#when it's really bad I lose my appetite and forget to eat/drink/do anything which makes me feel 10x worse obviously

[v-iv-rusty]

well. I feel slightly better now at least

[ener-lol]

the day i did meth

yeah, forget about my “notes” from the previous entry. I had no idea what I was in for.

okay, so... I read a lot about different substances and comparing my experience with the information I gathered, I'm fairly convinced that what we consumed was meth.

of course, without testing the pills themselves, there is no certainty, but I'm 100% sure that whatever is in those pills is not MDMA.

now, my experience.

I felt the pills hit quickly, but very subtly. as time progressed, the effects became exponentially stronger. once you get to the high, it's incredible. everything feels like it's perfect and shiny. you can stay awake forever, and bust out your best dance moves, and have incredibly complex and long conversations, and also come up with jokes and quips at lightspeed, and laugh anywhere like a maniac. also, you have no appetite at all.

it feels a bit like shrooms, but instead of having an emotional or spiritual component, it feels like your brain is working faster and harder to make everything feel better. that's the good part, and it's really fucking good.

now, THE BAD PART...

we took the pills at 2am.

first, in the club, i didn't quite feel paranoid, but I didn't want anybody near me. i was super uncomfortable because everyone kept bumping into me. when you're on MDMA, you're supposed to feel this sense of community and love for those who surround you. I didn't. I wanted all these people to keep their fucking distance. also my mouth got really dry and I had to start drinking lots and lots of water (which can actually be dangerous!)

when we got back to Alfonso's apartment at around 5am, the hours passed on and on and on and we just couldn't come down, we couldn't stop talking, and we couldn’t sleep!!! this thing kept us awake all night long. it was truly mind blowing to realize that, with the right substance, you can talk for 7 or 8 hours straight with someone, and never run out of things to say or even lose a single idea.

at around 11am, we went out for breakfast and sat in a park bench. I was still high as fuck, and we were talking and laughing maniacally about everything that was going on at the park. people were staring because we were clearly out of our minds.

at the same time, something in me started to warn me about this feeling being too good to be true; I knew I had hacked my brain into thinking that reality is so much brighter than it actually is. I kept having fun, but in parallel I started to get ready for the price I would have to pay.

I got home at around 1pm (about 11hrs after the first dose) and I was still totally fucked up. I was so accelerated, I had the most extreme shower of my life. then, I went to pick up my dog from the neighbor, who was watching him while I was gone, well, um... doing meth 🤪

next, at around 3pm, I tried to shut the blinds and get some sleep, but I couldn't. I managed to stay perfectly still and quiet for an hour, but I couldn't get to REM. I woke up, ordered some snacks and finally had something to eat after about 20 hours of fasting,

then, at 7pm, I had what felt like a horrible withdrawal episode, and started pacing around the room talking to myself out loud, trying to make some sense out of the whole experience. I was absolutely ON EDGE, again, a full 17 FUCKING HOURS after my first dose.

lately I've been in a good place in my life, so it was the right time to have this experience. I say this because I can totally imagine that someone who is going through a rough patch could try this shit out, have their mind blown, and immediately get hooked on it.

reading other people's experiences, what I learned about meth is that you can keep having more and more and more and stay in that zone indefinitely, and then it takes over your fucking life. this shit is really dangerous.

so, to summarize... I would say that the high of being on meth is amazing and unlike anything i've ever experienced, but I wouldn't ever want to face the consequences of using it again and I don't think anyone should even touch this shit.

I finally decided to have 20mg of clotiazepam and 150mg of pregabalin and pray that this fucking cocktail will allow me to sleep through the night.

this day has been absolutely fucking crazy. i will never forget it.

[cappuccinco]

Cw: eating disorder (kinda?)

(Sorry if this post makes no sense my english sucks lol)

So i've had bad eating habbits on and off for most of my life (idk if i'd call it an ed but like i'd obssess over calories, starve myself, try to throw up, etc.) But i haven't done that in quite a while now (except for a few minor slip ups). And for the most part i haven't been thinking about it all the time like i used to. And I really thought i was done with all that.

But recently i changed adhd meds and one of the side effects of the new meds is that it makes me less hungry and have less of an appetite. And now i can't stop thinking about it. There was a day a couple weeks ago when i genuinely forgot to eat for the whole day and the moment i realised that it felt so... familiar. And strangely comforting. Like an old friend. I didn't realise i'd missed that feeling so much. And all of a sudden i'm spiralling back again. I've barely been eating except for when my mom makes lunch (which hasn't been happening a lot recently cause she's busy (and my dad doesn't cook because patriarchy lol)). I didn't eat much yesterday (and i think maybe a few days before that? I'm not sure) and i haven't eaten today (it's afternoon as i'm writing this). And i feel so light and my stomach feels empty and my body feels weak, which isn't supposed to be a good thing but it feels like it. When i came back home today i just had to stop at the store and buy a bunch of 0cal energy drinks because for some reason it feels really good drinking them on an empty stomache, and they also make it easier for me not to eat. I tell myself that i'm not doing it on purpose, that i genuinely just forget to eat. But come on, we know that's not true. It's on my mind all the time, i'm very aware that i'm not eating enough. It's not like i have a problem eating, i just feel less hungry. And i could force myself to eat a normal amount if i really wanted to.

I don't look at my body very often and i still don't (honetly i'm terrified to) but recently i've been constantly staring at my wrists, seeing how much smaller they got, how my bones stick out more.

And i don't even think it's really about losing weight this time, i've (for the most part) pretty much accepted my chubbier body. it's the sense of familiarity. I was addicted to that empy feeling for such a large amount of my life and it's just so comforting to feel that way again. It feels like coming back home. And seeing my body change, even though i didn't really mind the way it looked before, feels like an accomplishment, seeing the physical effect of what i'm doing.

I don't have a conclusion for this or anything, i just wanted to get the words out and share these thoughts with someone. And i can't talk about it to anyone irl without them worrying and trying to stop me so yeah;-;

I could say a lot more but honestly i'm tired of writing and i wanna go play the sims lol. (unrelated but the meds also kinda made me obssess over the sims?? Like I've been hyperfocusing on it almost every day since i started taking them. Anyway i'm not complaining, at least i get some dopamine for once lol. And it's not like i have anything better to do;-; )

[caxxiopeia]

Feel free to ignore this

Tw: suicide, Tw: hospitalization

I just need to write this down somewhere and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. I was hospitalized last March for overdosing on my anti-anxiety meds to try and kill myself. Not really important why, basically I was just extremely stressed about school and executive dysfunction and depression was kicking my ass. So they held me in the psych ward for two weeks and one of the psychiatrists suggested trying ADHD meds. I’ve suspected that I have ADHD for a while but I’ve never told anyone because I don’t have any of the stereotypical symptoms and I thought no one would take me seriously. I’m not hyperactive at all, my thoughts typically don’t run at superspeed, coffee gives me energy and more than two cups a day makes me anxious when I’ve heard it settles people with ADHD, I don’t lose or forget things that often, I can keep pretty good track of the time, I read lots so it’s clear I can focus if I want to, I didn’t have too much trouble focusing in school (unless the teacher was just plain lecturing and I didn’t have anything to do or look at). That last one might be a point towards ADHD now that I think about it. I’m extremely shy and quiet and do things meticulously instead of fast. The main thing I do have is wicked executive dysfunction to the point I’m bedridden sometimes, but that’s not exclusive to ADHD. Also little things like I can talk wayy too fast, boredom is physically painful, I have horrible time management, I get sidetracked with little tasks that I’ll spend way too long doing (ie. cleaning the dried paint off the lids of my paint bottles for a few hours instead of going to bed because my brain decided that needed to get done right that moment).

Anyway the psychiatrist put me on a stimulant like Adderall. Dextroamphetamine or something. At first it made my heart beat a bit faster and I felt anxiety without actually feeling anxious if that makes sense. Since I was in the psych ward there weren’t a lot of things to distract me in the first place (phone, netflix) but I found doing schoolwork easier. That psychiatrist was replaced and the new one (still not my current one) didn’t prescribe it which I only found out after I was released and went to the pharmacy to pick it up. However I got a text like a week after that saying it had been prescribed and it was ready to pick up. So not sure what happened there, if the old psychiatrist talked to the new one or what. I’ve been on it since then. The physical effects went away and it seemed to help for a while especially with the executive dysfunction. Something else happened and I ended up back in the psych ward in June where they increased the dose of my anti-depressant and added a new anti-anxiety medication for sleep. They kept the stimulant the same. But now my appetite has been shot to shit. It started June 15 (I remember cause it was my birthday) and it hasn’t picked up to before-hospital levels since. Most days I’m eating maybe 500 calories. I’ve lost 10 pounds and my period is late when it’s usually scarily regular. I try to eat and it’s like every part of my body is rejecting the food. Even drinking is hard sometimes. I’d almost compare it to my mom when she was on chemo, it’s that bad. I talked to my family doctor, a nurse and doctor on my province’s medical help line, and my psychiatrist. All of them say it’s from a different medication. My family doctor couldn’t do much of anything since she didn’t prescribe it and I’d need to get my psychiatrist to transfer my care over to her before she can. The nurse said it was likely the medication they increased and I could tell she was researching the medications while I was talking to her. She was the most help and she thought I might have had mild to moderate dehydration as well since I wasn’t drinking much of anything either. She set me up with a doctor who said it was the medication they introduced for sleep instead. And basically that I should try eating. As if I was just choosing not to. My psychiatrist told me it was unlikely to be the anti-depressant they increased even though it’s one of the first and most common side effects you see for it online.

But there seems to be a consensus that if I had to go off a medication it would have to be the stimulant. I tried that for a few days and my energy was so low I had to stay in the car while my sister went grocery shopping. I couldn’t do anything. My appetite did get a bit better but I’d rather starve than feel like that. Here’s the problem though. Does that mean I’m addicted? It’s basically speed right? And aren’t ADHD meds supposed to calm you down and focus you rather than give you energy? And neurotypicals use Adderall recreationally for energy, so isn’t that what I’m doing? But if it gets me out of bed and able to care for myself does it matter? I don’t want to bring this up to anyone because I’m afraid they’ll say “nope that’s not how people with ADHD react to this medication so we’re not prescribing it” and not give me another method for handling The Symptoms. And I don’t wanna make a big deal out of my appetite thing for the same reason. It’s easier for a psychiatrist or doctor to remove a medication rather than switch up another one or change the dose. Should I stick to my guns and insist I have ADHD even when I’m not sure myself? Could my low energy and executive dysfunction be from depression even if none of the treatments and therapy I’ve had for that changes anything? What if they’re working off of the stereotypical hyperactive pre-teen boy image as the default patient? Because when you compare me to that I definitely don’t have ADHD.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

38. Set it up, break it up

For everyone who's been supportive of these| fluff |making out |harry set draco up with someone Only to realise he liked draco all along |

" when was your first time ?" Seamus smugly asked Draco as he drank his butter beer from across the room sprawled over the bean bag

" I will prefer not to answer the question. It is highly confidential and that information shall only be revealed to Someone I'm with. So dear Seamus you can enjoy asking this question to other, while I would refuse to answer " Draco sophisticatedly replied, tilting his head to put on more emphasis upon his words.

" Merlin, you could've just said I'm not answering that. No need to go all Shakespearian " Ron rolled his eyes at Draco.

Harry chuckled as he joined Draco over the couch, putting his legs over Draco's laps, not that either of them ever minded that physical touch " that's Draco for you. He'll never give a direct answer. I can bet, if he were in an English Muggle class, he'd top "

" I topped nonetheless " Draco rolled his eyes, his hands automatically falling into a pattern of softly stroke the bottom of Harry's leg, a habit he's grown attached to.

" really? From what I remember I got 7 owls while you got only 6. It's just as if I was infact better than you " Harry smirked

" whatever Harry. I was the headboy " Draco rolled his eyes at harry, yet again but then again he liked these small bickerings with him. Blaise eyed them from the corner of the room, enjoying it himself, not Daring to say anything.

" and I was given the opportunity, I just denied "

" as if "

" whatever helps you sleep at night darling" Harry teased as he pinched Draco's cheeks softly

" don't " Draco growled as he swatted Harry's hand away

" one angry kitten aren't you " Harry chuckled, picking up his can of butter beer and drinking it.

" don't call me that " Draco sneered, not in a furious way, just slightly threatening way.

" anywaysss " Seamus echoed, breaking off their not so private conversation " when was your first time harry ?"

" Ron, you might wanna cover your ears for this one " Harry chuckled. Ron gave him a look but refused to do so " it was after war, when I got back with Ginny, in the time we were going out for a short time "

" what about in 6th year ?" Dean asked snuggling closer to Seamus on the bean bag

" we couldn't really ever get to it. I mean for one neither of us were ready, and we were just kids. Although when we did it after we got back together, we realised almost instantly it wasn't something we enjoyed, not that part, just with opposite sex kind of thing. Well mostly her, no offense. Or it could've been we weren't just attracted to each other that way " Harry explained

" really ? I always thought you guys would work out you know " Dean said. Harry looked at Dean amused but didn't say anything.

" I never thought you guys would end up together really. Never seemed as if so " Seamus added

" interest me in why ?" Harry asked

" it just, I always knew you were sort of bi even before you started going with Ginny. It was Evident really sometimes. And with Ginny herself, she didn't seem like a person to be with a guy. I mean coming from I figured my sexuality really early on, I just sometimes knew it.. besides after the first time you guys broke up, it seemed almost impossible for it work later on " Seamus explained. Everyone including Draco thought about what he had said and nobody could even deny that it was a lie.

" what's your dating track anyway right now Harry ?" Blaise asked standing over the chair behind Ron.

" oh it's not that bad. I do go out on a few dates. I went on a date last week infact and believe me that guy was really good, dashing, almost ced- well Cedric diggory Kinda hot but right in the middle of the date, I feel something going up my leg. I almost choked on my Tuna fish and he goes, do you like it ? I was more shocked than anything else. It was weird if anything "

" so what next ?"

" I didn't call him back. I think somewhere along the date, he might've said he had feet fetish.. he would much rather make love to my feets than me and it was just plainly weird "

" people have all different sorts of fetishes " Ron frowned

" yeah, I respect them but feet fetishes just creeps me out " Harry almost shivered at the thought of it.

And everyone soon fell into talking about weirdest kinks and fetishes, something they all were rather amused to be in conversation about, except, Harry.

Draco stopped stroking Harry's leg for a moment to softly clutch on them to seek his attention.

" it's alright Harry.. you can't change anything.. besides I think he lived a good life" Draco softly said.

" I still can't forget though. It's almost as if I can still see it happening in front of my eyes " Harry Whispered back.

" I know. He was a brave guy though. You can't do anything anymore. I'm sure- he'd want you to get over it too " Draco whispered. Harry bit his lip softly before nodding. To provide comfort, Draco again started stroking Harry's legs.

" feels nice" Harry smiled at Draco, who simply smiled back.

" talking off that, what say about going on a date with someone ?" Harry asked Draco but had inevitably grabbed attention from a few others in the room.

Draco raised his eyebrows in strange surprise " really ?"

" I met some guy at the animal shop across the street. He seemed like someone you could date " Harry replied

" why me, why not you ?" Draco defensively asked

" well, he's not my type but he's yours and he did seem to notice you with me a couple of days ago, so I thought maybe you could talk to him and see if you'd like to go out with him " Harry suggested.

Draco frowned at harry before clearing his throat " I'll pay that animal shop a visit then "

" great " Harry grinned

" I'm gonna use the loo " Draco sighed and got up abruptly

" unbelievable " Blaise announced. Harry looked around the room to receive strange looks " what are you all staring at me for ?" Harry asked confused

But nobody responded except that most of them groaned, leaving Harry more confused. Draco returned a few minutes, chatted a bit and then left claiming he had to feed his cat.

As a few weeks goes on by, Harry discovered that draco did started going with the guy he had told him about and was infact in a happy place to be with him. And it was all fun and games until Harry was offended that Draco no longer gave him that much time anymore or the fact that he kept cancelling on him over and over or that he longer was interested in watching movies with harry but sure had fun plans with his so called boyfriend or the guy he's dating, he cared no less. By which he meant, he did cared. To say his friends were tired of Harry ranting on about Draco cancelling on him that one time Ron even put up muffalito charm on him. It was splendid how things were going, in a sarcastic way of course until Draco decided it was time for him to make everyone meet his boyfriend, and harry wanted to burn himself on flames.

" I frankly don't understand why the expensive dinner, I mean, couldn't he had just invited us to his place or his so called boyfriend's place " Harry vented air quoting boyfriend

" Harry you were the one who set him up in the first place, stop being mad at him and jealous not to mention " Hermione rolled her eyes eating the chips off the packet

" jealous, I'm not jealous " Harry defensively said

" sure " Ron rolled his eyes.

" look Harry, you're clearly jealous that he isn't spending as much as time with you and its bothering you, so just talk to him about it " Hermione suggested shrugging her shoulder

" look, I don't know what's cooking in both of your brains but I'm-not-jealous " harry slammed the cloth over the counter and went inside his bedroom

" I miss the time when he wasn't such a dramatic ass " Ron taunted

" I can hear you " Harry yelled from inside the room, hearing faint whispers from Ron and Hermione in the living room..

And the truth infact was that Harry was jealous, which he Only discovered over the dinner when Draco was practically almost all over him that harry wanted to tell him to just sit in his lap, didn't of course. And to make it worse, he was jealous of how good they actually looked, which resulted in harry losing his appetite and almost groaning every five minutes. Hermione had to kick him under the table to behave a couple of times.

Spending the night in his thoughts, Harry came across things he wished he had known earlier or things he never felt but whatever it was, he felt frustrated in himself to set Draco up and he had no idea what to do next, so he decided to take advice from the only man he knew the best was at.

" Harry ? What a pleasant surprise. Ron's not at home though " Blaise said as he opened the door for him

" I actually came here to talk to you " Harry sighed as he went in. Blaise frowned in surprise before walking behind Harry himself

" well what can I interest you in, a joke, a mimickery,-"

" an advice actually " Harry groaned as he slumped down on the couch.

" oh- Ron's better at that-"

" he isn't, he told me to talk to you " Harry replied. Blaise walked into the kitchen, opening the window to the living room to converse through the kitchen.

" did he ? What can I help you with then ?" Blaise asked as he poured water for Harry and walking in to give it to him.

" I think, that I might have feelings for Draco" Harry replied

" you are officially the last person to know that " Blaise chuckled as he walked back into the kitchen and fetched something to eat.

" what ? You guys knew that ?" Harry sat uptight

" of course " Blaise scrunched his eyebrows as an obvious face

" why didn't you guys tell me ?" Harry asked agitated with his friends

" because these are the things we're not supposed to tell you, you're the one supposed to tell us, you dimwit " Blaise rolled his eyes, throwing his hands in the air.

" well you could've at least warned me " Harry groaned

" how could you not have known !! When did you even figure It out anyways?" Blaise asked as he shut the cabinet for the last time, bringing a packet of cookies and chips with him and slumping down in front of Harry.

" I think I've known for a bit since he started going out, but last night i was pretty confirmed that I was jealous " Harry Told him

" well I'd like to say you are that ruined your chances but guessing you came for advice, you came here to know how to fix it and I'll tell you, I do not have even the slightest idea how to fix your shit soup "

" what ?" Harry emphasised

" Harry, you yourself set him up with someone almost exactly like you. If Draco even Liked you at some point, now he knows that you don't like him and he's probably moved on and supposedly happy in his newfound relationship "

" Blaise, If I wanted to listen to how I fucked it up I wouldn't had come to you. I need to know how can I fix this " harry sarcastically responded raising his eyebrows

" look the easiest way is to simply confess or move on. I can't help you harry even if I wanted to. Draco seems happy " Blaise told him emphatically.

