncle cius," she says, gesturing towards the necklace he holds up. once he's paid for it, anastacius fists the necklace, opening it to reveal the jewel pendant - now imbued with his magic and replaced with gold lettering of the word athanasia

and she realises that yes, that's what both him and her dad have called her all her life, haven't they?

"you're my heir, athanasia," he uncle tells her with a small smile, "i am proud of that."

getting teary, she tells him, "i'm really proud of you too, uncle cius," triggering a very flustered + blushy anastacius

this mans craves validation - not from the sycophantic nobility, or the obsequious concubines he'd dismissed all those years ago, but from the family he thought he'd neither have nor deserve

and just the acknowledgement is so large for athy - he wants her as his heir, not because she's his niece, but bc he trusts her to look after his hard work after him??? - yeah she's totally bawling her eyes out

anastacius magics her a handkerchief but my mans magic isn't that strong?? lmao he's used up so much by now that the 'handkerchief' turns out to be some scratchy tissues

awkward amirite

nope! athy laughs at that, offering him a sip of her drink as she magics another straw and a proper handkerchief lmfaoo

n e ways so when they return, everyone's shocked to learn that the crown heir, princess athanasia will actually be joining the official circles as anastacius' temporary aid - he doesn't wanna entrust her to anyone but family, and decides that the best way to learn is by his side

(she's so confused bc lucas doesn't normally bat an eyelash when she wears the prettiest gowns, but he deadass can't look her in the eyes when she's in her aid uniform - it's more like a suit than it is a dress)

yes lucas women in suits >>>>>

everyone is STUNNED when at dinner, claude proposes they leave on vacation??

anastacius is just not having it?? like no, this is not my brother, and he throws a grape at claude to check if it's a clone or sum (¿¿how does that work??)

anyays so he ain't no felix, ana's aim is ass and it hits jettie instead

mans nearly gets on his knees to apologise

long story short everyone preps for vacation, but by some aCCiDeNt claude n athy end up at a different destination than jettie n ana, when she suggests returning to the palace to regroup, mans deadass sulks

"so you wouldn't like to spend this time with your father, despite barely visiting my office for weeks?"

o-oh

so at their return, the nobility starts pestering everyone that the princesses aren't independent enough, yada yada idc so to quell this annoyance, to the girls' joy, they get to move into emerald palace together, while claude and ana stay in the ruby and main palaces respectively

literally emerald palace becomes such a cool place to be in since it's the residence of the only decent people in this family, the brothers spend hours going through the requests of maids who want to be transferred

it's such a busy time because of athy joining the court and jettie starting her studies as well - naturally, since she isn't becoming empress, she'll be getting the duchy claude + athy were to be given in the beginning

speaking of futures, jettie's interest in plants and cooking has definitely branched out into herbs

claude notices her tending to a small garden during his visit to athy and even gives her a few tips (he had been studying medical since he was a kid, and picked it up again when athy was born and the empire stablised somewhat)

this soon becomes a routinely thing, and he actually starts reading up on some herbs and even orders a few for her prospering garden

after a month of her learning from books, claude proposes adding a medic as one of her teachers, and turns out his hunch was right?? she's excelling at medicine and they keep it between themselves for the time being

it doesn't last long though, bc they're on a hunting trip when ana injures his leg

and !! this girl istg, she gets to cleaning and wrapping the wound without blinking an eye, as if it's the most natural thing ever, and claude is just smirking while athy and anastacius and literally everyone else: 🌟💞✨jettie✨💞🌟

literal tears coming out of anastacius' eyes "how come my daughter is smarter than me😭💅"

claude: that's not a very high standard, brother

anastacius: ✨suddenly i'm an only child✨

behold, the people in charge of running an empire everyone 👏👏👏

even though jennette is claude's (unofficial) student and athy is her uncle's heir, they both ask their dads to the debutante

yes athy does dance with lucas, anastacius sent him an invitation even though he wasn't a noble (he's an active match maker 😌) and nobody dared question the emperor's special guest

at the end of the night, kiel gives jettie a letter from arlanta - it's an invitation to the academy during holidays, from a certain brunette

when she brings up the subject, felix lets out a squeak and literally everyone goes silent 😭😭

athy n kiel are just out here DARING him to spill them beans

but anastacius takes on look at his excited lil kid and decides that yups, she's going to get everything she wants

a/n: i literally don't know how many parts this should have lmaoo but y'all made it this far!! thanks for reading i hope you liked it<3

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 46

Title: Not Broken, Just Bent

Warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts, profanity, angst

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty​

“I appreciate this,” Tyler says, as he and Desi work side by side in the front foyer; assisting the three littles with the zippers on their coats and the laces on their boots.

He’d called the neighbour on a whim; desperate for even the smallest bit of help. He’s never been one to just reach out to others; long drilled into him that only a pathetic and weak man needs a helping hand. But if the first nightmare in Dhaka had taught him anything, it’s that even the biggest and strongest need someone to lean on from time to time; his body and his spirit so broken that he’d required assistance with even the most basic and simplest of everyday living skills. Esme stepping up to the plate and never once complaining about the energy it depleted her of or the time it took out of her own schedule; never making him feel as if he were a burden. Accompanying -and chauffeuring, as both his physical limitations and pain medications made it impossible for him to function to that extent- him to doctors visits and physiotherapy sessions and counselling appointments with addiction specialists. Always wanting her right there with him even when the most difficult of subjects were broached or intense physical exercises caused excruciating pain. Her quiet presence and all of the patience and resilience inhabiting that tiny body both a source of strength and a tremendous comfort. Accompanied by the tender touch of her hands as they massaged his shoulders or rubbed his back or her fingertips cleared wayward strands of hair from his forehead and out of his eyes. Voice soft and soothing even during the moments where frustration and pain had him raging; a palm on the back of his neck and her nose pressed against his temple as she encouraged him to ‘just breathe’ and reminded him of how far he’d already come and how he was proving all of the doctors and the naysayers wrong.

Six years later she’d find herself back in that situation again; his babies growing and thriving inside her as she once more took on the role of his caretaker. Having to lend assistance with even the mundane things most people take for granted; helping him to the bathroom when the pain was too intense to make it even when the aid of crutches or a walker, keeping a well organized and attentively followed medication schedule, feeding him when the tremors in his hands -a side effect of the meds- made it impossible for him to even hold a fork or spoon. Giving him showers or sponge baths or washing his hair in the kitchen sink and trimming both his hair and his beard. And she’d willingly learned more intensive care as well; wound irrigation and cleaning and how to switch out the IV and medication bags when an infection in the lower back had forced him onto powerful antibiotics. She’d been overwhelmed and exhausted but had never shown it; never losing her patience or her temper with him and never reacting when his own -triggered by pain and frustration and vulnerability- kicked off.

Months of her constant presence, reassurance and steadfast care had opened his eyes to who his wife TRULY is; an incredibly strong and resilient woman that has been through hell and back -a number of times- but never lets the situation break her. Always positive and upbeat; gracing him with smiles or ruffles of his hair or kisses to his cheek and words of praise and encouragement. It had given him a new appreciation and respect for her; how easy she made it look while caring for him and keeping a home running and taking care of his children. Even now he remains in awe of her; the amount of determination and love that can exist in someone so small. And if it taught them both anything, it’s that they truly ARE a team; relying on one another in many different ways. What could have destroyed other couples only served to make them stronger. That foundation built upon a unique and powerful bond and formed through a complicated and dangerous situation never crumbling; holding them up with everything around them seemed to want to break them down. Everything became more solid; their marriage, their roles are parents, their friendship. And they’ve discovered they loved each other even more than they ever realized; a love so complete and whole and all consuming.

Now it’s his turn; shove all of his issues and his demons and monsters aside to take care of her. It’s the one thing he’s always been both good at, and consistent with; shelving all of his problems in order to focus on hers. It’s two fold. A chance to show her just how loved and appreciated and adored she actually is; a way of proving just how grateful he is for everything she’s done -for him AND their family- throughout the past twelve and a half years. And it keeps both his body and his mind busy; making her his number priority an effective way to battle back against his demons. But He realizes he can’t do it alone; the old adage of ‘it takes a village’ proving true. Seven kids in the house means a lot of noise and a lot of activity. Not the ideal setting and atmosphere for someone that is both mentally AND physically exhausted.

While Desi had been the obvious choice on who to seek out, it had taken Tyler nearly a half an hour to convince himself to make the call; feeling guilty for yet again turning to their neighbour to lend a hand. It’s primarily an ego issue; feeling like ‘less of a man’ for not only needing help, but outwardly admitting it and lowering his guard enough to ask for it. Esme would blame it on the toxic masculinity that still lingers deep inside; the ghost of his father telling him he should be dealing everything on his own and that not being able to is a sign of both cowardice and weakness. It remains a struggle at times; breaking away from that train of thought and reminding himself that everything his old man had taught him -or attempted to- had been unhealthy and toxic and nothing but complete bullshit. And Desi is like family; always stepping up when either of them have needed him. A loyal confidant and steadfast supporter, he’d easily and effortlessly blended with large broods; enjoying the time spent under their crazy and chaotic roof and giving the kids the kind of uncle they deserve. And while it normally takes Tyler months or even years to trust someone when it comes to his personal life and the safety and the well being of his family, with Desi it has come fairly easily. That laid back and enormously generous personality and the gentle and compassionate way he treats Esme and the kids had triggered Tyler’s instincts. Letting him know that the man was trustworthy and reliable and in no way a threat.

“Anytime,” Desi says, as he finishes with the laces on Takota’s boots and turns to help Brooklyn, allowing her to attempt the tying and only stepping in which she gets frustrated and gives up. “You know I’m here for you guys. Always.”

Tyler slips a purple and pink knitted beanie onto Addie’s head. “Seem to rely on you an awful lot.”

“It’s what friends do, right? Help each other out when they need it. They step up. Lend a hand. No one can go through life alone. No one.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to tell me that thirteen years ago. I was pretty sure that’s how I’d live out the rest of my life. And die.”

“Were you happy though? Living like that? All by your lonesome? Out there in the middle of nowhere?”

“I had company.”

“A dog and a chicken are NOT company,” Desi informs him. “Not by a long shot.”

“Dogs are man’s best friend, aren’t they? And it was a pretty smart chicken.”

“You can’t tell me you were happy like that. Living way out there, alone, no one to talk to. No one is happy living like that.”

“In all fairness, ninety percent of the time I was too out of it to be carrying on conversations.”

It feels like a lifetime ago; that rundown shack in the middle of the outback, surrounded by nothing but the sparse trees and dry earth and looming mountain ranges. It had seemed like the perfect place to let his wounds fester and his addictions take hold; no one trying to dictate what he could and couldn’t do, no attempts at trying to talk him into rehab or counselling, far enough out that not even Koen or Rata made it a habit of stopping by unannounced. Out there he’d been surrounded by nothing but emptiness; a perfect match for the gaping hole in his chest where his heart had once been. A punishment of sorts. Nothing but the mistakes of the past and his overwhelming grief and guilt to keep him warm at night. Out there he could let the demons run rampant; drinking himself into oblivion and abusing Oxy at an alarming rate. His last coherent thought before passing out would always be the same; that the substances he’d put in his body would be enough to ensure he didn’t wake up the next day. But he always did; usually coming to in the middle of the warped and dusty floor or sitting at the kitchen table. Surrounded by empty bottles of booze and tipped over vials of pills and crippled by a brutal hangover; the headache and nausea and the dizziness so intense he’d have to crawl to the bathroom.

When it became apparent that the mix of alcohol and painkillers weren’t enough to do the trick, he began taking the most risky and dangerous jobs possible. By that time, he was fully engrossed in his death wish; too chicken to pull the trigger himself so instead relying on someone else to do it for him. Every time he went out, he’d all but pleaded to a higher power that it would be his last. Resorting to begging and pleading with whatever -or whoever- was watching his ass to take break; take their eyes off him or shirk their duties long enough for him to catch a bullet to the head. Yet it never happened. No matter how many times he’d spun that barrel and taken the risk, he always lived to see another day. Which in turn had only made his desperation even more intense; feeding into that grief and the sorrow that threatened to drown him yet never took him right under. That day on the cliff when he’d plunged into the water below, there’d been nothing stopping him from giving up; the weight of his regret and self loathing enough to keep him below the surface and allow his air to slowly run out. He hadn’t been afraid. He’d been ready to die for a long time.

Yet something had told him to keep going. A little voice hanging onto a thread of hope; louder than those attempting to destroy him. And when he’d pulled himself out of the water, he’d found he suddenly felt lighter; as if some of the burdens and past mistakes had temporarily lifted and been replaced by the first shred of contentment he’d experienced in a hell of a long time. Less than forty minutes later, he’d be watching Esme as she climbed up onto his porch. Studying her as she crouched down and showered his dog with attention. Finding himself both curious and intrigued about the unknown, tattooed and pierced dark haired beauty that had suddenly shown up in his life.

“You gotta admit, that kind of existence IS lonely,” Desi says, as he opens the front door and motions for the three littles to step through. “All alone? Out in a place like THAT? I’ve been there, remember. I’ve seen what it’s like. It’s desolate and it’s isolating and…”

“And it’s what I wanted at the time.’

Desi cocks an eyebrow, then steps out onto the front porch. “What you wanted? Or what you thought you deserved?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth, and he stands on the threshold with a palm flat against the door, effectively holding it open. “What seemed right at the time.”

“Were you? Lonely?”

“Never gave it much thought, to be honest. But in all fairness, most of my days were spent drunk and high off my ass, so…”

“You never once wished that you had someone around? Someone to talk to? Spend time with? Get...you know...PERSONAL with.”

“If I wanted that, I could get it. Easily. There was no shortage of that, believe me.”

“You never wanted more than that? I mean, there’s more to life than THAT. What about bonding with someone? Yeah, sex is great, but what about everything else? Companionship. Friendship. Someone to come home to at the end of the day or however long you were gone for some times. Someone that’s just...THERE...you know?”

“I was a fucking mess. Way worse than you could even begin to imagine. Why would I bring someone into that? Why would I do that to someone? Ruin their life like that? They get with me, everything’s great for a while, then they discover just how messed up I am and take off. What would be the point? Bringing someone into that? That’s just wasting their time.”

“Was it about them or you? Not wanting to get involved with someone.”

Arching an eyebrow, Tyler leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Seems like maybe you were using all that as excuses. To protect yourself. That maybe you were scared to get too attached. Just in case they DID decide it was too much and run off.”

A slow grin tugs at his lips. “ You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Esme. You’re getting into the psychoanalyzing business too, huh?”

“I’m just saying that maybe it ran deeper than worrying about other peoples’ feelings. Maybe you were worried about your own too.”

“I was dead inside, Des. I wasn’t feeling a damn thing.”

“Except for shame and guilt and regret. And a whole hell of a lot of self loathing.”

“You really ARE spending too much with my wife.”

“I just think it makes sense. You protecting yourself too. But not willing to admit it. At least not out loud. Wouldn’t it have been worth giving it a shot? Finding someone? Seeing if they could put up with everything?”

“I was an alcoholic mercenary with a drug addiction and a death wish. Who would put up with that?”

“Esme, for one.”

“Esme is an entirely different breed all her own. I highly doubt there’s many out there like her. That would willingly hook up with a fucking train wreck and put up with everything I’ve put her through. That I KEEP putting her through.”

“You know, you’re not as bad as you think you are. Do you have some issues? Yeah. But shit, we all do. We’re all a mess. In one way or another. You might be a little messier than most, but…”

“A little? That’s being awfully nice about it.”

“Look, she sticks around, doesn’t she? She’s still here. Twelve and half years later. You really think if things were THAT bad she wouldn’t have hauled ass a long time ago? Didn’t y’all split up for a while?”

“Six months,” Tyler confirms.

“And yet you got back together. She wanted things to work out. Not like she kicked your ass to the curb and hooked up with some other guy. You guys fixed your shit, made things better. She wouldn’t have taken you back if you were that bad. She wouldn’t have put herself or the kids through that.”

“Still a lot for one person to deal with. We’ve been through a lot shit. Way too much, actually.”

“Shit that would have broken weaker people,” Desi points out. “Both of you...separately... are strong as hell. But the two of you together? That’s a force to be reckoned with. And maybe she is a different breed of woman. Maybe it was the way she was raised that made her the way she is. Or the way she WASN’T raised. But let me tell you, she is a tough little thing. Feisty as all hell.”

“Totally a study in contradiction. You see that little body and that cute face and you think she’s all innocent and sweet and the next thing you know…”

“You’re married to her and seven kids?” Desi grins.

“I was going to say the next thing you know, she’s telling you where to go and how to get there and putting you in your place. Totally not what I expected, that’s for sure. Woman that size to be such a challenge. And so fucking bossy. If you heard half the shit that comes out of her mouth…”

“She keeps you on your toes. Challenges you. She’s definitely no push over. Which leads right back to my point. If you were as bad as you think you are, do you really think a woman like her would stick around? Hell no. She’d tell you off and pack her shit and take off. There’s no if’s, end’s, or butt’s about that. You brought that much shit and pain into her life? Things would have never gotten this far.”

“You know, you make a little TOO much sense.”

“I just tell ‘em like I see ‘em. You’re not the massive prick you think you are. Maybe a little bit of one…”

Tyler smirks.

“She showed up right when she was supposed to. That day at your place. Think of all the things in both your pasts that had to go wrong for you two to cross paths. If even just one of things went right, you probably never would have laid eyes on her. And that would have been a damn shame.”

“Yeah,” he nods slowly, considering his friend’s words. “It would have been.”

“The right woman came along at the right time. If your heart and your head didn’t think so, you wouldn’t be where you are now. You wouldn’t have the life you do. Hell, you probably wouldn’t have a life at all.”

“I’d be dead. If Esme hadn’t come along. I don’t doubt that for a second.”

“Daddy!” Addie clomps up the front walk and climbs the porch stairs; abandoning the task of helping her siblings build a messy fort of wet snow. And she wraps both arms around one of his thighs and leans her slight, tiny body into him. “Do we REALLY have to go out?”

“It’s just for a few hours.” He scoops her up into his arms and settles her on his hip. “ Go get some lunch, go see a movie, stop at the candy store. Doesn’t that sound like fun? A day out with Des? You always love your days out with Des.”

“It does sound like fun and I DO love going out with Desi, but…” she curls both arms around his neck and nestles her face against the side of his throat. “...I want to stay with you and mummy. She was gone this morning. And it scared me. That she wasn’t here to do our thing.”

“Well tomorrow you can do your thing. Sometimes OTHER things come up. Can’t help that.”

“And I only got to spend a little bit of time with her because she’s been sleeping a LONG time!”

“She’s only been sleeping an hour. Didn’t you spend some time with her? Didn't you take a bath with her? In the big tub?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I need you to cooperate, okay? Mummy needs some rest. And she can’t really get that with all you guys in the house. Right now, she needs to sleep and when she wakes up, I need to be able to take care of her. And if I’ve got all you guys to take care of, I can’t really do that, can I?”

“Is she sick?”

“She’s a little under the weather.”

“Like a cough due to cold?”

“Nothing like that. She’s just feeling a little rundown. Nothing some quiet time won’t help. So you think you can do me a solid? Go out with a Desi for a bit?”

Addie sighs heavily. “I guess…”

“We’ll have a great time,” Desi promises. “We always do. Mommy and daddy need some time alone. It happens. They’ve got some stuff to take care of.”

Addie reaches for him; allowing herself to pass from one set of arms to another. “Like making a baby?”

“No one is making any babies,” Tyler informs. “Not in this house anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because our days of making babies are long gone. The shop is closed. All done. That’s it.”

“One more wouldn’t be so bad,” Addie reasons. “Another sister.”

“One more WOULD be bad. And a shock because neither mummy or I can have more babies. Now…” laying a hand on the back of her head, he leans in to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “....be good. I don’t want any bad reports when Desi gets back.”

“Why you telling me? I’m always good.”

Tyler stares pointedly at his daughter.

“Well, ALMOST always.”

“Remember what I said. No taking off. You stay with Desi. Or with TJ. Got it?”

Addie gives a thumbs up. “Got it!”

“Have fun. And don’t worry about mummy. She’s fine, I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

“You better,” the five year old warns. “‘Cause that’s my mummy and if anything happens to her…”

“Your mummy is in good hands,” Tyler promises. “Daddy knows what he's doing. I’m not some rookie, you know.”

“You be nice to mummy,” Addie orders. “No arguing and no making her cry and no making fun of how tiny she is.”

“You’re kidding me, right? That’s my go to. Making fun of her height.”

“Speaking as a short person, it’s NOT funny. At all.”

“I wonder how funny it will be when I DO pick you and your mum up and put you in my pockets.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Addie’s eyes narrow as she glares at him.

“Don’t give me that look,” He pecks her pouted lips. “You and your mumma both know everything I say, I say because I love you guys. Can I help it that you’re both so tiny and cute?”

“Can we help it that you’re so big and have humongous feet and ears?” Addie counters.

“Ouch,” Desi chuckles. “Savage.”

“She gets that from her mumma. Little, but so full of rage.” He digs his fingers into his daughter’s side, tickling her until the pout turns into a smile and she begins to giggle. “Do I need to remind you that you got my ears? And my feet? You all do.”

“Poor us,” Addie quips, and then squeals and giggles even louder when he brushes his beard against her cheeks.

“I love you,” he says, and presses a kiss to the freckled bridge of his daughter's nose. “Be good, okay? I’m counting on you here.”

“I got this!” She flashes two thumbs up over Desi’s shoulder as he carries her down the stairs. “See you later, alligator!”

“In a while crocodile,” Tyler responds.

“Blow a kiss, goldfish!”

“Bye-bye butterfly.”

“Toodle-loo kangaroo!”

Tyler shoots her a wink and then steps out onto the front porch. Hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie as he watches Desi herd the noisy and excited and noisy bunch out the front gate and then down the slush covered sidewalk. Waiting until they disappear around the corner before heading back into the house.

*****

The shower feels damn good. Hot enough to sting and to cause a new layer of perspiration to form on his skin; gathering at his temples and along his hairline and above his upper lip. The latter he swipes away with the tip of his tongue and then places his palms flat against the tile; chin tucked into his chest and his eyes closed as the water beats down on his weary body. Physically speaking, he feels great; very little pain or tightness across the small of his back, a dull yet manageable ache in his repaired shoulder, the swelling of his right knee not as not as prominent as it usually is. The latter surprises him. He’d pushed himself extremely hard during his run that morning, greatly exceeding anything he’d ever put himself on the treadmill and far beyond the limits the specialists had put on him after his second surgery. And while he knows he shouldn’t ‘test the waters’ and there’s a legitimate risk of ligament tears and dislocations, he’s never been one to play by the rules. Refusing to let anyone confine him to what’s conventionally acceptable; always wanting to prove not only the naysayers wrong, but his own mind and body. An injury he can deal with; another operation and the recovery afterwards a lot easier to bear then the damage to the ego. His physicality has always been of major importance; strength, size, speed, stamina. And he’s had a hell of a time getting back to even seventy percent of where he’d been five years ago. When Nathan had managed to get the jump on him and achieved what no other foe had ever managed: breaking his body and mind.

He refuses to dwell on it. Nothing he can do will ever erase or lessen what happened; his body forever damaged and his entire lifestyle permanently altered. Physical injuries, mental health issues, the constant toeing of the line between addiction and sobriety. And he knows things could be a lot worse; dying that day on the bridge in Dhaka and never getting his second chance. He’d been given an incredible opportunity; an absolution for the mistakes of the past and a whole new life and a bright and content future. But it hasn’t been without its own share of pain and sacrifice and suffering; every blessing coming at an exceptional cost. Ones he’d happily paid and would do so again; willingly putting his own body and sanity on the line if it means keeping his family safe and sound.

