#ALSO when i opened tumblr i had three (3) ask notifications but when i went to my inbox there were only two asks so

[inkedinshadows]

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

Thank you so much @velarisdusk for the tag! 🫶🏻

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

I don't have anything published on AO3 simply because I still don't know how to use it even though I do have an account. But here on tumblr, it's 92.878

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

49! I've never counted them before and never realized just how many they were omg

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

Ongoing only Bound By Secrets. In progress apparently 10? I thought I had 3 WIPs. I completely forgot about the other 7 lol

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

UGH how do I choose one? A Helping Hand has a special place in my heart because it's the first fic I wrote and posted. Night and Days is one of my favorites because I love the banter between Azriel and reader, and I also have to mention Say My Name because omg I loved writing that one and I know I might be biased but I was giggling and kicking my feet while writing.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I'd say the first few things I wrote rather than one in particular for the simple reason that in Italian I tend to write very long sentences because it's normal, but in English sentences are usually shorter so it took a bit to get into that mindset. As for experimental, I'm trying to write a fic from two povs at the same time, sort of like an omniscient narrator. We'll see how it turns out.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

Many fics surprise me while writing because I don't plan them out that much other than a few things I want to happen and then I see where the story leads me. As for reception, Bound by Secrets. I didn't expect so many people asking for a part 2! (I'll write it, I promise)

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

The Path To Healing and on a happier (and smutty) note Alcohol and Giggles. I cried writing the first one and laughed writing the second one.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

I love every single fanart by madschofield and elizianna.the.one!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@writingcroissant was the first author I found on here, the literal reason I created an account was to read her fics, and @illyrianbitch was the second. I love everything they write and it made me want to write again.

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

@shedoessoshedoes and @duskandcobalt! I'm going to read all of your fics so don't be surprised if you see me in your notifications for the next few weeks 🥰

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start

Nope, no collaborations.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Kinktober! I decided to do it two weeks before it started and didn't think I'd be able to write all 31 one fics but I did it!

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

When I started posting, I kept opening tumblr every five minutes to see if there were any new notes/comments/etc. Now I don't do that anymore. I still care about people enjoying my content of course and any kind of feedback is always super appreciated, but I don't need to continuously check to know that my writing is valid and good even if I get only a few likes.

14. What is your advice?

I'm the wrong person to ask this to, but I guess write what you like and what you want to read. I know it's basic, but never before I realized just how true it is. Feedback and appreciation for your work is awesome, but you have to be the first one to like it or it's probably going to turn out bland if you push yourself to write something you don't like or are not interested in.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Finish working on all those WIPs apparently lol. And I have an idea for a series that I want to work on as well.

No pressure of course, but if you'd like to @azrielslittleslut @anarchiii @shedoessoshedoes or anyone else who wants to do it!

[everyfukunaga]

thank you for all your service!! we will miss you and the boy

aaa it was no problem!! i'll miss all of you guys too 🥺🥰

[orlissa]

Story time!

(I didn’t want to talk about it at first, because there is a slight chance that he might be stalking my tumblr, but whatever)

First semester of college I met a guy. We had some classes together, we talked before them--he was a geek, I was a geek, we had some shared topic. Two or three weeks in he asked me on a date, I told him I was not interested, but we remained on friendly terms.

I would say this guy had Ross Geller syndrome. He seemed nice, and you had this feeling that he has a heart of gold, but he could be really annoying and had some “nice guy” tendencies (e.g. he was über convinced that he was a great writer--he was not--, and had these super ambitious projects--once he started writing a Batman script where the first scene was basically the verbatim copy of the Green Arrow intro--, and tried to prove this to us who were minoring in Creative Writing). Anyway, in the following years he kept tagging along for group activities, which was okay, because, like, he was kinda sweet when you got past the annoying stuff?

At the time he was also single, and lived it as a great tragedy. During the first couple of months of me knowing him, he made the moves on three or four of my girl friends. Nothing creepy, he would just set his sight on one of them, give her extra attention for a couple of weeks, then ask her out, only to be told no, without fail. (I mean, I guess I was his “in” to actual girls?) Eventually he did get himself a girlfriend from outside of our circle, and then we started seeing less of him.

Flash forward to five years ago, when he met my now-roommate Cathy (this was just before we moved in together). I don’t remember how they met, because Cathy is not from that college group, but most likely through me. I remember came tomy birthday party together that year (or they met there? I’m not sure). Anyway, they got together, and had a rather passionate relationship... which lasted like six weeks. It ended with the guy “asking for some space,” basically forbading Cathy to contact him for a long weekend, and then breaking up with her via text. It turned out that apparently he was only with her to make his ex jealous, and once the ex came back into the picture he dumped her.

Guy immediately became persona non grata in our circles, and everybody cut contact with him. I think I even deleted him on FB. And then I pretty much forgot about him.

Up until like two weeks ago.

So this whole tax scandal started, and I spiralled into my fourth or fifth mental breakdown and depressive episode this summer, only this time I was excessively posting about it on FB. So much so that people--people I hadn’t spoken in months and years--started DM’ing me to express their support. And then this guy came out of the woods too. He started writing me on messenger, which I did not open. He friended me on FB, which I did not respond too. And followed me in insta, where I post like three times a year. (My insta handle is the same as my tumblr handle, that’s why I think there is an off chance that he is lurking here too)

So, yeah, I didn’t open his message, only see the previews in the notifications, and it started with generic “I support you” messages, and how his life was completely falling apart too last year, but he pulled himself together. And then he somehow started talking about my birthday, and that he got me something, some book, and he was proud of himself because it was the last copy he could find? And he wanted to meet to give it to me. Once again: zero communication from me. I thought he got the message.

Then my birthday came, and Cathy organized a half-surprise party for me (I knew there was going to be a party, I just didn’t know where or who was coming), and the guy FREAKING SHOWED UP.

Which is crazy, because, yeah, we went to Barcraft, which is our usualy haunt, but 1, it’s a franchise with three locations in Budapest, and we frequent all three 2, even I didn’t know we were going to this specific place until we got there 3, this location is the furthest away from my apartment 4, and I usually have my birthday party in august, not on the actul day/weekend of it. On the top of it all, there were only three people at the party who knew him: 1, me, who did not tell him where we were going 2, Cathy, who definitely did not tell him since she wanted him there even less than I did 3, another girl from our year from college, who also simply facepalmed upon seeing him.

Anyway, he came over, Cathy asked him what he was doing there, because he wasn’t invited, he gave me my “gift” and the left. Still: creepy.

Also, do you know what he got me? One of Jordan B. Peterson’s books. Yeah, the right wing conservative poster boy with the misogynistic views, who deadnamed Elliot Page recently. Totally something I’d read.

[echoweaver]

Your thoughts on the Sims 1-4

Guess I’m in the mood to do these. Grabbing a tag from @mosneakers​.

Sims 1: The big thing I remember about this game is that it could take your sim hours to cross from one end of the house to the other. Thus, if the sim got up at the normal one-hour-before-work, they often wouldn’t have time to both pee and eat. I got obsessed with designing and efficient house, with the kitchen right outside the bedroom door, so that my sims could get to work with the best mood. 

Then I let the garden go bad, and it would destroy my sims’ mood on the way to the carpool, and it took me forever to figure out what was going on :-D

Sim 2: I remember being thrilled by how much easier it was for sims to get around their house. The introduction of lifespans intrigued me. However, I hadn’t really figured out what I wanted to DO with this sandbox game yet. Playing Sims gets boring if you don’t have some kind of a goal. I’d never heard of a generational challenge, much less rotational gameplay, and I hadn’t plugged into the fan community yet.

I did dabble in mods -- mostly the mod to drastically increase the chance of a sim being abducted when using the telescope so I could make alien babies. I built a household from two CAS-built sisters who were of different races. One of them married a man, and the other a woman, and then I got frustrated that the lesbian couple couldn’t make babies. They adopted, but I was annoyed by how genetically boring their adopted son was. Then I got obsessed with trying to get one of the lesbians to cheat on her spouse to make a baby without being discovered. Where is artificial insemination when you need it?

Later, I created a new sim who married into the Broke family. I got bored and tried to starve Dustin to death to make a ghost. when I removed the door to his bedroom and his needs got very low, he got down on his knees to beg the Watcher for his life. I felt so guilty that I actually turned off the game and never went back!

Sims 3:  This is where it happened for me. Open world and a town that aged with my active household just better matches the way I imagine playing. I even figured out generational play, at least somewhat, before really plugging into the fan community.

I didn’t realize until reading @mosneakers and @natolesims‘s memes that there was so much hate floating around for Sims 3 art style! I admit that I do dislike the child faces. I thought Sims 2 faces were too long and thin. Sims 3 faces seem to have overcompensated by being just a bit too round. Otherwise, I’m quite sure I don’t know what you guys are talking about. LOL.

I don’t think I’d still be playing if it weren’t for NRaas, though. Sims 3′s open world was pretty ambitious, and their data management was totally not up to the task. I spent years offering tech support on people’s blogs when they started to suffer data corruption in generation 2 or 3. You just can’t play without at least minimal mods to clean up save files. It’s unintuitive that a modded game is more stable than vanilla, but it’s just true. Sad, but true.

Sims 4: I have played this very little, not because I hate it but because I am stubbornly determined to finish my 10-generation legacy. A lot of folks just rebuilt their household in Sims 4 and continued to play. At the time Sims 4 came out, I was playing supernatural-heavy games with custom skintones, so I’d lose almost everything if I ported them over. It also turns out that it’s hard to face going from a heavily-modded, 11-expansion experience to a game with base or just one expansion. I have a lot more sympathy for Sims 2 players who skipped Sims 3 entirely.

I have a hard time facing the color presets and closed world, but the game in its current state really seems to have done great things with gameplay. If/when I get the Samples done, I’ll take a look at making the switch. Of course, by then Sims 5 will likely be out, so maybe I’ll skip....

What is your favorite Expansion pack

Generations and/or Seasons. But it’s really hard to choose.

Small pets or Horses?

I really,  really love Sims 3 horses. Since I’m modding pets, it can probably be guessed that I like the animals in general :).

What is your favorite active career?

Yes.

I have had a ton of fun with almost all active careers. If forced to choose, I might go for firefighter.

What is your favorite Lifetime Wish?

Buh. I really dug the Photography one I guess. I just like doing different ones.

Whims or Wants?

I’m sorry. I have no idea what this question even means (blush).

What is your favorite Occult?

I feel like all the occults in TS3 are kind of underdeveloped. That said, witches are pretty cool.

Cowplants, Bonehilda, or the Social Bunny?

Bonehilda

How do you pick your sims names?

I am absolutely OBSESSED with names. I’m sorry I only got to name one flesh-and-blood child, so I let it all out in naming my simmies. I get into the head of the parent(s) and come up with lists from whatever they would like. My saves are very gameplay-directed, and tend to randomize most traits, so I intentionally don’t build a sim to a name or try to make a sim’s name suit their personality at all. After all, when we name our children, we get no say over who they eventually become :).

Do you create a spouse for a sim, or do you go after a townie?

Townie! My gaming style is heavily gameplay-oriented. I want my sims to choose their partner using wishes and attraction and whatever else the game provides. However, I also am incredibly interested in genetic experimentation, so I do allow myself to change the physical appearance of some sims before making babies with them if they are too bland. I populated my Samples save from scratch, largely using downloaded simalikes of real people. I have NRaas set to use existing sims in the town or in my sim bin, to generate new ones. So basically I do my best to have the most interesting genetics pool I can so I don’t need to edit faces.

Do you prefer to follow storytelling Simblrs, or do your prefer gameplay Simblrs?

I’m not totally sure what this is asking either :-D. Are “storytelling” simblrs the ones that largely use the game as an artistic medium for screenshots using poses and whatnot? My play style is to play the game and build stories from it, so I’m not entirely sure what category I fall into myself.

I suppose it doesn’t matter because I follow both. I’m not terribly drawn to dressup challenges and lookbooks.

What year did you join Tumblr/Simblr?

I have absolutely no friggin idea. I tried to look back in my email archive to track notifications, and that failed. I came back after three years, so it has to be at least for years before I returned....?

[mysterytickingegos]

Ouija Board

Pairing: Ghost!Blank x Reader (Ambiguous)

Genre: Paranormal

Word Count: 1,512

Summary: Sequel to Blank’s Winter Ficlet. After months of Blank poking at your sanity out of boredom, you bring your friends home to get their help, and someone brings a Ouija board into the mix. The day ends with you being left with more questions than answers. (There will probably be another part to this later.)

Anonymous Request: 1. Blankgameplays 2. she/her 3. Platonic/ambiguous 4. Fluff (meet cute, like Blanky Boi is 'haunting' {would you call it haunting? is he even a ghost?} reader's house) Prompt: 63 - Reader: “I don’t believe in ghosts.” Blank: *about to ruin this mans whole career* Please and thank you with extra sprinkles on top ♥ ☆ﾟ.*♥･｡ﾟ♥

Authors Note: First off, to get it out of the way, I was originally using a gif from the tumblr search option, and I removed it when asked. Even though I’ve done so, I can’t remove the reply because they blocked me before I even saw the notification. The gif you should be seeing (if it matches the image description) is one I made myself. Now, onto the important stuff- Oh my god, it is about time I got this done! I’m so sorry it took this long for me to get to it! If it helps in any way I finished this fic with idea’s on continuing it later so...you’ll probably be getting more out of your request than most!

Want to Read More?

[Image Description: A gif of Ethan (Crankgameplays) edited to be spooky with multicolored layers. He leans towards the camera and speaks ominously.]

You’d started out with nerves of steel.

Ghosts weren’t real. You knew that.

It’s an old house, and you have an overactive imagination. That’s what you told yourself, over and over again, even once it stopped making sense. But there’s only so many times you can catch things moving on their own, or you could hear that distant voice, before you started to get a little tense. So when you finally hit your limit, you turned to your friends, bringing them to the house in the hopes that they could confirm what you’d been seeing. Or not.

“Okay, before we go in, here’s the plan. We don’t talk about it.” You started, keeping Vi and Eric on the stairs. “Because I think if it knows that I told you about it, it won’t do anything. Like, try to make me look crazy.”

“You do look a little crazy right now.” Violet quipped, nudging you further up the stairs. “Come on, we get it. Act normal, pay attention, let’s get ghost hunting.”

“Ugh, please don’t call it that.” You unlocked the front door, stepping in with your friends following right behind you.

You tossed your keys onto the counter, and the sudden noise was all it took to make Eric yelp. You and Violet both turned to look at him, seeing him cover his face with his hand. “Sorry...”

You sighed, already close to giving up on this plan. You were pretty sure the so-called ghost didn’t even have to do anything. Eric was so nervous and Violet was so excited about this whole thing that they’d probably make up their own ghost story by the time you finished painting the office.

But you trudged forward, bringing them upstairs and getting to work.

You dug your speaker out of the closet, putting some decent music on and leaving it in the corner of the room. Eric pried the paint can open and Violet started lining the room with painting tape. For the first time in a long time, you were all stuck in an uncomfortable silence. waiting for something to happen.

But the day went off without a hitch. It was late in the evening when you finished painting the walls and your friends got ready to leave. “You know, if this was your way of trying to get free labor out of us, fair play to you.” Vi joked, slinging her bag over her shoulders at the door. “But honestly, I’m kind of bummed.”

You shook your head. “I swear I wasn’t, guys. I’m sorry. God, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Eric came up behind you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey it’s alright, you can- well I mean if you want you can stay with us for-”

Before he could finish, he was interrupted by a small thud and a clattering sound coming from the room right above you, the office. All three of you looked up at the ceiling, then at each other, before making a quick pace back upstairs. You flicked the light back on to see that the half-empty bucket of paint you’d left was now on it’s side, and the color of the floor now matched the walls.

“...Dude, this thing is an asshole.” Vi said bluntly, earning a quiet plea from Eric not to make it mad.

“I knew it! I told you! There’s no way this shit just happens, right?” Despite the fact your floor was ruined, you couldn’t help but get excited. “I mean it’s ridiculous but this happens all the time.”