Harry was disappointed but knew Blaise was right, there was possibly nothing he could've done to make it right, at least not something that would sabotage their relationship.

It took harry a couple more days to become normal with the fact that draco was dating and finally paving his way to move on, which was definitely hard. And harry could've assumed he was doing good until Draco invited him for a picnic, claiming they haven't gotten out individually in a while. Normally harry would've been very ecstatic about it but considering the phase he was going through it was hard but didn't deny his sweet offer.

" took you a bit long- and your boyfriend's here too " harry pressed his lips in a thin line when he saw them coming together.

"it was just us but his plans got cancelled last moment so he tagged alone.. i hope you don't mind " Draco plead guilty

Harry sighed before giving him a firm smile and nodding " it's going to be one hell of a day "

Halfway through the picnic, harry Would've assumed he would be the thrid wheel but it was infact quite opposite, his boyfriend, jake was infact the third wheel who basically had no idea about draco's life which surprised harry a little more than it should have.

" you- jake, you alright ?" Harry asked looking over draco's shoulder at his boyfriend who looked puzzled

" what? I'm fine, just thinking " he gave them a firm smile.. draco leaned a bit into jake as if to give him the feeling he was still here but jake rejected it, much to draco's surprise.

" what you thinking about ?" Harry asked furrowing his eyebrows.

" what exactly I'm doing here?-"

" shit- I'm sorry for making you feel as if I'm intruding-"

" no, it's not that. It's just so clear that you both are so meant to be together, yet here I am on a picnic with two people who are supposed to be together but are not because of me-"

" that's not true " draco interjected

" is it not ? " Jake asked more firmly than before, not forgetting to give a smile so as to not sound harsh.

Draco opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

" even if it is true for me, I don't think Draco feels that way . Besides you guys are dating, I don't want to be the reason for your break up" harry replied sympathetically

" you're not harry. I just- I can see it, maybe you two are blind but I'm not.. Enjoy yourselves " jake said as he abruptly stood up

" jake don't be like that " draco too stood up

Jake sighed taking draco's hands in his own " I'll stay if you admit you don't have any feelings for him, if you've never wanted to be with him, if you've felt anything closer to what you feel for him about Me. Admit it freely and I'll stay"

But draco couldn't say anything..

" thought so. I'd be fine by the way. I don't think I've seen two people belonging to each more than you two " and jake departed.

Draco stood there a few minutes watching him walk away, his shoulder slouched as if not believing that he'd just been dumped.

" draco-"

" you're a jerk " draco turned around

" what ?" Harry asked confused

" you're an insolent jerk " draco picked up from dry leaves from the ground and hitting harry with that.

" what the fuck did I do ?" Harry shielded himself as draco threw more and more leaves and grasses

" you fucking moron, you were Flirting with me " draco huffed stopping for a moment

" I wasn't flirting " harry whined. Draco gave him a look before picking up more leaves and throwing it at him

" okay, okay. I was but hey it's your fault to go along with it " harry stumbled back over the ground

" well it's not my fault if you're bloody good at it "

" is it my fault that you enjoyed and I'm not the only victim here, you were flirting too " harry looked up at Draco from the ground

" I wasn't flirting " draco narrowed his eyes. Harry hooked his leg around that of draco, making him trip over and fall over harry, who he instantly rolled over, pinning draco to ground.

" were you not ?" Harry breathed

" it doesn't matter-"

" you were flirting back" harry commanded

" okay, fine I was but you had no right- hmph" draco moaned softly as harry kissed him over the lips, kissing until the need for oxygen finally had made sense again.

" now tell me, how long have you wanted this?" Harry huffed.

Draco rolled his eyes, still pink from all the kissing " I haven't wanted this "

" okay " harry frowned as he leaned down, his lips lightly brushing over that of draco's " you sure ?" Harry asked not moving an inch closer or further

Draco's breath choked down, desperately wanting to lean forward to kiss him again but didn't to avoid giving harry the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

" you don't want me to kiss you again then? That's right yeah " harry whispered as he bit Draco's lower lip, earning a soft moan and his body involuntarily pressed against harry's

" seems otherwise " harry whispered.

" merlin " draco moaned. Smirking harry pulled away looking at Draco from a distance.

Sucking his cheeks, draco immediately pulled harry to him and kissed him again, this time in more desperation and rush.

" guess who's got the upper hand now " draco moaned as he freed his hands and put them in his hair.

" you" harry chuckled, Thoroughly enjoying kissing draco himself.

" jerk " draco chuckled

" you're the jerk " harry chuckled

" and you broke his heart " harry whispered against his lips smiling

" eh, he always knew it anyways " draco shrugged

" you really are a jerk then " harry smiled as he pulled away a bit, admiring draco.

" and you're the jerk who just broke my relationship and has basically manipulated me into kissing you " draco raised an eyebrow amusingly

" I don't regret it " harry regret

" me either " draco smiled and leaned in again.

Requests open

Day 37- you're my home, draco | Day 39- cuddle me in

[azucanela]

Dating korra would include

BEING KORRA’S S/O[GENDER NEUTRAL]

BEING ZUKO’S S/O | BEING SOKKA’S S/O

SUMMARY: life with korra from confession to marriage

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNINGS: no major spoilers 

A/N: SOMEONE WITH T A S T E, i hope you don’t mind but i kinda just did the same thing i did for my zuko headcannons so feel free to scroll straight to the during the relationship bit if you just want dating korra h/c :D 

also i have 300 followers now what, i literally had 200 like yesterday hi everyone <3 um i really need to start pulling out all the stops

GETTING INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

she’s a simp.

that’s it. thats the headcannon. she has literally liked you since she met you and has said nothing, but you probably know since she’s so damn OBVIOUS ABOUT IT

korra is very in tuned with her emotions so when she realizes she likes you she’s pretty okay with it, a little more flustered during your interactions, but after a while her goal is to make you feel how she feel which is flustered.

she has no shame though, she knows she is hot and she wants you to know she thinks you are hot

lots of flirting on her end, so naturally you kinda begin to think she is joking and think nothing of it

this was not her intent, and now that you are desensitized to her flirting and not reacting flustered like you did when she first started she is frustrated™

you were not understanding that she very much likes you

stupid

she hasn’t said anything outright to you about it though, which is the main reason you are like lol this is a joke, my crush fake flirts with me i am okay

spoiler alert: you are not okay with this it hurts ow

so now shes getting ridiculously affectionate with you, which, tbh, she always was, but not its RIDICULOUS, korra is out here throwing an arm around your shoulder, randomly grabbing your hand, kissing your cheek

shes trying really hard to get her point across like really really hard

like painfully hard

if she likes you its probably because your fun, like you really spice up her life and introduce her to new things and go on really dumb adventures and really important missions with her and you put up with her and wow now korra is simping oops

you’re also probably forcing her to stay healthy, since i honestly think that despite having such an appetite, korra will forget to eat and take care of herself sometimes.

she is so bad at drinking water i swear to goD

there are two situations here

situation one is where korra finally realizes that you CANNOT READ SIGNALS AT ALL and decides she going to be upfront with you about her feelings

she’s either going to just flat out kiss you next time she sees you or spill all her emotions, of both in no particular order

you’re like reading in your room in the air temple, just vibing, and you see her coming towards you with a determined look on her face and you’re like ??? lol okay

you go back to reading only to have her hand reach under you jaw and she brings you into a kiss and now you’re like LOL OKAY

you honestly think that this is just another one of her stunts to get you flustered and means nothing

stoopid

and then she pulls apart and just starts spilling her feelings and you’re like :O omg me too 

and she’s like, “great, we’re dating now.�� and suddenly she’s kissing you again, and between kisses you’re like, “im sorry what?”

“you heard me. do you have a problem with that?”

you just kiss her again

situation two is where you get sick of her and realize woah she may or may not be in love with you and so you confront her, and now there is a lot of yelling because you are frustrated™ and like screw you korra

you honestly think she is either madly in love with you and just doing this as a joke, and you genuinely think the latter is more like so you lowkey start crying and korra immediately begins to panic

she’s like, “why would i ever joke about that! i’ve literally been trying to get that through your thick skull this whole time!”

this time you kiss her first and korra is throwing a party in her head but she also feels really bad for making you cry oops

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

okay so korra happens to be very much a simp

and you happen to be very much the mom friend™ it doesn’t matter if you are a boy girl or none of the above, that is your trademark my friend

she’s very affectionate and now that the two of you are dating she is at a whole new level.

important meeting? you are in her lap she does not care. war meeting? she is cuddling you as you explain the plans of attack and DAMN DO YOU LOOK GOOD DOING it

since being the avatar is MUCH more a political position now though, she does try to keep your relationship slightly on the down low, even before you were dating, you both had reporters constantly asking about your relationship and she doesn’t really like that

they are nosy and she does not approve. korra understands wanting to know about her avatar duties, but anything outside of that in regards to her personal life annoys her

loves kissing you, and when she does it tends to be intense and passionate. after a particularly tough day though, her kisses can either be slow and sensual because she just wants to have a nice soft and domestic day with you

OR

they can be harsh and almost brutish, she will get rough with you because she is highkey pissed at everything that day and making out you with is her stress reliever

really likes cuddling and anything domestic in general. she’s really happy with you, and she kinda has all the love languages

she seeks validation when the press is particularly harsh since being the avatar is HARD and as much as she wants to, she cannot please anyone, so please tell her she is doing amazing

so many acts of service up in here, she will randomly do stuff for you, spontaneity is kinda her vibe ya know

very vocal and expressive about her feelings, communication is key with her

arguments aren’t a rarity tbh, but when they do happen they tend to be more of debates over little things like what’s better, pineapple pizza or no?

major fights tend to end poorly since she can be a little stubborn when it comes to such things, but she will admit she was wrong and apologize IF she was wrong

if she wasn’t wrong but the argument got out of hand, she’ll apologize for that but will affirm her correctness

kiss her scars, she has them, and she is proud of them but 

support her at her pro bending matches and she will DIE, so happy, literally sososososososo happy, hugs you, loves you, yes

treats you as an equal no matter what, even if people think that as the avatar she should see herself as something more than

very protective of you.

like if someone flirts with you, she is clingy x10. if someone hits on you despite your protests, she HITS them. if someone threatens to hurt you, she promises to end them. 

MARRIAGE N STUFF

WELP

she’s gonna realize she wants to propose when she almost loses you, or in the middle of a battle. when the reality of potentially losing you hits her she is gonna realize she wants to live out the rest of her life by your side, protecting you

situation one is where she literally, in the MIDDLE OF BATTLE, without a ring, just proposes. you are being a baddie, bending if you are a bender, fighting the opposing enemy, looking MIGHTY FINE while doing it

“marry me.”

you falter, nearly getting hit as your head whips over to her and you’re like, “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

and she throws a giant rock at the opposition, temporarily indisposing them, “yes?? why wouldn’t i be.”

Someone comes up behind you and you elbow them in the face and ram your foot into their knee, knocking them down, “RIGHT NOW?” 

she throws a whip of water in your direction and you dodge it, allowing her to take out the enemy behind you, and you throw a whole dagger at her to do the same. “that was close.” she narrows her eyes at you bc you lowkey look like you wanna kill her rn as you two hide behind a barricade for cover and an explosion washes over it, “you could’ve killed me.”

“you just about gave me a heart attack when you PROPOSED two minutes ago, need i remind you.”

korra raised a brow at you, “is that a no...?”

“do you even have a ring?”

korra gives you a look that gives you the answer and you groan, “i cannot believe you.”

“you really should’ve expected this.”

“i know.”

“i get to pick the ring then?”

“you’re probably going to plan the whole wedding.”

“alright.”

theres a boom from beyond the barricade you two have hidden behind as korra looks to you, “alright?”

“i’ll marry you.” you elaborate, giving her a bright smile.

situation two is more depressing lol

you have been SHOT oops, don’t die pls because korra CANNOT handle it after everything that has happened to her, so if you die she’s done

she’s kinda just sitting at your bed side and it hits her that you could die basically any day now, and she would have so many regrets

she wished she kissed you more, told you she loved you more, held you longer, spent more mornings with you and your bedhead, she wished she learnt to cook so that she could surprise you with a meal when you get home from a long day of work, she wishes she did a lot of things

she wishes you two were married.

korra is now having an existential crisis, and everyone is telling her that she has to go home, get some rest, you’ll wake up eventually, you’ll get better, but you don’t wanna wake up to korra being a mess

she knew they were right, you always scolded her for not taking care of herself, so she decided to follow some of their wishes

Korra cannot bring herself to go home, there are so many reminders of you that it hurts, and she kinda just decides she’ll stay in a hotel and wash up and such.

besides, you are her home.

after leaving the hotel, she ends up going the jeweler and buying the ring she believes screams you

when korra returns to the hospital, she contemplated proposing right then and there, before realizing that you’d probably yell at her for choosing such a ridiculous time and you already had a lot on your plate

once the two of you return home and you are in the midst of recovery, she did learn to cook, so you wouldn’t feel the need to do so, and given your situation she fears you’ll injure yourself further in the process.

you two are eating dinner and you’re babbling on about something you’d read, and she suddenly decides to get up and walk over to you, leaving you like ???

then she gets down on one knee and you are like :O

she’s like, “marry me.”

naturally, you start crying and nodding because wow this is such an intimate moment and just happiness

kissinggggg after that 

the wedding is, under NO CIRCUMSTANCE public, the most private and intimate wedding ever. korra hates reporters after her life as the avatar, she doesnt want strangers at her wedding.

any and everyone she has ever fought beside is there though, its wholesome and nice

definitely cries when she sees you at the altar

her vows are MASTERFUL AND TEARJERKING 

its a pretty basic wedding though, unless you prefer something over the top, the food is nice a mix of both your cultures and favorite things and there’s beautiful lighting

definitely done on air temple island, and tbh tenzin would probably walk you down the aisle because i said so

married life with her is even better, she lives for he domesticity of it all, especially lazy sunday mornings with the light filtering in and you just looking all pretty and having a lil fun

iykyk

honeymoon in the spirit word lads

bolin is your number one supporter

life with korra is a 10/10 i do recommend it

A/N: im kinda in love with korra lol this requests made me happy

[neednothavehappenedtobetrue]

here are some scripts, ranked in order of how difficult the scripty thing will be to do.

easy mode: "hey Boss, I am, as you know, having a bit of a medical situation, it is not an emergency, but I will be taking X day off to do some routine maintenance"

do not overexplain! do not tell him anything additional! it would be fine if you did, but also, don't!

medium mode (I am terrified of haircuts and therefore hair stylists, sorry about the person I am) "hi! you will notice that my hair is quite dirty. this is because I have been having trouble washing it often because of a medical concern I have that I am getting fixed. I am sorry about this! no, I do not know exactly how long it has been since I washed it, but because of the medical stuff my memory is quite bad, you are probably best equipped to make a guess, as a hair expert person. the medical thing is not COVID-related or otherwise contagious, and I am getting it addressed ASAP. please do not make jokes about this, I am very self-conscious about it.

what's the medical problem? "they're adjusting a medication I take that can sometimes cause fatigue, and forgetfulness and generally make it hard to do stuff" be pleasantly vague! if they ask you really persistently, just say "depression" but probably they will not.

if at all possible, do not tell them that your last hairstylist made a joke about you inadequately washing your hair and you hated it. they do not require this information. practice not oversharing QUITE so much.

hard mode: doctor! (this part gets Really Explicit with the details of my ED, so it is under a cut, only read it if knowing how many meals/calories I eat a week will not trigger you, please do not trigger yourself, I'm sorry but I think if I do not put this here I will not say it, so it needs to go here)

-"hi doctor P, so I made this appointment to talk about a concern I have been having for some time, but now I have two concerns. my initial concern is that I have been experiencing some nausea, particularly bad in the mornings. I am definitely for sure not pregnant. I have been taking phenergan as needed, but not every day. I have only thrown up twice in six weeks, so it is not terrible, but it is also not great. I don't want to take too much phenergan because the hospital doctors told me it could cause heart problems and also I could get too used to it and have it stop working, how worried should I be about those things? sometimes in the morning, I do not feel nausea in my stomach, but I do start gagging or dry-heaving randomly. I have never thrown up from this but it is weird and also means I need to take Zoom calls with my camera off. do you have any ideas or suggestions?

also, a problem that might actually be a bigger problem is that I have recently-ish come to terms with the fact that I have an eating disorder. I have had it off and on probably since I was in my teens. it is not necessarily textbook, in that I am rarely or never preoccupied with my weight and rarely, although not never, restricting deliberately. it initially started when I got the idea that if I lost a lot of weight very quickly, my parents, who were refusing to let me do therapy or psych meds again, would consider it. I never got to a dangerous weight level and I do not remember how long or how much I restricted, but a problem that came from that is that ever since when I am particularly struggling with a mental health issue, like bipolar or depression, I tend to stop eating. part of this problem is that I am very forgetful and literally forget to eat, especially in the absence of real hunger cues. part of the problem is that it is hard to do multi-step tasks when I am depressed, and eating food requires me to stop whatever I am doing, get up, go to the kitchen, figure out what I want to eat, prepare it in some way, and then actually physically eat it. lately, I have been drinking a lot of delivery smoothies because they are easy and digestible, and sandwiches as well. the problem has been particularly bad this past month or so, in a way that I suspect is not entirely explained by those two factors. I am working with my therapist and psychiatrist to fix it. I know that ED can trigger or worsen gastroparesis and I know I should have told you earlier, but I haven't been able to be honest with myself about the severity of the problem.

-this past month, I have been averaging between six and ten meals a week, with some snacks as well. on a good day, I probably hit 1200 calories, on a bad day I don't know, but less than that for sure. on my worst day last week, I ate the meat and cheese inside of half a sandwich and drank some juice, but nothing else. on my best day I drank one and a half smoothies and ate part of a sandwich, which I recognize is still pretty bad.

I am working with my psychiatrist and psychologist on this issue. I have started to take Adderall again, but this is only the second day of me taking it, so meds-related appetite lost is not the issue here.

I cannot get ED professional mental health treatment because, since I am in grad school, my parents pay for all of my medical care and they fundamentally do not believe I have an eating disorder. this is because my mom, who probably has her own ED, thinks 1200 calories is enough for a human per day and also because I am overweight. I saw a nutritionist for three months pre-pandemic and we worked on getting me to eat three meals and two snacks a day, but my parents stopped paying for her because I was not losing weight. I have told them exactly and in detail how little I am eating and they still do not believe I should be eating more, so they refuse to pay for ED-related medical care for me. this is part of a pattern for them, I am working on it in therapy and part of working on it will be figuring out how to pay for my own medical care, but right now I am doing my very best.

I do not know how much I currently weigh or how much weight I might have lost. I do not keep a scale in my apartment, because I am certain I would get obsessive with it. my friends say I look like I have been losing some weight, but it is hard to tell how much.

I know ED is bad for gastroparesis and I am sorry, but I am doing my very best and still struggling.

what I need from you is suggestions on safe ways to get more calories and any other suggestions you have for successfully eating. I am happy to put you in touch with my psychiatrist if you feel that would be useful. my therapist is, just for this week, on vacation. I will see her next week and could connect you then as well.

I cannot see any ED-specific specialists, because my parents categorically will not pay for them. I cannot see a nutritionist or a dietician, same reason. I could potentially see a new gastroenterologist who deals with this stuff in more depth, but my parents will probably Google her, which might pose a problem, and also they have a specific gastroenterologist they want me to see, so they might just... refuse anyway to let me choose my own gastroenterologist. they are like that. however, if you know a GI doctor who knows a lot about both gastroparesis and ED and whose website is not too significantly ED-focused, that might be helpful, or it might not work.