A half an hour passes; hot water tank nearly drained when he finally steps out of the shower. Body still damp when he heads into the bedroom; a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and another being used to vigorously dry his hair. Slivers of light manage to trickle through the gap in the room darkening curtains, and he uses it to his advantage; quietly navigating the spacious master suite. She’s been asleep for more than an hour now; on his side of the bed with the heavy comforter pulled up to her chin and her cheek nestled into his pillow. Normally she would have argued with him; pointing out the list of things that -in her always busy mind- needed to be done before her sister’s arrival. But her ‘meltdown’ earlier had left her emotionally exhausted and she hadn’t kicked up even the slightest bit of fuss when he suggested she take time for herself; a long soak in the tub, her favourite ‘comfort’ clothes, a well deserved nap.

It’s been twelve and a half years of sacrifice and compromise on her part; giving up her old life in favour of a new one with him, adjusting to life in a new country only to have it torn apart and be forced back home, reluctantly agreeing to his return to the job and the worry and the stress that came with it. Five pregnancies that resulted in seven amazing and beautiful children; her physical and mental health paying a steep price each time, yet never denying him the desire for a big family. And the times she’s seen him near death. Horrendous injuries inflicted upon him; those long days and nights by his side in various hospitals and eventually the arduous and painful roads to recovery. Yet she’s done it without complaint; throwing herself into caring for him and their family and consistently putting her own well being on the back burner.

Lowering himself cautiously onto the end of the bed, he once more scrubs at his hair and then tosses the towel in the direction of the laundry hamper; sighing when it misses its mark and falls heavily to the floor. While mentally weary, his body feels great; relieved to be relatively pain free and filled with an uncharacteristic optimism. The silver lining within a very dark and immense cloud. A welcome boost of confidence he hasn’t experienced in years; brave enough to consider that maybe...just maybe...the worst is now behind him. And as he studies his reflection in the mirror atop the dresser, for once he’s not finding all the faults. No anger or disgust when his fingers lightly travel over the myriad of scars that inhabit his face, no thoughts of how battered and worn down he appears. Instead he notices that his eyes seem brighter; not as haunted and empty as they’ve been since his return from Cambodia. His face has filled out; the slight weight gain making the lines that accompany aging -and a hard life lived on the edge- not seem as prominent. His chest and arms are bigger; the slightest of flexes stretching the tattoos that decorate the insides of both biceps and shoulders. The positivity is surprising; years spent living in a state of self loathing and speaking self deprecating words long ago taking their toll and reducing him to a man that didn’t give a shit about his personal appearance. As long as he maintained his strength and his quickness and his skills, that had been all that mattered; not giving a second thought to his choice of attire or the thickness of his beard or the unruliness of his hair.

He’s still not what would be considered high maintenance; the opposite of a Desi who spends more time getting ready than the average female and has closets full of insanely expensive high end clothing. Still the most comfortable in bare feet and board shorts; jeans and a simple t-shirt considered ‘dressing up’ in his world. It’s an effortless existence; relaxed and content and low key. And it’s one the entire family -aside from a very ‘girly’ Addie- has adopted. Happy and secure; tucked away at the end of that dead end street and surrounded by nature and the smells and the sounds of the ocean. Their own slice of paradise; hard work, resilience, and a hell of a lot of money turning what had once been a modest residence into their dream home. It will be their ‘happily after after’; the place where they’ll raise their children, spoil their grandkids, and grow old and grey together. And for once, he’s confident that will happen. That they’ll get those moments Esme often speaks wistfully about. When their home is empty and it’s just the two of them; quiet breakfasts on the back deck and dinners down by the water. When there’s more grey in their hair and wrinkles on their faces, yet they still walk along the beach hand in hand or with their arms wrapped around each other; indulging in their bantering and their teasing and stopping to steal kisses in the surf.

And still giving her piggy back rides back to the house.

He feels the mattress shift slightly, and he watches her reflection through the mirror as she adjusts her position in bed. Rolling over onto her back and stretching languorously; a long, content sigh escaping her lips and the heels of her palms pressing into her eyes. When she props herself onto her elbows and looks at him, her hair is disheveled and her eyes are slightly narrowed; a pout of confusion and disorientation capturing her lips.

“Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

The pout transforms into a frown. “In the afternoon?”

“No. Morning.”

“Smart ass,” she grumbles, and then flops down onto her back. A foot kicks off the heavy comforter in favour of coming in contact with his back; toes slowly brushing along the top edge of the towel. “What are you doing?”

“I was in the shower. Didn’t get a chance to do it when I got home from my run. With everything that happened and you leaving and having to take care of the kids....” his voice trails off. It’s the last thing he wants to revisit. His panic attack in the kitchen, the way his oldest son had sensed the urgency and the stress and stepped up to the plate to care for his little sister, the worry that his wife either wouldn’t return or would walk through the door and tell him that it was over. That he was just too much for her to bear; a heavy and troublesome burden weighing her down.

“Why’s it so quiet?” she asks, and he’s thankful for the change in conversation. “What happened? Did they get a little too feral? Get on your last nerve so you tranquilized all of them?”

“I sold them all. On the black market.”

“I hope you got a good price for them,” she chides, and trails the tip of her big toe along his spine. “I put a lot of work into those kids. Not to mention what my body went through. I think that’s worth a good penny, don’t you? Doesn’t it deserve compensation? My body going to absolute shit?”

“Your body is amazing. It was incredible when we met, and it’s even more incredible now.”

“You really are the most biased husband on earth. My ass is bigger. My hips are wider.”

“You’ve had babies. MY babies.”

“Yeah, I have,” she smiles, and once more props herself up on her elbows. “Only guy in the universe I’d ever give that many spawn too.”

He grins at her through the mirror. “I’m honoured.”

“You should be,” she playfully retorts. “You’re naked under that towel, aren’t you.”

“Well considering I just got out of the shower and I don’t wear board shorts or underwear when I’m in there…”

“Honey, as incredible as your body is and I could lie here all day admiring it, I’m going to need you to put some clothes on. It’s far too tempting to engage in X rated activity when you’re naked. Or next to naked.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. X rated activities. With me.”

“Normally it’s not. But I think I’m PMSing.” That dramatic, adorable pout again. “ I’ve got wicked cramps and I’m feeling bloated as fuck and you know my hesitancy on having sex when all of that is going on. I know it doesn’t faze you and as much as orgasms DO help, it’s just not my jam.”

“Say no more.” Sighing, he gets to his feet; grateful that the normally bone deep pain that resides in his right knee has settled into nothing more than a dull, manageable ache. And he grabs a pair of discarded jeans slung over the back of the chair by the balcony door; releasing the towel from around his waist and tossing it in the direction of the laundry hamper.

“Now that’s just evil,” Esme declares. “You are a bad, bad, BAD man.”

He smirks at her through the mirror. “Why’s that?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. You know exactly what you’re doing. Just dropping the towel like that. That’s so, so, SO mean.”

“Gotta give you something to stare at, yeah?”

“I prefer to call it admiring. And I have done a lot of admiring over the last twelve and half years. You never disappoint, husband.”

“I aim to please.”

“And do you ever hit your mark. Each and every time.”

Grinning, he tugs the jeans up over his hips and ass and tends to the button and zipper; pushing a hand through his damp hair as he approaches the side of the bed. “Move.”

“I like this spot. It’s YOUR spot. It’s got all your grooves in it. It’s comfortable.”

“Yeah, but it’s MY spot. And you know how anal I am about my spot. So haul ass. Please.”

“Grump face,” she mutters, but wriggles her way backward across the bed; rolling onto her hip as he joins her; sliding under the comforter and laying on his side facing her.

“Come here…” Reaching out, he curls an arm around her petite frame and pulls her into him. Hand resting in the middle of her back as his other arm slips under her shoulder; thigh wedging between her legs.. “...I’ll make you feel better, baby. In a non X rated way.”

“You’re so selfless.” She presses her body against his; a hand pushing through his hair and her head tucking under his chin. Eyes closing and a long, content sigh escaping her as she breathes in his familiar scent. Clean and crisp; notes of sandalwood and citrus. “So generous. Where ARE the kids?”

“Desi took them out. Lunch and a movie. Candy bar afterwards.”

“He just offered or....?”

“I called him. Told him you were having a rough day. That I needed some time and some space and some quiet. To take care of my girl.”

A smile plays on her lips as she pulls back to look at him. “Your girl, huh?”

“That’s what you are, aren’t ya? Or would I rather I call you my old lady?”

“I would definitely NOT rather that. I like it; being called your girl. It’s cute. I like the sound of it.”

He presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. Palm sliding up her back, across her shoulder and then gently cupping the side of her face ; thumb repeatedly brushing against the top of her cheek.

She likes these moments with him. Quiet and content; bodies pressed together in a pure and innocent form of intimacy. The way his gaze never wavers ; as if he's intently studying every inch of her features and committing them to memory. Love and adoration written as plain as day upon his face; the softness of his expression, the gentle touch of a callused palm and fingertips, the tender smile that plays on his lips. A beautiful man with a not so beautiful past. A childhood filled with torment and abuse and anguish and tremendous loss, followed by years of substance abuse and a life lived on the edge; hounded by immense grief and guilt and regret and anxious for death to claim him. It’s no surprise that he has the issues he does; no one can go through a lifetime of trauma and come out of it unscathed. But it’s a shock he isn’t worse than he is. Still filled with so much strength; resilient and brave and never backing down from even the biggest of challenges. Loving and compassionate and sensitive. A striking juxtaposition considering his choice of career. A hardened and highly skilled mercenary that kills as a means to an end, not because he enjoys it.

“So you actually CALLED Desi?” she inquires. “For help? That’s a little...out of character.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice. Your sister won’t be here until later and I wasn’t waiting that long. So I got a hold of him and asked him to do me a favour. If he could take the kids so I could concentrate on you. That’s kind of hard to do when there’s seven plus one under the same roof.”

“That’s HUGE for you. You didn’t just acknowledge and admit you needed help, you actually ACTED on it.”

“What’s so huge about that? I’ve asked for help before.”

“You’ve asked ME for help before. Never someone else. That’s not you, Tyler. You’d rather wear yourself thin or completely burn yourself out than rely on other people.”

“It’s one of my issues,” he admits. “For many reasons. But you know how I always say there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you?”

Esme nods.

“That includes swallowing my pride and asking for help.”

“You doing THAT? THAT’S love right there. And probably some lust, too.”

“There’s a little bit of that in there too,” he teases, and then places a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. Their eyes closing when the tip of his nose comes to rest against her forehead; hand slipping from her cheek and finding the back of her neck, fingers gently and deftly massaging the tense muscles.

For several minutes neither of them speak; basking in the silence and the warmth that radiates from one another's bodies; his slow, even breaths ruffling her hair, hers tickling his bare neck. These moments are rare; the chaos of raising seven children and their respective work schedules and responsibilities. Both are looking forward to her being home more. The opportunity to actually be alone; walks on the beach or time in the water, hikes in the woods or strolls through town. And the road trips. Needing nothing more than gas in the tank and money in their pockets.

*****

“Feeling any better?” Tyler asks, and slips his hand up into her hair; fingertips gently kneading the scalp.

“A little. Have a headache though. Not sure if it’s PMS or my moods or my meltdown earlier. But it’s a bitch. A mean, old bitch.”

He pulls away. Hand moving to the top of her head and fingers pressing on her well known problem areas; along the tops of both brows, the inside corners of her eyes, the bridge of her nose. Attempting to alleviate at least some of the pain and pressure. “Good?” he asks, when she reaches up to push her fingers through his; drawing their joined hands down to her lips and pressing a kiss to the side of his wrist.

She nods, a smile curving her lips. “Good. You and your magic fingers. They certainly know their stuff. In many ways.”

“They have a talent all of their own.”

“They certainly do. MANY talents, actually. Are YOU feeling better?”

“Not bad. My body feels pretty good. Thought maybe I’d be in agony after my run, but…”

“You pushed yourself, didn’t you. HARD. Harder than you’re supposed to.”

“Come on now. Would I actually do something like that? Not listen to the doctor’s orders?”

“You most certainly would. And you definitely have. Be careful, Tyler. Don’t push the limits too much, okay? I realize you know your own body, but you don’t always listen to it. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Screwing something up and needing surgery. AGAIN.”

“I won’t go too hard,” he promises, and pecks her lips. “But right now? I’m taking care of YOU. Not the other way around. You’ve spent a lot of time looking after me. Worrying about me. Probably too much.”

“It’s not like it’s a job or something like that. You’re my husband. I love you. That’s why I do it.”

“And I love you. Which is why I need to step up and take care of you. Don’t be so stubborn, Me. Let me look after you. We’re a team, yeah? We’re supposed to be in this together? Let me pick up some of the slack.”

“It’s a bad habit of mine. Doing everything myself. I mean, in high school I was the one that got saddled with all the work during group projects. My classmates would fuck around and I’d be stuck having to do it all by my lonesome.”

“Well you don’t have to do this by your lonesome. It’s a two way street, right? You and me against the world?”

Nodding, she presses a kiss to his chin, then his lips. “You’re a good husband. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Good. Because I think I’ll stick around. I kinda like it here.”

Smiling, she lays a hand on the side of his face. Her fingers press through his beard; nails lightly scraping along his jaw. “Do you think we could talk?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing? You already said no naked time, so…”

“I mean a serious talk. Piggybacking off what happened this morning. More specifically, what happened with ME this morning. And WHY it happened.”

“I thought we already talked about it. When you got back. Didn’t realize there was anything more to say. You’re going through some shit. Depression. Probably PTSD. You got a lot of stress. And probably most of that can be blamed on me.”

“I’m not blaming anything on you. I never have. I never will. My brain was screwed up way before you ever came along.”

“I’m sure I made it worse. I’ve put you through a lot of crap. Twelve and a half years of it.”

“We are not doing this. YOU are not doing this. That’s all water under the bridge, Tyler. Things we went through and dealt with. It’s behind us. Can we leave it there? Can YOU? Because it’s not doing you any good; holding onto so much guilt and regret. I don’t want you doing that. That’s the last thing I want, actually.”

“It’s kind of hard NOT to do it. To think back on it all and not see how badly i’ve fucked up.”

“It was all beyond your control. Things went bad. That’s all there is to really say about it. Things went to shit and you reacted badly to them and you made some pretty crappy judgement calls. But we got past all of that. I don’t hold grudges against you. I don’t hate you. Or blame you for anything. It’s time you stop blaming yourself, okay?”

“You know me. I’m willing to try anything once. Except for maybe eating ass. That’s a little too far out of my comfort zone.”

“Well lucky for you, it’s WAY out of mine. But can we? Have a serious talk? Without it turning into a fight? I don’t want to fight with you. We’ve come a long way since those days; everything turning into a big blow out.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, either. But if it’s something THAT serious…”

“I mean, it’s serious but not THAT serious. It’s not life or death or anything. It’s just...I don’t know…” her fingers nervously fidget with the chain around his neck. “...it’s a pretty big deal.”

“Is it about us? Are we having problems I’m not aware of? Is there someone else?”

“No! Oh my god, no. Nothing like that. Other than dealing with our own mental stuff, we are fine. We are MORE than fine. And there isn’t anyone else. There never has been. And there never will be. You’re it for me. For the rest of my life. There’s no one else I want. I could EVER want.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her lips.

“It’s to do with me. What’s going on in my head. What HAS been going on in there. And I need you to promise that you won’t freak out. That you won’t hear the worst of it and shut down and lose your temper and…”

He frowns. “Esme…”

“Tyler, I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. And right now, I need you to promise me that you won’t lose it. That you’ll just listen and let everything sink in. Not just hear a bit and react. Can you do that? Promise me?”

He nods. “I won’t lose my shit. Promise. What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you sick? Is there something wrong and you’ve been holding out on me?”

“I’m not sick,” she assures him. “Not physically anyway. It’s all to do with my brain. I’ve struggled for years. Long before I ever met you. And I’ve had some down moments; since we’ve been together. Especially after each of our babies. When postpartum was a real bitch to me. So it’s not like you don’t know what I deal with. In my head.”

“I’ve known for years. You told me pretty much right from the start. A couple days into Dhaka. About having depression. Being diagnosed after your dad died. And I’m pretty sure you’ve got PTSD too. After everything that went on in Bangladesh, ESPECIALLY on that bridge? You can’t say it would be a surprise. If you were diagnosed with it.”

“The furthest thing from a surprise. Now you promise? Not to freak out?”

“I already did. Can we get to it already? Because you stall any longer and my anxiety is going to go off the charts.”

Sighing, she curls a finger around his necklace and gently yanks him into a kiss. Lips lingering on his before finally pulling away. “I lied to you. About a year ago,”

“About…?”

“Do you remember when you were in Brazil? For a couple weeks? The whole drug cartel thing?”

He nods. “What about it?”

“Remember how when you came back, I mentioned a girls weekend. In Cairns. With Riley and Shaena. And how I was worried you’d be pissed because I wanted to go on it? Because you’d been gone for two weeks and me leaving meant we’d only have a couple days together?”

“Yeah, and I was fine with it. You needed a break. I didn’t have a problem with you going. What…?”

“There was never a girls weekend,” Esme admits, and his frown intensifies; deep furrows inhabiting his brow. “We made it up. So you wouldn’t know what was really going on.”

“Babe...what…?”

“I was in the hospital. For three days. And not just any hospital. A psychiatric one.”

“A psychiatric hospital? Why? What…?”

“When you were gone, I had a really bad time. I mean, I always do when you leave. I don’t sleep, I worry constantly, I stress over everything and even little stuff gets on my nerves and drags me down. But this was worse. WAY worse. And even though I knew you were okay and that you were coming home, I still had all that dread, you know? All that worry. Constantly wondering if maybe I’d never see you again. That maybe the last time you walked out the door really WAS the last time.”

“That was an easy job. I wasn’t even out in the field. I was strictly behind the scenes. I never even left the hotel. Not until I had to go get everyone out. I told you I’d stay behind and I did.”

“I know. But I still freaked out. I was still worried. I always worry about you, you know that. And one night it was really bad. I felt like I was losing it. I hadn’t heard from you that day and you didn’t return any of my voicemails or texts and…”

“We had problems with coms. I told you that. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you. There were legit issues.”

“And I tried telling myself that. That there were issues. But it didn’t help. And I lost it. Badly. I’m pretty sure it was actually a mental breakdown. And I called Riley because I was freaking out and I couldn’t get control of myself. I thought I was going crazy. And I told her that I felt like I was going to hurt myself.”

He blinks at her confession. “What?”

“I don’t think I actually would have done it. I think I was just feeling desperate at that moment. I don’t think…”

“You wanted to kill yourself? You wanted to die?”

“I guess. I don’t know. I was looking for a way out. An escape. And my brain wasn’t exactly in a good place and that’s where it went. Like I said, I don’t think I would have actually done anything. But I called Riley and she came over and stayed with me and the kids. Just in case.”

“What if she hadn’t been around? What if she couldn’t have come over? What if she still lived in Colorado? Would you have done it? Hurt yourself?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t THINK so? Esme…”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking right. I was in a really bad way, Tyler. REALLY bad. And I needed help. So I called her.”

“Why didn’t you call ME?”

“What would you have been able to do? You were in Brazil.”

“I would have come home. Right away. I would have dropped everything and had someone else be in charge. Do you really think I wouldn’t have? Come home? There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were so far away,” she attempts to reason. “And I needed help right away.”

“I would have talked you down. I would have gotten you through it. Why wouldn’t you get a hold of me? I’m your husband.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was just thinking in the moment. And getting ahold of you in Brazil wasn’t the first thing that came to my mind. It wasn’t personal. You should know that. That you’re the one person that’s always been able to help me. But you were thousands of miles away and you were busy and I didn’t want to put something else on you. Burden you.”

“Burden me? You’re my wife. You could never burden me. What the fuck, Esme? Why didn’t you at least tell me I got home? Why lie to me? Why make up this whole fucking story about a girls trip? Why…?”

“I didn’t want to put that on you. Especially when you had to stay with the kids. They needed you to be focused and all about them. And you wouldn’t have been able to do that if I told you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You didn’t want me to worry? You’re my WIFE.”

“I was trying to protect you. I’m always trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Tyler argues. “I’m not a fucking child, Esme. I’m a grown ass man. I don’t need you coddling me and babying me and protecting me. I would have stepped up and took care of you. That should have been on me. Not your sister. Not Shaena. Not anyone else. Me.”

“I needed you to take care of the kids. You’d been gone for two weeks and they missed you and I didn’t want them to be without BOTH parents. It’s not personal. I didn’t make the decisions I did to hurt you. I made them to help you. To help our family.”

“How much help would it have been if I’d come home and you were dead on the floor? How much help would it have been if one of our kids had found you? Do you know how bad that would have fucked them up? Losing their mother like that? Do you know how bad it would have fucked ME up?”

“I wasn’t thinking of those things. I wasn’t thinking about anything. That’s the problem. All I wanted was an escape. That’s it.”

“An escape from what? Your shitty life with your shitty husband?”

“No!” She clasps his face in her hands. “I love my life. And my husband. You know what depression is like. It doesn’t care where you live or what you have or how many people love you. It’s all in your head. It’s a fucking monster you can’t escape from. You know EXACTLY what it’s like. I never meant…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...I never meant to hurt you. I would NEVER hurt you. I thought I was protecting you. And I know you say you don’t need me to. And maybe you don’t. But I do it because I love you. Because I want to make things easier on you. That’s all. It’s not to hurt you, Tyler.”

“You can’t try and convince me I’m not broken when you treat me like I am.”

She frantically grabs at the chain around his neck with one hand, his shoulder with the other. “That’s not what I was doing. You AREN’T broken. I don’t treat you like you are.”

“You are when you do shit like that. When you lie to me. Especially about something like this.”

“I’ve never lied to you. About anything. I’ve always been honest. About my childhood, about what Mark put me through, about…”

“What about the guy?”

“What guy? What…?”

“The one you went out with. When we were separated. Took you years to tell me about him.”

She frowns. “There was nothing to tell you. He was just some single dad I met at daycare pick up. That’s it. It was nothing important. Just some guy.”

“That you went out with. While we were still married.”

“Have you been just waiting to throw that in my face? Have you been holding onto that all this time? Just looking for the opportunity to hold that over my head? Why would you…?”

“I was faithful to you. Whether we were going to work shit or not. I wasn’t looking for someone else. I didn’t want another woman. And I could have had one. I could have had tons of them. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity, believe me.”

“Then why didn’t you do it? If you had so many chances. Why didn’t you take any of them?”

“Because I wanted my wife. I didn’t want anyone else. You, Just you.”

“And I wanted you! But you were a fucking mess and I was hurt because you weren’t fighting for me. For your family. So yeah, I went out on a date. Because someone showed interest in me and made me feel special and beautiful and wanted. Because I was hurt and I wanted you to hurt just as much as I was. I was so pissed at you. For not getting your shit together and coming home and fighting for us. So I went out on a date. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the attention."

“Did you fuck him?”

“No. I told you what happened. I told you he tried and I turned him down. I told him that I couldn’t do it because I was still in love with my husband. That I was still hoping we could work things out. That’s the truth. And that’s how I got that black eye. Because he didn’t handle the rejection so well. That’s the truth. All of it. I never slept with him. I’ve ever been with anyone but you. For the last twelve and a half years. Just you.”

He nods slowly, letting her words sink in.

“Tyler…” her nails dig into the back of his neck. “...don’t do this...don’t shut me out. Please don’t do that. I don’t want you to do that.”

“What do you want me to say? What…?”

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to lie to you. I…” tears flow freely down her face. “...I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

“Come here,” he gently orders, and pushing a hand through her hair, settles it on her back and pulls her into him. “It’s okay, Me. Everything’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you. Not about the guy and not about the girls weekend. I was just trying to protect you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you weren’t.” Pressing a kiss to her temple, he rolls over onto his back; both arms wrapping around her and pulling her with him. “And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have brought that shit up. I haven’t been holding onto it. Or waiting to use it again. I reacted. Badly. And when I do, nothing is off limits. I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to say that shit.”

“It’s okay,” she sniffles, and curls her arms around his neck. “I know how you get. When you hear things you don’t like. But for the record? This is what I meant when I made you promise not to lose it.”