“Okay, this is going to get even cooler, beeecause...” Vi grinned, pulling her bag back around and digging through it until she found what she was looking for, something wrapped in a beige cloth. “Guess what I brought.”

You watched her unwrap what turned out to be a planchette, which had been wrapped in what turned out to be a cloth Ouija board. Eric coughed nervously, taking a small step back towards the stairs, “I actually uh..I can’t stay, I sort of have a-a doctors appointment! Yeah, that. That’s what I have to get to.”

“It’s seven at night.”

“Yeah, um...it’s therapy. You know, they stay open late and...yeah.” And with that Eric excused himself from any further ‘ghost hunting,’ fleeing out the front door. Before you could also object to the idea of talking to the ghost, Vi grabbed your hand and pulled you along to the living room.

“Do you have any candles?” She asked, kneeling down on the floor and spreading out the Ouija board.

“I have a couple scented candles we could light, I guess...” You shrugged and went around collecting them. You started to say something more but stopped to rethink it. This was ridiculous. Lighting candles for a ouijia board? Acknowledging any of this ghost nonsense felt silly enough to you, just a couple months ago stuff like this was all a big joke to you. But what other explanation could there be for everything you had experienced? Maybe you should have done a bit more research, set up a camera or-

“Y/n?” Vi called out from the floor, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Swallowing your pride, you brought the candles and a matchbox over and kneeled across from her. “So since when are you interested in all this, anyway?”

“What, ghosts and stuff?” She stayed quiet for a moment as she helped you set the candles up on either side of the two of you. “I dunno, I guess I’m just starting to notice that maybe...things aren’t as they seem. Kind of like you. But I actually find it fun. So, are you ready to do this?”

You nodded. “I guess so...” Placing your fingers on the planchette, you took a deep breathe before you started. “Hello?”

“Hello? That’s all you’ve got?”

“Shush.”

“I’m just saying, maybe-” “It’s my house that’s haunted so-”

HELLO

You both fell silent again, glancing up at each other. She looked like she might explode from excitement and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Then, you kept going. “My name is Y/n, this is my friend Violet.”

I  K N O W

“What’s your name?”

The planchette began to move again, but this time rather than settle on any letters or even move towards ‘No,’ it moved to a blank patch of the cloth.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you waited for any movement, but it didn’t come. “Do you have a name?”

D O  N O T  R E M E M B E R

‘Oh.’ You felt a pang in your heart at that.

Vi pouted a little, her head tilting to the side. She was the next to ask something. “What are you?”

G H O S T

“Alright-”

M A Y B E

“...Maybe?”

D O  N O T  R E M E M B E R

Chills ran down your spine. That was not a comforting thought. “Is there anything else in the house with us?”

NO

“You’ve really been scaring my friend, you know.” Vi said, looking cautiously around the room as she spoke.

I  K N O W

It took everything you had to keep your shaking hands on the planchette. “Do you want me to leave?”

Nothing happened. You waited, your heart pounding out of your chest. The sun had officially set, making the house pitch black aside from your little pocket of candlelight. You could almost make out a shadow over the board, it’s source seemingly coming from behind you. You didn’t dare mention it. “Do you want to be alone here again? Because I’d understand that.”

Even more dead silence.

Violet let out a sharp sigh, taking one hand off the planchette, despite your objection, to rub her temple. “Are you still there?”

YES

“I just want to understand why you’re doing this.” You said, much quieter than you meant.

S O R R Y

“You’re sorry?”

S T A Y

“But...what?”

You and Violet sat there for another thirty minutes, asking questions and waiting for answers that never came. The spirit was apparently done talking. “Alright, well...” Violet stood up, putting her bag back on.

“What? Wait, I don’t get any of this. What do I do?” You began to panic, not entirely sure if you should be leaving the board yet.

“You can have the board, keep trying tomorrow, I don’t know. Look-” Her tone was coming off uncharacteristically harsh now, as she avoided your eyes. “My head is splitting, think it’s all the candle fumes. I’m gonna breeze off, good luck though.”

You squinted at the door when it hit you what she said. "Breeze off?” Shaking it off, you turned your attention back to your unusual roommate. “Okay, I’m going to call it a night I guess. I have paint to clean up so,” You moved the planchette to ‘Goodbye,’ taking your hands off and being seconds away from blowing out the candles when it moved all on it’s own.

G O O D N I G H T

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 14: To The Boy Next Door

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which they play a game.

Word count: 4.7k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

ANNOUNCEMENT: The last chapter was supposed to be released on July 1, BUT I have two final exams on that same week, so I’ll have no choice but to move the schedule forward.

Last My Girl update: July 8, 2020. (July 3: Tumblr preview and full chapter on Patreon).

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.

.

One year later

“Come in.”

When Asher entered the room, Gemma almost didn’t recognize him. He’d got a beard now, and he wasn’t wearing a suit. If she hadn’t known the charming Asher in the past, she would be so shocked to find out he was the CEO’s son. Too bad she didn’t care enough to wonder what had happened to him after his business had gone bankrupt because his father had refused to finance it. Now he was just a regular accountant.

His eyes went wide when he saw her sitting with his dad in the CEO office.

Hello, Asher, she thought, yet gave him nothing but a polite nod as if they were meeting for the first time.

“Asher, I suppose you remember Gemma?” asked his father with a sigh.

“Yes,” Asher mumbled, his gaze falling to the floor.

Of course he remembered her. Abusers always remembered their victims.

His dad looked from him back to Gemma. Hands folded on the desk, he said, “Gemma is our new COO. I hope you will have no trouble working for her.”

Asher’s head jerked up as if he’d just heard a gunshot. And Gemma, of course, was the one holding the gun.

She relished his astonishment and cracked a smile as she rose from her seat and walked toward him. She extended her hand, but he didn’t take it.

“Working for her?” he asked his dad, who replied with a stern expression.

“Yes. She’s your new boss.”

Gemma broke into a smirk, still holding out her hand in the space between them. Asher’s eyes had grown so big they nearly took over his entire face. “You,” he hissed at her, “I can't believe you weaselled your way into this company.”

“Oh, no.” Gemma frowned pretentiously and dropped her hand down to her side. “I’ve been a shareholder for almost a year. I’ve done more for this company in that short amount of time than you have your whole life.”

He thinned his lips and glared at her, unable to muster a single word.

She hated him but respected his father. And what was better as revenge than making sure she took everything he wanted? First, his father’s affection. Soon, his father’s company.

“I don’t want to make this unpleasant for you, Asher,” her voice dropped so low as she leaned in so only the two of them could hear. “Or maybe I do. So you better be a nice employee, because I wouldn't be sorry to kick you out of here.”

His face dimmed as she stepped away. If there was a camera, she’d take a picture and put it in a frame. Though she doubted this would be the last time she got to see that defeated look on his face.

"See you around, Ash," she said, placing a hand on her hip as she breezed right past him out of the room.

Two interns, a blonde and a dark-skinned girl, rose from their cubicles and rushed up to her as she was heading for the lift.

“Excuse me,” the blonde said timidly. “Are you...our new COO?”

“Y-Yes, yes, I am.” Gemma worked up a smile and the girls giggled to each other like teenagers.

“Congratulations and welcome!” said the dark-skinned one, who said her name was Marie and her friend was Claria. Gemma assumed they were going to fangirl about her brother, but then Marie said, “We love your sister-in-law’s book. We’re such big big fans.”

It took Gemma a second. “Y/N? She and Harry aren’t–”

“Future sister-in-law,” Claria corrected her friend, looking nervously from Marie back to Gemma. “We’ve...heard some rumours. Can you confirm or deny it?”

“I cannot. But I’ll let her know about you girls.”

The girls grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and Gemma could tell they were trying their best not to freak out. She waved them goodbye and hastened into the lift before the door closed.

Her phone buzzed with a new text.

Isey: Lunch? :)

Lunch :) she replied, biting back a grin.

Another notification popped up. A reply from Harry's girl. Gemma rolled her eyes as she remembered lending Harry her phone a couple of weeks ago. He'd changed most names in her contacts and she'd only managed to change back a few of them.

Harry's girl: Thanks for the birthday wish, Gem! (heart emoji)

You're welcome! Is Harry coming home today?

Harry's girl: I hope not. But idk.

We never know. How can you STAND him? Ugh.

Harry's girl: I can't lol.

Harry's girl: Anyway, what was his reaction?

Gemma knew right away whom Y/N was talking about.

Priceless, she responded.

Harry's girl: QUEEN. Make his life a living hell.

Oh I will. Certainly.

The door slid open with a ding, and Gemma tucked the phone into her bag. Her assistant was waiting outside to direct her to her new office. With a smile on her face, she stepped out of the lift and shook the assistant's hand.

She was so ready for this new beginning.

.

.

.

“Good aaaaaafternoon, girlfriend! Are you feeling twenty-two?”

Y/N laughed hoarsely as she blinked a few times to let her vision get used to the light from the windows opposite the bed. “You’re embarrassing,” she said, yawning.

On the phone, Harry gasped. “Did you just wake up?!”

“I stayed up all night talking to you and had a zoom meeting with Laura this morning. Besides, it’s Sunday.”

“It’s your birthday.”

“Duh.” She grinned at the ceiling and exhaled. “I’m twenty-two now. I’m like...old.”

“Ouch. Well, aren’t you supposed to get ready for the book signing?”

“Book signing is tomorrow. Bad boyfriend.”

The sound of his laugh made her heart leap. She missed him so much. He’d been in New York for two weeks and wouldn’t be back until next Thursday, which meant she’d have to spend this birthday without him. She wasn’t sure if she should let him know she wished he were here. She really did. But she also didn’t want him to drop everything and fly back to her for only one night. He’d done that before and it'd been romantic, still, she never wanted him to do it again.

“To prove that I’m not a bad boyfriend,” he said, snapping her back to the moment. “I have a surprise for you.”

She sat up straight and whipped her head to the door. “Goddamn it, Harry,” she huffed, “if you tell me you’re standing right outside–”

“No!” He burst out laughing. “No, no, no, I’m still in New York.”

She sighed in relief, but couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed.

“My surprise is in the pocket of my favourite suit,” he said.

She had no idea what he might have up his sleeves (quite literally). Still, she rolled out of bed, shoved her feet into her slippers, and padded out of the room.

Two years ago on this same day, he’d brought her to the roof of an abandoned building, where they’d watched the night city and eaten his homemade cupcakes. On her twenty-first birthday, they hadn’t been talking. And so this year, she’d suspected that he must have planned something extravagant to surprise her, even though he wasn’t home to celebrate with her. The surprise had come a bit earlier than expected.

She switched on the light in the walk-in closet, which was as large as her old flat. His favourite suit was the one he’d worn on Grammy’s night. Sparkling dark velvet to match the aesthetic of her silvery mermaid gown, which, unfortunately, she hadn’t got a chance to show off to the world.

She stuck her hand into the breast pocket of the jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Found it."

“Go on. Read it,” he encouraged.

“If it says ‘Happy Birthday, smiley face’, I’ll strangle you when you come back.”

A laugh burst right through him. “Your choking kink is getting out of hand, babe.”

“Shut up.” She huffed, unfolding the note. “Should have said I loved you,” she read aloud. “What does that mean?”

“You can ask for my help only once. Call me when you’ve found the fifth clue.”

“Wait!”

But he’d already hung up.

She almost called him back but then decided not to. She didn't want to waste her only chance to ask for help.

Classic treasure hunt, she thought, rereading the sentence.

The prize would be her birthday present for sure. Maybe he’d hidden it in the wood somewhere. A normal boyfriend would just have the birthday present delivered, or leave it on the table or in the garage, not challenge his girlfriend’s two only active brain cells with a children’s game. But Y/N wasn’t a normal girlfriend. And as much as she hated working for something other than her writing, a part of her was excited.

“Should have said I loved you,” she thought out loud, then snapped her fingers and rushed across the hallway to his library.

Two years ago, she’d told him she’d loved him for the first time and received silence in return. In this very room, he’d watched her leave.

She stood in front of the giant bookcase, which he’d had installed a month after she’d officially moved in. Most of these books were from her collection. On a shelf in the middle stood three framed photos of them. Them in Paris. Them with their families on a vacation last summer. Them at her graduation.

She flipped each frame over to check the back, but none had what she was looking for. She tapped her foot impatiently on the carpet while assessing the rest of the bookcase. It didn’t take her too long to notice that one book was upside down.

P.S. I Love You by Cecelia Ahern.

Of course. Of-fucking-course.

She rolled her eyes, feeling a smile stretching her lips as she took the book from the shelf and opened it to the first page. There was a post-it note that said:

Congrats, babe. You’ve found it. Next clue: Where the magic happens ;)

‘Where the magic happens.’ If it wasn’t sexual, the winky face had made sure that it was.

Could it be their bed? Nope. She'd slept there last night.

Could it be the first place they’d had sex?

Could the next clue be inside that car?

She jolted with a start and dashed out of the library, and as soon as she reached the stairs, she suddenly halted.

No. She didn’t remember which car they’d had sex in for the first time, and he’d got a whole collection of cars. It’d take forever to search every single one. That wasn’t the right answer.

Sighing, she stood on the first stair and contemplated the clue again.

They used to play Treasure Hunt when they were younger. There were usually at least five or six clues, and the first three should be easy.

Could it be her flat? Most of their ‘secret relationship’ had happened in her flat. It used to be their secret kingdom. Impenetrable. Disconnected to the outside world. They’d also had their second real kiss outside her door, and she still had until the end of this month before she must return the keys to the landlord.

She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t going to drive all the way there just to find out she was wrong.

And so she decided to call him.

“Let me guess,” he said as soon as the beeping stopped. “You’re either super impatient or your fairy godmother appeared and helped you find all five clues.”

She rolled her eyes. “Third clue. Is it your car or my flat?”

“My car?” He sounded confused, which gave her the impression that she might have got it wrong.

Her cheeks burnt as she said, “We had sex for the first time in your car.”

“No, not my car, but damn, I should have thought of that.”

“So it’s my flat?”

“Are you sure you want to ask me now?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” he smugly confirmed. “It’s your flat. Now you’re on your own until the final clue.”

“Fuck,” she grunted and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I thought you’d have trouble with this one, too. I mean, we fuck everywhere these days.”

“If my birthday present isn’t worth all this, we won’t be fucking ever again.”

He gasped at the threat, and she could picture him wearing that stupid crooked smile as he told her, “Good luck, kid. I believe in you.”

.

.

.

She found the next clue on Thumper’s lap.

When she’d moved most of her furniture to Harry’s house, she’d forgotten to take the purple stuffed bunny with her. She held it under her arm and scrutinized the pink post-it note, which said:

I cannot believe you left Thumper behind. Third clue: Drunk little deer.

“Drunk little deer? What does that even mean?” Then she looked at Thumper. “Should I kick him in the balls when I see him?”

She made the rabbit nod and burst out laughing at how crazy she sounded. If anyone walked in and saw her talking to a stuffed animal, they would assume she was either crazy or drunk.

Drunk.

She was the drunk little deer. Drunk Bambi.

The answer was the place he'd seen her drunk for the first time.

.

.

.

Andrew recognized Y/N right from the moment she stepped into the pub. He leaned over the counter and shouted for everyone to hear, “Little girl! Good to see you again!”

“Andrew," she smiled and shouldered her way towards the bar.

He eyed her up and down as she slid onto one of the stools. “You look different. I hope you’re not here to drink again. I might have to kick you out.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You look different, too. I like your new hair.”

Andrew rubbed his shiny bald head, scowling at her as she raised a smile and rested her chin on her knuckles. Andrew might look intimidating, especially now without his hair, but he was one of the softest people she’d ever met. He’d been so kind to her during her tough times and even let her haunt his pub day and night until Harry had come for the rescue.

“You’re kind of famous now, aren’t you?” Andrew said. “I’ve read your book. It didn’t suck.”

“You have?”

He lifted one giant shoulder of his, pursing his lips. “My wife made me. She's a big fan. Your boyfriend came two weeks ago and he even signed the book for her. He said he was the one in the story.”