I know this is bad, and I know I need to fix my life so they are not paying for my medical care, I am working on it, I promise. do you have any suggestions?

great! that is a script! also, if she is garbage about this, you can GET A NEW DOCTOR literally at any time, if it sucks, hit the bricks.

[lovemesomesurveys]

What do you waste your time doing the most? Lounging in bed switching between social medias and watching TV. I’ve wasted so much time these past few years doing absolutely nothing. :/ Have you ever been back-stabbed? Yes.

If you could be anything, what would you be? Healthy.

If you could be any Tv show character, who would you choose to be? Hm. I don’t know.

If you switched genders for one day, what would you do? Let’s be real, I wouldn’t do anything different. I’d do the same things I do everyday but as the opposite sex instead.

What power would you choose to have if you were superhuman? Is there a healing power?

What stereotype/clique would you say you are more like? I don’t know.

How do you handle being under pressure? Not well.

What does your phone cover look like? It’s clear and has Winnie the Pooh sitting in a honey jar underneath a tree branch with a beehive hanging off it and some bees buzzing around him. 

Have you ever done anything illegal? If so, what was it? I’ve downloaded music, movies, and books back in the day like a lot of people did. Real rebels.

What is the perfect weather to you? Fall weather.

If you were a stripper, what would your stage name be? Nah.

What is your favorite holiday, why? Christmas. I love that time of year.

What is your least favorite bug? Um, ALL of them.

What is your favorite thing in the opposite sex? Guys with a good sense of humor.

What is your biggest fear? Losing my loved ones, death, getting worse/never getting better.

What is something your looking forward to? There isn’t anything currently.

If you could live on any planet, which one would you choose? I’ll just stay here on earth.

What is your favorite junk food? Little Debbie snack cakes, brownies, donuts, cheesecake, cookies, cupcakes.

If you could have any animal as a pet, which one would you choose? I like just having a doggo. I wouldn’t want an exotic animal or something.

What is your favorite time of the day? When I’m drinking my coffee and my nighttime routine.

What name do you wish you had? I’m fine with the name I have.

What would your dream home be like? Spacious enough for 4 adults and a doggo, hardwood flooring, a balcony, big backyard with a deck.

What is your favorite color? Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, coral, and yellow.

Where is your favorite place to be? In bed.

What is your favorite fruit? Bananas. What is something your embarrassed about? Myself--how I look, the way I am, and where I’m at in my life.

What is one thing you'd like to be the best at? I just wish I was actually good at something.

Ever been on Chatroulette? Yeah.

What is the song that you know every single word to? There’s many.

Most painful memory? There’s a lot of those as well.

What is your favorite place in the whole wide world? I love being at the beach watching and listening to the ocean waves crash in and out, as well as feeling and smelling the ocean air.

A word that to you is impossible to spell? Onomatopoeia. Not impossible, but I definitely need to stop and think about it first. <<< Omg, same. I can never seem to remember how to spell for some reason.

What's something that you collect? Giraffe stuffed animals and knickknacks and Baby Yoda stuff.

Listener or Talker? Definitely a listener.

Thing you hate the most about the opposite sex? There’s things I don’t like about people in general, like close-mindedness and people who are very opinionated and judgmental.

Could have anything you wanted right now, what would you have? Good health.

Scariest movie you've ever seen? Hmm. I don’t know what movie I’d give the scariest movie I’ve ever seen title to. 

What is the most awkward moment you've been in? My life.

A memory you'll never forget? Many memories with loved ones.

One of your quirks? I don’t know.

What type of phone do you have? An iPhone 12 Pro Max.

Favorite quote or saying? There are plenty that I’m able to relate to. <<<

Something you wanna do before you die? ”Live” sounds good. <<< !!!

What is a habit of yours? Picking at my nails. Look around you.. What is the thing you like the most around you? All my giraffe stuffed animals and my Baby Yoda plushies.

Favorite possession? All my things.

Favorite shirt? All of ‘em.

What is the name of your best friend? She’s Mom to me.

What is your favorite shoes? My pairs of Adidas. Least favorite singer? Hmm.

Something you love and hate at the same time? Food.

Are you one of those people who don't like to admit when their wrong? I can admit when I’m wrong and I’m wrong a lot. I’m always quick to blame myself for everything, too.

Girls who try too much are annoying.. Aren't they? Anyone tries too hard can sometimes end up coming off annoying or obnoxious and it tends to just backfire. 

What color makes you relax? Colors don’t help me relax.

Are you an awkward type of person? Yep, that’s me.

Is it hard for you to make friends? I never had a problem getting along with people, but I had more acquaintances than friends. I’m just not a people person, I’m not someone people gravitate to or someone everyone wants to get to know. I’m really just not that interesting or make much of an impression.

How would you like to leave this earth? Painlessly.

What do you find stupid but most people like? Modern sitcoms I feel like.

What is a hobby you have? I love to read.

What's your plans for next weekend? I don’t have any.

Have any big dreams? What are they? No. :/

Restaurant that is horrible. Hmm. I haven’t had a horrible experience at a restaurant.

Have a fetish for anything? No.

Do you like long or short surveys? Long.

What age did you stop playing with dolls or action figures? Like 10 or 11.

Do you think your more mature then most of yours friends? I don’t have any friends, but I feel like everyone I know in my age range is more mature and adult than me. My 22 year old brother is more mature than me. 

Like labels? For certain things.

Does your school have cliques? --

Do you enjoy running? No.

Something that you are horrible at but wish you were good at. Living, adulting, stuff like that.

A sport you think is dumb? I’m not interested in any sport.

What is your favorite food? Ramen, garlic parm and lemon pepper boneless wings from Wingstop, and scrambled eggs and biscuits smothered in country gravy.

Ever think about what it would be like to be someone else? Yeah. Night owl or Early Bird? Both since I don’t even go to bed until like 7 or 8AM. Lately, it’s been later. :/ If I’ve actually gone to sleep and I have to get up early, however, then I have a hard time. What celeb would you not mind meeting? Alexander Skarsgard. What's your favorite Tv channel? My TV is generally either on TV Land, CMT, The Hallmark Channel, or MTV.

Have texting? Yeah.

You have 3 wishes. What are they? Good health, financial stability, and more wishes. ha.

What did you first think about when you woke up? I haven’t gone to bed, yet, it’s 1:27AM.

What's the last thing you thought about before you went to sleep? ^^^

What do you want to be when you grow up? Or what are you? I’m 31 and still have no idea.

Like cartoons? Which one is your favorite? I still like some of the cartoons I watched as a kid such as Rugrats, Doug, and Hey Arnold.

Do you watch what you eat? No.

Have a favorite number? What is it? 8.

Are you quiet or loud? I’m a quiet person.

Were you an annoying baby? Not from what I’ve heard from my parents.

Worst subject? Was always mathematics. <<<

Best subject? Was English Language Arts. <<<

What's your favorite brand of shoe? Adidas.

What's your favorite month? Why? October and December. I love the weather and the holidays.

Favorite season? Fall and winter.

Least favorite holiday? Valentine’s Day.

Do you try new foods or do you stick with what you know you like? I stick to the same few foods now because of appetite and eating issues.

Love pictures or hate them? I like taking them and looking at them, but not having mine taken.

Have you ever thought about going to Fiji? I certainly wouldn’t be opposed. 

What's your favorite movie character? I have several.

Have any nicknames? What are they? Steph and Sis.

Who do you miss? Loved ones who have passed away.

Someone have your heart? Just me.

Have any sports you love? What are they? Nope.

Do you keep to yourself or are you out there? I keep to myself. 

What's your outlook on life? It’s been rather bleak the last few years. What is the prettiest object/person/landscape/anything that you have seen? That’s hard to choose. 

Do you wear your heart on your sleeve? No, it’s more covered up by the sleeve.

What's your style? Very casual and comfortable consisting of leggings and oversized graphic tees.

Did you like this survey? Cause I might make more! Sure. Too bad I won’t know if you make or have made any more because I don’t know who you are.

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Forget Me Not (2/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 2.7k

Warning: Angst

A/N: Thank you all for the lovely feedback, I truly appreciate it! This series might turn out to be 15 chapters long unless I decide to tweak it. But anyways, I hope you enjoy this next part!

Part 1

There was a stillness in the air once you opened your eyes, a stream of daylight blinding you as it slipped past between parted curtains. Your head throbbed excruciatingly, but your body felt numb. When the bright light subsided, you glanced around the room but saw it as a blurry haze. Slowly, your vision settled, only then realizing where you were.

You were in the hospital.

You blinked once, then twice, trying to recall what had happened, but nothing was coming to mind. Deciding that your memory would return eventually, you took a moment to survey your surroundings. You couldn’t do much else, not when you have an IV needle hooked into your arm and were also attached to a monitor.

Fresh floral arrangements decorated your space, bringing some much-needed vibrancy inside the dull and gloomy room. In one corner, you caught sight of a sleeper chair with a white blanket folded neatly on top of a pillow. You wondered to yourself who would choose to stay the night, sleeping on that small uncomfortable recliner.

Other than those, there was nothing else remotely interesting about the room. As you laid in bed, you matched your breathing to the lulling sounds of the machine beeping at your side. You stared up at the cold white ceiling, counting each gray speckle that you could find on the panels above. You had reached fifty before you were startled by the door opening, a nurse then stepping inside the room.

“You’re awake,” the woman commented, quickly walking over to your bedside. She was around the same age as your mother, perhaps slightly older. Her graying hair was tied neatly into a bun with a few loose strands framing her face. Her kind eyes glanced over yours, and you felt calmness washing over you. “My name is Sam. I’ve been checking up on you for quite some time now.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat was so dry that your voice came out as a rasp. The nurse took notice and immediately filled up a cup of water from a nearby dispenser then brought it over to you.

“Thank you,” you said once you finished drinking.

“You’re welcome, dear,” she responded, taking the empty cup from your hand and setting it to the side. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you answered her after thinking the question over. Aside from that and the pounding headache, you were also confused. You still didn’t know why you were in the hospital.

“It’s the pain medication. The drowsiness is one of its nasty side effects, but it does the job,” she spoke, giving you a gentle smile.

“It’s a good thing I can’t feel anything else right now because my head alone is killing me.”

With a nod, Sam then went on to check your vitals. Judging by her relaxed attitude, everything seemed to be just fine. She jotted down a couple of notes on her clipboard before her attention returned to you. “I’ll let your doctor know that you’re awake, but it’s really a miracle that you’re up right now.”

“Why do you say that?” You asked her curiously. “How long have I been out?”

“Three weeks, dear,” she informed you, much to your surprise. “You got into a pretty bad car crash. Don’t you remember?”

You shook your head slowly, a puzzled expression appearing on your face. “No, I don’t.”

Sam sighed, clicking her pen closed. Her smile suddenly fell, and it worried you. “I’ll fetch Dr. Henderson so that he could do a full evaluation on you.”

“Okay,” you told her as she fluffed the pillows behind your head and smoothed out your blanket. “Are my parents here?”

“Yes, they are,” she nodded her head. “Your father’s waiting right outside while your mother and your partner are downstairs at the canteen. Don’t worry, I’ll let them know that you’re awake. They could all probably use some good news right now.”

Sam’s smile returned, reassuring you one last time before she headed to the door. That’s when you realized what she had just said.

“Wait, excuse me,” you called out, and Sam stopped in her tracks. “I-I don’t have a partner. Not anymore, at least.”

She furrowed her brows as you stared at her quizzically. Maybe, she might have mistaken a family friend for one, but you weren’t sure. You had just broken up with your boyfriend a month ago, but for a good reason. He was an asshole who had made your life a living hell, and it wasn’t until recently did you find the courage to end the relationship. Because of that, you were fairly certain there was no way he would be here along with your parents.

“Sure, you do, honey. I mean, that’s who he introduced himself as,” Sam replied. “He never stops talking about you, and it’s very obvious that he loves you. Ever since you got here, he’s never left your side. You definitely got yourself a keeper.”

“But I don’t… that’s impossible,” you mumbled. Again your mind tried searching through your memories, but doing so only triggered a searing headache, making you groan out in pain.

“Darling, you need to relax,” Sam warned you. “You may be awake, but you’re still healing.”

Once the migraine passed, your eyes welled up in tears. It was frustrating to not know what was going on. It felt as though chaos was swirling inside of your head, and you couldn’t understand why it was happening.

“Shh, honey, it’s okay,” the nurse murmured softly, calming you down. “Do you want me to turn on the tv? Maybe you should watch something while I get the doctor in here. It can help ease your mind up a little.”

“Alright,” you muttered, and Sam plugged in the television, handing you the remote.

She excused herself shortly after as you surfed through the channels available, trying to find a show or a movie to distract yourself for the time being.

Coming across a live weather report, the broadcast had left you baffled. The reporter talked about the temperatures in Los Angeles this week, which was unusual since you were living on the other side of the country. Not to mention, the date shown on the graphic on the bottom of the screen was wrong.

July 11, 2020, it had read.

But wasn’t it the winter of 2015?

---

Keanu had gotten used to the stale taste of cafeteria food though he didn’t have that much of an appetite to begin with. He would usually order the day’s special, eat one or two bites of it before pushing it off to the side. He must have lost ten pounds already from skipping meals these past three weeks.

“Keanu, sweetheart,” your mother Nancy began, noticing that once again, he wasn’t eating. “Y/N needs you to be strong for her when she wakes up.”

Letting out a sigh, his eyes then flickered up to the woman sitting across from him, a slight frown on her lips. She was right, of course, but he just couldn’t help it. Every time he visited the hospital and saw your unconscious body, it was like a piece of him wilted away each day.

Truth be told, Keanu was much worse in the beginning than he was now. He had spent the first several nights sleeping in your room, or at least, he attempted to. It was difficult staying asleep when every night, he was forced to relive the night of your accident. Unfortunately, it would always end up the same way with you losing your life, and Keanu not being there at your side.

The media had caught wind of what had happened and made it much more stressful not only for Keanu but for your family as well. There would always be paparazzi waiting by the entrance of the hospital, ready to bombard him or your parents with invasive questions and take pictures of them. Security had done the best they could to keep them off the premises, and Keanu felt horrible for subjecting your parents to one of the downsides of fame.

But both your mother and father had been understanding, and they didn’t want Keanu to worry more than he needed to. If it weren’t for them, he would have never left the hospital for any reason. They had convinced him to go home each night, reassuring him the best they could that you would be there the next morning.

Keanu listened and did just that. He was able to get some sleep in as the nightmares started to die down. He would ride his motorcycle for hours on end to clear his mind, and it had been meditating. Slowly, he was getting much better dealing with the aftermath. Still, it was only the uncertainty of the situation that continued to perturb him.

“I know,” he whispered, rubbing his eyes. “It’s been hard, you know. For all us, I mean.”

Nancy nodded, setting down her fork on the tray and looking at Keanu sorrowfully. “I know my daughter, and she’s a fighter. I’m sure that she’ll get better, and it’s only a matter of time. But the last thing she would want is for you to get sick because of her. She wouldn’t like it if you stopped taking care of yourself, Keanu.”

“Yeah,” he agreed after pondering for a minute. “She wouldn’t like that.”

“Good,” Nancy smiled as she pushed her tray next to Keanu’s at the edge of the table. “The food here isn’t the best. Let’s go out and buy lunch somewhere else instead, hmm? My treat, and you can’t turn down free lunch.”

“No, ma’am. I can’t,” Keanu chuckled as he stacked the trays before getting out of his seat.

The two of them had reached the exit when your father Peter came running down the hall. His chest heaved heavily as if he had sprinted all the way from the fifth floor to the first.

“Peter, what on earth was that all about?” Nancy asked her husband as Keanu held him steady. “You know, there are elevators in this building.”

“It’s our baby girl. She’s awake,” Peter panted, his eyes filled with so much joy that Keanu could feel it radiating from him. “Y/N’s finally awake.”

---

“Are you sure, Keanu?” Peter questioned him as he stood in the middle of the doorway. “You’re practically family, I can tell the doctor that.”

“It’s okay, go,” Keanu waved him off with a smile before sitting down in one of the plastic chairs right outside of the room.

Dr. Henderson had just finished evaluating you but had asked to speak with your parents first. It seemed a bit of an unusual request, though he didn’t want to overthink it. He was okay with giving Nancy and Peter time with you first. They were your parents, after all.

As he sat there out in the hall, Keanu cracked a smile for the first time in weeks. The last three weeks had been hell for him, and he was ready to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Very soon, he would finally be able to see your open eyes and hear your sweet voice. Keanu was already coming up with what he was going to say once it’s his turn for him to see you, and he wanted the first words for you to hear from him was that he was sorry.

It took a while until Dr. Henderson stepped out of the room, leaving you with your parents. Keanu got up from his seat, a thank you ready to roll off his tongue until he noticed the solemn look on the doctor’s face.

Just before he could ask if something was wrong, Peter appeared from behind him, his hand coming to rest on Keanu’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“Son, we need to talk,” Peter spoke with a downcast gaze. “It’s about Y/N.”

Keanu eyed your father nervously as he gestured for the two of them to sit. “What is it? Is she okay?”

Peter released a deep breath before shaking his head. “She’s doing fine physically, but mentally, there’s something wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Retrograde amnesia,” Peter stated, glancing at the tile floors beneath his feet. “Dr. Henderson said that she needs to undergo tests to confirm it, but he thinks she’s likely suffering from it.”

“Amnesia?” Keanu’s voice faltered as the word fell from his lips. “What did she forget? The accident?”

“Yes,” he revealed, pausing for a brief second before continuing. “Y/N can’t recall the accident nor anything from the last five years. Not a single memory, Keanu.”

Five years? That meant… No, it couldn’t be.

“What’s the last thing she can remember?”

Peter looked at Keanu regretfully. “She remembers breaking up with her ex Eric and moving back with us. This was way back in—”

“February,” he finished, shutting his eyes as he felt his chest tightened. “That happened in February 2015.”

Keanu was at a loss for words. Here you were now, finally awake after spending weeks in a coma, only to have five years worth of your memories erased. He could only imagine how confused you must be not knowing what had happened. There had been a significant amount of changes in your life within that time frame—moving to LA, getting a new job, meeting Keanu.

The last part hurt him the most. You had forgotten him and all of the memories you had together. Right now, Keanu was nothing but a complete stranger to you, and thinking about it made his heart feel heavy. Of course, he wanted to be there to help, but at the same time, he didn’t want to overwhelm you. What if you didn’t want him around? What if you pushed him away?

Keanu glanced at Peter, the question slightly trembling out of his mouth. “Did the doctor say it was permanent?”

“He doesn’t know. There’s a chance that it could be temporary, and the memories would resurface later on. But, it could also end up being permanent.”

Leaning back against his seat, Keanu ran a hand over his face. The silence which followed gnawed at his insides as nausea churned in the pit of his empty stomach. “I’m a part of those memories she’s lost. She won’t remember the last five years we’ve spent together. Y/N won’t even recognize me if I walk in there.”

“Keanu?”

Nancy calling out his name caused him to glance up. She stood before him with red eyes, cheeks still stained with tears. “Do you want to see Y/N?”

The answer was obvious, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to voice it out loud. “I-I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Nonsense, dear. Perhaps all Y/N needs is to see you, and she’ll remember everything again,” Nancy suggested with fervent hope flashing across her face.

“Maybe,” Peter shrugged, sharing a glance between Keanu and his wife. “It’s up to you, son.”

Keanu didn’t want to be disappointed, but he needed to at least try. He was reminded of the promise he made on the night of the accident, that no matter what, he would never give up on you. Pushing aside his fears, he stood by the foot of your door and opened it before stepping over the threshold.