“I am so fucking sorry. I’m an asshole. A huge asshole.”

“No. You’re not. You just have no chill sometimes. I’m used to it. Or fairly used to it, anyway.”

“I never should have said what I did. About the guy you went out with. You had every right to. Go on a date. I wasn’t exactly stepping up. I just lost it. Hearing about you wanting to hurt herself and how you spent time in psychiatric hospital. Kinda kicked me in the nuts, ya know?”

“I was going to tell you,” she says, chin resting on his chest as she looks up at him. “When I got home. But I was feeling so much better and you and the kids were so happy to see me. I didn’t want to ruin that. And then we got on with life and there never seemed to be a good time. So I kept it to myself. It wasn’t to intentionally hurt you., I’d NEVER do that.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“And I don’t mean to treat you like you’re broken. Because you’re not. A little bent, maybe…”

He manages a laugh. “I’ve been put through the ringer a few times. Got a little too many miles on me. Quite the collection of dents and scars going on.”

“They’re beautiful. Every single one of them.” Wriggling further up the bed, she pushes a hand through his hair; tightly gripping the longer locks as she pecks the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry, Tyler. That I lied to you. I had good intentions. I really did.”

“You always do.” He curls an arm around her neck and kisses her. Long and soft and sweet; tasting the salty tears that linger across her top lip. “It’s okay, Me. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” He tangles his fingers in her hair, gently pushing her head back down onto his chest. “ Has it happened again? Feeling the way you did? Have you wanted to hurt yourself? Or worse?”

“No. I haven’t felt that way since. I’ve been depressed, but not like that.”

“And you’d tell me? If you did feel that way?”

She nods.

Sighing heavily, he places a forearm over his eyes. Lying in silence and feeling her body tremble against his; knuckles repeatedly ghosting along her spine as he attempts to get a grasp on the situation. Her mental health issues have never been a secret; she’s been on medication for years and has occasionally needed it to be tweaked. But to hear that she’d been THAT low? Considering hurting herself? Or even attempting something more permanent? It’s devastating. Feeding right into his worst fear. The thought of losing her to an event totally beyond his control. A wedge of emotion settles in his throat and tears prick his eyes; the realization of how close he’d come to losing. But he fights it off. Needing to stay strong for her. Always willing, ready, and able to put his own problems aside. Her rock and her protector.

“Tyler?” Her voice is impossibly tiny. Apprehensive. Scared.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you. So much. You’ll never know how much.”

Smiling, he slides his palm to the back of her neck and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you too.”

[needdatbag]

Drinking You

notes: Hi! This is my first fanfiction ever. I just wanna see if anyone might like it? Haha...Anyway, if you do, please leave a like or a comment. Hope you enjoy! Oh and this is only the first part. 

Summary: You encounter a stranger on your way back from the grocery shop and everything about him pulls you in. 

Pairings: Eren Yeager x Reader; Various pairings eventually

Warnings: NSFW; mentions of smoking.

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Part 1-Stranger Danger

You were not ok. Today was a hellish Monday like you rarely encountered. Of course Monday sucked in general  but it’s a different kind of pain when you work in a department full of detectives. Everyone is stressed day after day and they don’t have any notion about free time, for them it is equivalent with supplementary work. It’s been 4 months since you started working as the main profiler of the team and you feel as if you need to step up your game. Everyone likes you but the fact that you’re new in the field is noticeable. You do your best all the time but experience is key after all. So here you are, after working hours, walking out of the closest store while holding a beer and a pack of cigarettes in one hand while the other is busy holding the phone to your ear.

’’I will take a look as soon as I get back to my desk, I was planning on checking the brief details we have about this case anyway. I took the file before I left and I will be making an idea about the whole deal tonight. We will receive the rest tomorrow, right? I mean I can get something but without all the information it might just be wrong or incomplete.’’

Your boss sighed and agreed with you.

’’I know. There is a reason behind this lack of information but I am afraid you’ll have to find out tomorrow. I will explain everything to you as soon as we have the OK from the fucking higher-ups. Do what you can tonight, L/N.’’

He was tired but you almost swore you felt a tinge of sadness in his tone. Your gut told you something was just starting. You gulped.

’’Don’t worry sir. You’ll have the draft for the initial report on your desk as soon as I get to work.’’ 

You said goodbye and hung up while tossing the phone in the pocket of the pyjama pants you wore. You came home half an hour ago, ate a quick dinner and realised you forgot to buy the two things you needed for survival on days such as this Monday: a beer and cigarettes. Unhealthy coping but you got over that thought in college. Regrets were a pain in the ass and you wanted none so you did what you wanted.

 As you were walking towards your apartment building you couldn’t help but think about this case. Your team was way on the edge when they received word about it. They were silent about it and that scared you. Because, even if you only knew them for 4 months, you knew all of them were loud, outspoken and chaotic. Your head always throbbed at the end of the day. But you almost missed that today because instead of debates and childish arguments, this day was extremely tense and everyone seemed to be at each others throats out of silly things. As if they disagreed on something you had no idea about. It felt as if a powerful untouchable presence was messing with them and it saddened you but it also stirred your curiosity. Who or what was doing that? 

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice the person walking right in front of you and you bumped into them dropping your cigarettes in the process and almost dropping your beer but you managed to catch it before it hit the ground. 

’’I’m really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention…’’ you said as you immediately bent down to pick up your cigarettes but the stranger beat you to it.

’’It’s fine.’’ he answered in a low pleasant voice and started walking away. 

WITH YOUR CIGARETTES.

It took a second for you to register what happened and move. He walked away so casually that it pissed you off.

’’Heyo.’’ you said while grabbing his shoulder and making him turn to you. He was tall, well built with medium length long brown hair and green eyes. He was wearing an open black coat with a black cotton sweater and light blue jeans with a pair of some black and white Nike shoes. ‘Well damn’ you thought, ‘this theif is hot as fuck’. But priorities were priorities. You were going to offer him a piece of your mind. And if needed, a piece of your very basic physical training. 

He first looked at your hand on his shoulder and then at you with a total lack of interest. Without any facial expression he asked:

’’What?’’

You took your hand off his shoulder and attached it to your hip in a somehow sassy position. Then with the other hand where you held your beer, you pointed at the cigarette pack he held.

’’Give me back my ‘candies’...Stealing is a crime, jerk. Instead you could’ve asked for a few. I would’ve... ‘’

But he didn't seem to pay attention to you anymore as he looked at something behind your figure. He started walking, right past you to the spot where you bumped into him.

You were speechless. You debated a moment if you should chase him again but you decided as soon as you remembered you didn’t have any money on you anymore to buy a new pack. You turned with a determined look on your face. He was picking something from the ground and as soon as you got close to him, right before opening your mouth, he held out his hand to you, holding a pack of cigarettes. He had another one in the other. And then you realised and your face started to redden. ‘Shit’

’’I have my own ‘candies’ though it seems they are the same as yours.’

You grabbed your cigarettes slowly while touching his hand in the process. You got a chill down your spine. This time his eyes were fixated on you and all the courage from earlier was down the drain. You were embarrassed of course but the way his direct look intimidated you was surprising. Your gut was telling you something but you couldn’t quite understand it. You were busy staring right back into his cold green eyes. He looked away first and sighed. 

’’Well, if this is done, goodbye.’’ and walked away from you for the third time in 5 minutes.

Somehow that didn’t sit right with you. Your brain was telling you to just walk slowly home and finish the work you had left for today, take a shower and start everything again tomorrow, while your body was already chasing the long haired man, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You told yourself you just wanted to apologise for calling him a jerk but the truth was there was something invisible pulling you in his direction. Maybe it was your toxic curiosity or the silly fact that you two were smoking the same cigarettes, an old brand that made you forget things that screamed in your head constantly, or perhaps it was just the simple fact that he was a handsome stranger. Who knew? The only thing you knew was that you were a fool. But that never stopped you before. 

’’I’m sorry! I never meant to insult you….I should’ve just looked around...Usually I’m not such an airhead. I wonder how come I didn’t notice another pack on the ground.. heh.’’ you said while reaching him. You guys were walking in the same direction anyway. He didn’t say anything, he just looked straight ahead not really paying much attention to you but he also didn’t seem bothered by your presence.  As you reached a crosswalk and waited for the colour to change you watched his profile as discreetly as you could. He looked as if he was completely lost in thought but at the same time aware of everything surrounding him. He was close but far and that really tickled your brain. You groaned internally. 

‘I shouldn’t care, he is just a stranger whom I’ll never see again. Asking him for a coffee out of the blue would be weird too.. And he seems to be completely uninterested in my existence anyway, though I guess that is mostly because of my bloody pyjam..’

’’So what’s up with that pyjama?  he said out of the blue.

’’I don’t like to assume things but if you’re following me because you want to ask me out or something I think you might be my best friend's soulmate. He has the same Star Wars pyjamas.’’

Your mouth was hanging open. You looked down at your clothes and then back at him. He was watching you now as well. The light changed and he started walking as you followed.

’’I live on the other side of the road and this is what I usually wear at home, so no, I don’t really bother dressing up for a trip to the grocery store. And I’m just going home, I’m not following you..’’ 

You bit your lip as you hesitated before continuing wondering if you should say what you were going to say.

’’...and I also have a ..boyfriend.’’

You two reached the other side of the road and he suddenly stopped.

’’You’re lying.’’ he said calmly

Both of you stopped walking. You looked at him wide eyed. How could he know you were lying? He sounded so sure too. His expression seemed to change for a second when he saw your confused face, some sort of realisation hitting him while he shook his head.

’’Nevermind.’’

-He stepped closer to you and tilted his head, a few stray strands of hair falling randomly on his face. This guy was handsome, annoying but handsome. Even his skin seemed to have a special kind of glow, besides the fact that it was a beautiful tan colour and the combination with the kind of green/teal eyes that he had left you almost breathless in close proximity. Of course you lied. What boyfriend? You were working most of the time and you studied people for a living so of course you were overthinking everything about any guy that came your way. You either figured them too fast and they bored you or you didn’t even look their way. You were not easy to deal with either as you had a very straightforward personality on the outside but on the inside you were trying to keep everything from collapsing. You were confusing, caught between being intimidating, bad mouthed and weird or depressed and minding your own business in silence...and those moods were not exactly any guy’s cup of tea. 

So lately you always try to play the sweet girl card when it comes to guys, hiding your trust issues for another day. But this time you were not in control...of anything. It wasn’t even a big deal, really.

 You were just talking to a stranger. But his presence was dominating you effortlessly. And for some sort of reason you couldn’t even start to figure out why. Your brain was foggy, your breathing was irregular and your knees were suddenly weak when he got close to you.

‘What in the Twilight..’ you thought

You couldn’t read him while he seemed to have no problem reading you. And that bothered you the most.

’’You should go home..’’ he spoke in a lower, raspier voice ’’..I’m not as interesting as you might think. I’m a simple guy actually.’’

His words seemed so honest, his tone too. But something told you that he lied. Or that what he said might have been true. Once. But not anymore as his eyes didn’t meet yours when he spoke the last part.

You tried to ignore the sensation that formed in your stomach when he spoke so close to you in that voice that seemed to echo inside your head. You were getting a little lightheaded and for a moment you thought about the possibility of being physically sick. In this case this would've been the better scenario.

 ‘I should just go. Ignore everything about the way I feel now as if nothing will ever be boring again. Yes, I should ignore the fact that I don’t need to pretend because there is no point in doing so in front of this person. They see through me anyway. But that’s a bad thing and I’m not thinking clearly right now and he screams ’Stranger Danger’ and for God’s sake I work with the police...What should I do..His eyes are so pretty, his voice is so beautiful and I’m just a curious superficial fool.’

You took a breath and turned around while his eyes never left you. You started walking towards the entrance of your apartment complex and with every step your heart started beating faster and louder. Your ears were captivated by a weird inner buzz. You bit your lip and clenched your fist, your nails actually hurting the skin of your palms. 

‘Don’t do it. Don’t do it.’

But in a swift motion you turned around, fear, excitement, some sort of distorted happiness and an unusual laughing sensation taking over you.

’’Come upstairs for a coffee, Stranger-Danger?’’

His eyes were still on you when you turned around. After you finished your sentence he covered his mouth with a hand. He might have laughed at the nickname, you guessed. But he came anyway.

Later on you would come to realise that you saw something flickering in his cold eyes when you turned around. A cunning fire that hid behind that wall of ice. Who knows..?

It might have just been the fact that this was exactly what he was waiting for all along. 

But there was no coffee upstairs. 

The moment the elevator doors closed you started kissing, like there was an unspoken agreement that this was going to happen exactly then. The kiss wasn’t rough as you would have expected it to be, it was gentle just as a declaration or an apology. But that soon changed as both of you became consumed with each other. The kiss became meaner from both of your sides, egoistical, as if both of you were trying to steal more from each other than the other did.  He caressed your cheeks and then his hands travelled to your neck where he felt your skin and your pulse. His hands were cold but the touch of his fingertips on you felt as if it burned your skin, leaving scars even if there were none. You held on to his coat while he pushed your back against the wall. After you stopped kissing, he licked his lips and looked into your eyes. You looked back. Nothing said. He started kissing and biting your neck.

When you entered your apartment clothes started flying left and right and while kissing him, between undressing and tugging at each other's clothes , you could only be thankful that you were wearing the ‘good’ underwear you still had on and not some panties with silly patterns you usually wore at home. Somehow you two reached your bedroom but you had no idea how because you were blind to mostly anything around you but him. He picked you up, your legs now straddling his waist as he walked and you could feel his muscles. His body was very well defined, strong arms,abs and everything, beautiful large shoulders and prominent collar bones. ‘Weird’ you thought...because he didn’t  really seem like he worked out. His body looked as if it developed naturally this way. You only saw that at the guys working in your department when they trained, the girls too. Their body developed over the years thanks to all the training.

 For a second your mind wandered to what he did for a living.

You didn’t know anything about him... but the way his lips tasted, the way he smelled so fresh yet intoxicating, the way he made you so dizzy when he stared into your eyes, those things left you unwilling to think about anything else besides the feeling of his body on yours. You were drowning in him, his presence overwhelming you. The way you two moved against each other felt like a feverish dream in which you were dancing. He was leading and you could only stare into his eyes even though you knew this wasn’t like you at all. 

He was far too intoxicating to be your type, and he was far too in control for you to be his. 

While he laid you on the bed gently his hands traced mindless patterns on the skin of your legs moving higher and higher towards your thighs where he started to grab your flesh making you groan. He was either teasing you or enjoying feeling every inch of your body. He started kissing your inner thigh, sucking, licking and biting his way up to your core.

’’You’re going to leave marks.’’ you said breathlessly

He raised his head from between your legs  and with a teasing but cold voice he said:

’’Is that a bad thing? Your ’boyfriend’ won’t mind.’’

Your face started to redden at the mention of the ’fake boyfriend’ and you opened your mouth to protest but in a quick motion he reached your face and kissed you. He was trying to shut you up by kissing you ruthlessly, biting your lips and sucking on your tongue. You couldn’t get a break and when you wanted to fight back he was kissing you even harder. 

He only stopped when he ran out of breath. You wanted to retort something again but he beat you to it. Between pants of air he said:

’’You sure like to talk a lot don’t you ?...But I guess I’ll drink you anyway.’’

He effortlessly tied his hair in a messy man-bun that fit him weirdly well. The lights were off in your apartment but the street light coming from your bedroom's window was highlighting all the right parts of his silhouette. His abdominal muscles, his strong thighs, the movement of his arms as he fixed his hair, the veins on his arms, his slender but strong neck, his jaw, the right side of his face, his lips, his straight nose, his green eyes who looked directly at you without giving you a break. You were done talking now. 

He slowly leaned over your naked torso while still maintaining eye contact and you could feel his warm breath on your skin. He watched you as if he was silently asking if you’re not backing away so you just nodded, ashamed of the fact that you were more excited than embarrassed. It was what it was. Your mind was fuzzy and your body was needy. And he intrigued you. However that was the part you chose to snooze for now.

He started kissing all over your breasts in a soft manner but eventually he transitioned into biting and teasing all over them, especially your nipples. You began slowly moaning because of the sensations that were overwhelming all your senses. He was only teasing your body but you were already melting. When he started placing wet kisses on your abdomen, going lower and lower, you squeezed your legs together and he felt it so he grabbed and squeezed on the side of one of your tights just to let you know that he was aware of the power he had on you.

When he finally reached your most sensible part you arched your back at the sensation of his tongue. Sure, you had sex before but it was almost always dry and this was also the first time someone went down on you. Like they knew exactly what they were doing and where to touch specifically. It was as if he knew what you wanted without even knowing you. It was strange. Suspicious. Addicting. Dangerous.

 He trailed his fingers against your back while he ate you out. You were putty in his hands, your body flushed and high on the way his mouth felt. He teased your clit mercilessly, over and over, until you came multiple times. The good kind of torture.

As he slowly entered you he started groaning and placed your hands on his shoulders. You moaned at the sensation of being filled. It felt just right, as if your bodies just ‘clicked’ in every way. He grabbed your face with his hands while he started thrusting.

’’Just... hold on ...to me and... relax.’’ he told you between groans and sighs

You nodded rapidly, not really caring about anything anymore besides the pleasure and relief you were seeking. Your bodies were rocking in sync with each other, both of your pulses skyrocketing with every increase in pace. He was thrusting faster and harder now. Your hands were not on his shoulders anymore but outstretched above your head, his strong ones holding them pinned to the bed as he was losing himself in the sensation of you.

You two fucked as if both of you were running away together but from different things. When both of you reached your high his eyes seemed to light up when he looked at your face consumed by his presence. For a few seconds, while he lost control and pleasure overwhelmed him, you felt as if you saw someone else, still him but different. A real fire seemed to burn in those eyes during those moments but you only gazed at it a little bit and it was gone, replaced by that wall of ice that effortlessly unnerved you.

He collapsed next to you as both of you caught your breath.

You two sat in silence not feeling the need to talk, His fingers were mindlessly drawing battens on the back of your palm. You liked that. Somehow it warmed you. You turned your head in his direction. He was watching the ceiling and you could swear his expression was a little warmer now but something still felt melancholic about it. He turned his head and looked back at you. You really tried to memorise the way his upper lip was more prominent than the lower one, the way his eyes had such a nice, kind shape yet they looked at something beyond what you knew, the way his skin had such a pleasant warm tone, the way his hair fell on his face. 

Your eyelids started to become heavy. You were tired but you tried to fight off the request your body and mind had regarding some rest. You really wanted to say something before you fell asleep so you mumbled in a sleepy voice.

’’..The more I look at you...the more...I don’t see you...smoking...I don’t know..why...tho..’’

Your body became heavier and your eyes were slowly closing. The only thing you saw before drifting into the dream world was the faint image of a smile on his face. 

‘’I don't.’’ he said 

You woke up late the next day and he was gone, as if everything was nothing but a weird illusion. You pushed away the feeling of disappointment, told yourself to grow up and forget last night and took a shower, ate breakfast, dressed up for work in some brown dress pants, a white sweater and some dark red leather heels, grabbed your jacket and bag from the hanger and left for work.

‘I was right. He is a fucking jerk. He didn’t even leave a note or something. I don’t even know his name..but I guess it doesn’t matter. We’ll never see each other again.’

 You sighed.

You had more important things to do and worry about. How were you going to tell your boss, or The Captain as your crew called him, that you forgot the file you promised to look over, at work and you had no idea what the case that was assigned to your team and that was stressing everyone out, was about.

’’Captain Levi is going to beat the shit out of me..’’ you said out loud as you entered the building...even so...something bothered you as you could swear you placed the file inside your bag yesterday. You usually double check everything anyway.

You entered the HQ of the Survey Unit, your and your team’s unit and said a quick ’’Hello’’ to Jean, Sasha and Connie who were drinking coffee around Jean’s desk while discussing something intense. 

’’Hey, L/N...What is with the panicked attitude? Come drink a coffee with us and stop acting like the sky is going to fall. Need help with something ?’’

You took off your jacket and reached your desk. Nothing besides your cactus and your agenda that you usually left at work. The file was not here either. Hell. Your mind started going into overdrive.

’’The sky is actually falling Jean...and I’m the fucking sky.’’  you said while facepalming. How could you possibly lose the file?? A file with confidential police information.. You bent down and started searching for it under the desk but it was clear it wasn’t there.

Sasha was unpacking one of her sandwiches as Jean and Connie were both looking at you with a confused expression on their face. But their attention switched to Mikasa and Armin who entered the doors while being surrounded by a gloomy atmosphere. Mikasa looked as if she lost weight in the last two days while Armin’s dark circles were obvious testimonies of a sleep deprived individual. Jean and Connie went over to them discussing something you couldn’t hear while Sasha came in your direction. 

’’This really takes a toll on all of us...but I really pity Mikasa the most...I guess you read the brief details about the case...Having to arrest one of our own, someone who betrayed us and is also her step brother … Man..I would be stress eating like crazy..I still do it.. but anyway.’’

You snapped your head in her direction.

’’What? Mikasa has a brother?’’

Sasha raised a brow while chewing her food.

’’Yes. Though they are not related, she was adopted into his family when her parents were killed. His parents died too after a few years and they had to survive, together with Armin who was in the same situation. He and Armin had been best friends ever since they could remember. He betrayed us a year ago and went rogue...but we never knew how far he went.. The Military Police assigned him to us. I’m sorry... We never really spoke about this because it’s a sore subject…You must be confused.. Huh?’’

You were speechless. You never knew that. Not a single word about it. But you always that something was missing however you kept your silence about it. 

’’Why would the MP assign him to us? It’s cruel and it doesn't make sense..’’

Sasha shrugged and said:

’’My guess is that they need Cpt.Levi to catch him. After all, he trained him. The MPs are big mouthed but they were never able to tame Eren.’’

You raised a brow. ’’Eren?’’

Sasha nodded. 

’’Yeah, that’s his n….Y/N did you know you have something stuck on your bag?’’ she asked while pointing at the black bag you owned. It looked like a post it note.

‘What the hell..?’ 

You picked it up and noticed something written on it. The writing was a little bit messy and squarish.

’’MEETIIIIING!’’ screamed Hange from the conference room

 Sasha went ahead: ’’I’ll see you there. Hurry up.’’

The words written on the note were: ’’I’m sorry. You’re a kind person. Thank you.’’

There was no name but you knew it belonged to the stranger you met last night. You started breathing heavily.  It wasn't the fact that something felt off about the note but where it was placed. On your bag. 

The FUCKING FILE was IN the bag.

In your mind a memory flashed suddenly. 3 months ago, after working hours the whole team went out for some food and drinks. You and Armin discussed your favourite movie series. You froze while remembering the crucial detail of that conversation.

’’It’s kind of embarrassing but I even have pijamas with Star Wars..’’ Armin said while his face flushed red.

You placed a hand on your mouth remembering a part of last night’s events.

’’.. I think you might be my best friend's soulmate. He has the same Star Wars pyjamas.’’

’’L/N! Move it!’’ Cpt Levi’s voice snapped you out of your daze. 

You started walking shakingly thinking over and over again about the possibility of this all being a coincidence..but when you entered the conference room and saw the screen, your blood went cold.

 /Runaway-Eren Yeager/ Accusations / Terrorism/ Multiple Murder Acusations/ Insubordination/ WANTED/ Dead or Alive/

And right to all these accusations was the picture of a younger version of the guy you met last night.

Your ex-colleague.

You looked at the note in your hand. 

It made sense right now. He used you right from the start.

You felt like laughing but you sat down next to Jean, trying to compose yourself and paying attention to what your Capitan was saying. 

In your mind only one phrase kept repeating itself.

You just fucked the enemy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was my first ever smut scene...Am I going to hell yet? haha

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Henry Hill

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You met Henry while working as a bartender/waitress at one of the bars his colleagues frequented. This certain gangster was quite friendly and had grown quite fond of you, so much so that he practically insisted that you be the one to serve them whenever they came in.