“My boyfriend was here?”

Andrew gave a nod.

The voices in Y/N's head started cheering like she’d just won a wrestling match. It would have been so embarrassing if she'd asked Andrew first and then found out she'd got it wrong.

“Well, did he leave...something for me? A message perhaps?”

Andrew growled as he turned away, and without a word, disappeared through a stained curtain behind him. He came back five minutes later and handed her a green post-it note with an unreadable grimace on his face.

She snatched it immediately. A laugh crackled out of her as if he’d just given her gold.

Hi babe, you’re almost there! My biggest fans (not you) have the final clue. Get back to work.

“He gave this to me when he signed the book,” Andrew said.

Y/N mumbled the words over as she tried to figure them out. Her first guess for ‘biggest fans (not you)’was Gemma and Isaac. But then she got rid of the idea because they had to be at the same place at the same time in order for this to work, and Gem and Isaac were both at work.

Which two people were together right now and were also Harry’s biggest fans?

‘Get back to work.’

Yes. That’s it!

Y/N thrust the post-it note into her bag and rose from the stool. “I’m sorry. This must be weird to you.”

“It’s quite romantic, actually," Andrew said.

“Really?”

“And weird. You two are both weird. What a perfect couple.”

“Gee, thanks.”

As she spun on her heels, Andrew called after her, “Hey, little girl. I’m sorry I said you weren’t a real writer.”

“You said that?”

“You were drunk,” he chuckled. “Anyway, bring your weird boyfriend back sometimes.”

“I will. If there’s free beer.”

“Get out of here.” He shot his finger toward the door, but it was the first time she’d seen Andrew smile with his whole face.

.

.

.

Eddie’s bookshop was busy on most Sundays. Well, it had been busy almost every day since Y/N had credited him in her latest best-selling debut novel.

She entered the shop and was immediately recognized by a group of schoolgirls, who asked her to sign their new copies of her book and questioned her about the story. She recycled the same amiable answers that didn’t give away any more than what they might already know. Since she’d already got used to the attention, the fans didn’t intimidate her anymore.

She took a selfie with the girls and bid them goodbye. Then one of the new employees told her that Eddie and Alice were sorting books at the back. She wandered along aisles until she found them. Eddie was scolding Alice for putting hardcovers in between paperbacks. Nothing got on Eddie’s nerves as much as putting hardcovers in between paperbacks.

“The hardcovers take more shelf-space so you cannot put them there! God, Alice, were you drunk when you were sorting these books?”

“I wish I were drunk now,” Alice said, and her eyes lit up as she saw Y/N. She nearly tackled Y/N to the floor with a violent hug, and Y/N returned with half as much enthusiasm.

“You’re like a Golden Retriever,” Y/N said, pulling back and cupping her friend’s face.

“Happy birthday! I was gonna send you–”

Eddie didn’t wait for Alice to finish as he pushed her aside to step forward, his face brightened like the sun. “You’re here for the clue, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I–”

“We can’t just hand it to you.” That sun-like face suddenly turned serious. “You need a password. What is Harry’s favourite book?”

Y/N arched an eyebrow at Eddie as if expecting him to say ‘gotcha!’ But he only mirrored her expression as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an answer.

“Seriously?” Y/N scoffed, looking at her two friends. “He’s that narcissistic?”

Alice smirked as she raised a shoulder. “Either you answer or search this entire bookshop yourself.”

“I fucking hate him and I fucking hate both of you.” Y/N rolled her eyes upward and exhaled sharply. “Norwegian Wood.”

“Huh?”

“That’s his favourite book,” she told Alice and remembered Alice didn’t read fiction unless it was compulsory. “Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami.”

Eddie looked confused. “He loves Haruki Murakami? His books are misogynistic.”

“Harry’s got a bad taste in authors. But judging from your reactions, I suppose that is not the correct answer, and I should probably break up with my boyfriend because I don’t know what his favourite book is.”

“You do, Y/N.” Alice beamed as she leaned a shoulder against the bookcase. “You’re thinking too big. It’s pretty simple.”

“Shit. Is it my book?” Y/N asked, then pinched the bridge of her nose as Eddie began to smile. “Goddamn it, he’s like my dad times ten.”

“What did your dad do?” Eddie asked.

“He bought a bunch of copies of my book and sent them to our relatives for Christmas. It was pretty embarrassing.”

“Aww.”

“ALICE!”

“Jesus Christ!” Alice covered her ears as she shot Eddie a glare. “I’m standing right next to you.”

“Go get the clue!” Eddie flicked his fingers at her. “Go! Hurry!”

Alice rolled her eyes and flipped him off as she backed out of the aisle. Eddie ignored her and turned back to Y/N, grinning from ear to ear like he was the birthday girl. “Are you excited?”

“Not as much as you are. That’s for sure,” Y/N said and made sure he knew she was joking by giving him a toothy grin.

“I’m not gonna tell you what the surprise is, you know.”

“I’m not asking.”

Eddie’s laugh was high as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “What I can tell you is that you’re gonna love it. Too bad I cannot be there to see your reaction.”

“Trust me,” she said. “You don’t wanna see me scold Harry through the phone.”

Alice returned with a copy of My Girl and handed it to Y/N with a smile that possibly meant, ‘You’re gonna love this’.

Suspicious and somewhat elated, Y/N opened the book to the dedication page.

To Mum, Dad, and the boy next door.

Those were her words. Below was his handwriting: Hi my love :)

Curious, she turned to the first chapter. This wasn’t just another copy of her book, of which she’d got all the different covers at home. With this one, Harry had done the same thing he’d done to her journal. His handwriting was scattered across the pages. He’d underlined all the quotes he’d enjoyed and left comments about them on the side.

Y/N heard Eddie say something about how he would never write in books and Alice immediately shush him for being rude. Y/N never wrote in books, either, but she loved reading Harry’s handwritten notes. It felt like he was reading the story with her. The butterflies in her stomach went wild just from imagining him taking his time writing on each page and grinning at his own jokes. If this was the birthday surprise, she could not ask for anything more.

However, she knew he had to be more extra than this.

And there it was. Proof that this was not the surprise. On the very last page, he wrote:

Meet me where the sky meets the earth.

“Where the sky meets the earth?” she thought out loud and glanced up at Eddie, who responded with a shrug. Alice did, too. Y/N didn’t think they were lying. Harry must have told them what the surprise was, but not the answers to these cryptic messages.

Eddie patted her on the back as he wished her good luck and shooed Alice back to the front to assist the customers. Y/N was left behind to work it out on her own. She leaned against the bookcase, pondering over the words.

Hadn’t Harry said she was allowed to call him when she reached the fifth clue?

She tucked the book under her arm and pulled out the phone from the pocket of her jeans.

“Hi, babe!”

“I’ve got the fifth clue,” she blurted. “What do I do now?”

“I don’t know. Solve it?”

“Yes, smartarse. The answer is, I don’t know.”

“You’re not even thinking.”

“You said you’d help me!”

“I said I’d help you once,” he countered. “And I did. I told you to call me just so I know when you’ve reached the final clue.”

“So you’re not gonna help me with this one?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Well, I can give you a hint. What do all the places you’ve visited today have in common?”

She chewed on her lip, an arm folded over her chest. “They’re memories,” she whispered.

“That’s right,” he whispered back, like they didn’t want anyone to overhear their conversation. “This last place is a memory as well. Where the sky meets the earth. Think, kid.”

She pouted. “Can I please get another hint?”

“You don’t get to talk in a cute voice and manipulate me, Bambi,” he sighed. “Fine. Our first date.”

“Holmes Chapel?!”

He said nothing and hung up.

It took Y/N a few seconds, but she believed she’d got the answer.

.

.

.

She took the lift and climbed four sets of stairs to the roof.

Adrenaline buzzed right through her, causing her hands to shake and her heart to pound against her ribcage. The metal was cold against her fingertips as she pawed the heavy door open slowly. It was unlocked.

The cold wind gushed in, blowing her hair out of her face as she stepped into the night. The city of London gleamed before her eyes. Where the sky meets the earth. This was where they could see stars high above and down below.

And there he was. Waiting for her with that smug crooked grin on his stupid face.

“Hi,” he said.

Oh, how she’d missed his stupid beautiful face.

She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket and ambled forward, still thinking him being here was too good to be true.

He lifted both hands like a surrendered criminal, both eyebrows raised as he said, “Before you get angry, I can explain.”

“Please do,” she demanded but found herself smiling.

With the wind in his hair, dimples on his cheeks and city light in his eyes, he looked absolutely breathtaking. She couldn’t hate him even if she tried.

Harry exhaled unsteadily through his mouth before mumbling, “Here I go,” and then he was on his knee in front of her.

She didn’t react when he took her cold hand and pressed it against his warm chest. She could feel his heart beating almost in sync with her own.

“Are you surprised?” he asked, chuckling nervously.

She exhaled a quiet laugh and said, “Yes, but also no.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Because I warned you this would happen?”

“Because you warned me this would happen.” Her mouth curved at the corner as she recalled the Oscar night in his LA house, both of them drunk, him on his knee like this, a promise, and how in love she’d felt, almost as much as she did in this very moment.

“Is this too early or too late?” he ventured.

“This is perfect.”

She pressed her lips into a smile, and his green eyes flickered in the semi-darkness. “Well then.” He straightened his back. “Y/N ‘Bambi’ Y/L/N.”

“Yes.” Her voice was so brittle she feared he wouldn’t hear it, her stomach twisted into triple knots, her chest fluttering and her fingers trembling.

He held her gaze as the corner of his mouth arched. “Will you…”

“I swear to God if you’re jok–”

“Marry me,” he blurted, panting as though saying those words had drained all the energy out of him. “Marry me. I want to annoy you for the rest of my life. I want every fight, every laugh, every up and down, every kiss, every touch, everything about you. I will love you until all my teeth fall out, until you finally learn to cook–”

“I’ll never learn to cook.”

“I know,” he chuckled. “Most importantly, I’ll even let you love young Leo a bit more than me, but only sometimes.”

She covered her mouth. What meant to be a laugh came out as a sob.

“I would have written a speech, but I figured you’d roast me for my bad writing, so I’d rather improvise and blame this awful proposal on it being improvised.”

“God, you’re fucking annoying,” she laughed tearily into her hand and he was laughing, too.

Quickly, he got to his feet and tugged her into him. She circled her arms around his waist, her face buried into his chest as she inhaled the scent she’d missed achingly in the last two weeks.

“My girl is such a crybaby,” he said, kissing the top of her head, her temple, her ear, her cheek, her forehead. He kissed and held her until she’d calmed down.

“Yes,” she told him at last, lifting her eyes up to his.

“Yes, you’re a crybaby?”

“Yes, you’re a dumbarse and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life roasting you and yes, I’ll sometimes love young Leo more than you but only sometimes, because you’re the greatest love of my life and I cannot imagine a life without you–”

He stopped her with his lips, his hands tenderly cupping her face as his thumbs moved slowly over her chin, cheeks and jawlines. She’d imagined that their first kiss after two weeks apart would be sexually aggressive and against-the-wall hot, but this kiss was slow and sensual and passionate and full of wanting. It felt like his promise for their future together. One that would last.

[kustovshik]

Talking.

This post is informative in connection with a dispute that one of the parties decided to make absurd. If you don't want to get involved, just skip it. I don't force anyone to look into it or read it.

Kust is in touch. As many people have noticed, there was a small(not small now) conflict between me and a couple of other people, which could have already been eliminated, but was brought to total clowning. Names/nicknames named in this post will not be in order to avoid any negative towards those people. Also, no correspondence will be shown here, although they will be mentioned. If someone asks , I'm ready to go and personally collect all the screenshots of the two conversations, without losing any moments.

As a person in some way responsible for the current situation, I have a desire to illuminate everything from the side of my vision of things.

The conflict conditionally began three days ago. Let's call the person who initially had a small argument with me a certain person "A".

Well. in March. March 24th. We can assume that almost 5 months ago I published a post: https://kustovshik.tumblr.com/post/613504425335586816/i-want-to-be-in-fiars-stomach-he-looks-like-a

Many people remember it, I hope. I'll attach an old screenshot here just in case.

The whole conflict initially started because of the double meaning of the context behind the work itself. The problem, I was told, was the tags. Namely, in the tag highlighted in the screenshot above: ‘safe vore(or is it?)’.

This tag was originally put up there not because I didn't know what type of vore to call it, but specifically so that people themselves would sit and think: what do they want to see in my drawing. Simply put, a drawing with an open context. And it seems like no one has had any problems with it for few months.

That's what person A didn't like. I was told in a very unpleasant way for me personally that the person was very offended by this use of tags. And other problems with how they don't like 'fatal vore'. It was also suggested to me that I don't know about how fatal can be quite a painful experience for some.

I admit. My answer was quite abrupt. I can't deny it, and I won't, because that's the kind of person I am. My language is harsh on words and expressions. Instead of a thousand words and a selection of expressions, I usually tell people everything openly, or I am ready to openly indicate that something is wrong. Also, I fully admit that I have problems controlling my emotions, which makes it difficult for me to establish contact with strangers. I grew up in a different mindset, which is why I have a different view of many things. It's like putting two people who know the same language, but from different parts of the world, next to each other and forcing them to express their position on some moral principles or other things, and then wonder why their answers are different. A very exaggerated and crude comparison, but that how it looks like.

Why did I respond harshly? I am a rather rude person, and I do not like when people come to me in private messages, starting to talk about how bad they are feeling, because of things that can be safely ignored or blocked by them, so that there are no problems.

My first fatal mistake was when I decided to answer to "A". Afterwards, I talked to a couple of my friends and got cold feet. And then I apologized, trying to come to some compromise, adding the tag 'open ending' so that no one would be confused. But it seems that this was not enough, because “A” continued to say how it’s bad from what she found, even if not quite fatal stuff. Refusing to compromise in any way, as I suggested.

After that, we parted with apologies to each other, and neither of us wrote to each other again. I honestly thought it was over.

Now, before I go on to the man who has been driving me mad for the past two days, I will make a pure assumption and try to explain my indignation in a different way...

Out of human interest, I went through the 'safe vore' tag. Noted an interesting feature. Both tags had quite a lot of posts there. Namely, tags are 'safe vore' AND 'fatal vore'. Why did my post cause the problem? Have no idea.

Then another point became incomprehensible to me. How did a person get to this post at all? It would be difficult to find it through search, but you can: there is a lot of content by tag. I flipped the feed down from the second account for a long time and didn't come across my own post.

Then, in my little investigation, I looked into Tumblr's alerts. Likes, reblogs, well, you understand in short. And noticed it.

This is the first appearance of "A" in my notifications.

Hence, I dare to assume that "A" came across one of the reblogs of this post: https://kustovshik.tumblr.com/post/616227708116025344/a-new-player-has-joined-the-game And then "A" went to my blog, along the way ignoring the description specially written for such people at the very top of the blog, and came across my two-meaning post.

But after that, I had a rhetorical question: Why go to the blog of a person who has this written in the description, and hope that there will not be a fatal vore?

Of course, this theory is based only on my assumptions. But I think this scenario is quite real.

Thus, we can say that I have every right to be angry at the indignation expressed in my direction, because it is not my fault that the person ignored my preferences, scrolled down my blog page and started complaining.

Back to reality.

As you can understand, " A " shared our conversation with their friend, who the next day suddenly came to me with a long message about his position, offering help that was not needed.

Even then, I began to suspect that this person(let's call him "B") was somehow connected with "A". Moreover, the reason for the visit was the same for both of them.

I have already mentioned that I am an irritable and rather rude person. I was already stressed enough by the appearance of "A" and the consequences of my reflections that occurred after what I thought was an end to the conflict. And the repeated mention of the situation has already infuriated me.

I fully admit that I reacted very sharply to the "B" message. I had reasons for this that the other side chose not to consider.

Well. After receiving the message I gave sharp response expressing extreme dissatisfaction, but without insults to "B". Was there passive-aggressive speech? Yes. Were words said that I am not obliged to monitor the health of people who do not concern me? Yes. Do I have the right to think so? Yes. Does this fall under the moral code? It depends on the person's personal worldview.