Instantly, his gaze met yours as you sat up from your bed. Seeing you awake made him feel so relieved, and he had to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. All he wanted to do was cross the room and gather you into his arms, hoping his touch would bring back the memories you’ve forgotten. But Keanu decided against it, choosing to linger closely by the door instead.

“Y/N?” He spoke your name in a soft tone, waiting for any reaction to come.

A pause. From the hospital bed, you looked at Keanu with merely a blank stare, not even the slightest flicker of recognition showing in your unwavering eyes.

“I’m sorry, but... do I know you?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but the room was silent enough for him to hear your words.

You should know him, but you don’t.

You don’t remember him at all.

Part 3

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness​ @meetmeinthematinee​

[therefractory]

The clown king: how Boris Johnson made it by playing the fool | Boris Johnson | The Guardian The Guardian · by Edward Docx The long-running German satirical show Extra 3 recently featured a sketch with the following voiceover: “From the people who brought you The Crown – the epic saga of the Queen – now comes the ridiculous story of this guy, a notorious buffoon at the head of a country … The Clown.” The word “clown” has often been used in a flippant or dismissive way with regard to Boris Johnson. But the underlying paradox is that it is only as a clown – a fool in the oldest and deepest sense of the word – that his character can truly be understood. What happens when you make the clown king is what we in the UK have been witnessing in real time. With the success of the vaccine, though, a new question emerges: can one archetype transform into the other? Can Johnson creep away from his clownish past altogether? Clowns, of course, are very serious and important people. At their simplest, they remind us of the silliness of things: that the world we have created is ridiculous. They reassure us in this observation by appealing to our innate understanding of the absurd. They relieve the endless tension and trauma of reality. At a deeper level, the clown is the mirror image of the priest. Both represent two ancient sides of our nature. Both elucidate what it means to be human. The priest summons, celebrates and interrogates the sacred; the clown does the same with the profane. The one is concerned with the eschatological, the other with the scatological. The priest propounds abstinence and fasting; the clown gluttony and indulgence. The one solemnifies sex, the other carnalises. As David Bridel, founder of the Clown School in Los Angeles, says, clowns are often roundly welcomed because they “remind us that we are as practised in falling over, shitting and humping, as we are in prayer and purification”. Would-be biographers of Johnson might do worse than to read Paul Bouissac, the leading scholar on the semiotics of clowning. Clowns are “transgressors”, he writes, cultural subversives who enact rituals and dramatic tableaux that “ignore the tacit rules of social games to indulge in symbolic actions that … toy with these norms as if they were arbitrary, dispensable convention.” Clowns “undermine the ground upon which our language and our society rest by revealing their fragility”. They “foreground the tension” between “instinct” and “constraint”. Bouissac could be writing directly of Johnson when he adds: “Their performing identities transcend the rules of propriety.” They are, he says, “improper by essence”. Observe classic Johnson closely as he arrives at an event. See how his entire being and bearing is bent towards satire, subversion, mockery. The hair is his clown’s disguise. Just as the makeup and the red nose bestow upon the circus clown a form of anonymity and thus freedom to overturn conventions, so Johnson’s candy-floss mop announces his licence. His clothes are often baggy – ill-fitting; a reminder of the clothes of the clown. He walks towards us quizzically, as if to mock the affected “power walking” of other leaders. Absurdity seems to be wrestling with solemnity in every expression and limb. Notice how he sometimes feigns to lose his way as if to suggest the ridiculousness of the event, the ridiculousness of his presence there, the ridiculousness of any human being going in any direction at all. His weight, meanwhile, invites us to consider that the trouble with the world (if only we’d admit it) is that it’s really all about appetite and greed. (His convoluted affairs and uncountable children whisper the same about sex.) Before he says a word, he has transmitted his core message – that the human conventions of styling hair, fitting clothes and curbing desires are all … ludicrous. And we are encouraged – laughingly – to agree. And, of course, we do. Because, in a sense, they are ludicrous. He goes further, though – pushing the clown’s confetti-stuffed envelope: isn’t pretending you don’t want to eat great trolleys of cake and squire an endless carousel of medieval barmaids … dishonest? Oh, come on, it’s so tiresome trying to be slim, groomed or monogamous – when what you really want is more cake and more sex. Right? I know it. You know it. We all know it. Why lie? Forget the subject under discussion – Europe, social care, Ireland – am I not telling it like it is, deep down? Am I not the most honest politician you’ve ever come across? Herein the clown’s perverse appeal to reason. Next, witness how, in the company of a journalist, Johnson’s whole demeanour transmits the sense of him saying: “Aha! An interview! How absurd! This is no way to find anything out! But, yes, if you want, I will play ‘prime minister’ and you can reprise my old role – if that’s what the audience is here for.” Notice how often he asks (knowingly) “Are you sure our viewers wouldn’t want to hear … ?” or “You really want to know this?” This is because the clown is always in a deeper relationship with the audience than with his ostensible subject. See how he rocks on his feet as if to lampoon a politician emphasising his words. Hear how his speech is not – in truth – eloquent, but rather a caricature of eloquence. The dominant mode is not fluency, but a kind of stop-start oratio interruptus; hesitancy followed by sudden spasms of effusion. The hesitancy is designed to involve us in the confected drama of his choosing the next word. The sudden effusion that follows can then be marketed as clinching evidence of his oratorical elan. You do not have to be a dramatist to recognise the clown archetype immediately. Johnson’s impulsiveness. The self-summoned crises. His attitude to truth, to authority, to every construct of law and art and politics, to power and to pleasure. His personal relationships and his relationship to the public. The self-conscious ungainliness. His blithe conjuring of fantasy and fairytale. The way he toys with norms – inverts, switches, tricks, reverses. The collusive warmth oddly symbiotic with a distancing coldness. Anything for a laugh. Everything preposterous. All of it richly articulate of the antic spirit that animates his being. Indeed, Johnson is an apex-clown – capable of the most sophisticated existential mockery while simultaneously maintaining the low moment-by-moment physical comedy of the buffoon. Recall general election Johnson of 2019. Think of the famous moment where he drove a JCB through a polystyrene wall on which was written the word “Gridlock”. His union jack-painted digger burst through the polystyrene with the legend “Get Brexit Done” written on its loader. His subsequent speech even mentioned custard: “I think it is time,” he said, smirking, “for the whole country – symbolically – to get in the cab of a JCB – of a custard colossus – and remove the current blockage that we have in our parliamentary system.” This scene must surely be as close to the actual circus as politics in the UK has ever come. Boris Johnson at the JCB headquarters in Uttoxeter, Staffordshire, December 2019. Photograph: Ben Stansall/AFP/Getty Images Consider what is actually going on here. The wall is a wall that he helped create. Now he wants everyone to join him demolishing it. And he’s the man to lead the charge. Why? Because he’s the only one who can smash through the nonsense that is … the wall. Yet, he built the wall. Most of this nonsense is his doing – figuratively, literally, in the studio, in the country. And why are the hazard lights on? Because, of course, this is an emergency, for the clown must forever be concocting drama. An emergency that he has conjured and staged – to place himself in the cab of the rescue vehicle. Which is not a rescue vehicle. But a JCB. (Paradox inside paradox; is he destroying or rescuing?) A JCB painted as a union jack. Why? To celebrate the flag? Not quite. To mock it, then? Also, not quite. But in order to toy with it – to clown with it – to move back and forth across the borders of the serious and the comic. “Time for the whole country,” he says, “symbolically – to get in the cab of the JCB.” Symbolically? Was ever a word deployed with so many layers of foolery? What – we thought he might mean we all get in the JCB? Of course, we didn’t. So who is he mocking with that word? He’s mocking everything – the stunt, us, himself – even in the moment of performance, he mocks his own performance. We cannot take him seriously and yet we must take him seriously. And note how that word “symbolically” steps up from the backstage of Johnson’s consciousness when talking of Brexit – which, as he well knows, is an act of symbolism at the expense of everything else. The JCBs, the polystyrene walls, the stuck-on-a-zipwire-with-two-mini-union-jacks, the hiding in fridges, the waving of fish, the thumbs up, the pants down, this is the realm of the mock heroic – to which Johnson returns again and again. This is where he’s most at home. This is where he’s world-king. And he urges us to join him there. Nudges our elbows. Offers us a drink. Beckons us in. Smirks. Winks. Johnson’s novel Seventy-Two Virgins is one long tour of the territory. The book is beyond merely bad and into some hitherto unvisited hinterland of anti-art. More or less everything about it is ersatz. Commentators who fall for his self-conjured comparisons to Waugh and Wodehouse miss the point entirely and do both writers an oafish ill-service. Because here again: Johnson is not seriously interested in writing novels at all. It’s not that he’s a fraud. Rather, as ever, he is a jester-dilettante peddling parody and pastiche. In truth, the attentive reader is not invited to take anything seriously about the novel – not its title; not its handling of character, dialogue, plot or point of view; not its dramatic construction, nor its stylistic impersonations. And certainly not its thematic dabbling. In fact, for more than 300 ingenious pages, Johnson manages to commit to nothing in the art of writing a novel so much as the attempt to be entertaining in the act of mocking a commitment to the art of writing of a novel. There is no heroic; it’s all mock. “To a man like Roger Barlow,” Johnson writes of his clownishly named hero in the book, “the whole world just seemed to be a complicated joke … everything was always up for grabs, capable of dispute; and religion, laws, principle, custom – these were nothing but sticks from the wayside to support our faltering steps.” Clowns have been with us through history. They turn up in Greek drama as sklêro-paiktês – childlike figures. During the Roman festival of Saturnalia, a clown-king was chosen and all commerce was suspended in favour of a wild cavort. (“Fuck business.”) In Norse mythology, the archetype is the figure of Loki – silver-tongued trickster and shape-shifter who turns himself into horse, seal, fly, and fish. (Note the echo of the reference by a close ally of Joe Biden to Johnson as a “shape-shifting creep”.) In the Italian commedia dell’arte, there is the character of Pierrot. There is Badin in France, Bobo in Spain, Hanswurst in Germany. And here in Britain: Shakespeare’s many famous fools. We need our clever fools, of course. Too much solemnity is sickly. We need the carnival. We need reminders of our absurdity. The culture should be subverted. The sacred should be disparaged. Institutions should be derided when they become sclerotic. We live in an age of posturing and zealotry and never needed our satirists and our clowns more. But the transgressor is licensed precisely because they are not in power. The satirist ridicules the government – fairly, unfairly – and we smile because (ordinarily) they are not in charge of the hospitals, the schools, our livelihoods or the borders. We laugh and clap at the circus, the theatre and the cinema because we can go home at the end of the evening, confident that the performers are not in charge of the reality in which we must live. Boris Johnson stuck on a zipline in Victoria Park, London, August 2012. Photograph: Getty Images Previously, of course, this was Johnson’s relationship to power. He was the clown-journalist tilting idly at straight bananas, Tony Blair, political correctness gone mad. When he was made mayor of London, he was in effect elevated to quasi-official court jester. There he was stranded on the zipwire (the buffoon parodies the circus trapeze act) but real power still remained elsewhere. Even during the referendum campaign, David Cameron and George Osborne were the government … whereas Johnson was continuing to perform the role of fool – holding up a kipper here, draped in sausages there, arriving in town squares with his red circus bus and a farrago of misdirection and fallacy. He was stoutly devoid of any real idea or concern for what might replace the structures he disparaged. His humour, his glee, his energy, his campaigning brilliance – it delighted and sparkled because he was free of responsibility, free to be himself, free to throw the biggest custard pies yet dreamed of in the UK. Vanishingly few people had any serious idea of what was involved in leaving the EU; and resoundingly not Johnson. But those who simply wanted to leave because their gut instinct told them it was right to do so would have failed and failed miserably without him. These men and women – the likes of Iain Duncan Smith, David Davis, Steve Baker, Nigel Farage, Mark Francois, John Redwood, Gisela Stuart, Kate Hoey et al – were never more than a dim congregation of rude mechanicals. And what they required to win was someone who instinctively understood how to conduct a form of protracted public masque. Someone who could distract, charm, rouse and delight with mischief and inversion and a thousand airy nothings. (The clown was ever the perfect ambassador of meaninglessness.) But even Puck sends the audience home with an apology and the reassurance that all we have witnessed was but a dream. We, however, have made our clown a real-world king. And from that moment on, we became a country in which there was only the mock heroic – a “world beating” country that would “strain every sinew” and give “cast-iron guarantees” while bungling its plans and breaking its promises. A country “ready to take off its Clark Kent spectacles” and act “as the supercharged champion” of X, Y, Z. A country on stilts – pretending that we had a test and trace system that was head and shoulders above the rest of the world. A country performing U-turns on the teetering unicycle of Johnsonian buffoonery – A-levels, school meals, foreign health workers and more. A country of tumbling catastrophes. Trampolining absurdities. Go to work. Don’t go to work. A country proroguing parliament illegally here, trying to break international law there. Paying its citizens to “eat out to help out” in the midst of a lethal pandemic. A country testing its eyesight in lockdown by driving to distant castles with infant and spouse during a travel ban. A country whose leadership stitched up the NHS in the morning and then clapped for them at night. A country opening schools for a single day, threatening to sue schools, shutting schools. A country on holiday during its own emergency meetings. A country locking down too late; opening up too early. A country sending its elderly to die in care homes. A country unwilling to feed its own children. A country spaffing £37bn up the wall one moment and refusing to pay its own nurses a decent salary the next. A country doing pretend magic tricks with the existence of its own borders – no, there won’t be a border in the sea; oh yes there will; oh no there won’t; it’s behind you …. A country of gimmicks and slapstick and hollow, honking horns. This is Eastcheap Britain and Falstaff is in charge. It is in the two Henry IV plays that Shakespeare most clearly illuminates the gulf between his great, theatre-filling clown, Falstaff, and the young Prince Hal who will go on to become the archetype of the king – Henry V. At the mock-court of Falstaff’s tavern, we are invited to laugh and drink more ale, pinch barmaid’s bottoms, dance with dead cats and put bedpans on our heads while Falstaff entertains us with stories of his bravery and heroism that we all know are flagrant lies. Says Prince Hal to the portly purveyor of falsehoods: “These lies are like their father that begets them, gross as a mountain, open, palpable.” Meanwhile, the realm falls apart. Since we have no Hal and have crowned the clown instead, the play we are now watching in the UK asks an ever more pressing question: can Falstaff become Henry V and lead his country with true seriousness and purpose? Or is the vaccine-cloaked transformation now being enacted merely superficial – a shifting of the scenery? The lies themselves are the problem. The kingly archetype embodies at least the ambition of sincerity, meaning and good purpose at the heart of the state. Whereas deceit continues to be the default setting on Johnson’s hard drive. Rory Stewart calls Johnson “the best liar ever to serve as prime minister” but writes that “what makes him unusual in a politician is that his dishonesty has no clear political intent”. But Stewart does not quite see that Johnson is the purest form of clown there is – “improper by essence” – and that truth and lies are like two sides of the argument to him: equally tedious, equally interesting, equally absurd, both a distant second in their service of tricks, drama, distraction, invention, manipulation. He will write you two columns, four, 10, 100 – pro-Marmite, anti-Marmite; pro-EU, anti-EU. And then he’ll tell you all about them. All about how he couldn’t decide. Because not deciding is where all the drama is to be found and who cares about the arguments anyway? No, what the trickster wants is neither your agreement nor your disagreement. (For he himself agrees and disagrees.) What the trickster wants most of all … is for you to admire his trickery. Heinrich Böll, the German Nobel-prize winner and author of the truly great novel The Clown, answers Stewart’s question when he says: “You go too far in order to know how far you can go.”

The clown king: how Boris Johnson made it by playing the fool | Boris Johnson | The Guardian

[minbbydoll]

Word count : 3,511

Jeon Jungkook 

-

“Guilty!” Your heart was pounding in your ears and the tears that you promised wouldn’t fall, fell. As soon as you saw the guard head towards Jungkook who had his head down in shame you lost it.

“No, no!” Two other guards rushed towards you and grabbed you before you could do anything but you continued screaming bloody murder for Jungkook while the guards escorted you out of the courtroom.

“Jungkook tell them the truth!” Jungkook kept blinking as he tried to keep in his tears from hearing how heartbroken you were; of course you were heartbroken when you found out you begged him to tell the truth and plead not guilty because he wasn’t guilty in the first place.

Jungkook told you tons of times to keep your mouth shut, he continued to tell you mostly because he loved Yeri too much for her to go to jail for accidentally killing a girl who flattered him too much. 

He understood it was an accident but she’s too fragile for jail and he can’t let her get hurt, he’d rather bare all the pain and he’s not going to let her go to jail because of you, he’s not going to let you ruin everything by blabbering your big mouth and telling everyone.

Luckily Jungkook was able to get a minimum sentence of five years, couldn’t you just wait five goddamn years for him to get out so the both of you can go back to hanging out like normal.

-

“Jungkook please, you can’t let her ruin your life like this.” You softly begged Jungkook but he just shook his head as he took another sip of some soju. “She’s not ruining my life, I love her and I can’t let her go to jail and possibly die for some stupid mistake.”

“As your bestfriend I can’t let you die for some stupid mistake someone else made, Jungkook you don’t love her. I know you and I know you don’t love her please, please for god’s sake please don’t do this.”

Jungkook threw the soju bottle on the ground and you jumped from the loud sound of the glass shattering. “I swear to god [Name] if you say anything about this I will never talk to again, I’ll avoid you like the plague so you have a choice, let me go to jail and after I come back we go back to normal or say something and lose me forever.”

You looked Jungkook straight in his eyes as you tried to hold back your tears, “I swear Jungkook, I’ll prove your innocence and along the way I’ll show you just how horrible she is for you even if I die trying.” 

Jungkook clenched his jaw and pointed towards the door, “get the fuck out.” You didn’t make a move towards the door, “I said get the fuck out!” You let your head swing low before walking out the door whispering a small ‘I love you Jungkook.’ 

That night all he could think about was how determined you looked, he stayed up all night drinking preparing to plead guilty in hopes of getting pity from the judge and getting a lighter sentence. 

“I’m sorry [Name],” was the last thing he whispered before passing out on his couch.

-

“Sorry ma’am the inmate is denying your request again.” This is the sixth time you’ve tried seeing Jungkook, he has denied your request to see him every time; the last time you saw him was your fight, there’s no way you’ll let that be the last time you see him.

You’ve heard that he’s only going to see Yeri; stupid fucking Yeri who disappeared without a trace as soon as he got arrested. You knew she was just using him and you were going to find her and evidence to get him out even if you lose Jungkook because it’s worth it.

You’ll always cherish your memories with him but you can’t let your innocent best friend rot in prison for someone who’s willing to drop him in the blink of an eye. Even if you never see or talk to him again it is worth it because you’ll always have the memories and he’ll be safe and happy and healthy. 

Just as long as he is safe, that’s all that matters. The fact that he won’t see you it hurt but you can’t force him to see you. You sighed as hopped in your car to head back to the police station to try and see your friend Jimin again. 

-

“Hey Jaehyun, is Jimin here?” You walked into the police station to see Jaehyun first, he was on desk duty for today after twisting his ankle which really bummed him out.

Jaehyun nodded and pointed his pen towards Jimin’s desk, “Yeah, he just stepped out to get coffee, should be back in a few.” You nodded and walked towards Jimin’s desk greeting and bowing to a few other of Jimin’s colleagues you ran into. 

“[Name]!” Jimin’s loud voice startled you as you zoned out for a minute, you looked up to be greeted with Jimin’s warm charming smile as he held two cups of coffee. 

“I’m so glad you’re finally getting out of your house, I was actually going to go over there and give you this coffee, what brings you by [Name]?” Jimin walks closer and sticks his arm towards you so you can grab your favorite coffee that he always seems to remember even though other things easily slip his mind.