- Ocassionally you’d be interrupted halfway through serving someone because they arrived; but you never really minded. Being tipped fifty bucks while being treated like a surrogate daughter was hardly a reason to complain.

- Well it was a day like any other: people came in and out, beers were passed around, you got hit on by drunks; you know, the usual. That is, until your favorite gangster came in with a few of his buddies.

- Like clockwork you made your way over, a smile adorning your face. Your mob-father greeted you warmly, introducing you to the people at the table merrily. You gave them all polite hello’s, nods and smiles until your eyes fell on a certain handsome goodfella.

“And that there is Henry Hill!” Your eyes met his and your heart skipped a beat.

“Nice to meet you.” You said, attempting to keep your composure as you were confronted with his unexpected beauty. His eyes never left yours as he nodded at you in response, a certain hunger lingering in his eyes.

- You took everyone’s orders before fleeing to the bar, your coworkers whispering gossip into your ear as you began to make drinks. You shooed them away with a smile, glancing over at the table to find that Henry was sneaking glances at you as everyone spoke.

- The rest of the night went on without a hitch and the group left a few hours later. You soon forgot about the man but you didn’t have to wait very long for your memory to be jogged.

- You’d just gotten off of work and were walking out the doors of the building, preparing yourself for a journey to the bus station. That is, until you noticed the expensive car parked in front of the place and the man half-sitting, half-leaning against it.

- He gave you a smooth greeting before asking if he could give you a ride home. Obviously you wouldn’t normally get into a car with strangers but you felt like you could trust the man, he had, after all, been a friend of a man who was fiercely protective of you. If something, anything happened to you, there’d be a full on war.

- So you agreed, letting him open the door for you and stepping inside the car that cost more than your entire life savings. The two of you made small talk as he drove, bantering a bit as you warmed up to him. He walked you to your door once you arrived at your house, asking if he could take you out sometime as you fished for your key. You told him he knew where to find you and gave him a wink.

- Well he did find you, three days after he drove you home just to make you wait a little. He actually came into your work, asking your boss if you could be let off early. Of course the man said yes which came as a shock to only you and soon you were being pulled from the building by an amused Henry.

- For your first date, he took you to an expensive restaurant, one you’d never imagine being able to get into. Though, before you went inside you insisted that you couldn’t go “in there” dressed in your work clothes. His solution? Fine then, let’s go get you a dress.

- A half an hour later and you were clothed in gorgeous silk, being pulled through the back of a restaurant and seated at a beautiful, quiet table. You knew his line of work got him good money but the complete VIP treatment was a bit unexpected. You felt like royalty.

- Who wouldn’t fall for a guy after all that?

- You had your first kiss in his car. The two of you were sitting and enjoying champagne after one of your dates when he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

- After that; for better or for worse, the two of you were offically together.

- Constant Pda. As long as you’re next to him, he’ll be showing you affection. He wants everyone to see that you’re off limits, and he just likes touching you in general.

- Hugs from behind.

- Kisses on the nape of the neck.

- Playing with his cross.

- Night Club dates.

- Going to comedy shows.

- Beach dates and cruises, he’s quite fond of both. (It totally has nothing to do with being able to see you in a swimsuit for half the day.)

- Sometimes it’s nice to just relax in a little diner rather than go to some flashy upscale restaurant.

- Jaw kisses, he likes whispering something into your ear before presses a kiss to the area.

- Sitting behind him on your bed and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He loves the feeling after he’s had a stressful day.

- Henry’s probably a little touch starved so any affection you give him is amazing.

- Deep, slow kisses.

- Expensive dates.

- Constant gifts, he spoils you rotten.

- He likes to call you “princess”, especially when he’s buying you something or giving you money.

- Lighting his cigarettes.

- He likes firey girls. Getting put in his place and being cursed at is something he finds incredibly...attractive.

- Getting thrown onto beds and pinned against the sheets.

- Showing him how thankful you are for his generosity, if you know what I mean.

- Handholding. You move through a lot of chaotic places so it’s oftentimes very helpful.

- He gets all excited for the holidays, always wanting to decorate and do all the cute seasonal couple things with you.

- Holiday parties. You’d sort of prefer just sitting at home with him but what can you do?

- Getting close to Jimmy and Tommy as well as your fellow gang wives/girlfriends. You have weekly get togethers with the girls, usually at a nail/hair salon.

- Henry sort of relishes having a normal family since his was so fucked up most of the time. He rarely passes up an opportunity to visit your parents and always loves hearing about how much they like him.

- Getting introduced to a lot of people. You’ll be surprised by how many “friends” he had and the amount of celebrities he knows.

- He likes keeping his arm around you, pulling you close to his side whenever you’re together. He wants everyone to know that you’re his girl and that whoever touches you will lose that hand.

- He can be quite jealous when he wants to be although he’s not very vocal about his irritation. He keeps a fairly straight face but if you weren’t distracted in the moment then you’d notice that he isn’t nearly as calm as he leads on.

- He’s a classic case of “I trust you, I just don’t trust them”. He’ll “let you” do whatever you want, trusting your judgement until he has a reason to not want you being around the person.

- Hiding evidence per his request. It’s exhilaratingly frightening whenever he asks you to.

- Knowing not to ask too many questions. It’s best that you don’t know sometimes.

- Having to deal with police every now and again. As much as he tries to keep them away from you, there’s going to be a few inevitable run-ins, especially after you’re married.

- Complete strangers treat you like royalty just because you’re his girlfriend. People offer to help you with whatever you’re doing, shop owners give you deals and treat you like a friend, crowds part like the Red Sea to make way for you. You feel like you’re living a dream.

- Really think it through before telling him about people who are bothering or giving you trouble because he has no chill. The next time you see them they might have a busted face and you best believe it’s got everything to do with you.

- He’s insanely protective when it comes to you. All your calls will be answered no matter what he’s doing and he’ll always come to your aid as quickly as he can whenever you need him. You being okay is his top priority and he won’t let you out of his sight until you are.

- He’s good at comforting and reassuring you, especially when your worries revolve around his line of work.

- How you cuddle sort of just depends on when you’re doing it. Sometimes he’ll spoon you, othertimes you’ll lay your head on his chest, and occasionally you’ll just wind up back to back.

- Sitting up and waiting for him to get home some nights. He always feels a twinge of guilt seeing you tiredly greet him or sound asleep on the couch. He softly whispers that you didn’t have to wait up for him while ushering you to bed.

- The two of you don’t really fight that often. You sort of knew what you were getting yourself into when you got together with him so things that may bother other people don’t necessarily bother you. When you do fight it can range from a little bickering session to a full blown screaming match, it all depends on what you’re fighting about.

- You’re the person he comes to when he wants to relax and have a good time. His days filled with stressful shit; he won’t put up with anymore at home. If you start on him, half the time, he’ll just walk away and go be on his own.

- There’s a few ways these arguments can get resolved and they include: him working his charms and apologizing, the two of you just agreeing to forget about it, you apologizing and cooling him off with some of your own charm, or the two of you letting off a little steam in a... fun way.

- He may not say the words “I love you” every day but the way he acts and the other things he says shows you that he does.

- Henry’s sort of a scumbag so unless you’re willing to have a lot of sex then he’ll look for it somewhere else. He loves you but when you can get anyone you want, why use your hand? (Ew)

- Stopping him from going down destructive paths. It might take a little while to convince him not to pursue something but it’s worth it when he finally agrees.

- You have a big wedding to look forward to... and a lot of Peters and Paul’s to meet.

[flow-green]

19-08-2021

 “I think I’ve never had more chaotic year than this one,” I confessed one evening when we drove in a car somewhere. My SO gave me a warm look and I checked to the back seat where my Charlie-baby was sleeping. If somone would have told me year and a half ago that 2021 will be a true turnaround in my life, when I will throw away all the life chains and take full control, I would have rolled mye eyes and gotten back to my endless vicious circle of career. I think ever since 17-years old I have followed the norms the society has set up: graduate high school, sprint through university, meanwhile make sure you work so you won’t get drowned in depts, get a job for your field of interest, in the meantime take some loan for some random house and if you have a moment, please, make some babies. Ever since I was a child, I knew right away: that’s not me. I don’t know what it is that makes me want to break these frames. But, oh well, there is no point to raise my voice for my own good as all the other people around me are nicely stable in the system. Some of my exes are on the same line: if you are not a parent by age 31 and do not own a gorgeous house in the suburbs while paying a sickly huge loan, meanwhile ignoring your family, friends and hobbies to make ends meet just so you could work yourself to deah by age 40, then you are a loser.

Few weeks ago in Saaremaa, while tipping my toes and feet into the warm and comforting waters of Estonian sea, I realized where I have drifted with my life. Only now I have started to realized that, f**k me sideways, I am actually a living human being. A LIVING person. I LIVE.

About 2 months ago, near summer solstice, I finally felt the finalizing ticking in my brain that pushed me gently to the edge of unknown. “Will you?” the life asked and motioned me to jump. “Or will you stay here forever, wondering what’s down there?” And so, with shivering hands, I clicked ‘send’ button on the mail that delivered my resignation letter to my boss. Done. Over half a year full of mental terror and a slow suicide will come to an end. At this point I had insane regrets. How am I supposed to throw away an opportunity and 6-year long career just because I do not want to live anymore? Now you’re probably thinking I am being a drama queen and overexaggerating. Oh, dear god, no. There were days, where everything started to tumble down in one go: my love life, my family relations, friends and work relations. On these days I switched myself and my phone off, listened to some serious melancholic tunes, sat alone for hours or drove around with a car and now, admitting for the first time: I hoped that something will happen and I do not need to live here anymore. I admitted this once also in my therapy, that I have frozen up while driving, not really giving a damn about my leg on gas pedal and about the speed.

I am once again a fat, useless, lazy, clumsy, slow and unorganized. Blessed with sore black eyes, a girl with unstable nervs and flaked nails. And all this just to give myself to a work which does not appreciate any sacrifices I make.

And I did it. This is MY life. My path and my decision, I ain’t going anywhere and even if I do, I’ll go with a smile on my face and as a queen for a day.

Few days ago I realized with full heart that this was one of the most important decisions in my life. I went for a run, as I have started to pick it up again. I went and set a goal to run approx 20 minutes. I had time. No rush. Only responsibility waiting for me was one project to improve a home page of our fresh company, but there was no strict deadline nor a passive aggressive boss-lady stalking my every move and making sure I am around even off-hours. So, my 20 minute run became to a 1 hour run, which was successful, nicely progressive and easy. I enjoyed every minute, because I was present. I had nowhere to hurry. I did not worry about the future or the past. I was just excisted. And I breathed.

I think I have cried more this year than in total for all past years. In my 9 to 5 appartment cubical lifestyle I always pushed away everything that demanded at least some movement out of comfort zone. For exaxmple I always closed in when my ex partner had an idea to do some changes. Well, true, his changes did not comply with my dreams. I did not want to get a huge loan to buy a house and sprint out 2 babies just because ,,Martin and Marge had their second kid in their gorgeous house and Martin is only 1 year older than me.” OK, is nice for them I guess? Every time these silly arguments started to come up, I switched myself off into my safety bubble, all alone. I let no emotions, chaotic situatons to influence myself and I just slowly flew on my laid down path, with eyepatches on. I always knew I want something different. I wanted to fight and be heard. Every time there was a conflict at work, with a friend or family member or with a partner, I eliminated it in the early stages and just ignored the rest.

And when these eyepatches were finally removed, everything else followed. I had no pink glasses or filters for emotons. Real life was there for me, but not always in a bad way. Real life offered everything, you only had to have guts to reach out and take it, with all its plusses and minuses. Take it, dominate, take responsibility, but don’t just float by. Get yourself togeter, notice, do, learn and experience. If not now then... when?

This half of a year has thrown so many obstacles and opportunities on my way and I have caught most of them. I guess one of the most difficult period was spending some insane time at a house in the middle of nowhere, without any water or normal comforts. This has made me appreciate small benefts of our everyday life.

I think I have mentioned this earlier as well, that February and March were probaby the hardest months this year. I was given a challenge to overcome and boy, it was tough. Namely, I got pregnant. As a woman who has never wanted to become a mom due to several and long reasons which I will not discuss today, I was in a cocmplete shock. I felt happy, scared, angry. Why now? Universe has its twisted sense of humour and it turned out that the pregnancy is not carriable for medical reasons and abortion is a must. I did not have a single day to stay home and mourn and endure grief. Oh, no, they needed me back to work ASAP. So I ignored the pain of loss and carried on with even more enormous work tempo to keep up. This period started a chain reaction which pulled me cruelsomely to the edge of the cliff. Work does not sleep, it waits impatiently. Even on these two horrible days I had to go through with the process, I did some work since I had become irreplacable.

All the emotions sealed up just blasted out as soon as some smaller bebble hit my bicycle. I cried hysterically, screamed. There were no days where my eyes weren’t bloodshot and with dark underlines.

In some sort of a sick twisted way I felt good, since I was needed, everything depends on me and I am sure it will get paid off nicely in the end when I have worked until my nose bleeds. In this tunnel vision I did not realize that skipped recovery and unresolved grief had made me this maniacal, delusional self-centered zombie, who lived for her workdays. All my free time I spent worrying about next work day. I did not notice anymore how my mom is doing, how are my friends and what is my partner up to. Every time we went off to one of our van trips I just existed somewhere in my thoughts about how much there is still to do. And it’s even more sadder, that I did not even notice myself anymore in the free world.

“Yea, but how would you go on?” was the main question I was asked when with a shaky voice I admitted that I need to quit my job right now and don’t want to take such responsibilities for a while now, only for myself. Everyone can do it. If there is a will, there is a way.

I am happy that I have at least won almost the entire battle with eating disorder, although I have to admint I am not proud over the inner criticizm about my body, which has grown 8 kg heavier since last summer. This means I still have days I hide under baggy clothes and just wait until these dark thoughts pass. There are days where I absolutely veto going to the beach because ‘it’s cold’. Actually I am reminding myself of that year where I had a killer six-pack, hip bones and tiny bikinies fit me so well, but now I look more like a curvy, slightly soft female not nearly showing signs of being physically active. Although, I am now in that golden zone where my weight is not going up nor down almost at all, no matter how much or little or what kind of foods I eat (plant based always of course). I guess it is positive, my body has found it’s perfect zone, but I--- don’t really like it. This mentality here is something now that I have to work with, with all my spare and peaceful time.

Since 25 July I am (f)unemloyed. And happy. I have made sure that I will be secured, will not be homeless and have food and I have a first step of a plan prepared. Priority for now is to help myself out of this destructive black hole that influences not only me but other close ones as well.

I don’t have black shadows under my eyes anymore. I sleep deep, without any random wake ups, I finally have time and motivation to cook, bake and test out recipes that have been collecting dust since forever. From day to day I get back to introduce myself to my long lost hobbies like kite surf, reading, writing, drawing and yoga.

I have finally startrd to realize that next to me there are people that I love unconditionally and to whom I have shown insanely rude attitude. Have you ever felt that re-falling in love again? I am currently feeling it with tripple multiplications, because I have once again fallen in so much love with my dog, my boyfriend and my hero on this topsy-turvy road, my family, friends and life itself.

I will not even take a glance anymore to that 100 promises I made earlier this year. Life is just so much different with completely new challenges. If anything, then I can mark this time period here as my new and fresh chapter for my life.

[evanity]

;biography

name — Vanity, Emma faceclaim — Lily James  age — 25 gender — Cis-female. Women who would fan themselves endlessly while sipping her mother’s 5 o’clock tea would say female as if it were a barrier. They would point out that she was a lady, and that therefore, she should keep her back straightened, she should brush her hair, she should never say that word again out loud. Yet, her parents never asked Emma to put on a skirt because the Rowles are visiting. They never treated her like a little bird, like a future bride in training that they would marry off as soon as graduation. Her father had many faults, but never did he force Emma into the thin, cage-shaped stereotype that was female in their society. She was his heir. She learned to ride winged horses at ten years old. She was taken to saloons where men drank firewhiskey and talked business at fourteen. She wasn’t scolded after stealing her father’s cigars one summer at fifteen — she couldn’t escape getting enrolled among the Death Eaters as she turned seventeen. Therefore, Emma is a cis female, but the definition her parents taught her differs from the one used by her childhood friends.

sexuality — Pansexual. Her sexuality seeks personality more than anything else. She’s attracted to all those with a fire within, who inspire her to be worse, who make her laugh, who have something to say. Obsessive yet easy-going, she falls in love quickly and gives up hard. Whatever makes her heart beat change has claim over the said heart forever.

patronus — The memories she has lived are sprinkled with sheer happiness. Getting drunk and swimming in the Black Lake at midnight, winning the Inter-House Quidditch Cup while being Captain, getting a hundred galleons at the lottery all made her smile spread all the way to her ears, but nothing filled her whole heart with joy. She hasn’t even properly lived, in her opinion. Casting a patronus is a sensitive subject for a witch who always wanted to be first at everything, but finds it difficult to convert happiness into magic. However, if she were able to conjure a patronus, it would undoubtedly be a winged horse, namely an Abraxan Winged Horse. Abraxan Winged Horse - A breed of winged horse, gigantic in size and extremely powerful. They are selective eaters and usually require forceful handling. As a Patronus, they represent power, determination, and a free spirit.

boggart — This would be easier. In the past years, she ran on fear rather than happiness as fuel. These days, it would definitely be her father returned from Azkaban. She fears what life path he desires for her. She fears that disappointed look on his face when he notices her disgust for everything the war and the Dark Lord stand for. She fears the mental image of him destroyed by a soul-shattering prison, and, in few words, she fears him no matter if he dies in Azkaban, if he returns to make a Death Eater out of her again or if he returns to kill her for treason.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

(ambitious:) While other people have hobbies and interests, Emma’s only passion is overachieving. She became Quidditch team Captain seeking a title to differentiate herself from her mates. She learned to throw a Quaffle because someone implied she couldn’t, in the first place. Her collection of diplomas, piled up like fallen leaves in autumn, doesn’t matter for anything but her own ego, entirely fed by a lifetime of chasing after small prizes and insignificant victories. Nothing attracts her like winning, like coming on top, whether it’s about schoolwork, about silly bets or her own life choices. She has done questionable things to land on top before, only out of pride. Despite being passive in matters of blood purity and being too comfortable to actually want to fight a war (especially on the losing side), her ambition served as sole motivation to keep going, following her father’s wish to fight for the Dark Lord and make something out of a family name that hasn’t sat next to something worthy of pride in too long.

(fickle:) Easily convinced to doubt even the steps she takes on the ground, she questions everything, all the more herself, and is ready to turn on her heels and walk in the other direction at the first glare from someone else. Persuasion has her mind on strings, toying with it at free will, and Emma wouldn’t even notice, under the spell of every person who influences her in any way. Encouraged by peer pressure and naturally inclined to struggle until everyone liked her, she is often remembered by her worst, most impulsive decisions, executed because someone thought it would be funny. More importantly, her father’s aspirations for her left a permanent mark on her forearm, and she had no power fighting that decision.

(free-spirited:) While taking every piece of advice religiously, worrying that everyone’s mind but her own saw bigger truths that she was missing, she loves being in charge of her afternoons. She doesn’t want to be told what to do — not out loud and not consciously — because the peace and the quiet are her most comfortable state of being. She craves adventures and untied, tangled hair, spontaneous dips in stranger lakes and kisses from people she doesn’t know the name of. She despises cages and has a predisposition towards flying — be it on a broom or her favorite winged horse. Emma seldom knows what to do, what path to take and whether to trust her own mind or not — but she would rather cope with her uncertainties without having so many questions to answer and so many responsibilities no one ever wished for.

(chaotic:) An agitated daughter turned into a radioactive teenager turned into a messy young adult. Emma doesn’t know how to stand still, like she doesn’t know the first thing about order and stability. She learned how to run long before she could walk, and that shows in her behavior everyday. Wrong decisions made in the spur of the moment tie with some sort of natural, charming clumsiness — and these describe her to the last comma. She talks too much and most of her sentences don’t have an ending, because she never stops spinning infinitive ideas back and forth in her mind.

character biography —

Perhaps out of lack of blue blood in her veins, Emma never quite fit in according to the pureblooded standards. Her mother was thought to give birth to a boy up until the first time Emma opened her eyes for the first time towards the world. Due to health complications, it was said that she would never give birth again, let alone to a son.  It took his father a bit to adjust and accept the imminence of not having a heir to pass on quite everything to, but he never loved Emma any less. He couldn’t have his own blood even if it spat in his face — but Emma wouldn’t gamble on that. The toddler with curious eyes never cried a day, with a childhood surrounded by majestic winged horses and an aunt that sang in the Leaky Cauldron, surrounded by pinkness and a loving family that, despite being preoccupied by tradition, never resented Emma for simply being born.

And so the child who tripped in ballet classes and couldn’t remember the word for anything, having to ask her mother, grew taller and taller everyday, as if warmth alone lifted her up. Despite not being a skilled pianist or a talented dancer, she excelled in the third most pureblooded occupation there was. When on a horse, nothing stopped her. Emma would often be scolded by a worried mother or by a half-amused father for speed, but she agreed she’d never slow down. Every chance to hop on a winged horse and ride was a chance to exceed her last speed record, and so she became competitive — by being in constant competition with herself.

Terrified to go to Hogwarts, as she feared she has never slept before without her mother’s daily kiss on her forehead, she learned that she loves large amounts of company quite soon. She would talk and talk for hours if she had someone to talk to, and strangers were her favorite interlocutors. For that, she made both friends and enemies, those who liked her guts and humor not necessarily exceeding those who wouldn’t find anyone more annoying than Emma Vanity. Still, her priority has always been to have fun, and her friends were grateful to have around someone as lovely, gullible and foolish as her. Quidditch was her biggest achievement, despite being a sport she didn’t have a passion for particularly. It just mirrored horse-riding enough to make her not miss home so much, so often. And the fact that it implied the biggest competition Hogwarts had to offer interested her even more. She became a Captain in her third year and was known not for being the most talented player rather the one who would never give up.

When the child with curious eyes turned into the teenager with desperate eyes, it was as if nothing could stop her anymore. Driven by endless ambition and no drop of shame, she was the only girl in her year who treated boys she liked as if they were the girl. Norms have never applied to her and she decided it was best if the boys feared her instead of the other way around. Never did Emma hesitate before asking somebody out on a Hogsmeade trip, but, for that, she encountered with a fair amount of rejection. Emma was unlike the rest of the pureblooded girls  —  not delicate, not sheepish, not elegant, not mannered  — and she was unlike the other girls, but somewhere in the middle, she was sweet; like corn instead of candy. She didn’t fear labels from jealous wixen, she would argue with anyone spreading rumors… or even telling the truth about her, and conflict was never something she shuddered at the thought of. Until her father’s opinions concerning her became a problem.

Upon finishing school, she had no direction. Hogwarts, her friends, her team and even the dramas have been the entirety of her life for years, and now she didn’t want to become an adult. Yet, Mr. Vanity had big hopes regarding his daughter. As a supporter of Voldemort who didn’t stand out in any way: not being rich enough, not respected enough and certainly not having the strongest wand, he wanted to do anything to get in the Dark Lord’s good graces and it did flatter Emma that he immediately considered enrolling her. Except for the fact that Emma never wanted to fight to begin with. The cause itself preoccupied her less, even though something in her chest made her feel as if it wasn’t exactly right. Still, she complied with half a heart, only out of fear not to let down her father, who never wronged her in any way despite having many reasons to treat her as harshly as other fathers treated kids her age.