Yes, I was rude due to the fact that on the second day I was exhausted and angry about this situation. I wanted to end this conflict and repeatedly asked both of them to block me and remain neutral. In addition, I tried to somehow explain that we are people of different mentalities and grew up with different life standards, so in this situation we see this conflict differently. Yes, in a rough way, but I tried to explain it.

I received a ton of direct insults, was accused of narcissism and high self-esteem, as well as refusing to take care of other people's problems. In addition, I received lines like, quote: "...but let me see you talk like you did to me or anyone else simply trying to converse with you over a serious topic and I will not hesitate to have your content and eventually your account removed from this site.".

Isn't this a direct threat?

I understand that passive-aggressive speech itself can offend someone. But you can't call it an insult. Passive-aggression is a hidden way of expressing negative feelings and emotions to a person. This is not an insult. But, Yes, I admit that this is a very harsh and rude way of communicating.

That's just after such an exchange of pleasantries, I snapped. 3 days of unquenchable conflict, when one side refused to listen to the other, at the same time. There were attempts on my part to end the conflict. There was one repeated request to block and disperse, so as not to inflame everything to the point of absurdity.

"Want to stay safe with your own preferences? "Please, God, don't touch me, that's all. Block me already and we will live in peace. "- This was the message of my answers. It's sad, but instead of just ending the conflict, I got the brand of a person with a capitalist mindset, the brand of a bitch-whiner, and other other charms.

And I swear that I was ready to just leave all this and stop responding to such outbursts in my direction, banal blocking "B", if they can’t themselves do it.

As here I get a notification with a post where this person changed my art / tags and basically uploaded the changed image to his blog, hiding behind good intentions. "B" did not receive permission for such actions. Even with an indication of authorship. I am most outraged by such actions at the moment.

Better look on the two images compared to each other. 

And after that, everyone wants me to try to understand how bad I was and how poor they are, that from a simple argument that could have ended without even starting, it turned into an absurd clowning with offended people, insults and changing someone else's drawings and whole character reaction. Just a note. Fiar is not so nice, he’s a wild monster leech and he just grumbles about everything as much as he don’t understands why some people willing to let him eat them. He’ll never say something as “I’ll keep you safe”.  

There it is. The comedy of a three days.

This post is for informational purposes only. Namely, how I see this situation.

All I want now is for "B" to delete the post, and for both sides to banal block each other, so that we never meet again.

I refuse to apologize to "B" for their latest act of outraging my drawing by completely distorting the meaning from a neutral drawing to something that only "B" and their friend like. In conclusion I can say, that I do not call myself a good one in that confrontation. I did some terrible mistakes while talking to both of those people. But it’s not only I’m here being on the bad side. People are not black and white. 

After this I’ll not respond to any of the continuation of that conflict anymore. I’m tired of this.

[jinmukangwrites]

Bruised (1/?)

For @batboycentral <3

Whumptober day 10

Internal Bleeding

Ao3

Warnings: blood, nosebleeds, illness

-o-o-o-o-

The first time he noticed it, he didn't actually notice  it. Like, bruises were common in Tim's line of work. Sometimes, he'd wake up in the morning with enough purple splotches to almost look like he was trying out Cheetah cosplay.  Not  remembering where a bruise came from was just as frequent. When you went out close to every night to fight common street crime you're going to get hit very often. So often, that really, it would be impossible to remember where you've gotten every single bruise, cut, and ache. 

Tim waking up this morning to see his legs had large, dark bruises polka-dotting his pale skin was nothing out of the ordinary. 

He just looked at them, shrugged and wondered if he got that bruise sparring with Kon or if it was from stumbling on one of his lands last night while swinging roof to roof. 

Then he continued with the rest of his day, not even thinking about them. They were just bruises, what was the point of wasting brain power thinking about them? 

The second time he noticed it, he still didn't actually connect the dots. The only difference this time was that there were bruises on his arms as well. 

"That looks painful," Bart pointed out, literally and figuratively as Tim made himself breakfast that morning. He had to practically dance out of the way from having the bruise on the outside of his bicep poked. 

"It's just a bruise," Tim said, retreating from the Tower's kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal clutched in his hands. "People get them all the time."

Bart hummed and followed Tim to the table with a spark in his eyes that Tim didn't like. He'd have dodging practice early today, he guessed. 

Bart sat down next to Tim, kicking his legs under the table. "I don't get bruises like that. It's big"

"Because you're superhuman with a heightened healing factor," Tim deadpanned before stuffing his mouth full of captain crunch. 

"Oh yeah, I forget that sometimes."

“How do you just forget you have superpowers?!”

The third time he noticed it was when he actually began to wonder about it. For the past three days, he'd been  covered  in bruises. On his sides, limbs, even a persistent one on his cheek. And yes, he was used to being covered in bruises, but the bruises were starting to look strange, covered with little red dots that gave him the impression of acne hanging out right below the layers of his skin on his legs and arms. And it felt like he was getting bruised for  every  little thing. Cassie playfully punched his arm a little while earlier and he soon found himself scowling in the mirror, poking the dark stain of skin. Cassie punched hard, sure, but she knew her strength. Even when she was roughhousing, she knew how to make it so no one got hurt. 

And then, there was the fact that he woke up this time with bruises once again, but he hadn't gone out the night before. He stayed in to hack into the mainframes of various potentially corrupt companies of Jump City and their neighboring city of San Francisco that they occasionally patrol from time to time. He didn't do  anything  last night to warrant bruises. 

The third time he noticed it, he was more careful with it, because Tim  wasn't  dumb. He wasn't oblivious to his own body. His spleen was missing for crying out loud! That could change things about his health and how he pursued both his everyday life and his  night life. Common illnesses could be deadly. His body just didn't function the way it used to. 

But now, it wasn't just the bruises. It was also the new episodes of lightheadedness and weakness that he just… couldn't explain. He slept. Not a full 8 or even 7 hours of sleep every night but he still  slept  . He ate food. Good food, especially for dinner. Meats, vegetables, the whole shebang. It was impressive, actually, how well everyone at the Teen Titan's Tower ate, especially for being a bunch of, well, teenagers .

He shouldn't be that tired. Standing up shouldn't be a chore like it was beginning to become. 

And the others were noticing as well, which only served to worry Tim more about his own health. 

"Woah, you good?" Kon asked, grabbing Tim by the shoulders as he stumbled up from the couch and almost fell immediately backwards. 

Tim slapped his hands off, even though normally he always welcomed the company of Kon, but he was close to panicking. Something was wrong, and he was afraid to figure out what. "I'm fine," he replied, trying to keep a fearful snap out of his voice. Judging by the way Kon scowled, Tim wasn't to be believed. "I'm just… tired."

"Tired"?" Bart asked, zipping up from the couch and ending up right in front of Tim in the blink of an eye. Bart was scowling, looking up at Tim with narrowed eyes. "Tim Drake? Tired? I don't believe it."

"No, Tim's always tired," Cassie put in, her voice carefully level to the point Tim almost winced. "Tim admitting to being tired? Feels almost like sacrilege."

Bart nodded, like that was what he was thinking the entire time and Tim had to swallow down a deep sigh. He sniffed and stepped away from the others, folding his arms across his chest. "I think I'm just coming down with something." Oh no, Kon's frowning. Tim quickly continued, sniffing again.  Maybe. It's not a big deal. I'm just a little more tired than usual-" Tim sniffs once more as something wet begins to slide down the inside of his nostrils. Great. A runny nose? He reached the back of his hand up to his nose and wiped. "And feeling a little weak. But that's it. Just…"

All three of them were staring at him oddly now. He frowned.

"What?"

"Tim…" Cassie started, "your nose is bleeding."

"What?!"

Tim looked down at the hand he had used to wipe under his nose, and to his shock he saw a thin streak of red trailing down over his thumb joint, parallel to his pointer finger. Right next to one of his strange bruises.

He reached up to his nose, wiping once more. His eyes widened when his hand came away with more blood. He sniffed again, only this time he brought his hand back up to his nose and kept it there. "I'm gonna...  um…" 

"Go," Kon said, "we'll talk after."

Tim nodded, knowing there was no way his friends would let him off the hook now that he admitted to not feeling the greatest. He quickly rushed past them—sniffing and sorely hoping no blood would drop down onto his shirt and stain it—and eventually found himself inside one of the many bathrooms built into the Tower. Using his free hand, he grabbed a tissue and painstakingly folded it up a few times. He leaned over the sink as he finally let the hand cupping his nose fall away, and instantaneously a few drops fell into the sinks porcelain. He swiftly pressed the tissue over his nose and turned on the water to wash his now blood streaked hand. The water ran crimson to pink and back to clear. He turned off the water and carefully closed the toilet seat lid to sit down on the shaggy purple cover. He kept the napkin pressed tightly over his nose and leaned back against the wall, breathing through his mouth and fighting the dizzy feeling settling in his brain and on his chest. 

He could taste blood in his mouth. He hoped it was because the blood was dripping the wrong way down into his throat and not because of alternate reasons. He could see the dots. He didn't want to connect them. Not yet. He just had to wait for his bleeding nose to stop. Then he could start sorting out the symptoms. 

Unconsciously, he brought his free hand to his side, under his armpit and above his stomach, then ran his fingers over the scar placed there under his cotton tee-shirt. 

Please don't be related. Please oh  please don't be related. 

He exhaled, swallowing blood, and dragged his hand away to pull out his phone. He ignored the Google app and instead began to distract himself by checking the notifications on every other app he owned. Tumblr, Discord, Instagram, all of them. Every so often, he'd pull the napkin away from his nose just to immediately put it back when blood attempted to drip down. Eventually, he ran out of apps to laze through and opened his Email, however he immediately gained a headache when he saw most of them belonged to Wayne Enterprises. 

After quickly changing the napkin for a new one once his fingertips began to feel wet, he opened the Play Store and downloaded the first mindless game he could tap on. 

He was in the middle of figuring out where the sevens could go in his solitaire game when a knock on the door caught his attention. He lowered his phone and turned towards the door. "Yeah?" He yelled, his voice nasally thanks to the tissue still squeezing his nostrils shut. 

"You good?" 

Kon's voice. He sounded concerned. 

"Um, yeah?"

A beat of silence. Then a clearing of a throat. "You're still bleeding?" 

Tim almost hummed, but that would shoot gore out of his nose. So he clicked his tongue instead. "Yeah. A- a little."

More silence. "Do… do noses usually bleed this long?" 

And not for the first time does Tim regret making friends with mostly superheroes who are, in fact, super. With their indestructible skin, healing factors, and amazing feats of strength, it was sometimes hard for them to comprehend how plain old humans with no abilities acted in certain situations. What plain old humans with no abilities needed to keep physically healthy. He loved his friends, no doubt about it, but questions like  do noses bleed for this long  gets his head spinning with the realization that this was his life.

Tim tucked his phone away in his pocket. "Um, depends. Really." 

He should open the door. Talk to Kon face to face. He sounded genuinely hung up on Tim's health. Talking directly with each other should help calm Kon down at least. He put his hand on the counter next to him and used it to lift himself up. 

Once his butt left the toilet seat, he knew he had just made a mistake. The world swirled and his head suddenly began to pound. He wasn't sure if he blinked, or even blacked out, but he did know that one moment he was halfway to sitting and the next he was on the ground with his legs crumbled beneath him, blinking cobwebs from his dizzied brain as the door suddenly slammed open. 

And that was another thing about being a part of both a team and a friend group of supers. They sometimes underestimated how much a plain old human with no abilities could take. Though this time, Tim was pretty sure the worry on Connors face was for good reason. Those poor door hinges though… they’d need replacing...

There was a warm, copper tasting liquid dripping down over his lips and off his chin. During the confusion, his hand holding the napkin had ended up limp by his side, his body having forgotten to hold it over his nose while he blanked out and fell. At the back of his far away head, he knew that the amount of blood dripping from his nose, especially considering how long he's sat here with his fingers pinching it shut, was way more than what should be normal. 

It took a tremendous amount of energy to lift his eyes up to Kon, who at this point had ended up in front of Tim, kneeling with hands lifted and eyes wide. 

"Are you okay?" Kon was asking. His voice teetered the line of hysterics. 

Tim brought his hand up to his face and tried to wipe away the blood to open his mouth, but all he did was smear the liquid over his hands and face. His heart pounded as he leveled his gaze into Kon's eyes. He thought of the bruises, and rash like dots on his arms and legs. He thought of his spleen, of the lack of it. He thought about his compromised immune system. He thought about the dizzy spells. The weakness. He thought about how his nose should have stopped bleeding by now. 

"I think… I think I need a hospital.

-o-o-o-o-

End of chapter one. More will update after whumptober is finished. Please do not ask to be put on a tag list.

[the-dead-skwad]

Secret X Damien Haas X Reader

Thank you for being so patient with me :) I know it takes me ages to post so I’m sorry. Another Damien fluff shit. The only warnings are swearing like always. I have mentioned names of family members, I know you won’t relate to that part but just like change it in your head. 

"Heeeyyyyy! What's up guys!" Your usual loud voice boomed across the set as you spoke to the camera. "Me and the beautiful Damien are here today playing an old spoopy classic in the spirit of halloweeeeeeeeeen!" You picked up the case for resident evil 2 and waved it around. It was the remastered version but still it was going to be as fun.

Damien took the case from your hand "ZOMBIES!" He yelled as loud as he could "Throw back!" and he literally threw the case behind him hitting the back of the set. "So glad you guys could join me and Y/N watching us kill some zombies and possibly poop our pants."

"I hope I don't, I really like these pants." You stuck your leg in the air .

Damien laughed "So if you were wearing pants you didn't like pooping your pants would be perfectly fine?" 

You looked around for a second "Ermmm yeah. Anyway don't forget to subscribe and punch that bell to get notifications! Punch it, slap it, hold its hand, do what you want to the bell. I'm such a hoe for zombies so I'm just superrr excited today!" 

Damien looked at you and laughed "You a hoe?" 

"Big hoe!" You both laughed together. 

As the game started one of the crew members switched the lights off "Oh!" Damien shouted "No one told me it would be in the dark." 

You turned slowly to look at him and spoke in a low whisper "How else do you do anything spoopy?" 

"You really freak me out when it comes to horrors, like you get so into it." "Hoe for horrors." You whispered really creepily. -- The shoot was going so well, your stomach actually hurt from laughing so much. "Quick!" You shouted again "There’s a zombie! There!" 

"I know Y/N I can see it." he turned to look at you for a split second "Ahhh!" A zombie shot out in front of the screen making you both scream.

"Oh you bitch!" you basically leapt out of your seat grabbing hold of Damien's arm and hiding behind him. "Nope!" 

He turned to look at you, "You okay back there?" He wrapped one arm around you. 

"Yeahhh" Your face popped back into shot from under his arm. Looking up at him you smiled, for just a minute your eyes lingered on his face, you noticed so much more than usual. His eyes, his smile, just everything about his was perfect. You soon snapped out of it when you realised you were both just staring at each other in front of all the crew. 

"I thinks that’s enough for now!" Ian's voice came across the set "We'll break for lunch and finish this later."

"So," You turned to look at him as you picked your bag up "What do you fancy for lunch?"

"Well I said to Shayne I'd meet him for lunch, go to the cafe down the road. Wonna come?" 

"As long as I'm not interrupting your man date." Walking towards the office to find Shayne. 

Just out of ear shot "You would never interrupt anything in my life." he answered you. 

--

Lunch was nice, the three of you sat outside in the sun with a coffee and a sandwich. 

"How was the shoot this morning?" Shayne looked at you both. 

Both of you looked at each other before you answered "Yeah it was good. Nearly shat myself at one point but all we have to do is shoot the wrap up." 

"Awesome. Bet its super funny." 

Taking a sip of your coffee you couldn't help but feel something happened between the two of you. Even after all this time of you working and being friends you hadn't really noticed anything. You knew you liked him but work and friendship was so important to you, you didn't want to ruin anything. 

You realised that while you were in your own thoughts Shayne and Damien were just talking so much shit. "Hey." Damien nudged you "You awake?" 