“Ah, I actually stopped by the prison before I came here,” your voice trailed off as you looked down tapping the coffee cup awkwardly. Jimin’s eyes darkened and he tried to bite his tongue, “I thought I told you to stop doing that [Name].”

His voice was low and he stared at you with cold eyes as you looked down nervously, “I know... I just... I miss him... it’s really hard to deal with this Jimin, I don’t think you understand how hard this has been for me.” 

He scoffed and since your head was down you couldn’t see his teary eyes, “He’s my friend too [Name], you’re acting like this is only affecting you, let’s not make a scene here.” 

You bit your lip, “I’m not trying to make a scene Jimin, I was just going to ask if—,” he cut you off, “you’re going to ask me if you can see the cctv for the night of the accident, I’m going to tell you the same thing I always tell you when you ask, I. Don’t. Have. Access. To. Those.” 

He grit his teeth and spit out every word, he was annoyed because every other day you were asking for access to the cctv, he could do it but he would lose his job and he just doesn’t understand why you can’t accept that.

This isn’t some drama where you’ll be able break all the rules and be okay, he felt bad doing this to you and sure he could possibly get the cctv and show it to you without being caught but Jungkook also needs to learn his lesson.

Jimin cares for Jungkook he really does but Jungkook made his choice and now he needs to live with it. Jungkook can’t just expect to confess to murder and let that person roam free while an innocent is in jail.

Jimin really does believe that Jungkook is innocent, there’s no way one of his really good friends could just kill someone without a purpose and someone who really liked him at that.

Jungkook is usually a gentle man and Jimin knows that Jungkook would never do anything to hurt anyone without cause therefore Jimin knows Jungkook is innocent but Jimin can’t do anything to help him because Jungkook is the one who pleaded guilty.

Jimin looked sideways and noticed that since you both were talking low none of his coworkers noticed the two of you, Jimin bit his lip before grabbing your hand and dragging you out to his car. 

-

Jimin dropped you off in a sudden rush, you sighed as entered your messy apartment. You were basically killing yourself trying to prove Jungkook’s innocence (of course Jimin didn’t need to know, you made sure to always be calm and collected near him).

There were papers all over the floor, you ate less, you solely focused on trying to find Yeri, she was a key piece but what were you going to do when you found her, threaten her until she tells the truth?

You felt dizzy from lack of sleep and food but your stubbornness and determination was getting in the way and the lack of food made you get distracted easily which made you forget to eat which made you more absent minded.

There were some days you remembered to eat; which mostly consisted of ramen or something microwaveable, there were times where Jimin was off from being a police officer and he treated you to eat something always telling you that you looked like you were losing weight. 

You let out a pitiful laugh still unsure of how to get Jungkook out of jail, there was no way you were giving up on him. You were zoning out again, just staring absent-mindedly at the tv as the code to your apartment was being used. 

Usually you managed to hide your obsession clean your apartment pretty well for when Jimin came over, because other than Jungkook he’s really the only other person you have.

“What the fuck,” Jimin’s calm voice brought you back, he locked eyes with you as you slowly turned around to face him from your spot on the couch, you lowered your knees from where they were near your chest. 

“[Name], what the fuck is all of this?” He walked closer to you holding something in his hand; a flash drive. He noticed you looked down at his hands and he sighed softly. “The things I do for you [Name], this is a flash drive and it has the cctv of that night on it.”

He placed the flash drive in your open palm, “When was the last time you ate?” You opened your mouth but couldn’t recall, he saw your stoic face and nodded. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll order some food, panda okay?” 

You nodded, just the very thought of food made your stomach growl aloud. You blushed as Jimin shook his head and grabbed his phone to order in. You grabbed your laptop but Jimin stopped you before you could plug in the flash drive, “Can’t we do that after we eat, I think I might lose my appetite if I watch someone die.”

You closed your laptop and just watched as Jimin ordered food, “Thanks Jimin.” Jimin looked at you and patted your back, “You know he better be innocent ‘cause I could lose my job for this.” 

You knew Jimin was joking but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You gave him a faint smile, “But seriously what the fuck is this [Name], this isn’t healthy.” You looked down, “I thought you were doing good, you seemed fine without Jungkook.” 

You scoffed, “That’s the thing Jimin, I’m not fine without Jungkook he makes me happy, and now that happiness is rotting in a jail cell-,” Jimin stood up, “you act like he’s getting life in prison.” 

You ran a hand through your hair, “Still Jimin, this is stupid, it could be avoided, if they just looked at the cctv in the first place-,” Jimin cut you off again, “that’s the thing, this is all on Jungkook; he confessed there was no longer a reason to check the cctv, besides nobody wants to deal with paperwork and a trial.” 

Jimin bit his tongue, “I’m not going to argue with you [Name], the expression you made your bed so lie in it exists for a reason.” Jimin sat back on the couch and so did you, “But Jimin, Jungkook is stupid sometimes he doesn’t realize that there are other options, he did the first thing that came to mind which was take the blame.” 

You tucked your knees comfortably into your chest, “Jungkook cares, he may be a stupid goof who can’t tell the difference between a bad person and a good one but that’s why he has us. Jimin, Jungkook made a stupid choice but I’m not going to let him ruin his life because of it.”

Jimin knew he kind of just said and did things out of jealousy but he couldn’t help the anger he felt, “No, you’re just going to ruin yours instead.” You slammed your hands onto your knees and glared at Jimin, “Like you said we’re not going to argue about this anymore.”

Your door bell started to chime and you got up to get the door, Jimin was livid about this, he wanted nothing to do with this but knew that if he didn’t keep his eye on you, you could get hurt and he would be even more upset.  

“Thank you,” Jimin got up and came over to help you as soon as he heard you thank the delivery man. “It’s not right,” His voice came out low again, “throwing away your life for his even though you’ve done nothing wrong.” 

You looked up at him as you put down food on the island in your kitchen, “just because you won’t admit you like him, doesn’t mean you have to ruin your life and drag everyone else down with you.” 

To be completely honest Jimin didn’t mind going down with you or for you, he just couldn’t stand the way Jungkook treats you and takes you for granted. Jimin wanted better for you, you deserved better than Jungkook, he didn’t even see you as a woman he only saw you as a friend. 

“Jimin, take the food and get out.” Fuck, Jimin realized he crossed the line but he’s right, you are the one who’s not very good at seeing the difference between a good or bad person and that’s why you need him.

“[Name],” You shook your leg anxiously, “no shut up, out Jimin.” You sternly pointed at your apartment door and Jimin knew that with how stubborn you are it would be best to leave you to cool down. 

“Take the food,” you grabbed some of the bags and shoved them in Jimin’s arms as you rushed him out the door. He looked like a kicked puppy when you closed the door in his face but you were too hangry to care.

You moved back to your kitchen island and to put in the flash drive but heard your phone ding, “Ugh!” You harshly slammed your laptop shut and grabbed your phone. 

[Unknown] : 15 minutes meet me in Busan’s park, you know the one. - 10:32pm

You thought that it would be really, really stupid to go but you’re too focused on being a crime solver to not go. Most likely it’s Yeri, who else would it be? You moved to put on your jacket and shoes, and you grabbed your keys.

-

“Ah [Name],” Yeri sat on a park bench her eyes carefully watching you as you came closer, “didn’t think you’d come.” You crossed your arms and clenched your jaw, “get to the point Yeri, why am I here?” 

Yeri stood up and got closer to you practically in your face,”you know I called your friend Jimin but I guess he’s not going to show up, looks like he doesn’t really care about you.” 

You dug your fingernails into your arm’s skin to bite back from attacking her on the spot, “Are you gonna ‘fess up or what bitch?” Yeri couldn’t help but smile widely, “Cursing doesn’t make you tougher.” 

You continued to press your nails into your skin as she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “I was so worried about that other girl trying to steal Jungkook when the one I had to worry about was really you.”

She moved even closer if possible and put her hand to rest against the small of your back, “You pretended to be nice when you were really sleeping with Jungkook while he and I were together and your drive to get him back after I got him in jail only proved my theory further.” 

The look of disgust was evident on your face, “I wanted to get him back because he’s my best friend.” She smiled before deeply frowning, “Bullshit!” She forcefully held your back with one hand and before you could see it drove a knife into your stomach with the other.

You gasp and coughed up some blood, “You’re crazy.” She pulled the knife out and let your head fall onto her shoulder, to someone passing by you’d look like a couple slow dancing in the park. 

“I’m crazy,” she questioned you but didn’t receive an answer as your breathing turned ragged. She smiled satisfied as your breathing became more and more erratic, “I win [Name].” 

Yeri pushed you off of her and let you fall to the ground holding your stomach. You shut your eyes tears falling as you tried to roll onto your back to try and relieve some pain. 

“[Name]!” Jimin raced over to you as he finally realized what was happening, Jimin stripped off his shirt ignoring the cold air that hit his belly. He was all over not knowing what to do, he was calm in situations like these being used to it as a police officer but you’re someone who’s close to him and you’re in danger and he can’t seem to wrap his brain around the fact that you’re actually bleeding to death on the ground of a park.

An ambulance! Jimin quickly tried to stop your bleeding by covering your wound with his shirt and applying pressure, Jimin grabbed his phone with his bloody hand to call an emergency number.

“Jimin,” he put his phone down and looked at you in his arms as he finished the call. “Hey, hey stay awake for me yeah, keep talking.” You tried to open your mouth to talk but only coughed up more blood, “Jimin I’m sorry.” 

Jimin shook his head, “Hey no, stop it’s okay.” Jimin wiped your tears with his bloody hands and smiled at you, “It’s my fault, I should’ve taken better take of you, should’ve been there for you.” 

Jimin cursed aloud, “Where’s that fucking ambulance?” The both of you knew something Jimin was out right refusing until the ambulance showed up; you’re dying, bleeding out in his arms and there’s not a damn thing he can do.

“Jimin, thank you for everything I really—,” Jimin couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, “hey, didn’t I tell you to stop that, you’re fine [Name].” He brushed your hair out of your face, “you’re okay [Name], you’re okay.” 

He continued to stroke your face calmly waiting for the ambulance, he could feel your last exhale leave your body. Jimin held you close to him as he felt your heat burning low, “it’s okay [Name], it’s okay.” 

Jimin let you know that it was okay to let go, he knew you tried and he can’t be mad at you for that. “I love you [Name],” Jimin placed a small kiss on your forehead and closed your eyes with his hand.

-

It took everything in Jimin to not break every bone in Jungkook’s body as he stared at him in perfect health. “I hope you’re happy Jungkook.” Jungkook had a look of confusion on his face, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Jimin’s jaw was clenched, “[Name] is dead, murdered in cold blood by your so called lover.” Jimin was fully tensed up, his nails dug into the palm of his skin, he couldn’t even stand to look at Jungkook in the face. 

“W-what,” Jimin moved to get up like Jungkook didn’t matter, Jungkook quickly pushed up against the glass banging against it yelling for Jimin. Guards hurriedly came to Jungkook and tried to restrain him. 

Jimin continued to walked down the hall as he heard Jungkook calling for him before being dragged away by guards, “you never deserved her Jungkook.” 

↳ A/N : I think I might rewrite this, I had an idea of where this was going but I’m not sure if it needs a rewrite or a part 2. I kinda just feel like it’s missing something but anyway to the anon who requested it hope you enjoy.  

[allisondraste]

Temperance 35/42

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:    Liss prepares for the Joining, and Nathaniel finally has a chance to talk to her. 

Author Note:  I KNOW, I know. It’s only been three days, but nobody has waited longer for this particular chapter than I have.  It’s basically been written for a few months shy of a year now, so... it just poured out.  Sorry. ‘‘‘:)

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

[AO3 LINK]

Vigils Keep, 9:31 Dragon

“Lady Cousland?”

It was a man’s voice, and an unfamiliar one at that, which drew Liss from the ruminative daze into which she had fallen when Lucia led her out of the main hall and into a study. The room must have once belonged to the late Arl, considering  its size and the number of portraits of the man that still leaned against the walls. One painting in particular had caught her attention, a large oil piece of two young men, set aside from the others. One of the men looked remarkably like Nathaniel, but more gaunt, with thin lips, and an icy expression Nate couldn’t manage if he tried.  The other man, rosy cheeked and grinning from ear to ear, was her father.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, but unwilling to look away from the portrait, she answered absentmindedly. “Hmm?”

“Is everything all righ—“ the man she knew to be Seneschal Garavel stopped as he moved closer and realized what had captured her attention— “Oh.”

“I very distinctly remember asking that those paintings be destroyed.” Lucia, who had been rummaging through a large, griffon-adorned chest in the back, remarked from behind them. “Then again, nobody listens to me around here.”

Garavel chuckled.  “That is uncharacteristically dramatic.”

“I am in a mood,” she answered, allowing the chest to fall closed as she found what she was searching for.  Setting a small leather satchel down on the desk, she walked around to stand between Liss and Garavel, studying the painting beneath dark brows. “Garavel, why are they still here?”

“Perhaps that is a question for Nathaniel.” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Apparently, not too long before you two left for Denerim he saw one of the guards carrying some paintings out, and stopped him.”

“Odd, considering that he’s the one who keeps complaining about them,” Lucia said with a frown.  “Did he give a reason?”

“Hardly. Just said ‘Not that one,’” he explained, pointing toward the painting of the two men. “After that, I figured we should make certain he did not wish to keep any of the others.”

Liss struggled against the urge to weep.  When Howe’s forces ambushed her home, they’d set fire to it, ravaged it entirely. She didn’t know if any paintings of her father still existed. She didn’t mind overlooking the other man in the picture, just to see papa’s smile again. Nate.  She wished she weren’t so angry with him.

Shaking her head and takingas deep breath to steady herself, she turned to face Lucia. “I apologize for my distraction.  You wanted to speak to me about something?”

“Yes.” The other woman smiled slightly, an acknowledgment of Liss’ choice to change the subject, and moved back toward the desk, opening the satchel and removing three vials, setting each down with a quiet clank.

“What are those,” Liss asked, stepping forward to examine the containers more closely.  Two of the glass vials each contained a deep red substance, one substantially smaller than the other.  The third vial held a sparkling blue powder.  

“The First Warden would not like me telling you this prior to the Joining, but you were not conscripted. You volunteered, and you deserve to know how this works before you go through with it.” Lucia moved to lean against the desk.  “To become a Grey Warden, you have to drink a mixture of darkspawn blood, blood from the last slain archdemon, and lyrium powder.”  

She held up the vials in order as she spoke and Liss’ stomach turned.  Of course it wouldn’t be as simple as saying some sort of magical words that granted one Warden abilities.  No, she would have to ingest something so vile that the potions Nan used to give her for a cold actually sounded appetizing.  Still, she wouldn’t be turned away by a bad taste in her mouth.

“Right.” She nodded. “Drink the magic blood. No problem.”

“That is the easy part,” Lucia stated matter-of-factly.  “The ritual is a form of blood magic, one the Chantry and everyone else are happy to overlook because Wardens are useful.  Drinking alters your blood, taints it. Those who do not have the willpower to control the corruption die instantly. Those who do have about thirty years before they lose their grip.”

“That’s what Nathaniel said,” Liss added absently.

“He told you?”

“Not about the blood magic or anything,” Liss corrected, “Just about the thirty years.”

Lucia didn’t seem appeased by the clarification. “He’s desperate to talk you out of this.” She shook her head.

Liss laughed bitterly.  “I do not need his approval.”

Frowning, Lucia straightened up from her leaning against the desk and brought her eyes to meet Liss’. “No, you don’t, but he is not without his reasons.”

“You mean his need to ‘protect’ me? I do not fear my own death as much as he does.”  Liss hated the belligerence in her own voice. She sounded like an impudent child. Why was she so angry that Nathaniel cared about her? It’s what she wanted all along.  It made no sense that she should resent him for it now.

“I don’t think it’s the death that he really wants to protect you from,” Lucia explained, “It’s the life.  Once you are Joined, you will change.

“How?” She crossed her arms, but made an attempt to soften her tone, remembering that Garavel was still in the room, and she was supposed to be a dignified lady.

“Immediately, most Wardens experience an increase in stamina and appetite, restlessness, insomnia.  Nothing you eat will taste good either.”

“That doesn’t sound—“

“If you do not have nightmares, you will.” Lucia interrupted her, face as calm as ever, though Liss could sense her irritation.  A sensitive subject, no doubt. “If you already have nightmares, then they will become worse, at least initially.”

Liss thought of every nightmare she’d survived since the attack. It was difficult to fathom how they could possibly be worse.  She pressed her lips together and nodded, intent on just listening to the woman.

“Wardens are typically unable to have children as well,” Lucia sighed, “Especially not with another Warden.”

“I wasn’t aware.”

“Of course not.” The words were pointed, but not at Liss.   “The Wardens aren’t keen on those things being common knowledge, lest people be dissuaded from joining.”

Lucia paused and began to return the vials to the pouch, the room falling silent with the exception of glass hitting glass.  She then continued. “I do not care what you decide, but whatever your choice, I want you to be certain it is what you want, that you are comfortable with the sacrifices you are making.”

“Do you give this lesson to all of your recruits, Commander,” Liss joked, regretting it instantly when Lucia snapped her eyes up in a scowl.

“No. I don’t.”

“Why me, then?”

“Because I think Nathaniel is right,” Lucia remarked, voice clipped.  “I envy your ability to choose this. I certainly didn’t get to.”

“I—“

“If you still wish to become a Grey Warden, I welcome you.  You will make an excellent member of the order.” Lucia’s expression softened.  “I just thought you deserved the truth.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Liss stated adamantly, though her voice trembled.  She wasn’t accustomed to reproach. It was so easy to forget that she had more freedom than most, freedom that terrified her in its vastness and uncertainty.  As much as she railed against rules and order, she thrived in their existence, and in the comfort of knowing where her boundaries lay, where her support was. She had none of that for a year, under the open skies of the Fereldan countryside, alone and lost, praying for someone to tell her what to do.

“Very well,” Lucia said with a nod, grasping the pouch of Joining ingredients more tightly in her hands before handing it to Garavel. “See to it that everything is prepared.  I am told that there are two other recruits?”

“Yes Commander.”

“Have someone send for them when it is time,” Garavel nodded and bowed slightly before exiting the room.  Lucia turned back to Liss and continued, “I will show you to your room.”

Liss followed her out of the room, down the corridor and up a flight of stairs.  There was a long hallway that seemed to have once been the guest wing of Vigil’s Keep, now serving as Warden quarters.  As they walked, Lucia explained that the non-warden soldiers, those from Amaranthine who were out of employment when the lands were taken from the Howe family, stayed in barracks on a different wing.  Wardens, both recruits, and fully-joined members stayed in private rooms. The luxury of living with tainted blood, Liss presumed.  

Lucia slowed as they approached one of the last few doors in the hall,  pushing it open and gesturing inside. “This one’s you.”

"Thank you.”

“You are welcome.  You should try to rest. Eat something if you are able.”  Lucia’s tone was direct, but not harsh. “I will send Alistair to retrieve you when the preparations are complete.”

Liss nodded in response, and the other woman left the room, closing the door gently behind her.   The room was similar in size to that which she stayed in at Denerim, though far less elaborately decorated. Muted, earthy tones covered the bed and chairs.  A silver griffon perched upon a sea blue banner that hung from the far wall. The Wardens were no decorators, but it was charming nonetheless.  

Vibrating with a feeling she couldn’t quite place—nervousness, excitement, some indescribable mix of the two— Liss tried making herself comfortable in each of the chairs in the room, only to stand up shortly after, body pressuring her to move.  She opened and closed every drawer on the desk, examined the spines of the books on the shelf, tested out the mattress, and still she could not seem to ease her nerves. Just as she was about to follow Lucia’s recommendation, to set out in search of something to eat despite her stomach’s anxious protests, there was a knock at the door.