It was a relief when the Dark Lord vanished, and she was ready to take it without questioning whether it is a good or permanent thing. The only thing that mattered was that she was no longer a toy in somebody’s big hands and that the strings got cut off entirely. Her tattoo bothered her, but not enough to stop her from living a life filled with things that used to bring her joy before. It was going to take a while to rediscover them, but she was hopeful, for the first time. But that was before the aurors knocked on their door to arrest his father, letting her think she would be next. That didn’t happen, but the thought of her own father sitting blankly in an Azkaban cell made her skin itch and her head ache. She wanted him saved, but at the same time, she wanted her freedom too. Out of lack of skills regarding solving inner conflicts, she decided not to think much about that one. Still, even now that her wings are untied, she doesn’t know what to do with that freedom in the slightest.

plot ideas —

i. BLACKMAIL. People know of the mark underneath her robes. The long sleeves aren’t fooling anyone and the summertime catches her too distracted and entertained not to strip to skin with every occasion. Therefore, her prior alliance isn’t a whisper on a dark street, rather than the bitter truth she still didn’t gather up courage to swallow. The blackmail would have more to do with her official betrayal. Maybe she slipped in front of another Death Eater and confessed what is in her heart regarding the Dark Lord and her father’s say in her involvement, maybe someone observant enough read straight through her. What’s certain is that someone is using her weakness to threaten her into imminent death for her unofficial betrayal. Whether she knows this person’s identity or not, it’s open to interpretations.

ii. SPEAK NOW. It’s implied that Emma and Reginald, Mary’s husband, were romantically involved. Even if this were completely one-sided and if Emma was the only one to grow feelings for the other young man, it’s irrelevant in light of how she sees it. She sees it as a love story, beginning, middle and ending. No amount of cold water would help her wake up from the delusion that her friend — her good friend — led her on. The news about Reg’s marriage to Mary came in like a hurricane. Despite all that, it felt like a masterful idea at the time to interrupt their ceremony and voice her concern. She made a fool out of herself for this impulsive moment of unasked for truth. People still whisper about crazy Emma to this day and no hole is deep enough for her to hide whenever that particular memory resurfaces, but she’s learned to live with all of her collection of mistakes, no matter how sharp they still dig into their mind.

iii. PARTY GIRLS DON’T GET HURT. No one can brag about as many blunders as Emma, and her Hogwarts times are the golden ages of that. With a tendency to be the target of everyone’s laughter, it would only make sense that people in her generation wouldn’t think too highly of her, still remembering the girl who always tripped over her own feet after a couple of butterbeers. This plot bunny includes both people she used to be good friends with (but since adolescence is not a light summer’s breeze, they would have either fought passionately or fallen apart) and people who can’t help but scoff at the mention of her name. She wouldn’t necessarily be popular, but, as a dramatic and social person, it would only be natural that she made both pals and enemies at the age of sixteen.

iv. THE CLOAKED MEN. With a history of being on the wrong side of the previous war, aurors panic the hell out of Emma. She avoids them as if she has something to hide, but truth is, she just doesn’t want to end up where her father is. I would like a suspicious auror to seek her company purposefully and make her nervous in hopes of maybe learning something new about the Death Eaters. Getting under Emma Vanity’s skin is easier than ever when she is sweating and trying to nervously smile through that.

v. REDEMPTION. Maybe someone wants to fool Emma (see: possibly linked with the fourth plot bunny as well), maybe they want her to be well. What’s for sure is that someone is suddenly dragging her towards the light side — and she swings in between certainties without appearing to make up her mind any time soon. The promise of a clean future and better, less scary company is difficult to weigh in when, on the other side, her father’s disapproving eyes blink, in a frown, at her.

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, RALUCA, you have been accepted to AL for the role of EMMA VANITY (FC: Lily James). Wow, your app was TRULY fantastic! I was hanging on to every word, loving each bit. You’ve flushed Emma out in such a beautiful way, and I for one cannot wait to see how she progresses in this plot! Really well done, I’m so excited you’re here! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — raluca age — 20, but i’m turning 21 on the 15th of july pronouns — she/her/hers timezone — gmt+2

IC Overview

name — Vanity, Emma faceclaim — Lily James  age — 25 gender — Cis-female. Women who would fan themselves endlessly while sipping her mother’s 5 o’clock tea would say female as if it were a barrier. They would point out that she was a lady, and that therefore, she should keep her back straightened, she should brush her hair, she should never say that word again out loud. Yet, her parents never asked Emma to put on a skirt because the Rowles are visiting. They never treated her like a little bird, like a future bride in training that they would marry off as soon as graduation. Her father had many faults, but never did he force Emma into the thin, cage-shaped stereotype that was female in their society. She was his heir. She learned to ride winged horses at ten years old. She was taken to saloons where men drank firewhiskey and talked business at fourteen. She wasn’t scolded after stealing her father’s cigars one summer at fifteen — she couldn’t escape getting enrolled among the Death Eaters as she turned seventeen. Therefore, Emma is a cis female, but the definition her parents taught her differs from the one used by her childhood friends.

sexuality — Pansexual. Her sexuality seeks personality more than anything else. She’s attracted to all those with a fire within, who inspire her to be worse, who make her laugh, who have something to say. Obsessive yet easy-going, she falls in love quickly and gives up hard. Whatever makes her heart beat change has claim over the said heart forever.

patronus — The memories she has lived are sprinkled with sheer happiness. Getting drunk and swimming in the Black Lake at midnight, winning the Inter-House Quidditch Cup while being Captain, getting a hundred galleons at the lottery all made her smile spread all the way to her ears, but nothing filled her whole heart with joy. She hasn’t even properly lived, in her opinion. Casting a patronus is a sensitive subject for a witch who always wanted to be first at everything, but finds it difficult to convert happiness into magic. However, if she were able to conjure a patronus, it would undoubtedly be a winged horse, namely an Abraxan Winged Horse. Abraxan Winged Horse - A breed of winged horse, gigantic in size and extremely powerful. They are selective eaters and usually require forceful handling. As a Patronus, they represent power, determination, and a free spirit.

boggart — This would be easier. In the past years, she ran on fear rather than happiness as fuel. These days, it would definitely be her father returned from Azkaban. She fears what life path he desires for her. She fears that disappointed look on his face when he notices her disgust for everything the war and the Dark Lord stand for. She fears the mental image of him destroyed by a soul-shattering prison, and, in few words, she fears him no matter if he dies in Azkaban, if he returns to make a Death Eater out of her again or if he returns to kill her for treason.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

(ambitious:) While other people have hobbies and interests, Emma’s only passion is overachieving. She became Quidditch team Captain seeking a title to differentiate herself from her mates. She learned to throw a Quaffle because someone implied she couldn’t, in the first place. Her collection of diplomas, piled up like fallen leaves in autumn, doesn’t matter for anything but her own ego, entirely fed by a lifetime of chasing after small prizes and insignificant victories. Nothing attracts her like winning, like coming on top, whether it’s about schoolwork, about silly bets or her own life choices. She has done questionable things to land on top before, only out of pride. Despite being passive in matters of blood purity and being too comfortable to actually want to fight a war (especially on the losing side), her ambition served as sole motivation to keep going, following her father’s wish to fight for the Dark Lord and make something out of a family name that hasn’t sat next to something worthy of pride in too long.

(fickle:) Easily convinced to doubt even the steps she takes on the ground, she questions everything, all the more herself, and is ready to turn on her heels and walk in the other direction at the first glare from someone else. Persuasion has her mind on strings, toying with it at free will, and Emma wouldn’t even notice, under the spell of every person who influences her in any way. Encouraged by peer pressure and naturally inclined to struggle until everyone liked her, she is often remembered by her worst, most impulsive decisions, executed because someone thought it would be funny. More importantly, her father’s aspirations for her left a permanent mark on her forearm, and she had no power fighting that decision.

(free-spirited:) While taking every piece of advice religiously, worrying that everyone’s mind but her own saw bigger truths that she was missing, she loves being in charge of her afternoons. She doesn’t want to be told what to do — not out loud and not consciously — because the peace and the quiet are her most comfortable state of being. She craves adventures and untied, tangled hair, spontaneous dips in stranger lakes and kisses from people she doesn’t know the name of. She despises cages and has a predisposition towards flying — be it on a broom or her favorite winged horse. Emma seldom knows what to do, what path to take and whether to trust her own mind or not — but she would rather cope with her uncertainties without having so many questions to answer and so many responsibilities no one ever wished for.

(chaotic:) An agitated daughter turned into a radioactive teenager turned into a messy young adult. Emma doesn’t know how to stand still, like she doesn’t know the first thing about order and stability. She learned how to run long before she could walk, and that shows in her behavior everyday. Wrong decisions made in the spur of the moment tie with some sort of natural, charming clumsiness — and these describe her to the last comma. She talks too much and most of her sentences don’t have an ending, because she never stops spinning infinitive ideas back and forth in her mind.

character biography —

Perhaps out of lack of blue blood in her veins, Emma never quite fit in according to the pureblooded standards. Her mother was thought to give birth to a boy up until the first time Emma opened her eyes for the first time towards the world. Due to health complications, it was said that she would never give birth again, let alone to a son.  It took his father a bit to adjust and accept the imminence of not having a heir to pass on quite everything to, but he never loved Emma any less. He couldn’t have his own blood even if it spat in his face — but Emma wouldn’t gamble on that. The toddler with curious eyes never cried a day, with a childhood surrounded by majestic winged horses and an aunt that sang in the Leaky Cauldron, surrounded by pinkness and a loving family that, despite being preoccupied by tradition, never resented Emma for simply being born.

And so the child who tripped in ballet classes and couldn’t remember the word for anything, having to ask her mother, grew taller and taller everyday, as if warmth alone lifted her up. Despite not being a skilled pianist or a talented dancer, she excelled in the third most pureblooded occupation there was. When on a horse, nothing stopped her. Emma would often be scolded by a worried mother or by a half-amused father for speed, but she agreed she’d never slow down. Every chance to hop on a winged horse and ride was a chance to exceed her last speed record, and so she became competitive — by being in constant competition with herself.

Terrified to go to Hogwarts, as she feared she has never slept before without her mother’s daily kiss on her forehead, she learned that she loves large amounts of company quite soon. She would talk and talk for hours if she had someone to talk to, and strangers were her favorite interlocutors. For that, she made both friends and enemies, those who liked her guts and humor not necessarily exceeding those who wouldn’t find anyone more annoying than Emma Vanity. Still, her priority has always been to have fun, and her friends were grateful to have around someone as lovely, gullible and foolish as her. Quidditch was her biggest achievement, despite being a sport she didn’t have a passion for particularly. It just mirrored horse-riding enough to make her not miss home so much, so often. And the fact that it implied the biggest competition Hogwarts had to offer interested her even more. She became a Captain in her third year and was known not for being the most talented player rather the one who would never give up.

When the child with curious eyes turned into the teenager with desperate eyes, it was as if nothing could stop her anymore. Driven by endless ambition and no drop of shame, she was the only girl in her year who treated boys she liked as if they were the girl. Norms have never applied to her and she decided it was best if the boys feared her instead of the other way around. Never did Emma hesitate before asking somebody out on a Hogsmeade trip, but, for that, she encountered with a fair amount of rejection. Emma was unlike the rest of the pureblooded girls  —  not delicate, not sheepish, not elegant, not mannered  — and she was unlike the other girls, but somewhere in the middle, she was sweet; like corn instead of candy. She didn’t fear labels from jealous wixen, she would argue with anyone spreading rumors… or even telling the truth about her, and conflict was never something she shuddered at the thought of. Until her father’s opinions concerning her became a problem.

Upon finishing school, she had no direction. Hogwarts, her friends, her team and even the dramas have been the entirety of her life for years, and now she didn’t want to become an adult. Yet, Mr. Vanity had big hopes regarding his daughter. As a supporter of Voldemort who didn’t stand out in any way: not being rich enough, not respected enough and certainly not having the strongest wand, he wanted to do anything to get in the Dark Lord’s good graces and it did flatter Emma that he immediately considered enrolling her. Except for the fact that Emma never wanted to fight to begin with. The cause itself preoccupied her less, even though something in her chest made her feel as if it wasn’t exactly right. Still, she complied with half a heart, only out of fear not to let down her father, who never wronged her in any way despite having many reasons to treat her as harshly as other fathers treated kids her age.

It was a relief when the Dark Lord vanished, and she was ready to take it without questioning whether it is a good or permanent thing. The only thing that mattered was that she was no longer a toy in somebody’s big hands and that the strings got cut off entirely. Her tattoo bothered her, but not enough to stop her from living a life filled with things that used to bring her joy before. It was going to take a while to rediscover them, but she was hopeful, for the first time. But that was before the aurors knocked on their door to arrest his father, letting her think she would be next. That didn’t happen, but the thought of her own father sitting blankly in an Azkaban cell made her skin itch and her head ache. She wanted him saved, but at the same time, she wanted her freedom too. Out of lack of skills regarding solving inner conflicts, she decided not to think much about that one. Still, even now that her wings are untied, she doesn’t know what to do with that freedom in the slightest.

plot ideas —

i. BLACKMAIL. People know of the mark underneath her robes. The long sleeves aren’t fooling anyone and the summertime catches her too distracted and entertained not to strip to skin with every occasion. Therefore, her prior alliance isn’t a whisper on a dark street, rather than the bitter truth she still didn’t gather up courage to swallow. The blackmail would have more to do with her official betrayal. Maybe she slipped in front of another Death Eater and confessed what is in her heart regarding the Dark Lord and her father’s say in her involvement, maybe someone observant enough read straight through her. What’s certain is that someone is using her weakness to threaten her into imminent death for her unofficial betrayal. Whether she knows this person’s identity or not, it’s open to interpretations.

ii. SPEAK NOW. It’s implied that Emma and Reginald, Mary’s husband, were romantically involved. Even if this were completely one-sided and if Emma was the only one to grow feelings for the other young man, it’s irrelevant in light of how she sees it. She sees it as a love story, beginning, middle and ending. No amount of cold water would help her wake up from the delusion that her friend — her good friend — led her on. The news about Reg’s marriage to Mary came in like a hurricane. Despite all that, it felt like a masterful idea at the time to interrupt their ceremony and voice her concern. She made a fool out of herself for this impulsive moment of unasked for truth. People still whisper about crazy Emma to this day and no hole is deep enough for her to hide whenever that particular memory resurfaces, but she’s learned to live with all of her collection of mistakes, no matter how sharp they still dig into their mind.

iii. PARTY GIRLS DON’T GET HURT. No one can brag about as many blunders as Emma, and her Hogwarts times are the golden ages of that. With a tendency to be the target of everyone’s laughter, it would only make sense that people in her generation wouldn’t think too highly of her, still remembering the girl who always tripped over her own feet after a couple of butterbeers. This plot bunny includes both people she used to be good friends with (but since adolescence is not a light summer’s breeze, they would have either fought passionately or fallen apart) and people who can’t help but scoff at the mention of her name. She wouldn’t necessarily be popular, but, as a dramatic and social person, it would only be natural that she made both pals and enemies at the age of sixteen.

iv. THE CLOAKED MEN. With a history of being on the wrong side of the previous war, aurors panic the hell out of Emma. She avoids them as if she has something to hide, but truth is, she just doesn’t want to end up where her father is. I would like a suspicious auror to seek her company purposefully and make her nervous in hopes of maybe learning something new about the Death Eaters. Getting under Emma Vanity’s skin is easier than ever when she is sweating and trying to nervously smile through that.

v. REDEMPTION. Maybe someone wants to fool Emma (see: possibly linked with the fourth plot bunny as well), maybe they want her to be well. What’s for sure is that someone is suddenly dragging her towards the light side — and she swings in between certainties without appearing to make up her mind any time soon. The promise of a clean future and better, less scary company is difficult to weigh in when, on the other side, her father’s disapproving eyes blink, in a frown, at her.

extra — I just feel like these grow from muse. I like doing edits (albeit not currently owning photoshop since I just bought a new laptop and don’t have anything on it), I think in songs and nothing’s as inspirational as a good quote, but forcing it would mean ruining it. But worry not, I will post, without spamming, plenty of those if I do get accepted.

[lailannajacobs]

Somewhere Like Me

Pairing: Loki X FemReader 

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could a one shot of Tom Hiddleston? I’m going through a rough time and just need some uplifting. A woman has been going through a rough patch with her boyfriend (doesn’t make her a priority) and she meets him at a cafe in which he’s paying more attention to the phone than her that Tom notices her and slips a note to her (you can fill in from here)!!

Word Count: 1.2k 

Warnings: maybe a little angsty? 

A/N: Hi my sweet anon, I hope everything is going better for you! I know this is not what you wanted but I changed Loki’s appearance so technically it gives you the space to imagine Tom Hiddleston instead seeing as I only write fictional characters. I’d love to know what you think anyways, and I hope the wait didn’t feel too long! <3 

Loki’s eyes slid back and forth, watching the late afternoon bustle from above his steaming cup of coffee. Nothing escaped his eye, yet no one took notice of him. In part, he assumed it was because he had changed his appearance to look more…mortal, but he figured it was also due to the fact that he had always been pretty good at blending into the background. He found observational skills to be highly underrated and highly useful.

The after work craziness calmed him. Everything about a busy coffee shop felt like a mad scramble for something so fleeting, and it was interesting to watch it play out. Interesting to see how patience, understanding and kindness could be thrown out the window for an evening pick me up before going home for the night.

It was chaotic. He loved it.

There weren’t too many people who took the time to sit and have their coffee at this hour and those who did were usually gone within fifteen minutes. He glanced over at the only couple on the far end of the cafe, who had arrived shortly after he had. Moments after they had sat down, the man had taken out his phone. Loki hadn’t seen him put it down since and he was at his second cup.

What amazed him more was that the woman he was with never stopped trying to keep a conversation going, despite the man’s one worded answers. Although he could tell her smile became forced the longer they stayed there, she never traded it in for a scowl. Loki admired her patience. He would’ve gotten up and left long ago.

Maybe he could do something about it. A loose napkin on the table caught his eye and he conjured a pen. Loki had an idea.

You ran out of things to say three sips ago and all you could do was drink your coffee in silence. You didn’t know what started the rough patch between you and your boyfriend but you couldn’t deny that things weren’t what they used to be. When did you have to start competing with a phone for his attention? What had caused this change?

A friend of yours had suggested that being more spontaneous would bring back that earlier spark in your relationship so you had decided to surprise him afterwork Though you hadn’t gotten the reaction you were hoping for, especially when he had told you that he only had time for a coffee break. Because he had to stay late at work. Again.

You swirled the black liquid around in the cup, racking your brain for something to say. Maybe if you found the right topic, asked the right question, you could get him back to his usual self. You were just about to ask him about your plans for the upcoming long weekend when a napkin fluttered onto the table, folded neatly in half.

Lifting your attention from the cup, you noticed that a man in a white dress shirt and navy dress pants had walked by, and was heading out the door. For some reason, you knew that it had come from him.

When you turned back to the napkin, you saw that there was blue ink peeking out of the inside. Your boyfriend was still absorbed by his phone so you opened it. He didn’t even look up.

The words scrawled on the napkin sent a wave of fury crashing over you. ‘You deserve more respect than what you’re being given. I can see that in you. I hope he can too’. Who did he think was, making assumptions like that? Your situation wasn’t any of his business. What was this guy’s problem?

You stood up, muttered an excuse to your boyfriend and stormed out the shop after the stranger, fists tightened into little balls. You refused to let him get away with his inappropriate behaviour.

He hadn’t made it far, the white shirt easily visible a few feet away.

“Why would you write something like this?” You demanded, hoping the anger in your voice would be enough to stop the stranger.

He turned slowly. You nearly forgot you anger when you saw how handsome he was, never having seen eyes as green as his. The only word you had to describe them was…otherworldly. You crossed your arms, reminding yourself of your anger.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why wouldn’t I?”  

You wanted to wipe the lazy look of off his face. “Because it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not.” he shrugged. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you needed to hear it.”

“I know that I deserve respect.” You spat.

It was hard to know whether or not you were angry at the stranger or at yourself. Maybe it was both. But you couldn’t yell at yourself as well as you could a complete stranger, so you recrossed your arms, unwilling to stand down.

“Then why’d you take it in there?” his voice was a dare that dripped out like honey, “Personally, I would’ve walked away and never looked back. But I have no attachment to phone guy. You clearly do.”

“I’m not going to walk away.”

You didn’t give up when things were getting tough. It was why you were trying so hard. Just because things weren’t easy didn’t mean you’d give up on them.

He shook his head. “I’m not telling you to walk away. I’m telling you that you shouldn’t stay in a situation where you’re not getting the respect you deserve.”

You breathed heavily, your nostrils flaring. “Okay then, wise, arrogant, stranger, what would you if you didn’t want to walk away?”

“Talk to him.” His voice was so gentle it took you by surprise.

It was probably the reason you voiced the fear that had been running through your head for days now. “And what if that doesn’t work?”

“Then, as hard as it may be, walk away. You deserve someone who looks at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the universe. But if you want to settle, at least go for someone who thinks you’re more interesting than his phone.”

“And how do you know what I deserve?” You growled, remembering that this was a complete stranger you were talking to.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “I don’t. But if there’s anyone who thinks you should deserve the utmost respect, it should be yourself.” He dipped his head in a sort of goodbye. “Trust me.”

He walked off, heading wherever he had been going before you had stopped him. You wanted to call after him, but you couldn’t make yourself say a thing. For some reason, you knew he had said everything he needed to.

Blinking a few times, you let his words sink in. He was right. You had to decide what kind of situations you let yourself be a part of. Things needed to change. You were going to talk to your boyfriend. You were going to make things better for yourself, not matter how hard it may be.

[torialeysha]

Lunchtime

A/N - Firstly I want to apologise for the delay in part 4 of Cold Feet. I know I said I’d get it up over the weekend but I went to London Film and Comic Con and ran out of time. So instead of rushing to get it up and posting something I wasn’t 100% happy with I thought I’d try to make it up to you guys with a little Pre-Cold Feet Drabble of how Alfie asked for the readers hand in marriage.

It was lunchtime. You’re favourite time of day, you only get an hours break and you don’t like to waste a single minute of it. You skip hurriedly along the route you know too well. Across the bridge and down the stairs that leads to the canal. Your bag swinging heavily with the weight of 2 lunches. You see your destination. The bakery is alive with a thrum of activity. As you get nearer, the anticipation and excitement of seeing your lover causes your blood to heat. You waste no time weaving in and out of the obstacles in the chaotic yard of the bakery. Workers carrying in crates and barrels, greeting you by name as you glide by.

You’re through the doors and nearly there, your feet picking up pace as you hum a tune merrily yourself.

“Afternoon Ollie.” You greet cheerfully as you pass him. “Wait Y/N” he catches up to you, you frown as he causes you to slow your pace. “I wouldn’t go in there today.” Your furrowed brow turns from annoyed to questioning.

“He’s got company and he’s not in a good mood. He’s given me strict orders that he’s not to be disturbed.” As you near Alfie’s office door. You can hear His booming voice loud and irate through the walls. You feel sorry for whoever’s on the receiving end of his tirade.

You take a moment contemplating the idea of not disturbing Alfie. The disappointment of not seeing him all day makes up your mind.

“Leave him to me.” You assure Ollie. “I’ll cheer him up.” You smile skipping the last few steps to Alfies office door, grabbing the handle to twist it open. Ollie stops you by placing his hand over yours. You narrow your eyes at him. “I can’t let you go in there Y/N. It’s gonna be me who’s gets it in the neck later. I’m already walking on a thin line apparently.” He mutters sarcastically.

You roll your eyes at his overreaction. Knowing Alfie’s rules don’t apply to you. “It’s fine Ollie, he’s expecting me. Plus I’ll put in a good word for you. Make him forget that thin line you’re on.” You try bargaining as your hand tries the handle, struggling to twist it against Ollies grip. “Let go Ollie.” You ask the hint of annoyance now tainting your usual soft voice.

He shakes his head. You sigh letting go of the handle, leaving Ollies fixed there as he breathes a sigh of relief. However you’re not one to be defeated. You place both of your hands around Ollies and the handle and squeeze tightly trying to turn it at the same time. Hoping the pressure will cause him to let go. He yelps but still doesn’t budge. “For God sake Ollie.” You both start bickering, your hands still attached to the door handle. Stopping abruptly when you feel it twist between your hands on its own accord. The door opens forcefully pushing you both backwards. You steady yourself letting go of the door handle, releasing Ollies hand also, He cries out waving it around frantically as if it’s on fire. You shake your head at his dramatics.