"Yeah." You smiled at him "I was just thinking..." He was looking at you in the same way again. 

Shayne hadn't noticed anything "I was thinking you guys could come on try not to laugh together or we could do who knows best, maybe Damien best friend" He pointed at himself "and on screen girlfriend" he pointed at you "Orrrrr I dunno.. hold on I have so many ideas." 

While Shayne was scrolling through his phone reeling off so many different things the tree of you could do together, you felt Damien's hand slowly touch your knee. He was wayy too much of a gentleman to touch you thigh. As he squeezed your knee you felt your heart jump into your throat. You reached down and placed your hand on his, you moved it up slightly so he wasn't reaching so far under the table. Squeezing his hand lightly so he knew that you were okay with all of this. 

"Damien, what do you think about this?" Shayne shoved his phone in his face snapping out of his daze. 

"Ahhh, erm shnizburtness."

You choked on your coffee "Whats up?" looking at him laughing so hard. "Are you okay man?" Shayne was laughing too "Did your brain break?" "Honestly I have no idea what just happened." His side-wards smile made you heart melt. 

Shayne go up to use the bathroom still laughing to himself. Damien turned to look at you taking both your hands in his. "So what are we doing?" 

"I'm not sure but what ever it is I'm absolutely loving it." 

Already sat pretty close you leaned in a little further. You could feel your heart beating through out your entire body as you pressed your lips against his. It was so perfect like nothing you had ever experienced in your life. It was like your brain turned into fireworks. 

He moved back and smiled at you, he stroked his thumb across your cheek "So perfect." 

"Oh my god! I've just had an idea.." Shayne was on his way back "Just pretend for now that nothing has happened." He sat back down "I think we should do Who knows best.. I question you two. You can fight it out for the spot of main man in my life."

"Awesome!" 

-- As soon as you got back to the office Shayne walked ahead to talk to Ian about the plan. Just before the set the was a door that lead to the costume room. You both knew that no one would be in there as you two were the only ones in this video. He looked at you and smiled. Checking around you to make sure no one could see you, you both went into the room. You only looked at each other for a second before you literally leapt on each other. Your lips smashed together, your entire body was filled with butterfly's. You jumped up and wrapped you legs around his waist. He took a few steps forward pushing you against the wall. Half a rail of costumes collapsed on the floor. His lips parted from yours and moved down to your neck. You threw your head back letting out a small moan.

"Hey!" A voice from behind the door made you panic. You jumped off him and straightened yourself out. The door swung open and Courtney stood there looking at you both. "What are you guys doing?" 

"Nothing," You said nervously "I just knocked this stand over." 

"Why do you look so flustered?" 

"I hurt my toe..." 

"Riiighhttt. They're waiting for you guys ." 

The rest of the shoot went perfect. Ian and Garett were happy to do a 'Who knows best' with the three of you as well. It was going to be hard but you only had to hide your relationship for 3 days. 

--

It as finally the day of the shoot, it had been very difficult keeping you both a secret. There was a couple of times you had snuck off and almost been caught. But from what you guys knew know had clocked on yet. Your plan would work perfectly as long as Shayne didn't know. 

As you stood at your kitchen counter making your coffee to take to work you felt an arm wrap around your waist. You squeezed his arm making him hold you tighter. He left gentle kissed on the exposed skin on your shoulder. "Hmmm. Why did we only just decide to do this?" 

"Well, you've asked this 20 times since we first kissed," You turned in his arms so you were face to face "and how was I supposed to know you liked me as much as I liked you." You gave him a meaningful kiss.

"I guess you could say zombies bought us together."

"What can I say.. I'm a hoe for horrors." 

He laughed at you hugging you tighter "Come on you we gotta get to work."

--

Pulling up in work parking lot Courtney pulled up right by you and Shayne was leaning against his car waiting for the lot of you. He looked at you both as you got out your car "Are you ready to be shameeeedddd as I prove that I am the ultimate best friend?" 

"Of course Shayne.. How ever will I beat you?" Damien shook his head, he watched you as you walked to the offices with Courtney.

As soon as the guys were out of earshot she looked at you "Soooo, how was last night? Did he stay over? Did anything happen? Do I need to  start looking for bridesmaid dresses?" 

"Jesus Court" You laughed at her "No, nothing happened. Me and Damien are just super good friends. All this chemistry is for the fans," As you lied through your teeth all you could see in your head were flashes of the night before. The touching, feeling, searching. My god you had never had sex like it. 

--

On set you were quite excited. It was set up so you sat opposite Damien and Shayne . As soon as you all sat down you could feel Damien’s foot stroking your leg. You raised your eyebrows at him and smiled. 

"Action!" Garett shouted.

"Hey guys!" You spoke to the camera "We're here today to see who knows me best! I've been friends with Damien and Shayne for a few years now and we all know tumblr has shipped me with both. So really I guess its a test for the ultimate ship. We also have the jury sat by our side." You pointed to Courtney, Noah and Kieth sat at the side "They can give a guess if both bots get it wrong."

"So!" Shayne spoke as loud as always "Last time Courtney beat Damien and won the spot of my best friend, I shall prove today that I am the best."

"In your dreams bitch!" Damien laughed at him "Before we start can we just ask you to subscribe and punch that notification bell so you know what we're doing." 

"First question!" You looked at the cards infront of you "How many siblings do I have? Extra points for gender and names."

"Oh fuck!" Shayne said loudly "You have a huge family!" 

Damien smiled at you and gave you a small wink, luckily no one saw him. The camera probably did though. You picked up the water gun off the table and started to pump it "I fully well know they won't get this right."

They both sighed as they finished writing. Shayne went first "I guessed 2 sisters, 3 brothers. Lydia, Kate, John, Johnathon and Johnny." 

Everyone laughed at him, "John, Johnathon and Johnny?" Courtney nearly screamed at him.

"I couldn't think of other male names!" 

"Shyane! There's literally multiple males in this room!" Noah couldn't believe him. 

Still laughing you smiled at Damien "Anddddd how wrong are you?" Even though you were together you would genuinely be impressed if he got it right.  

He spun the board around "You have 4 sisters, no brothers. Lydia, Mia, Ava and your step sister who you don't actually see Jess." 

You smiled and shook your head. You pumped the gun a little more ans shot Shayne directly in the chest making him scream. "Honestly I'm impressed Damien. How in the hell did you know that?" 

"Well you know" He just shurgged "I listen." 

Courtney squeaked "That is super cute." 

If only she knew you thought to yourself. You internally smiled "Anyway next question. This one is easier. What is my favourite thing to order for lunch? I know I pretty much eat two things but I deffo get one thing more." 

It literally took them two seconds to answer which really made you think you should change up your diet. "Damien you first."

"This is also very easy.." He spun his board around "So you either get pad thai, which is most of our favourite but more than usual you get subway chicken and bacon BBQ wrap."

Shayne made a very loud noise "I said chicken and bacon too!" 

"Yep, you're both right.. I seriously need to try more food apparently."

After a list of questions you pulled out the last one smiling to yourself. You looked up at Shayne and laughed to yourself, he was literally dripping wet and Damien had got one wrong. You turned to look at the camera. "If this question wasn't so good I'd just end it here. I mean jesus Shayne! You call yourself my friend."

Damien also laughed "Honestly from this it looks like you guys have never actually met." 

"Okay!" Shayne shouted. "I clearly do not listen to you guys enough. I promise from this day forward I will be a better friend." 

You rolled your eyes at him "Anyway, final question." They started a drum roll on the table "True or false I have a secret boyfriend." 

"What!" Courtney shouted "I mean there’s no way! We would know that." You smiled at everyone "Shayne you first."

He looked around doing that fmaous confused face "I put false... because there’s no way you wouldn't tell us." 

You smiled at Damien as he spoke "So I said true..." He spun his board around "Because Its me." 

The room was silent for a second. Shayne turned slowly looking at both of you "WHAT!" He shputed the loudest you had ever heard him. 

"Wait." Kieth stood up "You two are together... like actually together." 

You smiled at him for the millionth time "Yeah we are." 

"OOOOHHHH MY GOD!" Courtney had now joined in on the screaming.  

You stood up and walked up to him to give him a hug. He also stood up and wrapped his arms around you "Sorry dude, I wanted to tell you but we thought this way would be so much funnier." 

Shayne joined in on the hug "I mean finally!" Then they all joined in for a big group hug. 

You pulled away and winked at the camera. "I just have one last thing I need to do though." You walked back round to your side of the table and pulled out the biggest water gun "I'm sorry dude." You pointed it straight at Shayne "But you did get the last one wrong!"

[unto-the-breach]

✨Inferno & Bucky✨

Pre-Relationship-

4.) Who felt romantic feelings first?

General-

3.) What was their first kiss like?

Love-

2.) What are their primary love languages?

Domestic Life-

7.) How do they celebrate holidays?

bet alright let’s gooooooo

gonna throw this under a read more bcos it won’t make sense to literally anyone but jor, Inferno is my marvel OC who’s shipped with Bucky Barnes! 

there’s sort of two answers to these questions, the Back Then and the Now answers. For context, Inferno has sort of got two “lives,” one that she lived as Quinn Watson, an army nurse in World War 2, and afterwards she became a science experiment and got all fiery. She’s been pretty much in hiding since, until Captain America and Bucky Barnes start running around again, and she figures if they can show off, so can she. I know you said Inferno but I’m going to mostly answer these from the Back Then (pre-Inferno and pre-Bucky-falling-off-a-cliff) perspective because that’s the part of the relationship I have mapped out the best! Also, just in case you were wondering, yes I am answering these to further put off finishing her biography. It’s all I have left to do for her form and it’s like a third done, but. I don’t wanna. 

PRE-RELATIONSHIP- 

4) Who felt romantic feelings first? 

This is sort of a toss-up. Bucky was sort of immediately attracted to Quinn and the powerful vibes she was throwing out, but it took a little while before it became more than a passing interest for him. Quinn thought he was pretty from the moment she met him, but didn’t give him much of a chance, because she assumed he’d be like many of the other Male Officers she’d come across so far. She’d spent some time in a field hospital before being assigned to the 107th, and hadn’t received the respect she deserved from many of the male officers--even though she technically out-ranked them. However, she changed her tune when the two of them were the only ones in reach of another soldier who was wounded, and she began barking orders at him and he took every one of them swiftly and efficiently. This caused her to start seeing him in a different light, and her fondness of him only grew. She was much nicer to him then, and he began to realize he was more than just passively interested in her. So, romantic feelings, probably Quinn, but not for long. 

GENERAL- 

3) What was their first kiss like? 

God I actually have SO MANY thoughts about this one!! 

They have a lot of moments where they come close, pressed tightly against each other in a foxhole he’d pulled her into when an enemy opened fire, leaning over him to put pressure on a wound that would be fine, but she wanted to be safe, quiet whispers when they were scared they might not make it through the night, but their first kiss doesn’t actually come until a little ways into their story. 

It was late one night, and Quinn certainly should have been trying to sleep, but Barnes had volunteered for the first watch of the night. That day, they’d taken some quasi-victory--it was something small, but in their situation, you learn to celebrate the little things. Many of them had been drinking, sitting around a fire and telling stories, breathing in the smoky air and thinking of home, and these two weren’t exempt from that. Neither of them were drunk (most of what they’d drank had worn off by this point in the night) but if you asked them the next day, they’d say they were. 

Quinn went out to find him at his post, not exactly sure what or why she was doing what she was, all she knew is she wanted to see him (even though she’d spent the earlier half of the night glued to his side, nearly in his lap as they all shook with laughter). She’d sat down next to him, and he’d smiled, and they’d talked a little bit (neither of them remember later what on earth they talked about), and she’d leaned in, and so had he, and suddenly they were kissing, and it was everything. 

“We can’t,” she’d said. 

“Right, right,” he’d agreed. 

And they’d done it again. 

And again. 

LOVE- 

2) What are their primary love languages? 

I think that Quinn/Inferno, having grown up really during the Great Depression, has a big thing for receiving gifts. She never quite got out of the mentality of being so, incredibly poor for a large part of her childhood, that receiving gifts means so much to her. A lot of her childhood, her family and her neighbors would exchange goods for services (her neighbor gave her homemade jam for babysitting her kids, her father repaired a rocking chair for someone who gave them a bolt of fabric to make clothes from in return) and gifts simply for the sake of being gifts were somewhat foreign to her, but nevertheless incredibly appreciated. Giving her a gift now won’t produce quite the teary eyed response it might have when she was fifteen, but it still strikes her so deeply, and feels like such a great act of love. It’s not necessarily her primary love language, but it is one that strikes her straight to her core. 

I think they both have quite the thing for physical touch, and that when they were in the war together, just being able to feel the other person’s warmth and know they were alive went a long way. Probably a primary one for both of them, this is something that has really stuck for the both of them I think. Moving into the 21st century, positive physical touch is something Bucky has been deprived of for so long I think it would scare him a little bit, but especially when they finally admit that they both still love each other, I think just being there and holding each other would be big for them both. 

Real talk, Bucky has been deprived of love period for a long time, and I think it probably really messed up how he expresses and receives it. I think back in the war, Bucky seems very much like a words of affirmation kind of guy? Looking into his backstory, he was a big time over-achiever as a kid, and was apparently a 3-time YMCA boxing champion, and that all screams “loves being told that you’re proud of him” kind of guy. 

I’d actually love to hear your thoughts on this in regards to a current Bucky, because I don’t know how I think his current relationship with Words and generally what he went through might change that. Would that only get stronger after he’s used to the closest to praise he gets is being told his mission was successful? Would that make him crave honest affirmation and love even more? Or would it mess with his relationship with that sort of thing and make him really reject it? I’m sort of leaning towards the former, but I’m not sure. What do you think? 

DOMESTIC LIFE- 

7) How do they celebrate holidays? 

Oho boy. So, after that last question, I think some proper fluff is in order. So we’re actually going to skip into their timeline a little bit. 

Think of this as a few years down the road, when they’ve settled into a relationship and are living together. And we’re gonna talk Christmas, because, well. It’s christmas. These two were children in the 20s and 30s, and I think a lot of what they do for christmas is stuff that reminds them of back then, back in simpler times. Their first christmas living together, they watch three different versions of A Christmas Carol (because it was SUPER popular in the 20s!) in the week leading up to the holiday, and they debate whether they could get away with putting real candles on the tree (”I’m always here for fire” “you could put it out if something happened right?” “ah, it doesn’t work like that. I can only make the fire” They use LED lights). Bucky makes an incredible eggnog--he doesn’t quite remember the ingredients and proportions, but he tries using a recipe and then totally veers off the path and it comes out incredible. Quinn/Inferno is generally a really great cook, and she intends to cook Christmas dinner by herself (as was typical of her day) but Bucky wants to help, and she’s nervous he’ll be terrible at it but he’s actually great, and they cook together. They make way too much food, but all these years later, the excess doesn’t give them anxiety anymore, it feels good to be able to celebrate Christmas like this. They have leftovers for a week, and give extras out to people who don’t have their own. 

They love to host Christmas Eve dinner for their close friends, but no big crowds. Maybe a gift exchange with friends, and the first year they do this, they both say that they’ll open their gifts for each other at the gathering. However, on Christmas morning, they both reveal that they’d kept a special gift for the other person to open that day. They’re both shocked to see the other did the same thing, but think it’s adorable, and from then on it becomes a tradition. They always save one, special little thing for Christmas morning. (Maybe one year it’s a ring? Idk that’s not solid but it seems like the logical follow through on this!!) 

There it is!!! Thank you to Taylor Swift and the things I should have been doing but didn’t want to for how long this ended up being, and thank YOU for these questions it got some Real Creative Juices Flowing !!! 