“Alistair,” she asked, swinging open the door, eyes widening and heat rushing to her face when she saw dark hair and blue eyes. “Nate.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said so dryly she could not tell if he was serious

“Not disappointing,” she blurted, unable to keep the words from tumbling out of her mouth. She was supposed to be cross with him, damn it.  “Just unexpected. Lucia told me Alistair would come to get me for the... you know.”

“Right.” He frowned, and tensed as if it were painful to speak to her.  That was new. “I believe that is still the plan. I just came to talk. That is, if you aren’t opposed.”

“Depends.” She smirked and crossed her arms.  “Are you going to yell at me again? I was not fond of the yelling.”

“My voice will remain at an appropriate volume, my lady,” he assured her, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.  She glared at him briefly, hoping to impress upon him that she was, in fact, still angry, and that her choice to allow him into her room did not mean that she had forgiven him.

“I am going to hold you to that, you know,” she answered, moving out of the way.  It wasn’t until he entered that she noticed he held a small, parchment parcel tied together with string, an empty cup, and a carafe of a white liquid that appeared to be milk.  Curiosity getting the better of her, she asked, “What’s that?”

“You need to eat something before the ritual,” Nate answered with a smile, but didn’t answer her question, continuing instead to the desk where he sat the items down, and busied himself with untying the string.  Liss scowled and closed the door, rushing over to stand beside him.

“That’s what Lucia said. Why?”

“You’ll be starving when you wake up,” he explained, “But you won’t want to eat.  Having something right before helps, and you should eat something that you like. It will never taste the same again.”

“And so you’ve brought me something I like?”  She eyed him curiously, uncertain what exactly he hoped to accomplish.

“I think so,” Nate said with a shrug, opening up the parchment to reveal several, small yellow cookies with red centers.  “I remember we used to sneak these from the kitchen when Nan wasn’t looking.”

Liss’ eyes welled up with unwelcome, ridiculous tears. “Shortbread cookies with raspberry jam?” They were her favorites, and she hadn’t had them in years.

“Yes, though I don’t know that they’ll compare to Nan’s.” He laughed again. “There also may be a cook downstairs who is very angry that her cookies are missing.”

“Just like old times, then.” Liss laughed and cried at the same time, sitting down in the desk chair, and pouring some milk into the glass.  She took a cookie and then offered one up to Nate, who stood leaned against the wall, staring off at nothing.

“You should eat them all,” he answered, shaking his head, “I am serious when I say that you will be starving.”

“If I must.” She feigned annoyance, and began nibbling at the cookie in her hand, very aware that Nate still looked uncomfortable. After several minutes had passed, she could take it no longer. “I accept your peace offering. Now, would you please sit down?”

Liss pointed to a stool that sat just a few feet away and Nate obliged, inhaling deeply, and finally speaking as he sat.  “I know I was an arse before.”

“Really,” Liss teased, mouth full of the second cookie, “Hadn’t noticed.”

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and wringing his hands. “I may have made some unfair assumptions about why you wished to become a Warden.  It made me angry to think that you might throw your life away for the sake of some romanticized adventure. I should have known better, and I apologize.”

“I wish that’s why I was doing this,” she admitted, dusting crumbs from her hands, and turning to face him. “I’ve lost everything, Nate, including my sense of security in the world.  I didn’t realize how lonely freedom was. I will gladly corrupt myself to never feel that way again.”

“You don’t have to feel that way,” he remarked abruptly, and flinched, no doubt regretting the words.

“Oh? I don’t.” She laughed sarcastically. “Well, that’s a relief!  I’ll just stop feeling that way, then. I’ll just ignore the fact that my family is dead and the other people in my life are all moving on and have no use for me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Nate clenched his fists but his voice remained calm, true to his word.  “I’ll always be there for you.”

“You mean, like you’ve been there for me for the past nine years?” With that, Liss shoved the remaining cookies away, appetite lost entirely as anger burned in her blood.  The only reason she had ever truly been angry with him, presenting itself at her feet, too large and potent to be buried under affection. She pushed out her chair and stood abruptly causing Nate to flinch.

He stood as well, pained expression consuming his face.  “Liss, I-”

“No,” she shouted, “ You don’t just get to swoop in and tell me you’ll be there for me when you have done nothing but show me otherwise.  You couldn’t even write me a bloody letter.”

She threw her arms up in exasperation, but Nathaniel remained still, jaw set.  “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I am trying to be there for you now.  I want to fix this.”

“All you had to do was write to me, Nate, just once.”

“It hurt too much, Liss.”

“You should have told me, then.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I would have understood.  I’d have hated it, but I would have understood because Maker knows I was hurting, too.”

Shaking his head, he moved to stand more closely in front of her.  “I was a foolish, stubborn boy who believed that if I ignored you long enough, you’d finally see me for the pathetic piece of shit I thought I was, and realize you were happier without me in your life.”

“Nate, you were my favorite person in the world,” she said, voice cracking, “The only thing you did was make me think that I was the worthless piece of shit.  I truly believed that you were happy in Starkhaven, living it up without me and not even caring.”

“I tried,” Nate admitted, laughing humorlessly, “I tried so damn hard to convince myself that my feelings would go away if I told myself I didn’t feel them enough times.  We see where that got me. It’s nine years later, I’m still hopelessly in love with you, and miserable because I keep messing up.”

Liss froze, blinking a few times to make sure she heard him properly, replaying his words over and over in her head until she was certain.  He said it. The one thing she’d wanted to hear since she was eleven years old and writing about him in her journal. The thing she’d prayed for since she’d desperately confessed her feelings to him in a letter the year after he left.  He loved her, and she should have been elated because it was about bloody time, was it not? She should have wanted to say that she loved him too because she certainly did, but anger was all she could manage in the moment.

“And you thought now would be the appropriate time to have this conversation? Right before a dangerous, life-altering ceremony?”  She shook her head. “I can’t believe you.”

“”I thought that it might be the last chance to have it,” he said dejectedly.

“The last —” she eyed him with complete disbelief — “Will you stop acting as if it is my funeral for Andraste’s sake?  I’d ask you to have some faith in me, but I know that is a lost cause.”

He lifted his hand as if to reach for her but dropped it and sighed.  “I have more faith in you than I’ve ever had in anyone.”

Blinking away the tears in her eyes, she turned away from him. “I can’t do this right now, Nate.  I just can’t. I have to —”

There was a knock at the door. “Liss? It’s Alistair.  It’s time.”

“ —go.”  She held Nate’s gaze as she finished the thought, but then broke eye contact as she walked past him, opened the door, and walked out, closing it behind her without another word. She knew it was unfair, and immediately wanted to rush back inside and smooth things over, but it was too late.  The damage had been done.

“Sooo,” Alistair said as they walked down the hall, “I noticed that you’re crying.  Everything alright?”

“No,” she whimpered unattractively.

Alistair moved in front of her and stopped, blocking her path.  He spread out his arms and tilted his head, an offer for a hug, which she happily accepted.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” He released her from the embrace and looked down at her.  

“Mhmm.”

“Fine, but you have to promise me two things.” He held out two fingers for emphasis.

“What,” she asked, laughing.

“One. Don’t even think about dying.  It isn’t allowed.”

“Understood.” “Two.  When you get done not dying, you have to get whatever that was —” he pointed back toward her room — “sorted out.”

Liss sighed. “I suppose I probably should.”

“Swear?”  Alistair held out his pinky finger and she couldn’t help but be amused at this very large man intending to make her pinky promise.

Locking her pinky with his she smiled. “I swear.”

“Great,” he said turning and beginning to walk again, “Now that we’ve got one sacred oath out of the way… ready for another?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered, shaky voice betraying the apprehension in her gut.

When they arrived in the main hall, the room was filled with the other Wardens in Amaranthine as well as common soldiers who attended to bear witness.  Lucia and the seneschal stood at the center near the fire pit, the seneschal holding a chalice in his hand. Before them stood two other recruits, both soldiers, and both trembling beneath their suits of armor.  Alistair motioned for Liss to stand by the two men, and she did so.  

Once she was in her place, those in the room began reciting some sort of oath, a  chilling invocation performed in unison that Liss could have done without. As the room chanted, Liss searched it apprehensively for familiar faces.  Lucia. Garavel. Alistair. The other Wardens whose names she couldn’t recall in all of the chaos. As the first recruit was called forward to drink from the chalice, Liss’ pulse jumped.  She watched as he took a slight sip, closed her eyes as he began to choke, and pretended not to hear as he breathed his last breath.  

When the second man was called forth, she began to search the crowd again, desperately looking for Nathaniel.  She shouldn’t have expected him to be there, considering the way she had walked out on him just moments before.  She hadn’t even told him she loved him too, and as the second recruit strangled and died right next to her, all that she could think about is how she might never get to.  

Lucia called her name and told her to step forward, brows furrowed in a silent apology.  Liss took the chalice in her hands, examining the dark liquid that she could already feel sliding it’s way down her throat before she even drank.  Taking a steadying breath, she brought the rim to her lips, and as she looked up Nate was there, several feet behind Lucia. Worry knitted his brows, but he offered her a reassuring smile nonetheless.  She nodded at him and drank.

For a brief instant, it burned like fire, trailing its way down her throat, then she became suddenly cold, as if her blood had frozen entirely.  An overwhelming, sickening sense of dread washed over her, but she fought it, refusing to let it take her. She wasn’t choking. As her vision faded to black and she began to fall to the ground,  the last thing she remembered she heard was Nathaniel’s voice calling her name and the warmth of his arms as he caught her. She was safe.

[puckrmn]

A Bet Is A Bet || Padison

tagging: @thepuckrmn & @doveportmaddie

location: Breakers Diner

time frame: March 4th, evening

notes: puck makes good on his lost bet

warnings: don’t read if you’re a fan of dipping chicken tenders in bbq sauce

Madison looked around the restaurant as she stood in the entryway. Despite the extra work of essentially single momming it, there was a freedom in not having anyone at home to answer to, not feeling guilty about going out without him. It was especially nice when the person she was having dinner with was Puck. Ben would have never believe it was a dinner between friends, even if he witnessed it with his own eyes. Spotting Puck in the corner, Madison weaved her way between tables, mindful of the baby carrier, to join him. “Is it bad that I’m surprised you beat me here?” she asked teasingly.

Puck scrolled through his phone as he waited for Madison to show up at the diner. He was bummed he lost the bet, but happy that Madison was still holding strong when it came to Ben. Hearing her voice, he looked up from his phone and smirked. “I’m starving,” he said as he stood up to greet her. “About time you showed up.” Chuckling, Puck leaned over to press a kiss on her cheek. He waited for them to settle into their seats before sitting back down. “How’s it going? Freedom treating you well? Lil mans getting big,” he added as he nodded towards Gabe.

"We are barely even late," she insisted as she settled into the seat opposite him. "But you're right, you're clearly wasting away to nothing, so I should have been more timely." Madison shrugged out of her jacket and glanced from Puck to her son and back again. "Things are good. Freedom is... good, mostly. A little strange sometimes," she admitted. "I'm trying to figure out how to keep him little forever. But starving him is apparently illegal, so he just keeps growing."

“When it comes to food���even a minute late is hella late,” he joked as he patted his stomach. “You look good. Break up seems to be working for you.” He waved the waiter over so they could order their drinks. Once they were done, he faced Madison once more. “Has he been giving you a hard time?” Puck knew how stubborn Ben could be and had watched Peyton struggle with him over Lexi. “I could punch him again if you needed me too. I don’t mind.” Reaching over, he placed his hand on hers for a moment. “I know you and I aren’t like…the same anymore but I’m still the kid’s half-uncle and will help out if you need anything…including punching Ben.”

Madison rolled her eyes playfully at his offer to punch Ben. "He's... fine, I guess. He comes over in the morning when I leave for work and gets Gabe ready for daycare. I'm pretty much guaranteed a babysitter whenever I want one. I feel like as long as I let him see him, he's not really fighting anything. So no, you don't need to punch him on my behalf," she rattled off, chuckling a little. Her smile softened at his sentiment, and she nodded at it. "We're... friends," Madison reasoned tentatively, "but if you want to keep losing bets and buying us dinner, that's plenty of help."

“That’s good. Hope he doesn’t pull a Ben and do something stupid.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back in the seat and smirked as he looked at her. “We’re not friends. I don’t do friends.” His smirk grew wider after the statement. Puck nodded at the server who placed their drinks in front of them. Taking a sip of his beer, he flipped over the menu. “What are you feeling for food? Their cheeseburgers are bomb. Fleetwood on solid food yet?”

“Give it time,” she pointed out. Talking Ben down from something stupid was how she’d spent her last few months. She knew it was a matter of when not if. Madison shook her head at his resistance to call her his friend. She’d win him over on it. “Really. Mr I’ve been in town for less than a year is gonna make recommendations to a townie?” she teased. “You’re right though, best cheeseburgers in town, and may have been how I survived the aftermath of partying with Kitty in college. But I think it’s a chicken tenders and fries kinda night. You get to save money on him. Still on a liquid diet. But give it a year or so and you can buy baby’s first burger.” Her fingers traced the rim of her glass before taking a drink, pausing their conversation again to get a food order in. “So what about you? How’s the shop? Life? All that?”

Puck chuckled. “I’m trying to pretend like I belong here. And it’s actually officially been a year thank you very much,” he added with a smirk. “Chicken tenders are usually a good choice though. Depending on what kinda dipping sauce you pick. I will judge you if you’re a bbq sauce girl.” He glanced at Gabe for a moment and smiled softly. “Can I venmo you for the kids first burger? Doubt I’m gonna be here in a year.” He settled into his seat with his beer after ordering. Shrugging at her questions, he took a sip. “Shop’s good. Shit’s a little slow now but it’ll pick up as the weather warms up. I’m…alright I guess,” he drifted off as he thought about his trip. “Saw my daughter. So now Ben can’t claim I’m trying to steal Lexi,” he forced a laugh before finishing off his beer.

“Look at you, local boy,” Madison said, feigning being impressed. “Bbq is like last resort of dipping sauces, cuz you can’t eat it dry. It’s ranch though, always. Unless you can get really good honey mustard,” she listed off as if it were serious business. Because it was, obviously. “You mean you’re gonna look at that cute little face and deny him your presence for his first burger? Not even gonna come back and visit us, huh?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she listened to him talk. Starting to make a comment about the shop being slow, she cut herself off when he mentioned his daughter. She only had the faintest of details of the situation and had been told to forget it. While it was, of course, something she hadn’t and couldn’t actually forget, Madison wasn’t sure what to say, where the boundaries laid. “Is that where you were?” she finally asked, “when I thought you skipped town?”

Puck nodded in approval at her choices. “Perfect answer.” He glanced between her face and Gabe’s and shrugged. “I dunno. Guess you two will have to make a trip out to LA.” The silence after his admission made him uncomfortable. He gestured for a new beer from their waiter while trying to avoid eye contact with Madison. Puck slowly nodded his head at her question. “I told Peyton where I was going but that’s it.” His fingers fiddled with the empty pint glass in front of him. His gaze drifting back over to Gabe. “Do you think I’m an asshole? For getting Peyton and Lexi to move to LA with me? Even though I know that means Ben doesn’t get to see his daughter? And I know how much that sucks and I’m still doing it to him?”

“I suppose you’re worth it. I’ve always wanted to see LA anyway,” Madison pointed out. She wanted to ask so many questions, but instead chewed her lip in thought at the ones Puck rattled off. “I don’t think you’re an asshole,” she was quick to assure. “Being across the country from her doesn’t have to mean not seeing her. Seeing less of her, sure. But to be fair, they live in the same little town and he’s not seeing her right now. I don’t think? I dunno. Did you ask her to move to LA to take Lexi away from him? Because if that’s not your motive, there’s nothing wrong with wanting the people you care about in a place that you feel at home.”

Puck ran a hand through his hair as he listened to her talk. “I think she’s starting to let him see her again. You know Peyton. Her hearts too big to keep Lexi away from him.” He took a long sip of his new beer. “No I didn’t talk to her about LA to fuck over Ben. But that doesn’t mean that I’m 100% innocent in all this.” Shrugging, he kept his eyes focused on the beer in front of him. “I don’t want Lexi to end up hating me in the future because I’m the dick who kept her from her dad.”

She nodded a little. She’d told Ben that Peyton would come around on it, that patience would be worth it. And despite anything else going on between them, Madison could be happy for him in that. “I’m pretty sure Lexi is like her mom in just about every way, but especially in the *heart too big* category. Hating you wouldn’t happen.” She ducked her head a little, trying to catch his eye. “Look I’m not gonna lie, being across the country from her dad could suck sometimes. But distance isn’t keeping her from him. Assuming Peyton and Ben come to an agreement on things, they can call and FaceTime and maybe he’ll come visit - which you’ll hate, but let happen for her. It’s different, but it’s not nothing.”

Puck could feel her trying to make eye contact. Sighing, he finally looked up at the girl seated across from him. He knew she was right, but it didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. “Not too late for you, me, and Fleetwood to run off together,” he joked lamely. Puck leaned back to allow the waiter to place their food on the table, his appetite suddenly gone. “Just talk about anything else. Please.”

She huffed a chuckle at the idea of running away and shook her head. After thanking the server, Madison took a bite out of one of her fries as she thought of something else to talk about. "How was Peyton's birthday?" she asked, "I didn't read about any fires today, so I assume the house is still standing?"

He nodded and chuckled. “It was good. I didn’t burn the food or the house down. Got her drunk on pink wine. Let her not have to really worry about anything for a night, ya know?” He shrugged and took a bite of his cheeseburger. Puck glanced down at his left hand and ran his thumb absentmindedly over the P tattoo. “Part of me still doesn’t understand how she wound up with a dude like me…so I feel like I gotta constantly spoil her.”

"Sounds like a good birthday to me," she agreed, "and like you got to keep all the 'man who cooks' sexy points, so good on you. If you weren't gonna be gone by October, I'd put in a request for the same gift." She picked at her food as he spoke, unable to help from rolling her eyes at his last comment. "I don't know the whole how of you two getting together, but it's really not hard to get why she keeps you around. You're a catch, Puck Puckerman."

“I could fly back to cook for you and get you drunk on pink wine. Birthdays are important. Except mine. I don’t celebrate it.” He smirked at his food when she called him a catch. “Ya know, I’d believe that statement if it wasn’t coming from the girl that rejected me so many fucking times that I lost count.” Puck playfully tossed a French fry in her direction. “You’re not too shabby yourself, McCarthy. Ben’s a fucking idiot for messing that up,” he said honestly.

"That's some serious birthday celebration. Most people would just make a Facebook post." Madison's jaw dropped in mock surprise when the fry landed on the table, picking it up and using it to point at him. "Yeah, because you waited until after I was with Ben to offer. You had plenty of time before Ben and instead the only thing you did was buy me a sex toy," she stated, before glancing around. Maybe she shouldn't have declared that quite so loud in a family friendly restaurant. "Not too shabby wins over everyone, obviously."

Puck rolled his eyes at her comment. “You one hundred percent could’ve asked me to help you use it. Just saying.” Leaning over the table, he took a bite of the fry in her hand. “Not too shabby is a pretty big compliment coming from me,” he joked before returning his attention to the food in front of him. He glanced up at her after a few moments. “We should do this more often. Well until you get back together with Ben obviously.”

"I will never understand your logic," she admitted then paused to take a sip of her drink before continuing. "You tell me Ben is the worst, that I'm settling, that I deserve better," Madison listed off, putting her hands up in surrender to imply she wasn't fighting his point. "But then you also think me being with him is an inevitability. But hey, if you wanna keep losing bets and buy me dinner, I won't stop you."