“What the fuck is going on out here?” You both look to the doorway where Alfie now stands, frowning at the both of you. Your heart does it’s usual and skips a beat at the sight of him.

“Sorry Boss I tried to stop-“ Alfie cuts Ollie of mid sentence.

“You’re late.” He addresses you ignoring Ollie.

You look to Ollie smugly, an ‘I told you so’ smile gracing your lips. You knew Alfie would have been waiting for you, expecting you like he does every day. “Sorry my love.... I got held up on the way in.” You try to explain, not mentioning no names. Alfie clocks on despite your discretion, the culprit red and embarrassed next to you, clutching his ‘injured’ hand.

“Oh, so her tardiness is your fault lad?” He looks at Ollie unimpressed.

“But Boss...You said.” Ollie argues, his palms raised upwards in confusion.

“I know what I fucking said. But what I didn’t fucking say was that includes Y/N as well.” He answers through gritted teeth. Ollie was right About Alfie’s mood.

“he’s just following your orders Alfie.” You stick up for Ollie even though he’s caused you to lose minutes of precious time together.

“Yeah well he’s been here long enough to know that you’re a fucking exception, alright.” His eyes are still on Ollies “You’re walking a very, very thin line lad.” His eyes narrow tightly as he points at Ollie.

Taking pity on him under the heated gaze of Alfies angry stare. You interrupt putting a hand softly on Alfie’s pointed hand. The little spark your touch illicits causes Alfie’s head to snap to yours. He grunts softly as you kiss him on the cheek, an attempt to sweeten his sour mood. “Let’s not waste anymore time, My love.” You hold his hand tenderly in your own.

“Ollie, thank you for escorting me. You’re such a gentleman.” You lie, wanting Alfie to go easy on him later. You waltz past Alfie letting go of his hand, leaving him in the doorway still starring daggers at Ollie. You hear Alfie whisper something but you couldn’t make it out.

“Afternoon chaps.” You acknowledge the three men Alfie was shouting at.

“Afternoon Miss.” they answer in a somber chorus.

“Right, everyone fuck off! Go on, out my office. This is my time now.” Alfie shouts, his presence overpowering in the confined space of his office. You plonk your bag and your bum on Alfie’s desk, watching him, watching you. The heat of his gaze has you biting on your bottom lip.

“But Mr. Solomon’s. When is this going to get sorted.” One of the men whines. You see the flash of irritation flicker across Alfie’s face as he breaks eye contact with you, moving to push the hesitant body out the door.

“Now that lad, I don’t know. But I’ll tell you what I do know, right. The longer you keep me from my girl, the harder I’ll come down on you all later. Now you all know, that 1 o’clock until 2 o’clock is lunchtime. My time. Now piss off.” He slams the door behind them.

You smile shyly your belly alive with the fluttering wings of imaginary butterflies. You loved that he made you a priority.

You’re now both finally alone. He turns looking at you, not moving. His hands stuffed in his pockets casually. Hating the space between you, you beckon to him with a finger slowly and seductively. He smiles tightly, removing a hand from his pocket to rub at his beard as he walks a painfully slow pace towards you. You narrow your eyes at him, his body is tense. His eyes distant as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, knowing Alfie it probably was.

He finally makes it to you. You uncross your legs to make room for him to stand in front of you.

“I’ve missed you.” You admit suddenly, then regret it,. Not wanting to sound too needy considering you only saw him yesterday.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers, his rings cool against your soft feverish skin.

you look up at him but he’s not with you, his eyes still distant, off somewhere else. Concern fills you as you ask him what’s wrong.

“Just work sweetie. Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about.”

“Well maybe I can help take your mind off it?” You wrap your legs around his waist, he grunts in approval. Twisting his hand in your waist length curly hair he pulls lightly on the locks, your head tilting back so he has better access to your mouth. You lick your lips in anticipation, waiting for him to kiss you, but he doesn’t, instead leaning into your ear “Before we get carried away. I need you to do something for me.” He pulls away from you, his hand unraveling from your hair. “How can I be of assistance Mr. Solomons.” Intrigued you play along, your eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I need you to type something up for me.” He moves from you to grab the typewriter from its home on the sideboard, placing it on his desk in front of his chair.

“Oh.” Your face drops. “Type something?...Alfie, I only have half hour left before I’ve got to get back.” You pout, your voice high pitched and whiney. You had other ideas of how you wanted to spend the next 30 minutes.

“It won’t take long. And it will be good practise for you won’t it?”

You sigh, he’s right about that. You were going to secretarial school twice a week and falling behind because of spending more time with Alfie. “Oh, alright. But make it short and sweet.” You get up from the desk to sit in Alfie’s chair. You make yourself comfortable, your dainty digits hovering over the letters of the typewriter.

Alfie starts pacing his office slowly. “Ready?” He asks. You nod. “Nice and comfy?” He adds, you realise he’s stalling.

“Yes Alfie.” You roll your eyes. “Hurry up.”

You can’t help but think something’s a little off.

“Dear Y/N Y/L/N” He begins.

You just get through typing the word ‘Dear’ when you stop. “Me?” You look up from the typewriter to Alfie confused.

“Yes, you.” He states matter of factly.

“Why are you writing a letter to me?” You look at him bewildered.

“Just keep on typing woman and you’ll find out.” Frustration is creeping into his voice.

You frown. He clears his throat and continues.

“I’ve been tempted many a time...”

“Hold on Alfie, I’m still typing my name.” You interrupt him, struggling to concentrate, your mind busy trying to work out what Alfie’s playing at.

“Oh for crying out loud. What are they teaching at that school? Not a lot by the looks of it.” The frustration is now thick in his voice as he marches over to you. “Let me do it. Try and be romantic and this is the thanks you get.” He mumbles shaking his head. “Come on, get up.” You jump out of his chair, fixing him with an annoyed stare, folding your arms like a petulant child.

“If you want something done right you’ve got to do it yourself.” He moans. Settling down into his chair he places his glasses on his nose. “Now where was I?” He asks himself, but you answer “something about being tempted.” You mutter suppressing a yawn.

“Ah, that’s right.” He begins typing, pressing one letter at a time - you roll your eyes, you’ll be here all day at this rate. Slumping down in the chair facing him you watch him type, stopping and starting, his forehead creasing in deep thought and concentration. You puff out a big sigh when he finally finishes. 15 minutes left to spare. Pulling the paper out of the typewriter he adds his signature and hands it to you.

“Read.” He commands

You stand, leaning over the desk, snatching it from his grasp irritably, noticing the slight shake of the paper in his hands. Alfie shaking? Surely not. Must be your imagination. He temples his fingers in front of his mouth, his elbows leaning on the desk in front of him. You start reading aloud your voice bland and lacking enthusiasm.

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

I have been tempted many a time to confide in you a secret which lies buried deep in my heart which can no longer be kept under control. My feelings have grown stronger, far stronger than a respectful regard and admiration. Please forgive me for asking you in this manner but I have written this letter to you in fear of my inability to express myself adequately to you in person, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. So far I have restrained myself because I wanted to be worthy of your love before asking for it from you. As you are aware I am not a patient man and now I am afraid I cannot wait any longer to show you how I truly feel. So I ask you this question.

Marry me?

Regardless of your answer, I am forever yours.

Alfie Solomons.

You stand there stunned. Completely speechless. You re-read the letter, silently this time. Your eyes scanning the page trying to take it all in. You swallow hard as your hands begin to tremble.

‘Marry me?’

The words finally sink in. You look up at Alfie who is silently assessing you. You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

“Now, I know people normally do these things by asking in person and getting down on one knee. But I wrote it down because as you know I have trouble articulating my feelings. And I didn’t want to say something stupid and fuck it up.” He explains himself looking at the floor shyly. “But the truth is, I fucking love you, right. And I can’t imagine my life without you...So what do you say?” His eyes meet yours.

“Y-you want to marry me?” You manage to get the words out this time.

“Mmhmm.” He grunts, nodding his head. His searching gaze trying trying to gauge your feelings.

You look back at the letter. The beautiful words finally sinking in. Still in shock you forget that you’ve left Alfie hanging.

“It was a stupid idea forget I-“ He begins but you cut him off.

“Yes.” You answer.

“Yes?” Alfie repeats the answer back to you as a question.

“Yes, Alfie. I’ll marry you.” You smile from ear to ear as you let out an excited giggle. He closes the distance between you in 3 easy strides cupping your face in both hands, kissing you hard on the lips. “Alfie, my letter.” You pull away frightened that the precious piece of paper would be crushed between you.

“I’m going to get you a proper ring, alright but I didn’t want to jump the gun and jinx it by buying one before I knew your answer. So for now, this will have to do.” He pulls a gold ruby ring from his pinky finger and slides it on to your wedding finger. You wonder why he would even doubt that your answer would be anything other than yes.

“It’s perfect Alfie.” You gaze down at your hand the red stone burning brightly on your finger, just like your love for the man in front of you. Your heart swells with joy and pride as you test out your soon to be new name. “Mrs. Y/N Solomon’s.”

[oruni]

The Hawkins Experiments: Entry I

August 17th, 1977

Before I describe the nature of the seemingly ridiculous mission that I have undertaken and the moments leading up to my decision to do so I must pose one absolute fact for the reader, whoever that may be, to keep in mind. I am a man of science. I did not decide to venture down the superstitious paths that I have with ignorance and delusions of grandeur as many others have and will. I aim to do so only with infallible reason to be my guide, and only in the pursuit of truth. All manner of the occult I regarded as fiction, fiction that intrigued me but was fiction nonetheless, until I came into possession of documents which contained a hypothesis on the subject which finally seemed plausible. These were the notes of one late Dr. Amanda Hawkins, one whose abrupt death a man with less conviction than I might have interpreted as a prophetic warning.

The way through which I came into possession of these notes is shrouded in mystery. Dr. Hawkins and I’s areas of study did not overlap and we shared no other connection. Before finding her notes strewn across my desk from a thick, stained manila folder as if tossed there haphazardly I had never even heard her name. My study had been secure when I had left it, of that I was certain. The sound of the lock clicking open as I twisted the key in its heart just a few moments prior was fresh in my mind. Still, I am a man of science. I could not ignore the trove of unidentified information that I had perceived as a gift. The suspicion of just how it had gotten there was very quickly overpowered by the unyielding drive of my own curiosity. I pushed the heavy door of my study shut with a thud that resounded off its lofty walls and was upon these mystery documents in an instant.

I’d never been enthralled by text in quite the way I was by Dr. Hawkins’ account of her surreptitious experiments. I don’t know how many hours I sat, looming over my desk to absorb her secrets in a trance-like state of reading. Her notes were expansive, and at first, organized with an admirable level of care. I could tell that this was a labor of love. She left no room for inquiry, detailing with perfect clarity every aspect of her experiments as well as the reading which gave her the theories that made these experiments worthy of her investment. It quickly became apparent to me that the theories that justified such great effort were based in the occult. It was my first instinct to recoil in disgust at the thought of a woman of science falling to such nonsensical depravities, but as I continued to read, I found that not only were her conclusions reasonable, to me they made sense. Dr. Hawkins’ ultimate goal was not only to prove the effectiveness of “Magick”, but to explain it in the language of psychology and neuroscience rather than superstition and rituals. Circuits of consciousness and bundles of cerebral nerve clusters rather than voodoo dolls and hexbags. This was a language that I understood very well.

By her account a ‘Unity State’ could be achieved by the conscious, preconscious, and unconscious, at which point one’s mind was capable of extraordinary things. She listed several methods by which this feat could be achieved. Deep meditation, insurmountable fear, severe blood loss, and even orgasm. A theory that explained the appalling nature of many occult practices but made me no more eager to practice them. Further reading revealed that Dr. Hawkins’ preferred a far more convenient method of achieving Unity State. LSD. Rather than have the subjects of her experiment undergo the arduous months, potentially years, long journey of mastering meditation in order to perform the rituals of the occult consistently in a controlled setting she needed only add a single, volatile ingredient. The drug proved a powerful aid. Too powerful. Though she experienced wild success and recorded it with glee, the invocations often coming to fruition, one by one she lost her test subjects. They complained of the terrible visions they saw while under the hallucinogenic influence of the drug following them in their waking life like an esoteric wolf stalking its prey. Within three rounds of invocations several committed suicide. The rest, rather than descend further into madness, quit together shortly after. I could not find anywhere in the texts what happened of these people. Whether their visions ceased with the rituals or if they met similar fates I cannot guess. The last passage graced with the coherence and sound reason that I had come to know and respect Dr. Hawkins’ for ends with an angrily scribbled footnote.

“They lack the sensibility to combat the side effects of the ascension of the human psyche. But I am a woman of science. If anyone has the logic necessary to quell insanity and unearth the truth it must be me. It must be me.”

In the pages that followed the documents grew to be less and less coherent. She began to speak in cryptic riddles and foreboding prophecies. Her once neat and concise penmanship had degraded to erratic hardly legible scratchings and in the margins she sketched horrifying things of which I could not for the life of me identify and I assume she hallucinated. She began to quite regularly use the sigils that she once penned only for sake of explaining the rituals in place of words, and soon after replaced her speech entirely for it. Just over half way through, the entirety of the remaining pages consisted only of chaotically etched sigils, some of which had been penned forcefully enough to rip through the parchment.

Having finally finished the stack I fell back into my chair in exhaustion and drew my hand up to rub my poor, tired, eyes. I would find no solace in rest, for the moment they closed, her sigils and sketches burned in the interior of my eyelids. I had never been shaken so deeply, let alone by something as simple as a text… Luckily, I had stowed just the right medicine for such an occasion in the form of a half empty glass bottle of irish whiskey, accompanied by a dusty glass, in a cabinet built into the arm of my desk. Only for special occasions. A powerful breath blew the cobwebs out of the glass, replaced not a moment later by a pungent amber liquid. The scent alone brought terrible memories of the last time I felt inclined to indulge, but indulge I did. Alcohol dulls the higher senses, so I regard it as poison. When one’s mind is racing faster than he can comprehend, though, it can be instrumental in slowing it down. I’ve heard a thought that the difference between medicine and poison is sometimes in the dose, but I argue that it’s in the context.

I lamented the descent into madness and assumed death of someone who had the potential to be an increasingly rare colleague worthy of respect but could not resist the pull of the unanswered questions and riddles that her incomplete work posed. It was in no short amount of time, and admittedly, in no short amount of alcohol, that I had resolved to finish her work. I felt a strong compulsion to do so in a sense that I’ve never been compelled to do anything before. To myself, I reasoned that I couldn’t bear to see her questions unanswered and her work lost to history. After all, I am a man of science, and the pursuit of truth was and always will be my ultimate priority.

I slept in the study that night. I read and I drank and I re-read and I studied the sigils until they blurred before me. Not long after that effect set in I fell to sleep, but just before, in the void of my heavily inebriated thought, my face pressed against the cold surface of my desk, I swore I heard them speaking to me in some forbidden language I couldn’t hope to understand. When I woke and my faculties returned to me I rationalized their whisperings as tricks of the drunken mind and immediately after began the penning of this document — the first entry of many to come in a journal of sorts. A logbook of my experience serving both as a measure of defense to help preserve my sanity and as something of an alibis in the event that I lose this battle and cannot explain my actions as Dr. Hawkins could not.

With the end of this entry I shall make the rare treacherous journey from my secluded manor, through the snowy peaks, and into town to gather a stockade of strange supplies and referenced texts that I’m sure will cost my reputation. A necessary sacrifice, for if anyone can complete Dr. Hawkins work, it must be me.

— K.H.

[choicesfanatic86]

TTS:  Part 33 (Liam x MC)

DISCLAIMER:  All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story.  Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS:  Riley (MC) x OC, Riley (MC) x Liam, Liam x Riley (MC) x OC, Olivia x Drake, Bertrand x Savannah, Maxwell x OC

SUMMARY:  She needed to get better and healthier so that her little lima bean could grow big and strong. <3

If you are new to the series and would like to catch up by reading previous parts, please check out my master fan fiction listing.  CATCH UP HERE

TAGS:  @herladyshipxx  @theroyalweisme @blackcatkita @devineinterventions2 @hopefulmoonobject @captainkingliam @pbchoicesobsessed @cocomaxley @queencatherynerhys @mfackenthal @boneandfur @spetstoof @bobasheebaby @grapefrults @pessimystic-fangirl @dralenamax @mspaigemoore @drakelover78 @kaitycole @jayjay879 @hhiggs @umccall71 @penguininapinktuxedo @topsyturvy-dream @decisso @pnhanga @ladynonsense @mrs-simmy @jamielea81 @alwaysthebestchoice @hamulau @mrsdrakewalkerblog @crookedslimecreatorpasta @liamxsworld @flowerpowell

5/19/18 - The Royal Wedding has my heart with all sorts of feels.  Maybe Riley and Liam will get to experience that one day in the future. ;)  My 35 part fic is not going to be 35 parts.  *shrugs* I love these two too much to leave them just yet. <3

In other news, I’m up to 330 followers! Like what? Thank you guys so much!!! I’m going to post my third fic’s prologue and first chapter when I hit 350, and maybe do a contest for a fic request?  What do ya’ll think? Eek.  So excited! <3 I really love Never Forgotten and hope that when it releases you all will, too!

If Only will be dropping about 7 pm my time (~8 hours).  Sorry for the delay.  Laundry is kicking my butt today. ;)

PART 33 - Perks of Knowing The King

Andy ignored her question entirely, grasping her by the shoulders, looking her over intently.  Her eyes roamed across her face all the way down to her leg.  There was a deep sadness in Andy’s eyes.  “Oh God, Ri.  What the hell happened to your face?  And why are you so thin,” she frowned, tears started to fill her eyes.  Her eyes wandered back to the crutches, then to the immobilizer.  “You got a broken leg?” She asked.  Andy suddenly looked like she had a bit of a woozy feeling, too.

“Andy, take a breath,” Riley placed an arm on her shoulder.  “I’m fine, I’m okay,” she reiterated.

“You don’t look okay,” she said honestly.  “You look God awful.”

“I’ll admit, I’ve been better,” she shrugged.  “But I’m getting better,” she said softly.  “Now what are you doing here?”

“I got Alicia’s voicemail,” her hand wandered to Riley’s face, running her fingers carefully near the gauze that hid her sutured gash.  Riley winced a little; the skin was still very sensitive around the area of bruising.  “What’s under there?”  She asked in concern.

“A gash that makes me look like Frankenstein,” she forced a smile.  “Don’t take a tumble down a few steps . . . apparently, this is what happens,” she motioned to herself.

“God, Ri.  I was scared half to death when I got that voicemail.  I didn’t even know when the call came in.  Then I try calling her back and realize I don’t have her number,” She sighed. “So I try your number instead, but your phone was off,” she frowned.  

Riley’s eyes had widened in panic.  Her phone.  In all the chaos of her hospitalization and finding about the lima bean, she hadn’t even thought about her phone.  She must have lost it in the tumble, or maybe Alicia had it somewhere tucked safe.  She made a mental note to ask Alicia about it later.

“I’m so sorry, Andy.  I . . . I’m not sure what even happened to my phone,” she said honestly.  “Things have been pretty chaotic over the last day and a half,” she admitted.

“Tell me about it,” she said sternly.  “I tried calling New York Presbyterian but they wouldn’t release any information to me.  Something about me needing to come down in person to show identification,” she rolled her eyes.  “Not exactly easy to do from thousands of miles away,” she said in exasperation.  “I almost called Paul,” she admitted.

Riley’s face contorted in displeasure as she ambled toward the couch, motioning for Andy to follow.  “What?” Riley looked at her a bit horrified.  “You didn’t.”

“Of course I didn’t!” She exclaimed.  “I just didn’t know what else to do.  It’s not like they have a handbook about how to handle these sorts of things,” she threw her hands up in frustration.

“So you flew home?” Riley raised her eyebrows.

“Obviously,” she sighed.  “I’m so happy you’re okay.  I’ve been a nervous wreck the whole flight down,” she sniffled a little.  “Everybody was so worried about you,” she looked at her.

She wanted to ask if the word everybody included Liam, but she bit her tongue.  It didn’t matter.  All that mattered right now was the little lima bean and getting better.  She didn’t need to get emotional and wrapped up in the whirlwind that was Liam Rys.  Not when she had the lima bean to think about.  

“I went straight to the hospital, but they said you’d already been discharged.  All they could tell me was that you were in stable condition and had been accompanied by a friend,” She shrugged.  “I’m glad you had Alicia,” she whispered.  “I feel so awful,” she said sadly.  “I should have been here.  You were going through a tough time, and I knew you weren’t well,” she admitted.  “I should have come back with you, at least until I knew you were okay.  God, Riley, just look at you,” her shoulders slumped in concern.  It didn’t matter how many times Riley tried to reassure her that she was fine; that she had survived and would get better.  Andy felt awful, and it killed Riley seeing her that way.

Riley shook her head, waving her off.  “Stop it.  You’re being ridiculous.  This isn’t your fault.  I took a tumble and unfortunately, this was the result of it,” she explained, intentionally leaving the part about the lima bean out.  She didn’t need to know about that just yet.  “It looks worse than it is,” she reached up to run her hand over face.  “It doesn’t even really hurt all that much anymore,” she fibbed.  “It just looks pretty gnarly, and I’ll probably scar,” she said.  

“Who cares about the scar, Ri.  At least your brain’s okay, yeah?”  She paused.  “It’s okay right?”  She asked, looking into her eyes.  “I always forget . . . are the pupils supposed to be big or small,” she said, forcing her hands on her shoulders to face her.

“Stop,” she shrugged her hands off of her shoulders. “I’m fine.  Honest.  A bit of a concussion, hardly any reason for you to fly thousands of miles to come out and see me,” she scolded.  “God, booking a flight that quick must have cost you an arm and a leg,” she said feeling a tad bit guilty.

“Well . . . the travel was free,” she gave her a half-hearted smile.  “Perks of knowing the King,” she shrugged.

And there it was.  Riley’s interest was suddenly piqued.  He must have known then.  If Liam had made arrangements for Andy to fly back, he had to have known that something had happened to her.  Her face dropped a little, then why hadn’t he reached out to her?  Right, she didn’t have her phone.  The whereabouts of her phone suddenly jumped much higher on Riley’s priority list.  She started to analyze Andy’s comment.  Maybe he knew and he just didn’t care?  But then that didn’t make any sense.  If he didn’t care, he’d have left Andy to fend for herself when it came to transportation.  But then again if he really loved her . . . wouldn’t he have been there?  Wouldn’t it be him there in her apartment instead of Andy?  But then again, he never would have told her to leave in the first place if he had loved her.  God, why was this so complicated?  She pushed the thoughts from her mind, trying to forget the gnawing pain if disappointment that had formed there.  “So . . . you told him?” Riley tried to sound disinterested, but failed.

Andy raised her eyebrows.  “Well, it was kind of a difficult subject to avoid when I lost it at Olivia’s birthday party.  I’m sure she hates me even more now,” she sighed.  

Riley searched her eyes for more of an explanation.  

“I checked the voicemail during Olivia’s party, and when I heard how frantic Alicia sounded, I just had a meltdown.  Ugly crying and all, it was pretty intense,” she recalled.

“Oh no, Andy, you didn’t!” Riley exclaimed.

“Oh did I ever,” she flushed at the memory.  “I couldn’t find Alicia’s number and then the hospital wouldn’t give me any information.  I just lost it.  All I knew was that there had been some sort of accident and you were at the hospital.  Talk about having a mini-heart attack,” she said seriously.  “I felt so helpless.  Maxwell tried his best to calm me down, but he was pretty torn up about things himself.  Drake wasn’t taking the news well either, kind of sunk in on himself.  And Bertrand . . . well, after the hospital wouldn’t give me any information, he called himself . . . as if it would have made a difference,” she sighed, pausing, letting her words sink in.  “Liam. .  . though.  God, he was just amazing . . . so calm, so level-headed.  Told me he’d get me on the next flight to New York.  I didn’t know he meant on his private plane,” she admitted.  “Maxwell drove me straight to the airport with strict instructions to call as soon as I learned anything.  Which I need to do soon, otherwise he may just fly down here himself,” she chuckled.