@oh-cruel-fate i’m p sure it’ll notify you I answered your ask but just in case, you can never trust tumblr notifs and if you didn’t see this i might actually cry 

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Hand in Glove - Chapter 21 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: I know y’all probs forgot about this, but I haven’t. Life has just been kicking my ASS relentlessly, but I decided to kick its’ ass back and here we fucking are. Took me about 4 months to finish, but it is what is it. Also, I am a bottle of wine and a half down and not sure how this is going to end up, but let’s pray to the gods that Tumblr ain’t gonna fuck shit up. Dropping mic now. 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3,  Chapter 4,  Chapter 5,  Chapter 6,  Chapter 7,  Chapter 8,  Chapter 9,  Chapter 10,  Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 , Chapter 15 , Chapter 16 , Chapter 17 , Chapter 18 , Chapter 19 , Chapter 20 

Word Count: ~fucktonK. Don’t judge me. 

Warnings: the usual? idk. Ben gets quite frisky, I’ll tell you that much. Also not sure how much of this was beta’d or proofread so fucking forgive me father if I have sinned.

The shrill sound of the alarm and Ben's low, gravelly swearing snapped Annie back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open in the soft light of dawn. She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand to shut the alarm off and look through her notifications. Ben stirred behind her, snuggling as close to her as he possibly could.

"Mornin'..." he murmured and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, Benny." Annie smiled when he pulled her in and engulfed her in his embrace. "It's too early."

"Frankie needs a walk." Ben yawned. "And you need breakfast."

"I can do both of those on my own."

"You can," Ben nipped at the curve of her neck, "but I won't let you."

The bedroom door edged open, revealing the tip of a snout poking through. A soft whine alerted Ben and Annie that Frankie had heard the two "magic words" Ben had just said - "Frankie" and "Walk" - and was making her presence known. Ben clicked his tongue three times and Frankie came scrambling onto the bed, her entire body swinging from side to side as her tail wagged. She dove right in to Annie's face, licking and whimpering excitedly.

"Oh God!" Annie shook her head from side to side, trying to escape the assault. Frankie had other plans. With a paw on Annie's shoulder, she tugged at her until she was flat on her back and climbed onto Annie's chest, pinning her down. "No! Stop!"

"Franks, I was actually hoping to be the one to give mum a morning snog..." he grabbed the dog and kissed her nose, earning a few licks for himself. "Aw."

Annie seized the opportunity to sit up and stretch her arms high over her head. She slouched down with a slow exhale and gave Frankie a rub behind her ears. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted Ben's Suitcase and duffel bag. She sighed and stood up, scratching her cheek as she marched over to the ensuite bathroom and flicked the light on.

"All done packing?" She asked as she examined her sleepy form in the mirror.

"Mhm." Ben shuffled behind her, pulling his sweats up over his hips. "I know, I'm a freak for doing it a week ahead of time."

"You're a freak for a whole myriad of reasons, Mr. Jones." Annie rolled her eyes and chuckled as she squeezed toothpaste onto her brush and then turned to Ben, who waited patiently with his toothbrush in his outstretched hand, nonverbally asking her to please put some toothpaste on his brush, too. "So you're that desperate to leave, huh?"

"On the contrary, my love." He winked at her and squeezed her bum before brushing his teeth.

Annie shook her head with a smile and leaned into his arm, resting her head against it. When they both felt their mouths were foamy enough, they took turns rinsing. Ben decided to finish this morning's ritual with a searing kiss.

"I plan on spending every waking moment that I have left with my girls." He mumbled against her lips before pulling away and walking to the toilet. Lifting the toilet seat up, he pulled his sweats down to his thighs.

"Seriously?"

"What?"

"You're taking a piss when I'm right here?"

"Love, I've watched you give birth." Ben smirked. "Peeing is not half as nasty as that."

"Do you want me to watch you pee, Benny?" Annie smirked back, crossing her arms tauntingly. "Is that a sex thing?"

"Want you to?" Ben pretended to mull it over. "Nah. But if you want to hold it for me..."

"Freak." Annie scoffed and walked out of the bathroom.

"So no?" He called after her.

###

If there’s one thing Annie hated, it was not knowing where time went. One minute she’s shoveling eggs in her mouth in a hurry to leave for work, the next she’s got a baby attached to her boob again and it’s night outside. Annie walked into the bedroom, groggily rubbing her eyes after feeding Rory in the middle of the night. A full moon illuminated Ben, laying sprawled across her side of the bed.

"You stole my spot!" Annie huffed and collapsed onto Ben's side of the mattress.

Ben's arms quickly snaked around Annie and pulled her to him, squeezing her as close as he could to his body. He tucked her head under his chin and mumbled incoherently, wrapping a leg around her as well. Locking her in.

"Ben, I need air!" Annie squeaked against his chest and tickled his sides in a futile attempt to make him move.

"Shh." Ben pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "S'night time. No talking. Just sleeping."

"But oxygen!"

"No," Ben grunted and rolled over, right on top of Annie, careful not to put all of his weight on her. "Imma Human blanket now."

"Hey!" Annie flailed under him before giving up and relaxing, letting his body squish her into the soft bed. "Fine."

"Good girl."

###

Ben sat with Rory on his lap, both looking at the phone with goofy smiles on their faces. He'd just gotten the notification that Annie's series had posted a new story to the Instagram page, followed by a text message that simply said "show Rory".

The story was a boomerang of Annie in full costume, blowing a kiss at the camera lens. The next story was another boomerang, this time of Annie doing 'finger guns' and winking at the camera with her lopsided grin. Rory tried to grab the phone out of Ben's hands, babbling happily.

"So much for daddy-daughter time..." Ben murmured against Rory's soft tufts of blonde curly hair.

While he'd usually spend his day with Rory on Annie's set or with his mates, Ben decided that he needed some alone time with his baby. His departure was mere days away. Although on the outside he was his usual self, internally, he wasn't handling this too well. He knew Annie could sense that and he appreciated her efforts in trying to play it down and pretend everything's alright.

With a sigh, Ben turned the screen off and chucked his phone aside, much to Rory's dismay. She tried to crawl off his lap in pursuit of the device, but was captured and tickled by her father. Ben gently tossed Rory in the air, smacking a kiss to her cheek every time he caught her.

"You know what?" He cooed at Rory, who clawed at his face with her fingers. "We're going on an adventure! You wanna go see uncle Joey and uncle Gwil?"

At the mention of Joe and Gwil's name, Rory squealed. It was so high pitched, Ben couldn't help but blink in awe.

"Did Roger teach you how to do that?"

###

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm absolutely devastated." Joe lamented. "The mere fact that we only have a few days left is just -"

"I was asking Ben." Gwil rolled his eyes, interrupting Joe's rant.

"I'm fine." Ben shrugged and took a sip from his beer. Rory and Frankie played on the floor at Gwil's flat. "Gwil you have to duck, okay? You'll ruin the fort."

"Who's idea was this, again?" Gwil groaned, adjusting the corner of yet another blanket he managed to mess up. "Also, why are we in the fort?"

"If you're going to be grouchy, you can leave the fort, Mr. Lee." Joe stuck his tongue out at the tall man. "No grouchy people allowed."

"I'm not grouchy." Gwil retorted. "Plus, this is my flat, meaning that this is my fort, so I make the rules."

"You do realize that Rory is the actual baby here, yeah?" Ben raised an eyebrow.

###

"How are you feeling?" Mike asked between bites of ravioli during lunch break. "Jonesy all packed?"

"Mhm." Annie sighed and pushed the food around on her plate. "Got his passport extended today, too. Took Rory with him."

"Seriously?" Clara snorted. "He's taking her everywhere?"

"Yep."

"It's sickening." Jamie chimed in. "It's like they're siamese twins."

"Aw," Mikey drawled. "Bet he's gonna miss her terribly!"

"Do you think she'll even notice?" Jamie mused. "She's, what, five months old now? She just figured out she's got hands. She'll be fine."

"She loves her daddy." Annie poked Jamie in his side. "She figured her hands out two months ago, you knob."

"Could've fooled me," Jamie muttered.

"Don't be ridiculous, James." Mike pointed at his co-star with his fork. "She's going to daycare, she'll only see her mama in the early mornings and evenings. She'll notice there's an entire human missing."

"She'll have her uncles and aunties to keep her distracted." Clara winked. "Lucy and I already planned a whole Girls' Day."

"Um?"

"What?" Clara blinked innocently at her best friend.

"Why wasn't I invited?"

"Because you have more work than I do." Clara shrugged. "Gonna do it on my day off, Banana."

"Well, it's just you, Rory and Lucy, then?"

"Well," Clara looked at her plate sheepishly. "And Joe. And Rami. And Gwilym."

"What the actual fuck, huh?" Annie threw her fork down and huffed.

"Hey, you'll get to hang out with these two delicious chunks of mankind all day!" Clara smirked.

"Clearly, the superior chunks of mankind, mind you..." Jamie added, tongue-in-cheek. "We haven't had "us" time in forever, Banana."

"Don't you Banana me!" Annie hissed and turned to look at Jamie. He flashed her his best puppy dog eyes. "Oh, not the face."

"What face?" He feigned innocence.

"You know what face. Don't do the face."

"What," Mikey sighed, mimicking  Jamie's expression. "Don't you want to hang out with your own brother and husband?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

###

The next day was an entire mess. It started off well enough for everyone involved, really. It’s during the afternoon when things took a really, really bad turn. Ben tried to contain himself while Rory was napping, but his mind was racing. It was a chill day with "the band", as they now liked to refer to themselves.

None of them gave a second thought to the familiar sound of a notification rang through the living room. Then, it was dead silent for what felt like an eternity.

"Well, then!" Rami was the first one to break the silence, turning his screen off and tossing his phone on the coffee table. "Anyone see any good shows lately?"

"Ben? Buddy?" Joe shook Ben by the shoulder. "Dude, you haven't blinked in an hour."

Ben stared into space, his thoughts running wild. It was just a silly, candid, behind-the-scenes picture. Nothing more. However, he couldn't help the bubbling rage. There she was. His girlfriend, snuggled up to her ex-boyfriend turned reconciled-best friend. Her head resting on his chest, tucked under Jamie's chin. Her arm flung around his waist, his arms holding her close. One hand laced through her long hair. They looked so peaceful.

Ben knew how hard they worked. How tired Annie was all the time. How early she got up and how late she came home, trying to get as much work done while Ben was still around to be with Rory. He'd visit the set often, only to find her catching a snooze in her trailer. Stifling yawns between takes.

Yet he couldn't help but feel jealous. There was something beautiful and serene about the picture, especially when both Annie and Jamie were in full costume. The caption was what got to him most - "marital bliss".

"Mate, it's a picture." Gwilym brought Ben back to earth, cutting off his train of thought. "God knows, Clara had her pictures taken snuggled up to just about anything and anyone."

"Marital bliss?!" Ben sneered. "Marital fucking bliss?!"

"They're in costume!" Gwil retorted. "Those aren't Jamie and Annie. Those are Henry and Anne."

"That's Annie." Ben pointed at the screen. "That's how we always fall asleep."

"You're reading too much into this." Rami quipped. "Jamie isn't a threat to you."

"I'm going to be a continent away, while this arse is just lurking around..."

"He's engaged." Rami reminded him.

"It’s a bloody farce of a PR stunt and you know it just as well as I do. It's a sham."

"Why are you so riled up?" Rami's eyes squinted in confusion. "It's a stupid picture. They look pretty in it. End of story."

###

When Annie arrived later that night, Rory was fast asleep and Ben was losing his mind - slamming drawers and cupboards shut in the kitchen, cursing under his breath. He didn't even hear Annie come in.

Annie got a heads-up from Joe earlier that evening, letting her know that Ben had seen the Instagram picture. "He's definitely, 100%, not okay. Brace yourself."

"You alright?"

Ben's eyes shot up and looked at her. He wasn't just angry - he was positively fuming. Annie squared her shoulders, prepared for impact.

"I'm going out for a run." Ben muttered and walked right past her.

Annie followed him to the door, her arms crossed. Her brows knotted, she tried to figure out what to say. It was almost midnight. Ben never pulled an "Annie" before. He never walked out on an argument.

Before Annie could form a coherent sentence, Ben was out the door. She heard him stomping down the walkway, opening the gate. A shrill ringing startled her - he left his phone behind.

Annie took a deep breath and climbed up the stairs to check on Rory. After rubbing Rory's back gently and tucking her in, Annie went about tidying up. She picked up toys - baby's and dog's - and random articles of clothing. She straightened the sheets, organized the mail, stacked the coasters neatly. Anxiously waiting to hear the front door open again.

When it did, Ben walked right up the stairs without giving Annie an acknowledging nod of his head. She was prepared for an onslaught of accusations, but none came. Feeling perplexed, she absently followed him, wishing her stalking presence was enough to make him turn around to look at her.

It wasn’t. Taking his sweaty clothes off, he tossed them in the hamper and went in the shower, leaving the door open. Ignoring Annie's existence all together. Her guilt - not that she really knew why she should feel guilty - was quickly replaced with seething anger.

She stomped into the bathroom, stopping right in front of the glass shower doors. She glared at Ben, her hands on her hips. He started whistling and turned his back to her as he washed himself, suds forming on his skin. This wasn't just a cold shoulder. This was a butt-naked, frigid silent treatment.

"Are you joking?" Her voice bounced off the tiles. "Is this a bloody joke?"

"Had a good nap?" Ben snarled, still not facing her. "Looked refreshing."

"It was, actually." Annie raised a challenging eyebrow. "Woke up feeling recharged."

"Oh, yeah?" Ben turned the water off shook his hair. "Glad to hear."

"You're unbelievable." Annie scoffed as Ben reached for his towel and wrapped it around his hips. "How dare you?"

"How dare I?" Ben's eyebrows were so far up, they almost merged with his hairline. "I'm not the one snuggling my ex!"

"I also snuggled Clara!" Annie hissed. "Let me know when your little hissy fit is over, okay, love?"

"Fuck you, Annabelle." Ben loomed over her, his green eyes boring holes into her very soul. "This isn't a hissy fit."

"What is it, then?"

"I'm leaving, Annie. Leaving. In two days." Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "For months."

"I'm aware." Annie said through gritted teeth. "You're also coming back."

"Will I have something to come back to?" Ben opened his eyes. "You've already replaced me as your sleep-aid..."

"Have you gone absolutely bonkers, Ben Jones?" Annie barked out a laugh. "What are you on about?"

"I'm fucking scared, alright?" Ben hissed.

"Of what?!"

"You!"

"Me?" Annie's eyes were wide. "You're scared of me?"

"Annie, I'll be gone. You'll be fair game."

"I'm not some deer you can hunt!"

"I won't be here to protect -"

"Protect me?" Annie laughed, cutting him off. "From what? The Big Bad Wolf? Jamie?"

"Well, thanks for mocking me." Ben brushed past her, bumping his shoulder with her. "Real mature."

"Ben, you're throwing a fit over nothing!" Annie followed close behind him. Ben unwrapped the towel from his hips and dried off his torso. "I'm not mocking you!"

"We've been going through every aspect of me leaving." Ben chucked the towel to the floor. "What to do with Rory, what to do with Franks, when I'll be back for a visit..."

"I know." Annie sat down on the bed. "We've got this. We're prepared."

"Every aspect except our own bloody relationship. And all this time, you've been so calm about this!" Ben grabbed his head as he sat down next to her. "You've gone on a few benders, yeah, but even then - you were so calm."

"What?"

"Annie, I'm going crazy over this. I'm devastated. Freaking out. I don't want to leave." Ben laid back. "And you? You're acting like everything's fine. Having cuddles with your ex. Looking like…” Ben sighed and balled his hands into fists. “Do you even care that I'm going away?"

Annie took a shaky breath and shook her head, running a hand through her hair.

"You'll have Joe, Gwil, Rami, Clara, Lucy, Mike..." Ben rubbed at his eyes. "Jamie. I'll have no one."

"You know they'll leave for the press tour soon."

"Yes, which I'll miss out on." Ben chuckled bitterly. "You'll still have your own mates with you."

"You'll make new friends."

"I bloody know I’ll make new bloody friends, Annie, It’s not that!" Ben scoffed and mumbled incoherently under his breath. "See? This is what I'm talking about!"

"Huh?"

"It's like you're not even sad about it all!" Ben waved his hands about as he spoke. "You're out there, snuggling your cast-mates, working for hours on end, living your best life -"

"You think I'm not sad about this?" Annie spoke through gritted teeth. "Really?"