Puck wiped at his face with a napkin and chuckled at her response. He took a sip of his drink before nodding towards the third wheel. “It’s because of the kid. You’d get back together with him because you think that’s best for lil man. It’s why Peyton is slowly caving in. You two are great moms and I respect that.” Shrugging, he reached over and stole one of her French fries. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you more often,” he said with a smirk.

She pushed her plate towards the center of the table, happy to share whatever was left. Glancing at Gabe and then back to Puck, Madison shook her head. “Stay together for the kid is pretty much the worst reason to be in a relationship. It’s better to stay apart and figure out coparenting.” She leaned an elbow onto the table, resting her chin in her hand. “We’ll make this a thing then. I might even let you off cheap next time and just go for nacho fries.”

Puck picked at her remaining fries as she spoke about her relationship with Ben. “I’m surprised he hasn’t like...hired a sky writer to write you an apology yet. You know. One with a million exclamation marks.” He chuckled to himself and finished off his beer. “Are you calling me cheap? Nacho fries are amazing though. Actually it’s all about the cheese sauce. Gotta have the right cheese to hot sauce ratio.” Mimicking her stance, he also leaned forward onto the table and smirked . “You wanna get the hell outta here?”

"Just a million exclamation point, nothing else," she joked along with him. Madison shrugged innocently at his accusation. "Taco Bell was your idea for tonight, after all. If the shoe fits..." She wiped her hands on her napkin before balling it up and tossing it across the table at him. She liked this side of him, of them, light and fun without the weight of secrets. "Yeah sure, I can't keep him out too late anyway."

“I would’ve gotten you fancy Taco Bell,” he joked as he pulled out enough cash to pay for their dinner. He chuckled as he swatted away the napkin she aimed at him. “Then let’s get the fuck out of here.” Standing up, he carefully picked up Gabe’s carrier for her. Puck nodded for her to lead him out of the diner as he carried the baby carrier out. Following her out to her car, he handed her the carrier to get Gabe all situated. Puck placed his hand on the roof of her car, trapping her between him and the vehicle. “So this is the infamous hatchback, huh?” He glanced at the back of the car before returning his gaze to her. “Roomy,” he commented with a smirk. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her cheek for a moment. Puck pulled away and turned to leave, throwing deuces over his shoulder. “Catch you later, beautiful.”

[ghostladyofwinterfell]

These (K)nights of Summer

A Modern Jonsa AU.

Summary: Sansa should have been having the time of her life celebrating graduation with her friends in Kingslanding. 

But her parents have other plans, instead sending Sansa with her feral little brother to a run down camp in the North. All in an attempt to get their two unruly children straightened out.

Whatever, Sansa was not lost and this wasn’t about to be one of those stupid summers were she would embark on a journey of self-discovery. That was not her. No way. 

But being there, in the heart of the North she starts to remember who she was before the likes of Joffrey had set his claws in her.

These were the nights were she found Jon, were she reforged her bond with Rickon and met people that were fierce and proud of who they were. These were the nights of summer.

Chapter One: Introduction

Sansa’s head was still pounding, the milk of the poppy vial had yet to kick in after the night’s slumber party with Margaery.  

They had pestered her older brother Garland, to buy them a bottle of peach schnapps with added frilly umbrella's, that they had drunk in less than twenty minutes.

Later, after sipping on a pink concoction of Margaerys making with a cocktail stick full of sweet Morella cherries, they had giggled their way down to the cellar to pop open a bottle of Arbour Gold champagne.

They often didn't need a reason at all for these nights, but they had gone all out just the two of them. In celebration at them both finishing high school a few days ago and breaking up for the summer.

Well that was what Margaery was celebrating for, Sansa on the other hand, was knocking back drinks to avoid her problems. Everything seemed better in a champagne haze.

They had gone back to Margs' room with a full glass and played games that had gotten more of an edge to them the more they drank.

It didn't matter if it was just the two of them, because whenever you had Margareys attention on you, your night was made. She just had that aura around her. She was the blooming rose in the centre of any room she was in and even Sansa couldn't help but gravitate towards her.

The last thing she remembered was revealing all about her first kiss and all the juicy details about her breakup with Joffrey during truth or dare.

It was only as her head hit the plump pillow and her eyes were slowly closing that a thought flashed through her mind. In the six months she had known her, Margaery had never let slip any real truths about her or her family, not like Sansa had.

Sure Margaery had come to her whispering that she had a secret she could only share with her, Sansa was sure her face would light up at that, but it was never anything deep or a hard truth like Sansa would share about Joffrey.  

She'd pull her close, whispering in the shell of her ear, "Can you keep a secret Sans. I've had a crush on our sociology professor and its gotten so bad I'm going to do the 'drop the pencil on the floor trick' to see if he stares at my ass."  

But they weren't really secrets. Yet Sansa had peeled back all the layers of herself to Margaery hoping for her approval.

So awaking at 7:15 to six missed calls from her mother, she knew she could no longer avoid her problems. So after downing a glass of pomegranate juice and the vial that had been left by the staff, she whined before finally plucking up the courage to call her mother back.  

Before she could even hear the first full dial tone her mother had picked up. Obviously having her phone glued to her hand ready.

Oh I am in so much trouble, she cursed to herself.        

“Jory is waiting outside the Tyrell town house. You are to go down immediately and get yourself into the car and come home young lady-" her mother’s tone was clipped, "and do not forget to thank the Tyrells for their hospitality.”

“Marg says she’ll help me to book a train home in two or three days after our shopping trip. It’ll take less time than getting back by car,” Sansa didn't like to plead, but desperate times and all that. Two more days in the sun and shopping sounded more marvellous to her than going home.

She heard Rickon screaming in the background before her mother sighed heavily, “It wasn’t a question. A car has already come to collect you once Sansa. So to the car, now.”  

She wished for her mothers warm comforting tone to greet her with the way she had been feeling the last few months, but she guessed she deserved it really.

She put her phone and the rest of her things in her bag after hearing the abrupt end beep. She pouted knowing not to go against her mother’s words, instead walking over to the bed and shaking Marg’s shoulder.

“I have to go. Mum’s brought another driver to come pick me up,” she whispered it so softly, wanting to wake her gently so they could say goodbye.

But Marg just rolled back over, pulling the sheets over her head and giving Sansa a sleepy ‘mmphh’ in response.

Well, I'm was clearly going to be missed.

She dresses quickly, grabbing a croissant from the tray and made her leave before shouting a quick ‘thanks for having me’ over her shoulder. Can't forget that hospitality her mother had instilled in her.

Jory’s eyes kept flicking to her in the mirror and they were the eyes of disappointment. She slunk further in her seat, licking her fingers of the almond glaze that had filled the pastry and sighed heavily.

She knew they would be the same eyes she’d see from her father when she returned home.

He’d left her a voicemail yesterday- her eyes filled just thinking about it now. Her father wasn’t one to show emotion often, yet he had pleaded with her to come home all the same and that he could help her with whatever was wrong. Instead she had chosen to just ignore him. As she had ignored them for the past several weeks and even after the incident happened which they had helped her fix.

It was noon when they had pulled up at the services, choosing to grab a bite to eat at the Crossroads café. She was flicking through her phone when she saw it, Marg’s new Instagram post. A picture of her and the bunch of friends from Kings Landing High- Joff and the rest of his footy guys included as well.

It was the caption that ticked her off, ‘Ready to kick off summer with only the best people’.

She couldn't help but scoff aloud as she scrolled through her last texts with Marg hoping she’d missed one from the morning off of her, she had not. She rolled her eyes chucking her phone in her bag moodily as Jory raised his brow at her.  

“Girls. The teenage kind,” she huffed in reply.                                                                                                                                       Jory chuckled, “Enough said then”.

She moved her lunch around the plate some more, all before finally giving up and pushing her tray away, after losing her appetite.

“Head to the car and I’ll go get us something sweet from the bakery. Is lemon still your favourite?” Jory asked.                                                                                                         "Yep. But can I also have something with chocolate in it to. A lot of chocolate," she spoke before taking the keys.

Sweet treats would give her back an appetite and Margaery Tyrell clearly wasn’t worth giving up lemon cakes for. Although, she supposed she could message her first, but she didn't want to seem needy, Joffrey said it was a disgusting trait.

The closer they got to the Stark Estate in Winterfell the more the feeling of dread seeped further into Sansa’s bones. Worst case scenario, her parents would ground her for life, even though she was about to turn eighteen in less than a month.

She was 50% positive that Margaery might come up for a week in the break and see what the North had to offer.

She could picture it so clearly. Marg's distasteful gaze at the cloudy days filled with cold winds that occurred here even in the height of Summer. Maybe she was like 25% sure she might come up here to see her.

She turned to look at Jory again, "How much trouble am I in?"

She hated that. Asking how much trouble She would be in, Sansa was never the one to be in trouble.

She had tried so hard and for so long to be the golden child. Until she realised she never was or never would be in her parents eyes. It may have also been the same time she visited her aunt Lysa in Kings Landing for New Years. Where she had bumped into Joffrey and decided she would badger her parents to death unless they transferred her to Kings Landing High to finish out her senior year.

"They were worried Sansa-" he paused giving her a sad smile, "we all were". She turned her head sharply to stare at the hedges that lined the private road, which lead to the Stark Manor, in case they tears brimmed over. She didn't mean to let anybody down and make them worry. She hadn't meant to do a lot of things lately.

They reached the wrought iron gates at half past five and the sky was already starting to turn a deep blue.  Jory gave her a sheepish glance and a ‘good luck’ before driving round to the garage once she'd left the car.

She nervously headed to the door up the cobble path that was illuminated by the soft glow of the lanterns in the lawn. She huffed to herself, here she was admiring the stupid lawn lights so she could reach the door even slower to face her fate.

She doesn't know what has happened to her. Who doesn't want to come home to their loving parents after being away at school for near on five months. Gods, how could it have been a whole five months since she's been home and three months since she'd seen any of siblings.

Another driver just begins to pull into the large front drive way, its light shining on the door handle for Sansa to grab at.

The words, Oh god. Oh god. Oh god, are the only thing repeatedly flashing through her mind as she see's what greets her as she enters into the foyer.

Her father and mother are both sporting judgemental glares and she wishes the floor would swallow her up.

But she can't deny how much she has missed them, even if they don't look pleased with her.

They don't do what she expects, there's no scolding, at least not yet anyway. Her mother simply calls out for Rickon, who comes bounding through to them with Bran wheeling behind them. She steps back to avoid being caught in the whirlwind that is her little brother, as he launches himself at their father.

She thought they were supposed to have grown out of this silliness by eight, or was he nine now she wasn't too sure, she had already been four when she stopped this nonsense.

Her heart ached to see both of them though, her little brothers who she used to help take care of when they were babies as if they were her dolls.

She remembers her mother laughing down at her when she had once tried to put a new born Bran in her own little dolls pram to walk him around the house.

How times had changed things between them, or maybe she had just allowed distance and Joffrey to. She felt splintered from them all, and it had seemed like the hardest thing in the world these past few months to just simply call them up and ask for help.

It's her mother who breaks their silent stand off, "Your bags are all ready and the cars waiting outside."

Wait.

Her mother was looking at her when she said that and gestured to several of her old suitcases waiting by the door.

She had just gotten here, they had brought her all the way home and now what, packed her bags for her to go again. Gods, parents were so confusing.

"Yay, yay, yay!" Rickon screams as he comes over to her, pawing at her coat to drag her over to where she see's his cases as well, which are parked up right next to hers.

"The drivers here to take you both." To say her mother was not from the North she certainly had the ice cold stare and voice down to a tea.

"To take us where?" She starts gnawing on her bottom lip. She doesn't like not knowing what was going on, why were they going in a car with suitcases and a driver she didn't know?

"We've decided to let you both go on a little holiday-" Sansa eyes brighten at that, all until her mother quietly mumbles out the last bit, "camping."

What on earth would make her mother think that Sansa wanted to go camping. She was clearly not outdoorsy and everyone knew it.

"Let us. You mean make us. I'm not going. And why is it just me and him?" Great she was home for all two minutes and in a sour mood.

Why couldn't they just yell how disappointed they were in her, then she could yell back, run up to her room to slam her door and then be left in peace.

"Hey, I wanna go and I wanna go now!" Rickon began to shout out, as he pulled his suitcase over to the door and opened it.

"Shut up Rickon, the grown-ups are talking," she hissed at him.

"No. You shut up." That made her stand up straight in shock. Her eyes flicked over not to Rickon but to Bran at the outburst.

He never yelled and never at her. "Won't you just shut up. You're so ungrateful, don't you think I would love to go there. But look at me, I can't, but you can. So just shut up and go," he started to tear up at the end, she didn't know from sadness or anger.

And it was because of her. She didn't know how to talk to him after the accident. She felt the guilt eat away at her again as he wheeled himself off down the hall. She should go after him and apologise, but she doesn't.

Her mother bends down and kisses Rickons forehead, she gives Sansa a sad smile as she says goodbye and goes after Bran.

Her favourite child, not you, the voice hisses in her mind darkening it. Rickons fidgeting urges her father into motion, "I'm sure you'll enjoy it if you let yourself."

Sansa cuts him a sharp look, what did he even know about her anymore. He shows her some mercy even at her harshness, "Don't worry, it's not the kind of camping in a tent. You'll be staying in a lodge by the lake, having bbq's around the camp fire-"

She gasps out suddenly, interrupting him. Dorne, they where going to Dorne. She wanted to squeal out in joy.

How spending a couple weeks in the summer at the Water Gardens in Dorne was a punishment she didn't know. But they had actually done something incredibly right and cool for a change. 

She tells him just that.

"Its for the whole summer Sansa and it's not at-" She interrupts him again and he doesn't look happy, but its her birthday plans that have been ruined.

"But I'll be there for my birthday, I want to celebrate with Margaery and the girls. She promised me a big party at her home in the Reach," she's pouting like a two year old but she doesn't  care.

She'd even start stamping her foot if she had to.

"Well, plans seem to change don't they. You'll do this for us after what happened," he gives her a pointed look.

Well, she couldn't argue with that. She agrees quickly so no further mention of the incident can be brought up.

"Fine. I suppose Marg probably won't mind meeting me somewhere else for my birthday for some sun, lakes and bbq’s. It should be fun away from you two nagging me all summer."

Oh, she's disappointed him again.

She sees her fathers eyes tighten up at her admission.

Her own widen in shock. She upset him. She didn't mean to, she doesn't want to hurt anyone, but she knows she won't apologise. Nobody said sorry to her when they did it.  

"You best get going. You have a while in the car yet, here I'll help you with your bags."

Once they're ready and getting in, Rickon squeezes her father tightly before leaping in and snapping up the leaflet, all while excitedly yapping on about the things they’re going to do.

Her father turns to her, but she gives a simple goodbye and quickly jumps into the car, slamming the door shut. She shoves Rickon over into the back of the seven seater car, so she can have the whole of the middle to stretch out.

She doesn't turn her head towards her father, even as she feels his sad gaze burning into the side of her face.

After a few moments, he pats the side of the car to signal the driver to go and wishes them a safe trip.

As they pull away, she turns to look at him. Her eyes fill with tears as they both stare at each other. They both seem to watch the other all the way down their long driveway, even when their faces get too small and they began to blur.

She drowns Rickon out when he starts yammering on, she's good at that, she's had a lot of practice from blocking out Joffrey when he starts to rant at her.

He flits from one thing to another, hands flapping like the wings of a hummingbird. He'd chucked the leaflet on the floor and had started ripping all of his things out of his bag to get at his sticker book.

She scrolls through her social media before texting Margaery to inform her of the utter misery that has befallen her. She hovers over the messaging app for several minutes hoping to see the three dots appear for a reply.

No one from Kingslanding high had reached out to her since Joffrey and the whole debacle that had happened after.

She'd gotten through about half of Hoziers album, letting the deep timbre of his voice lull her, when she catches one of the road signs.

They were heading the wrong bloody way.

She informs the driver rather impolitely she knows, but hey she's tired.

He tells her that they're not. Their destination is North he tells her, not South.

The cogs in her mind begin turning before everything clicks into place. She launches her upper body over the back seat and stretches her arm out for the leaflet, bringing it over to her so she can get a closer look.

'A Knights Camp'. A rustic and rural experience in the heart of the North for children and teens to get back into nature. Have fun exploring the famous Wolfswood and adventuring on the Long Lake, push yourself further and learn new skills under trained Camp Instructors.

She feels as though she's swallowed a bee.

Well then. All the visions of herself sunbathing on the golden sands, of exploring the ruins of SunSpear and dipping into the Water Gardens to cool off slowly began popping in her mind.

Her phone had no signal. It didn't stop her from redialling every time the call failed to try and get in touch with her parents.

How could they do this to her. She felt bitter tears gather in the corner of her eye, so she clenched her jaw closed. She was so tired of being upset all of the time.

She crumples the leaflet up in her other palm, sick of looking at the dreary state of the place in each one of the photos.

The camp was hardly popular. Not for people south of the Neck anyways. Sure northern children and teens often went their out of school term time, but not someone like Sansa. It taught things like how to start a fire, why the hell would she need to do that. There fun adventure days were things like hiking and fishing, as if she'd be caught dead doing that.

The people she grew up had actually found things like that fun, it was popular among the children of WinterTown High.

The people of the north were weird though. And she clearly took after her mother, who thought her twice a week yoga sessions meant a hard core fitness regime.

The people of the south viewed it differently, many using it to send their wayward children so they could be rid of them for the summer.

And by the old gods, did that make Sansa and Rickon like them. That's why they were going wasn't it, so her parents could be free of them and they'd get straightened out by the camp guards.

Every year Walder Frey often sent a whole army of children and grand children to use the camp as a babysitting service.

Or in case of the Tarly’s, who had sent their son Samwell many years ago in hopes of curbing his eating habits and to toughen him up. She remembers because his brother Dickon had told her at a college party and she hung on his every word.

She turns to Rickon as he begins talking, just not to her but at one of his games. He has the contents of his bag is all over the back seat,  a colouring book with scribbles from when he got bored and stickers all over the roof of the car. Sansa sees the shine of stickiness on his face and fingers from the bag of sweets he’s devoured, least he’s being quite tapping away on his computer.

Its only two hours in and things went downhill, she thinks its lucky she's had peace for this long.

Rickon's moaning because his stupid computer is out of charge, he has no pages left to colour because he scribbled all over them and there's no snacks left.

She can't help but snap at him. She knows why she's being a bitch, Margaery's text had come through when she had gotten a few bars on her phone finally.

Marg: Poor you, having a drink for you, talk soon xxx

Maybe she was being a bit irrational, she doesn't know why she expects a bit more from her. She was too busy pre drinking and getting ready for a party from all the pics she had been posting.

Rickon looks at her tearfully and she sees the tiredness in his eyes. “I'm sorry," he mumbles out through a yawn.

She can't help but soften at him, she was seventeen and couldn't keep it together and he was only eight- or nine.

“It’s okay Rickon, I’m sorry as well. It's just because I'm tired, you look tired too." She gives him a soft smile, hoping to stave of any upset.

She thinks that although he's probably excited to be going camping for the whole summer, it didn't mean he wasn't missing their mother and father already.  

"I'm not tired," he pouts out.

She laughs, looks like sticking ones bottom lip out at their displeasure is a shared trait.

"Okay, whatever you say. How about you come here for a snuggle though?” She knows it will help Rickon, but it'll help her to. It had been too long since someone she loved had shown her affection and if she wasn't so stubborn she could have gotten one from her dad when they left.

Rickon huffs like he doesn't want to, but then unclips himself and kamikazes over the seat.

She belts him up again and lets him lean against her as she strokes his hair. Its not even a full five minutes when she can hear soft snoozes fall from his lips.