Riley’s heart fluttered a little at the mention of Liam’s actions.  So it wasn’t him flying in and checking on her well-being, but the fact that he still had some care and concern for her, made her feel a little bit better about things.  Like maybe there was some small glimmer of hope that everything could work out for them . . . at least in some sort of capacity . . .  even if it was just for the lima bean’s sake.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t want anybody getting so worked up about things,” she said honestly.  “I didn’t even know Alicia tried calling you until much later.  I just figured I’d take some time to recuperate before letting you know what happened.”

Andy reached over, careful to avoid her injured leg, and hugged her tightly.  “I’m just so glad I didn’t have to find you hooked up to all sorts of machines at the hospital.  It could have been so much worse,” Andy acknowledged.

“It definitely could have,” Riley agreed.

As they were continuing their conversation, Riley heard the doorknob of the apartment’s front door turn open.  Turning, she saw Alicia’s blonde head pop through.  “Hey boss, I got the stuff you asked me to pick up – “

“You!” Andy pointed her finger at Alicia, who was momentarily stunned by the brunette’s presence as she wandered through the doorway.

“Andy? What are you doing here?  Riley said you were still in Europe,” Alicia exclaimed, placing the paper bag of essentials on the kitchen counter.

“Yes, I was.  Until you left me a very flustered and panicky voicemail about Riley being in some sort of accident and at the hospital . . . and you didn’t leave a telephone number to reach you at!” She said, making it very clear that she was very put out by the entire voicemail debacle.  “I was a wreck!” She exclaimed.  “I didn’t know if Riley was even okay!”

Alicia recoiled a bit from her anger, stunned by her sudden outburst.

“Andy,” Riley chided.  “We’ve been running on fumes here.  It wasn’t Alicia’s fault.  If anything, it’s mine.  I should have called you as soon as I got discharged.”

Andy held her hand up, not wanting to hear it.  “She could have made the same telephone call,” she said firmly.

“She’s right; I should have done a follow up.  I just wasn’t thinking,” she said a bit sheepishly.   “I’m so sorry . . . I just assumed when I didn’t get a call back that maybe I had the wrong number or that the message didn’t get delivered . . . “ She trailed off.  “I didn’t mean to worry you, it’s just  .  . . we didn’t really know what was going on at the time.  There was just so much blood  . . and then there was the lightheadedness,” Alicia rambled on trying to defend herself.

Riley closed her eyes as soon as the words slipped from Alicia’s mouth.  She’d conveniently left the lightheadedness out of her version of events because she knew that Andy would harp on it and her worries would be reignited.

“Lightheadedness?” Andy asked in surprise.  “You didn’t tell me you were lightheaded,” she narrowed her eyes at Riley.  “Is that why you fell?”

Riley blushed, a bit ashamed of herself.   She should have known better than to pull a fast one over on Andy.  The woman was like a hawk.  She and Andy never kept secrets from one another.  They were open and honest  . . . maybe a bit too honest at times, but they always laid everything all out on the table.  It’s what made them work as roommates, and ultimately solidified their relationship as best friends.  No secrets.  No matter what.  However, the growing lima bean in her tummy was a secret that she wanted to keep to herself for just a bit longer.  After all, she’d barely had a day to get used to the idea.  She wanted to be a bit selfish, even if it was only for a few more days.

“Yes . . . “ her eyes met with Alicia’s, pleading with her not to mention anything else about the chaos of the last day and a half.  She had hoped she got the message.  She must have considering she suddenly tried to busy herself away from the conversation in the kitchen.  Riley couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation.

“Did they find out what was causing it?” Andy asked concerned.  “Are you sick?  You look like you’ve lost at least ten pounds,” she said firmly.

“I’m a bit underweight, yes.  There’s been a lot going on though, and – “

A loud gasp came from the hallway.  “Oh no!” Alicia exclaimed.

Riley knew instantly what she had found.  In all of the hoopla of Andy being back, she’d forgotten about her mess in the hallway and the bathroom.  “Oh God, Alicia don’t look at it.  I’m so sorry.  I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time, and I just threw up right there.  I’m going to clean it now,” Riley yelled.  “Get back in here.”

“How are you going to clean it?” Alicia asked.  “You can’t bend your leg,” she reasoned.  “I can take care – “

“No,” she said firmly.  “You have done so much for me, but that . . . no.  I will clean up my own vomit,” she assured her, carefully pulling herself up off of the couch.

“Vomit?”  Andy looked at her.  “Now you’re vomiting,” she said, her forehead wrinkling.  “Did they run bloodwork at the hospital?  Maybe you have some sort of underlying infection?”

Riley blushed as she hobbled over to the hallway closet to get some of her cleaning supplies.  She really didn’t want to get into things now.  The problem wasn’t an infection; or even a problem at all.  It was her little lima bean making his presence known demanding the nutrients and care she should have been giving him from the start.  She had wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.  Had she just spit out that she were pregnant, the nonsense questions about her health would stop . . .and instead a new stream of questions would begin.  Apparently, neither situation was ideal.  

“Bloodwork came out okay,” she said tersely, as she sprayed a crap load of disinfectant onto the mess.  Thank God it was tile.  She would have just paid to have had a new carpet put in if their apartment had been carpeted.  Alicia tried to help her sop up the mess, but she shook her head, shooing her away.

“I’m just worried about you, Riley.  First the fall then all this other stuff.  Are you being honest with me?” She walked up to her, leaning against the wall of the hallway.  “Because if it’s something serious, and you need help, I’m here.  I’m not leaving again until I know you’re okay,” she said with certainty.

“I’m fine,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.  “Nothing is wrong, per se.  I just need to work on getting back on a healthier track,” she said vaguely.

Andy shot her a knowing look.  They’d been best friends long enough to know when the other was hiding something.  Riley was being purposely vague.  She didn’t want to lie to Andy, but she just didn’t have enough energy to get into everything with her right now.  She also wasn’t sure if she’d go and blab to Maxwell the moment she found out.  Who in turn would start a chain of events she wasn’t quite ready to start.  She needed time to process this, and she couldn’t do that if Andy was in her ear about everything.  As much as she loved the girl, she was her conscience, and she knew exactly what she would tell her – tell Liam.  Riley knew what she had to do, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was ready to do it just yet.  

Andy, although dissatisfied, threw her hands up.  “Well, I’m going to go and put my luggage in my room.  I’ll come back and try and call Maxwell with an update.  I’m sure they’re all panting at the bit to find out how you’re doing,” she reasoned.

“About that . . .” she trailed off.  “I sort of promised Alicia she could use your room while she was going to help me out.”

Alicia suddenly felt the need to rejoin the conversation, still a bit wary after her earlier gaffe.  “No, it’s okay!” she said firmly.  “I can take the couch.  It converts into a bed right?  I can manage while Andy’s here.  No big deal, and if it gets too much, I can always go back to my apartment at night for as long as Andy’s here,” she reasoned.

Riley looked at her, “You sure?”

“Positive, boss,” he smiled lightly.  “In fact, it’s getting late, so I should just start putting the items I bought from the pharmacy away.  Want me to help you unpack?” she hinted subtly.

“Right, yes, please.  Thank you again,” she smiled.  “Andy, you good?”

“Yup, just gonna call Maxwell, then I’ll head off to bed,” she nodded.

When Alicia and Riley got into Riley’s bedroom, Alicia grabbed her arm, and began to apologize profusely.  “I’m sorry, I goofed,” Alicia said.  

“It’s okay,” Riley assured her.  

Their attention shifted when she heard Andy rustling around back in the living room.

“Hey baby,” she heard Andy murmur.  “She’s okay.  Thank God.  She was back at the apartment.  I know . . . I know,” she reiterated.

Riley stepped closer to the slightly ajar door of her bedroom.  She assumed she’d been able to reach Maxwell.  She wished she could hear what he was saying.  Hell, she knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but she just couldn’t help it.  Ever since Andy had let slip that Liam had let her use the royal private plane, she’d wondered if he was thinking about her . . . wondered if he even cared that she had gotten hurt.

“I don’t know . . . I just feel there’s something she’s not telling me.  She was lightheaded before she fell.  She looks like shit.  Remember I told you she looked like she lost a lot of weight when we were video chatting yesterday?  It’s a lot worse than I thought, she’s so frail looking, and her coloring is off, too.  So pale,” she sighed.  

Riley suddenly felt like she got suckerpunched.  She knew she looked bad, but hearing Andy’s description of her was a harsh slap in the face.  She knew Andy was probably right.  She’d felt so tired for weeks, she could just imagine how she must have looked to other people.

“Boss, maybe we shouldn’t listen in,” Alicia suggested.

She shushed her, shaking her head.

“I don’t know what to do, Maxwell.  I can’t leave her like this . . . she’s got a broken leg, her face is a mess . . . I guess I just didn’t expect things to be this bad.  I knew she was in a bad place . . . I just didn’t realize how bad until I got here,” she exhaled heavily.

There was a pause.

 “No, you don’t have to do that.  Maxwell, don’t fly all the way here.  There’s no space in the apartment.  She has her assistant crashing here, too.”

Another pause.

“Of course I think she’d be happy to see you . . . and yes I’m sure your handsome face would definitely lift her spirits, but I don’t know if she wants a lot of people seeing her like this.  It’s really bad, babe.  She’s all bruised and swollen.  Kills me to see her so banged up,” she sniffled into the phone.

“Don’t.  I said, no.  Who’s that in the background?  Drake?”

Another pause.  These pauses were killing her.

“He doesn’t have to fly here either.  God, I can hear Bertrand in the background, tell him to quiet down.  You aren’t listening.  No, I don’t want to talk to him.  Maxwell, don’t put him on the phone.”

Riley couldn’t help be a tad bit surprised.  It appeared that even Bertrand was a bit worried about her.

“Yes, hello Bertrand . . . yes . . . I called as soon as I could.  I needed to find her, first.  The hospital . . . no I didn’t talk to her doctors.  When I got there, they told me she had been discharged, said they couldn’t tell me anything . . . no I didn’t ask to speak to someone with more administrative authority, Bertrand.  She’s home.  That’s all I cared about at the time,” Riley could hear the irritation in Andy’s voice.  “Bertrand, she is not going to come back . . . I don’t even know if she can travel right now, she looks so frail.  What do you mean I should try harder to convince her . . . it’s not what she wants right now.  If it was, I’m sure that would have been the first thing she told me.  Bertrand, put Maxwell back on.  Now.”

Riley sighed.  Married life had not softened Bertrand as much as she had expected it would.

“Maxwell, don’t put him on the phone again.  No, I don’t want to talk to Drake now.  I called to talk to you.  Tell Drake to stop worrying.  Stop, I said you don’t have to come.  None of you have to come,” she emphasized.

“Well, maybe he should have thought about that before he kicked her to the curb,” she sighed heavily.  

Riley’s ears perked up.  Was Liam with them?  That’s all who it could have been right?  Her heart fluttered.

“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me.  I know things were complicated . . . still complicated.  I know he loves her,” a heavy sigh escaped her lips.

“Yes, okay.  No, don’t come.  Maxwell . . . yes, I love you too.  Goodbye.”

Alicia turned to Riley.  “You sure have a lot of people that care about you,” she smiled.  “The baby’s father included in that?”

She shrugged.  “We fought before I left . . . I’d imagine we aren’t at a good place right now.  But it sounds like he was concerned at least,” she forced a small smile.

“I’m sorry,” Alicia said genuinely.

“It’s okay . . .” she trailed off.  “We should get to bed.  I’m beat,” she sighed.  “This gestating stuff really takes a lot out of you,” she chuckled.

“Right, I’m off to the couch,” she saluted.  “If you need anything, just holler.”

Riley settled into her bed miserably.  Her leg was throbbing and her head, although much better, had a dull ache around her eye.  Not to mention she was still a reeling a bit from listening in to Andy’s conversation.  Love? Ha.  He could have fooled her.  If he loved her, he wouldn’t have tossed her out like yesterday’s trash.  He would have listened to her.  Given her a chance to explain what had happened.  Hell, if he loved her, he would never have pushed her away how he did.  There was still so much to figure out back then . . . even more so now.  If they couldn’t pull themselves together to have a relationship, how were they going to pull it together as parents?  She frowned deeply.  Well, sleep was out of the question now.

A faint knock at her bedroom door distracted her.  “Come in,” she murmured.

“So, I think I have to pull out the best friend card,” Andy began carefully, as she sidled up next to Riley on her bed.

“For what?” Riley asked, knowing exactly where this was going.  She knew Andy had dropped things far too quickly earlier

“There’s more going on than what you’re telling me,” she stated as a matter of fact.

“How so?” Riley continued to play dumb, struggling to meet her gaze.

“Well, I know things have been hard, and . . . with the state of your health . . . it just seems like you’re engaging in some pretty risky behaviors.  I mean . . . I think I can sort of piece the puzzle together,” she explained.  “The weight loss, mood swings . . . the dark circles around your eyes . . . the lightheadedness.  I don’t know how else to say it, so I’m just going to be out with it,” she hesitated briefly.  “Do you have a drinking problem?  Or a drug problem?” She asked seriously.

Riley snorted.  “What?” She exclaimed.  “You think I’m an alcoholic and a druggie?  That’s what you’re worried about?”  If she hadn’t been so shocked by the accusation, she would have found herself laughing hysterically.  “Really, Andy?  The girl who can’t even swallow antibiotics without gagging would willingly be popping pills?”  She shook her head.  “Unbelievable,” she breathed.

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t blame you for looking for something to cope with everything that’s happen.  I mean . . . with me not coming back . . . and Paul . . . and Liam . . . and well, everything with the business.  It’s tough.  Sometimes you need a little something to cut the edge off,” she trailed off.

“Not me,” she said firmly.  “You’re way off base here.  Trust me.  Okay?  

She sighed, turning away from her.  “I can’t sleep,” she sighed.  “I’m too worried about you,” she said pointedly.

“Well, just stop.  I’m fine.  I don’t know how many times I need to say it before you believe me,” she said in exasperation.  It’s late.  If you can’t sleep, go take a bath or something.”

“You promise you aren’t doing anything to hurt yourself?” Andy gave her one last look at the door.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Riley said firmly. Riley rubbed her tired eyes.  Things just kept getting better and better.  Now her best friend thought she had an addiction problem.  How ridiculous.  She sighed, thumping her head against her headboard.  Riley exhaled a sigh of relief.  As much as she loved Andy, and as much as she wanted to share the news of the little lima bean with her, she just wasn’t ready.  Her mind drifted to the ultrasound pictures tucked safely away in her dresser drawer along with the other pregnancy fact sheets and pamphlets.  When the time was right, and things had calmed down, she’d sit Andy down and share all of it with her.  She knew she’d be mad at first that she hadn’t told her the moment she found out she was pregnant, but she’d get over it.  And then they could be excited about everything together.  She tried to settle back down, allowing her head to mold into her feather pillow.

“RILEY JAMES LAWSON,” an aggravated yell came from the bathroom.

“Oh God,” she murmured to herself, pushing herself up off the bed slowly.  “What could she possibly be on about now,” she sighed, grabbing her crutches, making her way out into the hallway.  She couldn’t  possibly be freaking out about the vomit . . . she’d cleaned and re-cleaned both areas, so she had no reason to gripe about anything.

Alicia jolted up off the couch running into the hallway, stopping right in front of the bathroom.  “What happened?  Boss, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she shrugged.  “It’s that one that’s lost her marbles.  So dramatic,” she rolled her eyes.

Andy swung the bathroom door open, her eyes engulfed in hot rage.  Her eyes narrowed at Riley.  “Nothing wrong, you say, huh?  Everything’s fine.  Then what’s this?”

She clutched something in her hand, shaking it wildly in the air.  Riley’s irritation slowly faded away replaced by alarm.  What was that?  Her eyes wandered to Alicia, the two women sharing a baffled expression.

Riley cleared her throat nervously.  “What’s the matter?”

Alicia looked on anxiously.  It was clear that Andy wasn’t going to be backing down this tie.

“What is this?” She fumed, her hand clutching something that Riley couldn’t quite make out.

“What’s what?” Riley looked at her.  “How can I tell what you have if you don’t show me?”

“These,” she shoved the objects into Riley’s chest, forgetting that she was on crutches, the items dropped down at Riley’s feet.  Riley hobbled closer, her face falling in realization.  She’d forgotten to take the prenatal vitamin samples out of the bathroom.  She had been so keen on hiding all of the items Alicia had picked up for her from the pharmacy, that she forgot she had left those on the bathroom sink.  How could she have been so stupid?  Could she blame pregnancy brain yet?  Her stomach started to feel unsettled, the nausea feeling returning strongly.  She highly doubted it was the morning sickness, though.  She knew that this was from the anxiety.  She became paralyzed with fear.  Andy wasn’t stupid.  She could put two and two together.  She may have had the ridiculous notion that she had been under the influence of alcohol and drugs, but the prenatal vitamins was the smoking gun.  How could she deny what was so clear?

“You’re pregnant?” She exclaimed, her face containing a mixture of anger and hurt

Riley’s eyes started to water.  She knew she’d be upset, but hadn’t accounted for the sheer rage that crossed her features.  Her mouth gaped open, but no words could come out.  The proverbial cat was out of the bag, and the storm was about to rage.

[skrivarmelodi]

Iggy has a bit of a panic, maybe about exams or something small but it's the straw that breaks his back and Gladio steps in and calms him down

I’m sorry that this took so long but here we go! Hope you like it, Noonie!

Set Brotherhood Era

Rating: T

Words: 1200~

Igniswas a loyal person by nature and he never made a promise lightly. Themoment Ignis promised something, a person could be certain that hewould stay true to his words. Just like the day when Regis asked himto guide Noctis and support him in the best way possible. It hadnever been hard for him to fulfill his duty, not before he turnedsixteen and his responsibilities suddenly grew, altogether with thefact that his body was changing.

Besidesthe teenage hormoneshehad to deal with,but– like everyone else – never quite knew how to,andthe load of homework he had to take care of, his duty remained hispriority.Butit took him some time to organize himself and create a functioningsystem whilenotlacking any of his responsibilities.

Theconcept of ‘takingabreak’wasn'timportant for Ignis for a very long time, but it was for Gladio, whobecame his boyfriend during their senior year ofHigh School.He was theone whotaught Ignis how important it actually was and that is wasn't a badthing to take care of yourself and say no to certain things,butitwas something that easily turned into an argument between them forthe first couple of months. He guessed this was something thathappened when two different people became a couple, one of them whovalued his free time and the other who didn't care about free time,aslong as he was allowed to cook.

ButIgnis couldn't handle seeing Gladio so worried about him and soonthey found their own rhythm,eventhough it took Ignis some time to get used to someone takingcare of him and not the other way around.

Evenafter four years it was still an unsettling feeling, as if he didn'tdeserve to stand still and relax or as if he needed to move,otherwise something bad could happen if he didn'tinstantly takecare of certain things.

SoIgnis found himself in a terrible situation when he realized hisfinal exams were four weeks awayandhe hadn't studied at all.

Andhe knew why.

Hehadbecomean official member of the crownsguard and hadto attendmost meetings about politics and also teach a pretty reluctant Princeabout the politics and prepare him to be King. But Noctis was oldertoo and even more adventures – together with his best friendPrompto -and Ignis needed to babysit themboth more than was healthy. All the things Noctis didn't do, Ignishad to do for him,andso there was basically no time for sleep and the energy he had wasallreserved forNoctis.

Itwas the first time Ignis panicked over something unrelated to thecrown or the Prince, buttherewas no way he would notfail his exams. Whatever he did, it needed to be done with the bestresult possible or the best mark. Now, though, he wondered how he wassupposed to learn everythingforthree exams in just four weeks while following his usual routine.

“I'mhome!” Gladio announced his return that evening but Ignis didn'treply. He was sitting on their couch, his face showing the panic hefelt and his mouth spilling incoherent things.

“Gladio,I've failed. I never fail.”

“What?”Gladio said from the corridor and after he entered their living room,cheeks rosy from the cold outside, he stopped in his tracks andstared at his boyfriend. “Ignis? What's wrong?”

“I'vefailed, miserably. I never fail and I don't know how to explain thisto the King.”

“Slowdown. What are you talking about?”

Gladiowalked to the couch, a bit faster than usual and sat down next toIgnis who seemed to be lost in his chaotic mind – and his mind wasnever chaos but clear structure.

“Ihave three exams in four weeks and I haven't learned anything yetbecause I was so occupied with my duty for the crown and with Noctis,discovering his adult self. Not to mention how he and Promptoconstantly find themselves in some sort of difficulties,” Igniscomplained.

Andhe never complained,notabout Noctis.

“Ican't fail,” he said again and held his head, turning his hair intoa mess. “I never fail.”

“Ignis,you need to calm down,” Gladio said and was ready for Ignis to snapat him but his eyes were big and filled with tears when he looked atGladio.

“Alright,you definitelyneed some hours of sleep because you're not yourself right now,”Gladio stood up as he said his words and took Ignis’hand to guide him into their bedroom, with Ignis saying that heneeded to create a report for Noctis. All Gladio did was sigh, notallowingIgnis to return to his desk and get lost in the stacks of papers.

“Nowork today,” he said again, this time with more authorityin his voice, as if it helped Ignis to return to reality and see whatthe problem was. It worked and Ignis nodded slowly, taking hispajamas from Gladio who then left the bedroom and made himself busyin the kitchen.

Ignischanged but still couldn't find the peace his mind needed. Histhoughts were running in circles and making his hands shake and hisbody sweaty, as if he was getting a cold.

Uselesslyhe was waiting for Gladio's return and when he did, dressed in hisown pajamas and with a cup of peppermint tea in his hands, Ignissmelled the calming scent and his body slowly started to relax.

“Here,just as you like it,” Gladio announced and handed him acup ofteabefore he took Ignis’glasses off and sat down next to him.

Hislarge hand ran up and down Ignis’spine as his cold fingers held the cup and the wonderful taste offreshly brewed peppermint leaves filled his mouth and nose.

“Thankyou,” Ignis mumbled after a bitofsilence and looked at Gladio, tired and small.

“You'rewelcome, Iggy,” Gladio smiled.

“ButI still-”

“No.If you say Noctis' name again or anything about work,I'mgoing to kick your ass, I promise you that,” Gladio stopped him buthis voice wasn't harsh. Itwas gentle,just like his hands which took the empty cup from him and pushedIgnis on the bed. He followed the adviser, reaching out for the bookon the nightstand and when he was lying on his back, one arm open,Ignis was too tired to reject the invitation.

Hissmaller body felt heavy but the moment he was lying half on top ofhis boyfriend, sinking into his warmth and smell, he felt like he wasin heaven.

“You'llrelax now and sleep for an healthy amount of hours. I won't let youleave the bed before you do so. Youfreaking out about exams is clearly a sign that you've reached yourbreaking point,” Gladio explained, his voice soothing and thevibration it caused, as Ignis ear was resting on his chest, relaxing.“Because you never do that. You'll pass exceptionally well.”

Ignisfelt his lips in his hair and he knew that Gladio was telling thetruth. Butlying here,smelling Gladio's familiar scent and feeling his warmth and hearinghis voice, was lulling.

“NowI'm going to read to you and hold you until late morning,” Gladioannounced, squeezing Ignis closer against his body and Ignis nodded,his arm across Gladio's chest, holding him a bit tighter before helistened to his voice and fell asleep.  

[fullmetalkittn]

The Last King’s Knight - Ch.2

736.V.15th, 6:45pm     

The sun had set on the little apartment almost an hour ago. Though the table lamps and ceiling fixtures worked just fine, the electronic glow from Tiger's phone was the only light in the dark room. She knew it was bad for her eyes to play this way, but who could be bothered to turn anything else on when there were pixel goblins to slay?