"Well, are you?"

"Of course I am!" Annie climbed onto his lap and straddled him. "Ben, are you having a psychotic break right now?"

"You're so cheery and positive and -"

"Because I didn't want to upset you!" Annie smacked his chest. "You blithering idiot!"

"Really?" Ben's voice oozed snark. "Seems like it backfired, no?"

"You're an arse." Annie smacked him again. "You're an idiot and an arse! Who on earth leaves his wi-" Annie huffed just as the word slipped her lips "-girlfriend alone with a baby for months?"

"Annie, stop hitting me!"

"No!" Annie punched him in the arm. "You wanted to see me upset? I'm fucking upset!"

"Annie!" Ben grabbed Annie's wrists and pulled her to him. She braced herself on her haunches to avoid head-butting him. "Stop. It."

"Do you honestly think I'd replace you?" the hurt in Annie's voice was evident. "Do you really think I'd go fuck someone else while you're gone? Jamie, of all people?”

She stared into his eyes, waiting for his answer, but there was none. Annie nodded and started to pull herself up, only to have Ben's grasp on her wrists tighten. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to pull away again. Ben restrained her, not taking his eyes off hers.

"Ben, let go." Annie's voice was low as she tried to shake her hands free. She stared down at Ben's hands holding her wrists.

"Look at me." Ben squeezed her wrists tighter. "Look. At. Me."

Annie fixed her eyes on him. His usually bright green eyes were clouded and darker, a mixture of sadness, anger and need. He bit his bottom lip as he lowered his gaze onto their hands. All of his sadness, all of his tension had finally reached a boiling point. A crimson flush crept up from his chest to his neck, his muscles clenching with ever jerk of Annie's escape attempts.

"Let go of me. Ben, I’m deadly serious. I hate you right now." Annie hissed, still tense under his grasp. Ben snarled at her choice of words. Annie noticed it and pouted tauntingly. "What, did that hit a nerve? Is that all I needed to say to get a reaction?"

"Shut up."

"Oh, poor Benny. Did I hurt your feelings?" Annie's voice lilted condescendingly. A vicious glint danced in her eyes. "Did you really think you could call me a cheater," Annie's voice was so sweet as she said that, "that you could call me a slag?"

"I never called you any of these."

"You didn't have to." Annie chuckled. "It was heavily implied. Especially when you didn’t even answer my bloody question.” Annie smirked bitterly, tongue in cheek. “So right now? I. Hate. You."

Ben felt as if his entire body is on fire under her. Pins and needles raked through his body, a tingle rushing over his naked skin as they stared each other down.

"Who in their right mind," Annie tilted her head to the side, "leaves their girlfriend and 5-month-old baby for three months and then has the balls to be paranoid about her moving the fuck on without him? Hm?"

Ben clenched her wrists tighter, his upper lip curling up.

"I know who," Annie murmured. "The same guy who'll fail to appreciate his girlfriend's efforts to keep morale high, even though she's hurting. The same guy who's so afraid she'll cheat on him when he's gone, for no fucking reason, other than his own fragile ego, it seems."

"Watch it."

"No, fuck you. Fuck being careful." Annie retorted. "What will it take for you to stop being an undercover jealous prick? Huh? What, do you actually need to mark me as your territory?"

Ben's cock involuntarily twitched at the thought, grazing the crotch of Annie's leggings. Making their eyes lock on each other again. Sending a flurry of butterflies loose in both of their bellies.

"Oh, you can't be serious." Annie scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable."

Ben licked his lips and made his move. Now that Annie was distracted, he used his body weight to roll them over and pin her down to the bed under him. His green eyes burned with raw need.

"Shut. Up." He grunted as she tried to wriggle her way out from under him while he held both of her wrists in one hand, up over her head. "Stop it."

Annie's breath hitched when Ben ground his hips into hers, his erection rubbing her inner thighs. He kissed her searingly and growled when she moved her head, pulling her lips away.

"Did I say you can move?" He whispered, his grip tightening on her wrists as his hand worked its' way to her legs. He kissed her again, physically taking her breath away, pushing her leggings down. She pulled back, gasping.  "Do. Not. Move."

"Air!" was all Annie could whine before his lips crashed onto hers again, muffling her moans.

"Do I need to punish you?" He whispered against her lips, his free hand snaking under her t-shirt. "Don't move. Be quiet. Don't want to wake the baby, now, do we?"

Annie shook her head slightly, looking up at Ben with big, doe eyes.

"Good girl." Ben cooed and nuzzled the crook of Annie's neck before pulling her shirt over her head, bunching it on her arms. "Do you hate me, still?"

"Mhm." Annie smirked.

"Guess I'll have to change your mind, then." Ben ground his hips down again.

###

After waking up all alone in their bed in the wee hours of the morning, Annie's sock-clad feet padded softly on the hardwood floor as she shuffled to the living room. She paused at the doorway, looking at the back of Ben's head. The soft, colorful light from the TV illuminated him like a halo. His head propped up on his closed fist, his arms on the back of the sofa.

Sensing her presence, Ben glanced over his shoulder and nodded his head, beckoning Annie to come to him. Smiling, she closed the distance between them and curled up on the soft cushions next to her boyfriend. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her onto his lap before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Baby monitor?" He mumbled against her hair and smiled when Annie reached in her hoodie's pocket and pulled it out. "Did she give you a hard time?"

"My arms are dead."

"She wouldn't let you put her down, then?"

"Does she ever?"

"Solid point."

"What are we watching?" Annie blinked at the bright screen in front of them and groaned when her face appeared on the screen. "Oh, no."

"I have a lot to catch up on, okay?" Ben tickled her sides as she buried her face in his chest. "I'm not sure I'll have time to binge on this while in Arizona, you know."

"Why do you need to binge on this at all?" Annie's muffled voice whined.

"Because." Ben shrugged.

"Right, then." Annie leaned back and grasped at the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. "You won't mind me binge-watching East Enders, then?"

"You do what you gotta do." Ben sighed and leaned forward.

He grabbed his cup of tea off the coffee table and took a long sip. Annie's gaze followed his every move.

"Ben?" Annie tilted her head as she bit her bottom lip.

"Yeah, love?"

Annie caressed his cheeks as a million thoughts stormed in her mind. A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

###

For the life of him, Ben couldn’t figure out how on earth it was night again. It seemed like everything was moving on double speed, nonstop. Exhausted, he laid sprawled on the bed like a starfish, with Frankie gently nibbling at his toes. One arm draped lazily over his eyes, the other tucked into his sweatpants waistband ever so slightly. The TV was on but on a low volume. Background noise.

He felt Annie's presence while his eyes were still closed, lurking at the doorway. He opened his eyes just a crack, enough to catch a quick glance of her face, and could feel his how his heart is breaking just from her expression alone.

"Don't give me that look."

Annie blinked and shook her head lightly as if her mind was an etch-a-sketch and she could just erase whatever thoughts popped up so Ben wouldn't see what they were. Considering that this very night would be Ben's last night at home, they both walked on eggshells, high on the tips of their toes.

"What look?" Annie asked sweetly and walked over to the bed. Ben stretched out his arms, inviting her in for a cuddle. "I wasn't giving you a look."

"Must've been imagining, then..." Ben mumbled with a sigh. He raked his fingers through her hair lazily, enjoying the warmth her body radiated. "Banana?"

"Hmm?" Annie purred and snuggled up as close as she could.

"I'm sad."

"I know." Annie propped herself up on one arm. “I’m sad too.”

“I need to you promise me something.”

“Ben, for the last time, I’m not going to cheat on you with Jamie!” Annie poked his side. “I swear, I’ll only cheat on you with Joe.”

“That’s not what I was going to say and you would never!” Ben grabbed her wrist gently. “Promise me you’ll always text me good night and good morning if you can’t call.”

“I promise.” Annie smiled.

###

“You know what?” Ben stopped in his tracks on his way to queue for his flight check-in, “I think I’ll stay.”

“The hell you are, Ben!” Annie moved Rory over to her other hip. “She needs toys! And  food! And diapers!”

“But Arizona is so bloody far!”

“Jesus Christ, not this again.” Gwilym chimed in and handed a bottle of Coca Cola to Ben. “Be a big boy, now, Benny.”

“God, I’ll miss you.” Ben sighed, his eyes closed.

“I’ll miss you too, babe.” Gwil replied instead of Annie.

“Do you two lovebirds need a minute alone?” Annie snorted. “I’ll miss you too, Ben.”

“And I’ll miss you the most!” Ben cooed and grabbed his baby, kissing every exposed inch of her skin.

“Thanks, love.” Annie sipped from his Coke. “I really appreciate that.”

“Ben, you’ll miss your flight, mate.” Gwil scratched his head as he looked at the huge departures sign. “You better hustle.”

“I’m staying.”

“Go!” Both Gwilym and Annie barked at him.

“I love you.” Ben murmured, his lips pressed to Rory’s cheek. “Take care of mum, yeah? Be a good girl?”

“Are you -” Gwilym tilted Annie’s head up to get a better look, “are you crying?!”

“Shut up!”

“Oh, fuck.” Ben’s eyes locked in on Annie’s face, prompting a wave of tears from his own eyes. “We said no tears!”

“Stop it, Ben!” Annie pawed at her cheeks to wipe off her tears. “No crying!”

“Goddamnit!” Ben hissed and shrugged one shoulder, wiping his tears on his hoodie. “Alright. Alright. No crying.”

“I think this is the perfect moment to separate the two of you.” Gwilym said, taking Rory from Ben’s arms and bouncing her on his hip. “Come on, children. Just like we practised.”

Annie leaped up and wrapped her arms and her legs around Ben, holding on for dear life. They kissed, one last time, their tears mixing together. Ben squeezed his girlfriend as close to him as he could and inhaled her scent as he pressed a thousand kisses all over her face.

“I’ll call you as soon as I land.” He whispered in Annie’s ear. “I love you.”

###

TAGLIST:  @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @qweenly @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @justgivemethekeys  @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod

[solange-lol]

not so typical love song - ch. 1/13

Chapter Title: Rollarcoaster

Words: 3,050

Note: my piece for the @pjo-hoo-bigbang !!! special thanks to @shelbychild and @wisdom-walks-alone for editing and helping me develop this story! it wouldnt exist w/o y’all!

Art by @lizzybizzyo! <3

[ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (coming soon)]

read on ao3

—

Nico is staring at his computer, wordless. This isn't writer's block or surprise; it’s just the unknown reality of what this situation could lead to.

Another gay kid in his school. Another gay kid that isn’t Mitchell—who’s been out since 8th grade, and the only one to be out since then. Another kid at their school who’s hiding a secret. 

Nico doesn’t even know if this kid is a boy or a girl or what, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There’s another kid like him. And he has no idea how to respond to the post.

The post is a submission from their school’s gossip blog on Tumblr, the notorious ‘hb-secrets.’ Piper had called him an hour ago, asking if he’d seen it yet.

“Seen what?” he had responded.

“The post on hb-secrets? About the closeted gay kid?” It hit Nico like a wall of bricks as he quickly went to pull up the website. Did somebody know? It was a relief when he saw the clipart Ferris wheel and a few short lines submitted by a blog called blue0919.

“I bet it’s that Brazilian sophomore. Paolo or whatever? Or maybe it’s Connor Stoll! I swear he’s been flirting with Mitchell, but Annabeth keeps telling me that he’s into Lacy or someone,” Piper continued as he read, but it was going in one ear and out the other as he processed the words on the screen

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a Ferris wheel. One minute I’m on top of the world, and the next minute I’m at rock bottom. Over and over all day long, because a lot of my life is great. But nobody knows I’m gay.

“Gotta go. I’ll talk later,” Nico said quickly, switching off his phone. He knew it would raise suspicion, but it felt like time was turning in on itself. Nobody knew about Nico. In fact, nobody ever even suspected. He’s never been called names besides “Death Boy.” And yet, there were the exact words that described his life, written out in front of him like they were a second thought.

And now, he was staring at his computer with an empty Gmail draft open. The original poster had left their email at the end of the post, so Nico after glancing quickly at his Panic! at the Disco poster still proudly hanging on his wall, typed out a new address. He was stuck, though, unsure of what to say from here. 

So, he started from the beginning.

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 6:48 PM

Subject: Hey

Somehow you’ve managed to type exactly what I feel. Sorta scary, as if you’re inside my head or something. Maybe it’s just a gay thing to be speaking in metaphors about the pressure of everyday society.

That’s what I am. Gay. I don’t know if I’ve ever really said it out loud to myself.

It’s weird because I never really had a perfectly normal life. My mom died when I was young, so I never really got to meet her. My sister and I have always been super close until she went away to college. Now, not as much. I guess that’s just what happens when you live a million miles away. 

And I’ve known my stepmom longer than I knew my real mom, but it was only a few years ago when I met my half-sister when she came to live with us because her mom died as well. Meaning, she isn’t the daughter of my stepmom. It’s a long story, and not really one I want to get into.

She’s super nice though. It’s funny, but despite being polar opposites with my older sister, they’re both mushy inside. Same with my stepmom. And my dad… he tries his best. We’re like exactly what you expect from a slightly broken family. Plus my dog who my cousin gave to me during a rough time. Honestly, she’s probably my favorite sibling out of them all. (Both my sisters would kill me if they knew I wrote that.)

And then there are my friends. I have some that are closer than others; Two of them I’ve known for a while now, and one who I only met recently but treats me better than some of the people I’ve known my whole life. While I admit, I’m not the most social person in the world, they’re pretty amazing as far as friends go. 

So there it is. My perfectly normal life. Except for that huge ass secret.

He typed and retyped each line what felt like a thousand times, deleting word after word. He didn't know what was too much. It all felt like too much, really. He didn’t even know if he could trust this person.

Signing it was the worst part; he didn’t have any good pseudonyms. Eventually, he decided to leave it blank.

Without a second thought, Nico hit ‘send’ before leaning back in his chair and putting his hands over his head. Only a second later, a light knock came from the door, causing him to quickly sit up as Hazel popped her head in.

“Dinner’s ready if you wanna eat,” she smiled. She left just as quickly as she came, curls bouncing as she walked away. They had gotten over the awkwardness of having a new sibling only months after Hazel moved in, but there was still some strangeness. To this day, Nico was still a lot closer to her than Bianca was. Either way, Nico knew he would do anything for her. (Not that he would admit that. He didn't even need to, Hazel already knew.)

Nico glanced back at his computer, but there was nothing in his inbox besides the Gmail “Welcome” email. It was stupid to think this person would respond that quickly, seeing as Nico didn't even know if they would respond at all. Heaving a sigh, he got up to join his family for dinner. Maybe he could even convince them to watch Steven Universe instead of The Bachelor.

---

Dinner went as expected. It’d been a while, actually, since they were all together for a meal. Hazel talked about her psycho geometry teacher and a boy she talked in the class named Frank, who seemed sweet but apparently had a shared hatred for math just like her. Nico didn’t say much, although chimed in at the latter, saying he better be the flower boy at their wedding. That even got a short scoff out of his father, which tended to be the closest Nico ever got him laughing. So, that was a win. 

However, he was a little more distant than usual. The pending email response was in the back of his mind during the entire meal.

Even afterward, as they watched reruns of Glee (a compromise made between Hazel and Nico, much to their father’s dismay), Nico couldn’t focus. It felt like a weight was burning through his back pocket. After the second episode (and laughing his ass off at his father’s reaction to Kurt’s ‘Single Ladies’ dance) he finally excused himself. 

He tapped the Gmail app on his phone as soon as he had reached his room. It felt like his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the new notification, a response from the original poster. With slightly shaky hands, he tapped the response, and a message opened up.

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:12 PM

Subject: I’ve never done this before

Dear anonymous person on the internet,

I really don’t know where to begin. I’m also not sure if you're a real person. For all I know you could be some random pedophile like one of those cases they warned us about in health class for the past 5 years, even though it’s never happened within the last decade.