She wakes him softly when they arrive, trying not to poke the sleeping bear too hard.

She can see he's about to whine until he looks out at their surroundings.

She wishes she could see this through his eyes, maybe these dilapidated wooden huts looked like castles to him and the dark shimmer of a murky lake looked like the mouth of the deepest sea.  

Once they are out with all their bags and cases a figure approaches from the main lodge.

Her hearts in her throat when she see's who it is.

Jon Snow. Robbs best friend, who has grown up with them all since they were babies. Her first kiss.

She blushes just thinking about it, the whole thing had been embarrassing. Not the kiss, the kiss had been sweet, what happened after was not. Her fragile, just turned sweet sixteen year old self had barely recovered.

Rickon is more than overjoyed for the both of them and quickly runs to him, trying to tackle him down by his legs.

They greet each other like long lost brothers.

She greets him like an enemy.

He looks to her smiling, she remains with her arms folded and chin raised.

"The cases are in the boot, I need to make a call," she walks away sharply, her hair whipping around to her other shoulder.

"Phones need to be handed over, you get access to them at the weekend." He never did take her shit.

"Don't worry it's just one call," she thanks her father for her stubbornness. But she won't be giving him thanks in a minute.

She stares out at Rickon as she listens to the ring.  He'd wondered over to the sloppy mud, stirring it up with his hands until they were caked.

See, this is the kind of crap she didn't sign up for. Rickon needed a leash and she needed to be sunbathing in the South for summer.

"Yes Sansa?" the voice on the other end is airy and sickly sweet.

Oh damn, its her mother who answers her fathers phone. Catelyn Stark was fierce and she didn't crack in her resolve. There would be no pleading or begging to her in hopes she'd get to come home.

So she did the only other thing she thought she could do. Lash out in hurt and anger.

“You sent us off here. Well here I was thinking you’d actually cared sending us to the Water Gardens for the break, I bet you and father had a right laugh-" she doesn't even pause for a breath in case her mother answers back, "that’s it, ship your moody teen and uncontrollable child to the end of the world so you don’t actually have to deal with us now that we’re home. What great parents.”

Her mother doesn't respond for a long time, which makes it worse as it gives her time to digest all of the horrible things she said. It also allows her a moment to stare at Jon's shocked expression towards her at what she'd unleashed upon her own mother.

“I’m sorry if that’s how you see this Sansa. I hope you’ll change your mind and give it a try. We know the rules, so we hope to hear from you at the weekend. Now its late, you and Rickon get to bed. Me and your father love you both.”

She hates it that her mother sounds so understanding, she shouldn't be, Sansa was being awful and they all knew it.

She sniffles out loud with her reply, "Okay."

She shuffles over to Jon, handing him her phone. He gives her her cases as he takes Rickons and escorts them to their own cabin.

She's thankful its a private one, with two single beds and a shower just for them. She doesn't think she has it in her to handle a communal cabin.

She shouts at Rickon to stay over on his bed when he starts getting mud everywhere. She sighs heavily, this is what happens when you get lumbered with an eight year boy who was a wild savage at heart.

She pulls her cases on her bed, rifling through them for thick socks as her teeth chatter in the cold air of the cabin.

She looks over as Jon squats down at their fire place, after a few moments there's a small flicker of a flame and she sends a blessing to the gods for his kindness as the heat begins to fill the small space. He adds enough logs to see them through most of the hours of the night. 

He helps lift Rickons case on his bed, telling him to get his muddy jacket off as he explains to her that they'll have to do it themselves from now.

"Do what?" She says dumbly, but her brain is too tired to try to make connections right now.

"Chop your own wood and light a fire."

She's had it. She's too tired and pissed at everyone and Jon thinks now is a good time to shovel more shit onto her plate. "Gods, what is this some slave labour camp."  

"Its a skill you need to keep practising whilst your here and it helps to teach some independence," he's trying to be understanding with her but she can hear a slight sharpness in his tone.

"I don't think I like being independent," she states matter-of-factly as she sits down on her creaky bed.

She thinks she may fall asleep right then and there, but Rickon has other ideas as he launches the dollop of mud he still had in his hand right at her face.

All she can do is sit there as she feels a blob from her cheek drop onto her jeans, Rickon has the decency to look scared as she stares at him and Jon tries to hide his laugh in a cough. 

Jon takes pity on her tired and now dirty form as he tells her to wait a few minutes for the shower to warm up.

She rises slowly and goes to the shower room just up from their beds. She looks at her tired reflection in the mirror, until that voice begins to stir in her mind pointing out how horrible and dark her bags look.

She brushes her teeth and takes her meds, hoping her usual nightly routine will help bring some normalcy to her.

While she washes, Jon stays with Rickon to help him get wiped up a bit and to sort through his things.  

Once she's freshly clean and in her pyjamas she feels marginally better and is all smiles as she enters the room thanking Jon for his help as she see's Rickons already changed.

Its late he can shower in the morning, Jon says and she rushes to agree, to worn out to even think about having to help Rickon.

She hears her phone ping as she receives a text and goes to get it from her bag until she realises that she doesn't have it at all, its in Jons pocket.

She gives him a pleading look through her long lashes.

"One minute," he tells her sternly as he hands it over.

She wished she'd never bothered.

After all she'd told Margaery about Joffrey, after all she'd seen, there she was in the photo with her arms all over him. And it was him who had sent it.

Joffrey:  I'll pretend she's you.

She shuts it off quickly, giving it back and says how tired she is, as she tries to keep horrid memories from springing up.

Jon bids them both good night, saying he'll be here in the morning to wake you them for breakfast.

As he closes the door he turns back and mouths to her, "Is everything okay?"

She nods and tries to smile, it doesn't reach her eyes and she knows she hasn't convinced either of them.

Jons face has fallen and he looks as though he's about to come back inside again, so she quickly gets under the covers and turns away from him.

The door clicks shuts after a few seconds.

Rickon is fast off in dream land and now she's left with her own thoughts which go swirling in her mind at a mile a minute.

She's glad her and Joffrey are done, how many nights had she prayed for it to be over, but it didn't stop that voice in her mind. Am I so easy to replace? And Margaery, she had said they were sisters and had fumed at how vile Joffrey was. How could she do that to me? Did she even care for me at all?

She wishes she were home. In her bedroom at Winterfell, falling asleep in her old flowery blanket knowing she was safe with a house full of Starks.

She goes to sleep in a strangers bed, in a place she doesn't know, with his voice echoing in her mind. You stupid girl.

And she was, too stupid to even realise that there would be consequences to her actions.

Of course they sent her North. She wanted to laugh at herself, as if she thought they would ever send her to Dorne.

This was a family place. Her father had come here with his siblings as a boy, Robb had come here with Jon and even Arya had been the past few years before getting that summer sports scholarship for Bravos this summer.

Sansa drifts off uneasy, but that had been the way for the past few months now.

She dreams about lions chasing her though the woods that night. She gets caught in the bushes and snagged on it's thorns. The lion puts his heavy paw on her chest and she cries out. She feels its heated breath on her face as its jaw opens. She knows its going to eat her, but then something stops it. Something saves her, albeit temporary, from being devoured right that second. The lion gets distracted at the howl of a wolf getting closer to them. She hears its panting breath as it rushes forward, drawn to her cries, she see's the trees part for it as it comes-

The knocking on her door rips her from her slumber. She's still feel half asleep as she stumbles to the door opening it to reveal Jon smiling at her.

A/N- I hope those who have read this far have enjoyed it and there aren’t too many mistakes. Sansa seems a bit bitchy at the moment, but she has her reasons which I hope you have seen hinted at a little bit here.

I hope to update this again next week.

@lovelifelovebooks

[leukemiagnome]

i'm so bad at keeping up with this...

Posted to Facebook on September 6, 2019

I honestly don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve interacted on Facebook. I think I started staying away after our climate took a left turn and everything became so saturated in sadness and negativity.

But, the desire to write about my experiences with leukemia and recovery has been something that’s weighed heavily on my heart for some time. It just took a lot for me to muster up the courage and energy to divulge my thoughts and emotions surrounding my experience with getting sick, relapsing, recovering and everything associated in between. First of all, I want to say that a big part of why I was hesitant to write a piece like this was the fear of coming off as fishing for sympathy. When you’ve never experienced something as life-changing as being diagnosed with cancer, it’s hard to fully comprehend just how severely such an affliction can affect a person’s life. I get it. And there is a part of me that wants to simply leave it at that. However, sometimes I feel so misunderstood. Oftentimes, I imagine myself just shaking certain people while screaming, “You just don’t understand!” I know that’s not a realistic thing to do, so instead, I’m left stewing with my own thoughts (more than I’d like to). So, I thought it was time to get some things off my chest. I know there will be different reactions to what I’m about to say; some will still take this post as me fishing for sympathy, others won’t relate because maybe they’ve had a different experience with cancer, and maybe (hopefully) there will be a few who may actually change their outlook on people who have been touched by this disease or something similar. Whatever each person’s reaction may be, I’m hoping that writing this may give me some solace knowing that I simply, “Said what I had to say.”

Mostly everyone knows by now how I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia as summer wrapped up in 2017. Since then, a lot has been a blur as you really don’t get much time to simply breathe. You’re very quickly whisked off to bone marrow biopsies and immediately pumped with various forms of sickening chemotherapy. Many know that chemotherapy is a terrible treatment; the way it eats away at your insides, deteriorating your body to an almost unrecognizable state. A lot of people don’t know the gory details or how it actually affects your ability to retain new memories, think rationally and clearly, or even remember past beautiful memories that you made prior to being diagnosed. Chemotherapy is essentially a thief, taking away so much of what you once loved and what made you — YOU. It tore away at me from the inside out, causing me to become delusional, turning me into another person, and ultimately making me into a completely different person than the person my (now) husband had proposed to. Chemotherapy made my stomach raw to the point I could only ingest liquids and made me throw up blood even if I didn’t know I was actually throwing up blood. Sadly, the effects of chemotherapy (and radiation) last beyond your treatment period and you’re left with a version of yourself that you don’t recognize in addition to being left to pick up the pieces and the task of “rebuilding” yourself. Over a year after having my bone marrow transplant, and experiencing a relapse, I find myself still struggling to repair the damages. Though many of you see me happy, smiling, and optimistic, know that I choose to show you only the best parts of me because the other parts are too hard to come to terms with, much less share with the world. Haven’t you noticed that I rarely post anything on social media? Yet, when I do, I appear to be just fine. What I’m not telling you is how I often think about just getting a physical therapist because, even though I’m a young woman in my twenties, my body moves and works like I’m in my seventies. If I drop something on the floor and I’m home alone, oftentimes I can’t even think about picking it up because I might not be able to get off the floor on my own. I don’t mention how I feel like a huge burden to my healthy, loving husband and how it breaks my heart that I cannot do things with my husband that I should be able to at my age. I can’t talk about how I hate my body and everyday I struggle to look confident, when actually, deep inside I really hate the person I’ve become. I don’t tell you that a lot of the time I have no appetite and I drink Ensure just to get my base nutrients so I don’t fall ill. I don’t talk about how getting sick has put myself and my husband in debt because when you can’t work, you only get paid a fraction of what you made when you were able-bodied (even though now you have doctors bills and medication to pay for) I definitely don’t mention how this disease has caused me to lose family and friends, ultimately putting me into a depressed state that sometimes causes me to stay in bed for days at a time. I don’t like to talk about the fact it truly breaks my heart to constantly watch people and life move on without me without even blinking in my direction. I don’t tell you how I feel lonely now that many people have dissipated from my life and I most likely won’t mention how often I cry about that fact that I’m going to be a bride in December with most likely no bridesmaids or Maid Of Honor. I wish so badly I had friends to help plan my wedding, to watch me try on my wedding gown and to plan bachelorette parties and bridal showers, just like any other bride. Missing out on monumental parts of my twenties, knowing realistically I won’t get these moments back, is so hurtful.

Like I said before, to some people, these things may all seem entirely trivial. But, that’s because so many take these things for granted. Many view these moments in life as “typical,” and so many could not even imagine actually not being able to do or experience these things. I was the exact same way. I went to bed each night “knowing” I was going to wake up healthy the next morning. I said hurtful things to people because I “knew” I would see them again and eventually have the chance to make-up in time. I procrastinated and put things off because I “knew” I had plenty of time to do whatever it is I wanted. But that’s exactly the thing; time is no one’s friend. It’ll go on with or without you. Time doesn’t discriminate and it never stops. I wish I was wise enough to learn that lesson a long time ago. I wish it didn’t take me nearly losing my life to realize all of this. I know now though, which is probably a big reason why I feel like I need to just go ahead and divulge my heart’s aches and just say what I’m feeling. I truly hope no one takes this as an attempt to achieve some quick sympathy. I just really wanted people to know that once the battle is over, doesn’t mean the war is over. Cancer patients go through so much to rebuild their lives. It’s slow, sad, and painful. Like I said before, cancer (and the treatments) rob people of so much, and the journey to attempt to get the normalcy back isn’t an easy one, nor does it always end in triumph. This note isn’t just to help you see things from the perspective of a cancer patient, but just other people in general. I feel like many people today are so wrapped up in themselves and the concept of “one-upping” the next person that they forget to slow down and simply ask the person next to them, “How are you doing?” Sometimes, that little invitation to open up is all people need to keep them from feeling alone and hopeless. I know I am far from perfect, and I have made more than my fair share of mistakes. I’ve probably made enough mistakes for this lifetime and the next. But, I know that I am trying my best to move slower, do things with more intention and compassion, and simply be a better me. I don’t know if I’ll live to see ten years from now or even next week, but I know I am going to try my best to make each day count and try to remind people around me that they’re loved, cared for, and thought about.

That’s all.

[samsexualdeancurious]

Blind Love | Chapter 23

Pairing: Dean x Castiel

Words: 1,110

Story Summary: When Dean is blinded on a hunt, Cas loves him through it.

Chapter Summary: Cas takes Dean on a date

Betaed by @manawhaat

Masterlist

Dean completely forgets about his promise to Cas until almost a week later, when Cas mentions that he made reservations for them at a more upscale restaurant in town.

“Will my Fed suit work?” Dean asks, more than a little nervous. He always feels out of place at these sorts of establishments and he doesn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb.

“That will work perfectly,” Cas assures him. “Our reservation is for six, so we should leave around five to account for any traffic, correct?”

“Yeah, five should be safe.”

Five finds the Impala pulling out of the garage. Dean’s palms are sweating, but he’s trying to hide how nervous he is. If Cas can tell, he doesn’t say anything, which Dean definitely appreciates.

Both men are dressed in their best suits. Sam helped Dean do his tie, so at least he knows that it looks decent.

“This restaurant is nicer,” Cas tells him, “but it’s not out of our price range and the menu does not have anything bizarre on it. I made sure to check.”

Dean nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Our table is more secluded, so we will not be bothered and we can have a quieter dining experience.” Cas always seems to know exactly what Dean’s worried about.

A little bit of tension leaves Dean’s body. “Thanks, Cas. I really appreciate that.”

Cas reaches over and weaves their fingers together.

The moment Dean enters the restaurant, he’s hit with a wave of smells, all of them very pleasant. He can hear other patrons chatting, but the atmosphere is a quiet one that only gets quieter when the hostess leads them toward the back.

“Kelsey will be your server,” she tells them. “She’ll be along in a moment. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?”

“No, thank you,” Cas says politely, taking his seat across from Dean. The hostess leaves and Cas opens the menu she gave him. “Is there something specific you’re in the mood for?” he asks, nudging Dean’s foot with his own under the table.

“Pasta sounds nice,” Dean replies. “Or whatever that smell is.”

“That’s probably our spaghetti and meatballs you’re smelling,” a friendly female voice says from by their table, startling Dean. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you! I’m Kelsey. I’ll be your server for tonight. Can you start you gentlemen off with some drinks?”

“Water for me,” Cas says. “I’m driving. If you want something a little stronger, Dean, there are some lovely wines on this menu.”

Dean shakes his head. He has a feeling Cas has big plans for when they get home tonight and he wants to have a clear head. “I’ll just have water.”

The foot nudges against his ankle, signaling Cas’ approval of his choice.

“Alright, two waters. Any there appetizers catching your eye?”

“I don’t think so. Dean? Would you like an appetizer?”

“No, thank you. Don’t want to spoil my appetite.”

“Good point,” Kelsey says. “I’ll bring you those waters and give you a minute to look at the menu.”

Dean hears her footsteps retreat. “I think I want the spaghetti,” he says honestly. “It smells amazing.”

“Of course,” Cas replies. “And I think I will have the steak.”

“I might steal a bite or two of that.”

“Only if I can steal some of yours.”

“Deal.”

Kelsey comes back with their waters and they order their meals. Dean’s feeling much better about this whole thing. The restaurant is quiet and not crowded, which is great. Their waitress is polite and doesn’t seem at all thrown off by Dean. Cas’ foot is solid against Dean’s ankle under the table and his hand covers Dean’ on top of the table.

“I like this,” Dean admits. “It’s really nice.”

“I’m glad. We should do things like this more often. I like taking you nice places.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to, Dean. You deserve to be taken to nice restaurants and given nice gifts and treated properly. Understand?”

Dean can feel the heat in his cheeks and he ducks his head. “Cas-”

“You do, Dean. Let me show you?”

“Okay,” Dean says quietly, turning his hand to wrap it around Cas’.

Their food arrives pretty quickly, which is another point in this restaurant’s favor. Dean decides to cut up his pasta, to hopefully minimize potential mess, and puts a napkin over his lap. He’s gotten good at eating without making a mess- especially compared to how messy of an eater he was when he first lost his sight- but accidents do happen.

The food is amazing. Cas’ steak is perfectly cooked and seasoned. Dean even tries a little bit of the roasted vegetables his boyfriend got as a side- cooking regularly has opened him up more to the world of veggies; while he still teases Sam for liking them so much, he has to admit that they aren’t half bad when prepared the right way. Dean definitely prefers his pasta, over the vegetables, though. The sauce has a great balance of garlic, the meatballs are soft and flavorful, and the noodles themselves are cooked just right. There are breadsticks on the side and Dean has a sudden need to learn how to make his own breadsticks because they’re the definition of perfection.

They take their time eating, letting the conversation flow smoothly as it usually does between them. It’s been awhile since they’ve really sat down and talked, between hunting and having friends visiting. Dean feels like the focus has mostly been on him lately, which makes sense because something as big as losing his sight has a big effect on all of them, but he doesn’t want to be the center of attention all the time.

Once the bill is paid, Cas leads the way back to the car.

“When we get home, I have some plans,” Cas tells him, reaching his hand over to rest it on Dean’s thigh. “I want you to go to our room, strip, and lay on your back on the bed. Understand?”

A shiver runs up Dean’s spine. “Yes, sir,” he says through the lump in his throat.

Cas gives Dean’s thigh a squeeze. “You’re okay with this?”

Dean shifts Cas’ hand up to rest against his crotch, where he’ll definitely be able to feel Dean’s quickly growing erection. “Very.”

“Alright.” Cas rubs gently, touch just firm enough to be felt and light enough to tease. “Are you going to be a good boy for me tonight?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We’re having such a lovely evening. I would hate to have to spoil it with a punishment.”

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Team Forever: @laughing-at-the-darkness @mrswhozeewhatsis @books-and-icecream

Team Destiel: @idelifrey @ilostmyshoe-79 @hexparker @smut-fluff-lemons-and-stuff @jwilly18 @ruined-by-destiel @keepingitrealcas @supernaturalfanfix @basic-joy @freedomcraziness

Team Blind Love: @jaebirdie @waywardasfudge @tina8009 @fangirl-writing-fiction @cacodaemonia @starcastlesinthesky @naruhearts