Ignis had logged in as promised and chosen to adventure as the five star Verdi in their possession – a harpy tank character that Tiger never had the good fortune to draw. She considered using the nine-tailed fox in spiteful retaliation, but opted for Sakura instead to make their digital outing more productive.

And productive it was! The farming was done within a half hour, and since then they had spent some time moseying through event maps and trading DMs. More the latter, than the former. A strange weight had settled in Tiger's heart, and though she may have been projecting, it felt like Ignis was a bit troubled as well. These feelings fueled lengthy back and forths as she sought to distract herself from the trepidation. The messages from her friend were as well worded as ever;

It's been quite the day so far.

An incredibly busy one, at that. There's been so much to do preparing for the trip that I've lost track of time twice already. Even as we speak, my friend awaits my aid cleaning out his apartment. I can't imagine how long that's going to take, given the chaotic state it's typically in. Heh. But it must be done before we leave. He won't be returning to it when we come back from Altissia.

That's right. Ignis was leaving tomorrow. With all the changes to her organization in preparation for the signing and the Nif's takeover of the frontier, Tiger had just about forgotten that all four of her King's Knight friends were ditching the Crown City for a while. Though they had mentioned the upcoming journey quite a bit, this was the first time their destination had made it's way into the conversation.

She smiled. For 17 years she had called Lucis home, but the Accordo capital of Altissia was the place of her birth. Too young when they left it to remember much about the city, Tiger nonetheless felt a bit sentimental seeing its name on appear on her screen.

Altissia!

My family lived there when I was a little girl. It's been a long time since I've seen it. Oh, I wish I could go with you! But there's this whole peace treaty stuff to deal with tomorrow. Crazy time to be a Glaive, I guess. I know how stressed you must be, but I think I'm a little jealous of your trip! Promise you'll try a strawberry gelato while you're there.

Do it for me, even if you don't like strawberries, ok?

Had she told Ignis about her occupation before? They'd been in contact for over a month now. Surely it had come up. And even if it hadn't, it wasn't as if she belonged to any sort of secret organization. Tiger wasn't ashamed of her affiliation, either. Though they were often looked down upon as a band of filthy, foreign refugees, the Kingsglaive had earned their place in Regis's favor through blood and steel. How many of those high and mighty Crownsguard losers could say the same?

Still, she wondered if she hadn't revealed too much, and bit her lip in anticipation of Ignis's next DM. The minutes ticked by in dark, anxious silence. It felt like twenty seven years had passed by the time the screen lit up again with the notification of a reply.

She swiped it open.

I'll keep that in mind.

While I've never been outside the crown city, I've studied the world beyond the wall ever since I was a young boy. That includes Altissia, though I imagine the words I read won't have done it justice. If only I could take you along. A native guide would certainly be appreciated and I've wanted to meet outside the game for some time now. Alas, I fear our duties will prevent that from happening for just a while longer.

As well I fear they must cut short our time now.

It was closing in on 7pm. Having yet to make herself any supper, Tiger's tummy had started to gnaw loudly on her backbone. With Ignis's obligation to his friend no doubt looming over him like the irritating emptiness in her stomach, she knew the grown-up and responsible thing to do would be to call it quits for the time being and see to other things.

She curled up in the corner of the futon and cradled her phone in her hands as she tapped out a response.

One more map, then?

:3

She was a terrible excuse for a grown-up, after all.

Ignis seemed equally unwilling to part digital paths, and in the end another thirty minutes passed before they finally DM'd their farewells for the evening. Tiger stayed logged in for a bit, staring at Ignis's offline Verdi. A profound hollowness settled in her chest.

“Ugh. What is this awful feeling?” She demanded of the vacant apartment as she stood up and finally turned on some lights.

In the kitchen, a mostly empty fridge and some sparsely stocked pantry shelves presented themselves for her dinner gleanings. Tiger had meant to go shopping today, but time spent with Ignis had taken priority. With no regrets, she foraged up a can of condensed tomato soup and some frozen waffles. As the toaster oven and stove top saucepan heated her food, she leaned back against the counter and considered her online friend's last few messages.

“So, he's a boy after all.” She said, crossing her arms as she thoughtfully tapped her lips with her forefinger. Her cheeks colored lightly. Had he worded his response just to reveal it? Her mind wandered as she tried to imagine what Ignis might look and sound like. Naturally, the portrait of his wizened wizard character eventually popped up. Tiger let out a short laugh and shook her head. “Whatever.”

Steam rose from the pot on the stove, signaling the soup's ready state just as the toaster oven chimed. She arranged her food on a lap tray and made her way back to the futon. Plopping down there in the same spot she had occupied all day, she flicked the television on and settled back to eat. There would be no Malbuddy to entertain her at this hour. Only the news, and the news was all the same.

“Preparation for tomorrow's signing ceremony continues well into the evening here at the Citadel,” droned a flaxen-haired female reporter dressed in a blue business suit. Behind her, tawny streetlights illuminated the Capitol promenade, full of black cars and people in uniform. “Security has been tightened up to ensure our esteemed guests' safety, and all are eager to see a resolution to this conflict at last.”

“Not like this, they aren't,” Tiger said in between mouthfuls. Her expression soured. The terms of the treaty would leave her parents at the Empire's mercy, and while she trusted her father to keep her mother safe, the idea of them being politically cut off from Lucis filled her with dread. This was only part of the uneasiness that had haunted her since the change in operations. Something else chewed at her like the faded memory of an old wound – a wrongness that she couldn't quite grasp.

She took a bite of her plain waffle and surfed through the channels. The same scene was repeated on them all; different angles with different reporters wearing the same fake smiles as they drummed up the joy that the peace would bring.

And isn't that worth it...?

“Even now His Majesty hosts his long time rival at a fun little gathering atop the Citadel,” one reporter was saying. His accent was obnoxious, but he was kind of cute. He winked at the camera as he continued, “King Regis makes a helluva enemy, eh? We should all be so lucky.”

Tiger's sour demeanor soured further. The other Glaives weren't going to like that. Tensions were already high among those like her, whose families would be abandoned to the Empire. How would they feel hearing that the Emperor himself now enjoyed expensive drinks and fancy little foodstuffs at the King's pleasure? How much worse for those of her comrades that were assigned to citadel security tonight, witnessing this first hand?

She eyed her simple fare and imagined the sort of wonderful things that that bastard Aldercapt was getting to eat at Insomnia's expense. What she wouldn't give to taste such finery herself!

Grumpier than ever, she tore off another piece of waffle with her teeth and changed the channel. Luckily, a stunt course game show with ridiculous overblown obstacles appeared in the sea of on-site reporters and monotone anchors. Tiger settled in to watch, grateful for anything that would take her mind off the bitterness she felt and the troubling thought of days to come.

Three or four mindless hours later, she had just begun to doze off to an automotive sales infomercial when her phone lit up and chirped. She popped one eye open and glanced at the screen.

King's Knight: New DM received from Ignis.

She quickly set her tray aside and took up the device to check it.

Fancy another go at it?

It appears we've a bit of time and restlessness to burn before bed. The apartment is taken care of and the four of us are all logging in. Care to throw yourself into the rotation? We'd all love to play with you at least one more time before we're Altissia bound.

Just like that, Tiger's grumpiness evaporated. A warm smile spread across the Glaive's face as a strange lump formed in her throat. She felt the oddest urge to cry, but blinked it away. Without hesitation, she tapped out her answer.

Of course!

You don't even have to ask!

[joyfullyimportantyouth-blog]

What I’ve Found From Riding Trains, by Isabelle Hoonan

Even if countries were connected across oceans by trains, I still wouldn’t take them every day. Even if the gilded splendors of a Moscow mosque or the thin air of Everest were readily available, I would take caution to parcel out this privilege. Perhaps I would hop on once a month to preserve the delicacy of anonymity. Riding a train to a foreign locale is an act of accepting calm before unsettlement. It is an intentional act of leaving, followed by a chaotic thrush of discovery with each new thing you encounter: it is a gift to not waste. Should the opportunity arise to disappear on a train for a while, towards something you do not know, it should still be reserved in rarity so it doesn’t lose its meanings.

Imagine closing your eyes in the shady enclave of the Redwoods and waking up to the smell of creamy espresso in Budapest. Your face is welted by the imprints of your backpack zipper because you took care to sleep on your few belongings. Instead of the steadiness of an airplane ride, sitting on a train is to be a witness of the changing landscapes, of the people coming on and off the platform, the scrum of moving forward and learning how to sit still.

I have found three things I have faith in while riding on trains: love, solitude, and asking questions. They are, in ways, extensions of each other. To love is to embed within the grains of affirmation and failure. The humility and ego that come uninvited with these experiences of loving require asking questions of yourself and another, while also stepping away to remember who you are outside of someone else.

There’s no order to loving and being alone and asking questions: they are all a combustion of reacting to what must be done to be better, to be greater than what we think we are. To survive. They are our mirrors of experience deepened into no-name meaning. Clarity is not a guarantee, because we all are capable of lying, of having former selves answer for us.  But a train pulls us along to see what is to come.

To ask questions is not as intellectual as it may sound. It is to want to feel a situation outside of your life view, to know the stories that happened before the outcomes. It is to strive to not be trite no matter the hardships you’ve pillowed beneath the joys, because questions are not about who you are. To ask questions… is a loving choice of asking to know what you do not know, an act of saying you do not assume, that you will not judge, that you are listening. It is a gesture to surrender to the expanse of all that you may not ever know fully when you speak to someone. These moments of asking, in silence and the soft punctuation of voice, are interims of existing. They consist of an invisible transformation after everything that’s already been done but now voiced. They are a guiding prelude of everything you must do now. Hold onto them, let them go, and let them return.

I found love on a train in India. One morning, I was woken up by the strange strokes of small fingers against my dirty socks and the smell of burning trash when I blasted my eyes open. Three sets of children’s arms were half teetering on the ladder to my upper bunk, giggling as I twisted myself off of my lumpy backpack to face them. They ran away, bumping into old women in magenta and capsicum hued saris. They wove their way towards samosas being sold through the cracks of metal barred windows rusted from the 1950’s. I settled into my book, a pilfered find from a hostel back in Varanassi, Alex Haley’s “The Autobiography of Malcolm X.” My boyfriend slept soundly on the bunk below. The thin plastic mattress creaked as I shifted to stretch a little before we would get off in a few hours to the mayhem of Mumbai.

It would have been 28 hours on the train, our route starting in Varanassi near the ghats and ending in Mumbai’s maze-like metropolis, where cows walked in the roads next to skyscrapers. This was our second full month together, which began in Nepal in October and would end in May in Mumbai after seven months of travel, without a single day spent apart.

When I look back at this relationship, my very first boyfriend, I cannot help but feel that it was more than just my first series of train rides: it was learning how to give trust to uncertainty, because things always seemed to work themselves out after 28 hours. We rode so many trains on that trip that became a stamp of first love, the gift of freedom that gave us mornings huddled together on a rain soaked train winding its way through the jungle of Sri Lanka and the promising endlessness of starched bright desert in Jasailmer. 

Sometimes we were quiet from the night before, when we argued about money or about small infractions, like how I wasn’t okay eating street food (so dumb, just get sick it’s fine, I think now). Sometimes we were so content drinking chai out of small ceramic cups, a rupee each. Sometimes I could feel the burst of my heart against the walls of fear when he would run off the train with not a minute before it left, swinging around the corner into our section with newspaper-wrapped samosas and I would wrap my arms around him with this melting relief.

Those trains led us all around India, all the way to the North of Thailand from Bangkok, where we worked for a month at a holistic rehabilitation center near Chiang Rai. We found our way back to India running onto trains that led us from Kolkata to Agra, to Rajasthan. It pierces me how much of the good and the bad were catalysts of the train, of losing money and stumbling upon conversations of what we wanted in our lives that would last for hours... the exchange of ideas of what we were reading swelling our need to move and find things out for ourselves, together and apart in our own thoughts. The mixture of sitting still while staring at the reel of passing desert into darkness, only to watch it all fall away, brought the next round of chai’s and holding each other’s gaze. It was as if to let the other know we were there without saying anything, that it was okay to be afraid sometimes, to trust, because that too would fall away. Home was far away but becoming wherever we were sleeping that night. I imagine this when I imagine how my traveling life began on trains. I was twenty.

I found solitude on a train from Seattle to Bellingham. Amtrak became my constant companion my first year of college, when each ambling walk to class became myself obsessed with figuring out who I was going to be, and who I was going to be was not where I was in this docile hippie college town. The swarms of joining and breaking social groups in the dorms, where girls would form quick alliances then herd from gym to cafeteria to class, confused me. I had dreamed college would be a slew of coffee dates and discussing pretentiously directed seminars on Camus. People who had lived in Paris would become my friends, and they would inquire about my time living in England as a thirteen-year-old loner who found solace reading in the musty library and asking strangers if I could eat with them. Basically, I expected my life to be like a low-budget indie feature film.

Each weekend became a disappointment of how lame the parties were, although I still wanted to go to them, and classes packed with four-hundred people discussing Murphy’s Law. I would go home to see my parents and unload my existential grief, but these train rides gave me a harsh glare of my entitlement, my craving for direction that I couldn’t create at that moment, a space for me to daydream of what was to come, which involved going to far off places where I would truly feel like an “artist.”

So I would draw and draw, write, think, listening to music and seeing the mountains meeting the Sound in a new way. I remember my first winter break lugging my duffel onto the train and settling at a window seat, the saltiness of the air and my feelings weighing heavy on my pen as I set myself on drawing my way into Juilliard or some New York bound school. I was all about the accolades, the rewards, recognition. 

Doing art made me tired of myself sometimes, and for good reason, because I asked so many questions but didn’t know what else to do with myself. Why couldn’t I just be someone who simply enjoyed things? If I was to accept my peripatetic leanings, I needed to decide what kind of artist I would be, which is probably why I posed like a judgmental-sensitive Kate Moss fascist in all black 24/7, dangling my Baudelaire book and willingness to take a tequila shot at a fake rave because I was so intent on being well-rounded COOL. Ugh.

Maybe I’d be an actress or a street artist or… I don’t know. At that moment, I was really into replaying the start and stop of the night before, which had transpired like a really shitty Boy Meets World revival that I thought was really, really deep. I had tried to kiss a boy I’d already kissed before, swirling in innocent dorm drinking, celebrating the end of finals and the ending legalization of Four Lokos. He was from Colorado, liked watching Planet Earth but had sworn off weed in favor of incense, and was very unattainable because he was in an open relationship. So… complicated, and thus very appealing to figure out. This was even before astrological compatibility was en vogue.

He made me want to do shrooms because apparently you could see the universe in a kaleidoscope and have some Jungian insight about your priorities. He was worldly and had lived in the Utah desert and was set to go to India and wrote Arabic on his notecards with my calligraphy pens when we would study together in the library. But yes, he had rejected my optioning that we could be a thing, because he was focused and that made me angry, because it meant that I had none if I was going after a boy who wouldn’t chase me. So I did what I always did when I fell down, which was to reject the rejector and still chase after them half-heartedly and be sort of apocalyptic about how my art would always be the most consistent and torturous thing to pursue. I filled so many afternoons drained with furiously typing poems that I later hated. I wish I had seen the sweetness of it all then, which now I see as beautiful for trying to make things matter, even if it was all a bit contrived and suburban girl angsty, like a bad 90′s sitcom spinoff doused in nice clothing and bad cocktail choices in a college town.

“I’m okay,” I would think after I would finish the train ride and disembark towards another destination: home, filled with heated coffee cups and roads I knew well enough to sleepwalk drive, even for a temporary time. I was nineteen.

I found asking questions on a train heading from Toulouse to Bordeaux to St. Foy La Grande. I was twenty-five, on the heels of a breakup, and headed to go meditate for a week straight to “get rid of” this self-antagonizing, self-fabling stewing. I wanted to stop screwing myself over. I couldn’t keep dwelling.

It was time to transfer at Bordeaux, a mad dash to get my ticket and run to the next train for St. Foy La Grande, where Buddhist nuns would be awaiting to bring a group of us to Thich Nhat Hahn’s “hamlets.”

I scanned the train times and asked a stern looking attendant where I was supposed to go in halting French, trying to rephrase before she threw her hands up and gave up. “Fuck… okay,” I got mad at myself then realized this was whatever, I’d figure it out. I decided to say c’est la vie and run to the platform I thought was usually the route, with an end stop of Bergerac. I ran through a bunch of peacoats and perfectly lipsticked French faces to the platform with an end stop of Bergerac and found it was my stop: ça roule.

“Is this the train to St. Foy La Grande?” a woman asked me in English. She was carrying a small luggage with her and had a twangy Australian accent, looked about in her sixties, and had sassy frosted pink lipstick and had matched her powder blue luggage to her cashmere sweater. She was also traveling alone and had a beautiful French train employee named Pierre carrying her other bag for her. Her name was Sheryl. I liked her immediately. She had the exact kind of throw caution to the wind but take care of yourself older woman allure that I wanted. We ended up talking the whole train ride to St. Foy La Grande, where I asked her questions and she asked me some and more.

I asked where she was from (New Zealand, my faulty mistake). I asked why she traveled (her husband had died a few years ago and she needed to move). She gave me the salt of the earth older woman advice that I so craved as a wandering but not quite so young but sometimes a beginner mid-twenty-something-year-old.

“I started traveling when I was young, but over the last few years I haven’t settled much until now,” she told me. “No matter how much I moved around after Alan’s death, the grief still followed me. I could be waking up in a villa in Santorini, greeted by the sun and the surf, looking fantastic in a white string bikini with sangria and pool boys surrounding me, and I would sometimes feel close to nothing. I would feel grateful while watching a sunset, but my head would be a haze of sadness. These things follow you, you know. Loss. You just have to learn how to sit still with time and somehow, after going through all of that hell, you find some light without needing to try so hard.”

Now she was having a light affair with her gardener and had the cut the bullshit and go be awesome attitude that was hard-earned with age and experience.

“Honey, as hard as it is, it’s important to learn how to keep it light. I was like you and tried to find the depth in questions.  I wondered how men who didn’t wonder so much about me could be figured out or try and find something that didn’t quite exist in them. Just learn to leave it. Just be an international woman of mystery, and the suitors will come calling, but they’re only the appetizer. The most important journeys, like train rides, are the ones where you ride alone or are accompanied by a friend to cut you up in laughter. Or the ones you stare out the window wondering where you’re meant to be. These journeys are the ones that sweeten the real love, that bring a friendship deeper to yourself or with a girlfriend. They are the ones where you discover yourself most that will give you the type of grace and grit that allow you to say hello and goodbye to places and people that don’t ask anything from you as long as you don’t ask anything from them. These sweeten the deal of life.”

When I headed back from St. Foy La Grande to Bordeaux to Toulouse Matabieu, I had spent a week meditating, especially on Sheryl’s life wisdom. I had thought a lot and not thought so much simultaneously. Who knew breathing could be breathing into something greater. It lightened my soul to feel the depth of being good enough for now again, of being curious, of realizing it wasn’t all about me, all these thoughts and feelings backstories but not the main show.

The main show was being right here, no dress rehearsal needed or discussing too much so as to not infringe upon instinct to act with that grace and grit Sheryl spoke of. I sipped a super fine glass of wine after a week of tea and watched a sheet of bright blue sky and laughed at and with myself, this me sitting at a cafe by the train station while the nuns waved, pretty damn happy with myself. Because being young and free can be a whole life thing if you can laugh a wild laughter in the heart of sadness, not to discredit, but to say “I’m back” even for just a second. I was twenty-six.

[christianborlesfroghat]

I don’t know why I love Halloween so much because, in all honesty, most Halloweens I’ve had have absolutely sucked. Halloween is my favorite holiday; the costumes, the spooky ambiance, the collective joy of dressing up and getting candy, the fall vibes— I don’t have much to look forward to out in central rural New York State, but Halloween season is always the bomb. I promise I take more pictures during fall here than anytime else. It really feels constantly like a movie set, giving the same vibes as like Dead Poets’ Society or A Separate Peace, the chaotic lawlessness of transition. I love it all. Especially the costumes, where I can dress however I want and it is never questioned, it’s celebrated. But the actual day of Halloween has always been to me what most adults I’ve met say is Christmas Day to them, that the lead up is good but the day is always a letdown.

The first few Halloweens I remember were great. My earliest I can remember clearly was third grade. I went as the Greek goddess Athena. Even then I had my priorities in check, knew I had smarts not looks. Everyone in my family got a kick out of the fact that I wore a laurel crown. The next year an almost-friend of mine was trying to set up a grade-wide costume of candy. I was assigned to be a tootsie roll. It didn’t work— almost no one was willing to give up their choice in costume to be a candy— but the person trying to set it up did it so I did too. It was utterly ridiculous. I looked so boxy, it was all made of felt and clearly homemade, but I remember having so much fun making it with my mom.

Those were the good years. Once I got to middle school it kinda changed. I got friends for the first time in my life, and with friends cane group costume ideas. In seventh grade my best friends and I were going to go as Charlie the Unicorn, and we DIYed some headbands with feather boa manes. But when it came time to trick or treat I stayed by my phone for hours, all night, waiting to hear from them where we would all go trick or treating together. No word came. I cried all that night in my pink unicorn headband. The next day they told me it was a fluke and they thought I didn’t want to go so they went without me.

Later I got a reputation among my friends and marching band people for going all out for these sorts of dress up days. I was the king of spirit weeks. Halloween was no different. I went as Castiel from Supernatural one year, and I won’t lie and say it wasn’t awesome. It was such a cool look and I remember spending months trying to find a trench coat that looked anything remotely like his. I went as Brendon Urie the next year.

Those were the best years. I had the time of my life. I finally had a group of friends, and we would all go out a for a little to trick or treating but mostly stay in and have fun together at each other’s houses. We never tried any group costumes again. I always felt as though I was on the outskirts though. One year my friends Abby, Cassidy, and Shannon all were hanging around each other and wouldn’t talk to anyone else. The only time any of them really spoke to me the whole night was to ask if I could take their picture.

The last two years of high school though were the worst. They were the years I started to love Halloween more than anything because I finally had started to value the Adirondack fall, so of course, those were the years I felt the most let down. In eleventh grade, the aforementioned Abby and I were going to go as Book of Mormon characters: her as Elder Kevin Price and me as a cup of Starbucks coffee, a running gag in the show. I bought my costume. It was also the day of the statewide final competition of marching band, and we won that year. The whole band was expected to show up to school even though we were exhausted to get compliments and attendance credit. Abby did not, leaving me as just a sad, lonely cup of coffee. In fact, I was one of only two of my friends to show up, but we didn’t know the other came so we both sat alone at lunch. I think I cried.

Twelfth grade was another group costume. Abby and my best friend, Alexis, and I went as the distracted boyfriend meme. I was the distracted boyfriend. That meme is actually ruined for me because of it, because around the time of Halloween things were at their worst for my friend group. Abby had been dating Jimmy, a friend I had known for as long as I can remember. They broke it off messy. She was pulling away from everyone and blaming everyone. She was fighting and hanging with other people more often than not. Talking shit about our group and doing drugs, a crowd she hadn’t really been about for our friendship. That night we had planned a party for all of us. Only two of us showed up. Alexis had told her parents about her mental health problems that day and was a mess. It was only Abby and another friend I no longer talk to anymore and me all talking about how everyone left us and we were all so sad.

It doesn’t sound like much, but after that I was fully intending on never being sad on Halloween again. Things were going to change; I was going out of state to a city for college, I had new friends, I’d never have to return to this place I hate and feel alone again. And I was right about half of that. When I went off to college I had the best Halloween of my life despite trick or treating being a letdown and slightly negative friends. It was the World Series, we got it off from class— it was amazing.

And now I’m back in my hometown, a failure and alone. I only talk to my family. I thought my previous halloweens were sad, but I’ve never been so lonely in my life.