But in case you are real, hello! I’m the original poster from that hb-secrets thread about life being a Ferris wheel. I’m rereading what I wrote there and I can’t stop cringing, so I’ll start by apologizing for that. I’m not usually one for metaphors, even the bad ones.

Anyway, it sounds like you identify with what I wrote. I’m glad you emailed me; I didn’t think anyone would actually do anything with the email that I left. Except maybe be extremely homophobic. But it made me feel less like I was shouting into the void, so thanks for that. And I assume you’re okay with me writing back since you sent me the first email. Though, I can’t believe I’m actually writing to you. I really didn’t think I would.

I guess I’m thinking it could be nice to talk with someone who can relate to how I’m feeling. No pressure, of course, but feel free to write back if you want to. I don’t want to use my real name, but you can call me Blue. 

It was surreal. Someone who was like Nico. Someone who wanted to talk to Nico because they were like him. 

He started to type again, with more excitement than he’s ever felt. He’s never been able to express this part of him before. It was almost like first date jitters-type feeling. 

(Not that he really knew what that was like.)

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:23 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Hi, Blue

Wow, I’m actually kind of flipping out right now, because I seriously didn’t think I’d hear from you, especially so quickly. Wow. Okay. First of all, thanks for your email and also for your Tumblr post. I really liked it, Blue, and it wasn’t cringy at all, I promise.

So do you go here (here meaning HBHS)? I do, I’m a junior. And I’m a guy (are you a guy?) Anyway, I could relate a lot to your post, Like, pretty much all of it, but especially the part about being gay. You probably figured that out already though. And I’m not out yet either, which you probably figured that part out too. 

I guess a part of me wants to be out, but a part of me’s like… no. It’s hard to explain. I don’t know. Maybe you get it.

So yeah, it’s really nice to meet you! This is kind of cool, right? Even writing this email makes me feel eleven times less alone.

-Angel (not my real name either, two can play at this game. It’s not like a pet-name type thing. If you ever find out who I am, you’ll understand why.) 

He was worried about the whole name-signing thing. ‘Angel’ was just the easiest thing; it was a direct translation of his last name. He was really hoping Blue still didn’t take it in a weird way, even with that last note.

Relief flooded through him when he read the first sentence of Blue’s next email. 

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:41 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Angel, huh? Maybe like guardian angel perhaps. 

Also, eleven times less alone? That’s oddly specific. :) But I know exactly what you mean.

Anyway, wow. Hi. You wrote back, and quickly too. I’m really glad you liked my post. Now I’m actually happy I put it out there. I have to admit, it’s strange to be writing a somewhat personal email to you when we don’t know each other’s identities. Though, in a way, I guess that makes it easier. Sorta like a therapist, except we’re both blindfolded and have the same problem. So not really a therapist, I guess.

Do you think therapists have therapists? Like, if the problems get to be too much for them? Is there an Almighty Therapist who just absorbs everyone's issues and feels nothing?

Anyway, I am a guy, and I’m also a junior at HB. I think you’re actually the first other gay guy I’ve met here. It’s pretty surreal to be talking to you. (In a good way though.) I wonder if we know each other in real life. 

And I think I understand what you mean. I feel like I’m constantly going back and forth about wanting to come out. I have these moments where I’m almost bursting to tell people. Of course, that’s where I was when I posted the thing on Tumblr. But I always feel so weird about it a few hours later, and sometimes I’m intensely relieved no one knows yet. What about you?

-Blue

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:12 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I mean, let’s be real, eleven is the best number, which is perfect because we’re both in eleventh grade. And I can't believe we’re both juniors. The class is pretty small compared to the others, so I bet we do know each other, which is weird to think about. What if we’re actually enemies in real life? Do you have enemies? I don’t think I do, not really. Various people tend to annoy me a lot. It’s not even their fault; some people just have really punchable faces.

 (I’m usually a really nonviolent person. I’m more like a violent person who at the same doesn’t really want to hurt anyone, so I have to resort to fantasizing about punching people, which just ends in eating my feelings in large quantities of McDonald’s.)

It’s funny for me, it’s actually not so much that go back and forth about wanting to come out. It’s like I simultaneously do and don’t want to be out. Which is pretty freaking exhausting, honestly. Like I’m in this constant state of JUST SAY IT and NO NEVER. Do you think that ever ends? I don’t know, maybe I’m just a really indecisive person. I think part of me is also just holding out until college when I’m away from anyone I know and can just reinvent myself.

So what kind of stuff do you like to do after school and everything?

-Angel

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:34 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I don’t think I have any enemies, but now I’m definitely wondering if I’m the guy with the punchable face. How do you know if you have a punchable face? I’ve never been punched, so hopefully, that’s a good sign. 

I will say, I’m definitely with you on the issue of eating your feelings. I’m the person who has never smoked a cigarette or gotten drunk or anything like that, and I'm usually relatively healthy. However, I once ate five jars of Nutella in one sitting. I do not recommend, 

I’m indecisive, too, in some ways. Okay, full disclosure: I was really conflicted when you sent me that email. I kept going back and forth about whether I should email you. I was (and am) definitely intrigued, but I guess I was also a little bit paranoid. It’s just that you could have been anyone, and it’s hard to know sometimes if someone’s being a jerk or if they’re being sincere. Plus my cousin sort of actually outed me. Not to anyone else, he’s the only one who knows, but now I’m super paranoid about coming out. (Exactly what you said about holding out until college. I’m thinking I can move to LA or somewhere where nobody really cares. Although I wouldn’t want to reinvent myself. And I don’t want you to reinvent yourself either, you’re pretty cool as you are I think.) Anyway, I’m really glad I decided to email you, though.

So, you’re probably going to think I’m ridiculous, but I’d rather not answer your last question. It’s just… I think I like being anonymous for now. Is that okay?

-Blue

Okay, that last part was fair. Nico understood the wanting-to-be-anonymous thing. Sure, they go to the same school. But Blue had no reason to entirely trust him; Nico didn’t really trust Blue at all. This could entirely be some random asshole anywhere in the world trying to find him and beat him up, or worse. It sucked that homophobia was still a thing in their day and age. 

But Blue said he liked talking to Nico, and it was thrilling to talk to him. It was another secret of his, but not one he entirely minded keeping. So, he chose to believe that Blue was actually who he said he was. 

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:57 PM

Subject: Punchability

Blue, you have so much to learn about the rules of punchability, starting with the fact that it is completely impossible for you to have a punchable face. Rule number one: guys who make metaphors about Ferris wheels are automatically unpunchable. Rule number two: There isn’t one. Just rule number one, so memorize it. Everyone else can catch these fists. (Catch these fists? These hands? This would probably be more intimidating if I knew the correct phrasing)

Also, five jars of Nutella in one sitting is the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life. Challenge accepted.

I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Blue. I totally understand why you don't want to tell me about your extracurricular activities (I’m guessing interpretive dance, though, you seem like the type.) But seriously, I get it. It’s this weird contradiction, right? It’s so much easier to be open with someone who doesn't know you at all. We’ll be each other's Ultimate Therapists. 

(Except I don’t think I could ever be a therapist.)

Anyway, I’m really glad you decided to email me back, too :)

-Angel

That smiley face was really unlike him. 

Nico sent the email, but after nearly an hour, he didn’t get on back, which meant Blue was probably asleep. Which was different from what Nico was used to; he tended to stay awake until the early hours of the morning most nights. But it wasn’t anything he minded. He had a conversation with Blue, and even if that was the last one they would ever have (which, he was hoping it wouldn’t be), it was good to know that there was somewhere out there like him.

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 11 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  If you’d like to see a face claim for Briony, send me a message and I will send you a pic.   

Another thing people have started doing is asking questions about Morgan and Bee’s relationship - the stuff you don’t see in the chapters.  If you have questions about canon, please send me an ask and I’ll answer it.  There’s a tag for this: morgan and briony canon

Line breaks also mysteriously disappeared because Tumblr is Tumblr so I guess the stars will have to do to denote a change in scene.

For the first time in a while, Briony was happy.  

It wasn’t that she was ever depressed.  Most of the time, she was too busy and too driven to feel any other emotion besides determination.  The need to get shit done without giving it much thought.  She just didn’t have the luxury to feel anything else.  Classes still stressed her out, she still hated marking first year undergraduate essays, and she was still poor as fuck.  But she was happy.  Unapologetically happy.

It was a combination of things.  Morgan, obviously, played a pretty big role in it all.  She didn’t think she could be this happy in a relationship, judging by her past ones, but it was possible with Morgan.  She was doing well in her courses and maintaining a high GPA – she even aced that behavioural economics assignment – and her professors had agreed to be her references and put in a good word for her job applications to the “Big Five” banks.  Mason’s various funding grants had been accepted, which meant his PhD was going to continue to be fully funded.  Angie had gotten a promotion at Indigo head office, which meant she was pushing less paper and directing others to push the paper she was no longer pushing.  Angie also moved up a pay grade, which was always nice.  She’d finished watching Schitt’s Creek with Morgan and they had moved on to Kim’s Convenience.  The Leafs were playing really well.  Morgan had even set a new record for the best five game start by a defenseman in the modern era, passing Bobby Orr, and he was set to shatter all expectations this season.  They had celebrated accordingly.

Everything just seemed to be working out.  

Even tonight.  It was a Wednesday but Bee had done enough schoolwork to be able to attend the Leafs game against the San Jose Sharks.  She was glad she did, because the boys ended up winning 5-3, with John and Auston getting two goals each.  The team had played really well, and although at some points it looked like the Sharks were going to catch up, Fred put up his wall.  

After the final buzzer rang and the stars of the night were announced, fans began to file out of the arena.  It became a routine for Bee to file out with the wives and wait in the employee area, near the locker room, where they boys would meet them.  She followed Aryne and Christina as the continued to discuss her exam schedule, Christina making sure the Christmas party the Marleau family were hosting didn’t interfere with her schedule.  

As Morgan drove through the streets of Toronto, on his now familiar route to Briony’s apartment before he’d turn around and go back to his, he kept her hand clasped in his and in his lap.  He would look over to her at red lights, and she’d catch him and smile and laugh, embarrassed, but he’d just do it again at the next light.  The Leafs were going on a roadtrip for a week, to Minnesota and Buffalo, so he wanted to make sure he got a good look at her before he left.  Not that he didn’t look at her enough.

“Can you drop me off at the Metro at Spadina, actually?” she said as they passed College Street.  “I need to pick up some groceries I ran out of.”

“Can’t wait till tomorrow?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “I need milk for my coffee.  You know how I think coffee is too bitter without milk.”

He smiled.  He learned that early.  She made fun of him for how much sugar he put in his, whereas she had weaned off it in the past year.  “Okay, fine.  I can wait for you.”

“No no no, you go home and you go to bed,” she said.  “You need your rest.  Metro is like a three minute walk from my apartment.  I’ll be okay.”

“Briony.”

“I’ll be okay,” she repeated, squeezing his hand.  

When Morgan finally got to Metro, he pulled up to the curb and put his car in park.  Briony gathered her bag and made sure nothing fell out before looking at him.  He leaned over the centre console, giving her light kisses.  There were many, and only stopped when Briony began to giggle from all of them.  

“I’m gonna see you tomorrow right?  Before I leave for the road trip?”

“Of course,” she nodded her head, and Morgan leaned in for another kiss.  And another.  And another.

“I’m gonna go now,” Briony whispered in between one.

“No.”

She laughed, pulling away.  “Bye Morgan.”

“One more.”

She digressed.  She leaned in one more time and he kissed her, making sure his tongue grazed her bottom lip to leave her wanting more.  When she pulled away, she slapped his forearm playfully.  “Tease.”

“You’re one to talk.”

She gave him a look, opening the door before climbing out.  “Drive safe,” she called before slamming it shut.  He watched as she walked in, and watched until he couldn’t see her in the store anymore.  Licking his lips, he put his car in drive.

***

As Morgan settled into his bedroom, he rushed to take off his suit and change into an old t-shirt he was using as his pajamas.  He felt so lazy that he didn’t even hang his suit or fold his pants properly – he just left them flat on the chair before walking into his ensuite to brush his teeth lazily before bed.  Eventually, he plugged in his phone, climbed into bed, and wrapped the covers around him.

He checked his phone one more time.  His lock screen, a picture of Briony sitting on his lap as they both smiled at the camera, opened up to his background: a picture of him and Briony from the fall.  They had gone for a walk in Trinity Bellwoods and had stopped under a tree to lay down for a bit.  Her head was on his chest, her hair spread out on it, and his arm was around her tightly.  It was their sleeping position almost every time they were in the same bed together (besides the traditional spooning), so it was no wonder that they ended up taking a quick nap under the tree.  Sometimes he would catch himself staring at his phone just to look at the pictures.  

After clearing all his notifications, he set his phone down on his bedside table and closed his eyes.  With the hockey schedule in full swing, it didn’t take him long to fall asleep.  His mind was just as tired as his body these days, and he found his eyes falling heavier and heavier with each passing second.

Until his phone rang.  

He almost didn’t hear it; he almost thought it was a dream, but he eventually regained enough consciousness to realize it was blasting loudly.  He grumbled, turning over to his side and grabbing to answer it.  He didn’t bother looking at the caller ID because he knew the brightness of the screen would hurt his eyes.  If it were Auston or any of the guys, he’d murder them.

“Hello?” he grumbled into the phone.

“M-M-M-Mo…” he heard Briony’s voice shake on the other end.

His eyes immediately went wide at the sound of her voice.  Why was she calling so late at night?  “Briony?”

“M-Mo…”

“Briony, what’s wrong?”

She sounded like she was hyperventilating but trying to hide it.  “Mo, s-somebody broke into my ap-partment,” she hiccupped.  “Somebody b-b-broke in and took all my st-stuff-f.”

Morgan shot up from his bed and threw the covers off his body.  “Have you called the police?”

“M-M-Mo, they took my laptop.  They took my j-j-jewellery box.  T-T-They t-t-took --”

“Briony, did you call the police?” he asked more firmly.  His heart was running a mile a minute now.

“Y-Yes,” her voice continued to shake.  “M-Mo…they took everything.  Even my clothes.”

Holy shit.  Holy shit.  He rushed to throw on a hoodie he left on his chair and struggled to put on a pair of track pants without falling over.  “I’m on my way,” he said quickly.  “Are the cops coming?”

He heard her breath hitch in her throat a few times.  “M-Mo…”

“Did the cops say they were on their way?”

“Y-Y-Yeah, they’ve sent s-someone and he’s j-j-just out-tside now.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five,” he said, grabbing his keys and slamming the door behind him.  “Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

“M-M-Mo, what am I gonna do?” she cried.  “Th-They stole everything.  My front window is b-broken a-a-and I d-d-don’t know --”

“Briony it’s going to be okay,” he assured her.

“N-No it’s-s-s n-not.”

“Yes it is.  I’m on my way.”

***

Morgan was sure he sped through the streets, probably even ran a couple of red lights, because he made it up to the Annex in record time.  By the time he got to her apartment, there was already a cop car with its lights flashing outside.  He didn’t even attempt to park his car; he practically left it in the middle of street, behind the cop car, and rushed towards the front door.  He noticed the front bay window completely smashed, glass all over the front lawn.

 When he opened the door to her apartment, like he had so many times before, he saw her standing with the police officer.  She immediately turned her head the second she heard the door open and when she realized it was him, ran towards him.  “Morgan!”

She clung on to him for dear life.  She began crying again as she buried her head in his chest.  It was only then when he noticed the state of the apartment – broken glass near the window; all drawers open or literally taken out of the slot and thrown half way across the room; mud all over the floor from muddy boots; her kitchen cabinets open and her food thrown everywhere.  It looked like a tornado passed through.  There were two other people in the apartment that looked like they were dusting for prints.  “Are you hurt?” he asked.  She shook her head.  “Did you see them?”  Another head shake.  

He noticed the police officer approach him.  “My guess is you are the boyfriend.”

“Yes sir.”

“Ms. McTavish mentioned you stay over sometimes.  Do you keep any valuables at the apartment?”

Morgan shook his head.  “No sir.  I…what happened?”  Briony had pulled away and was wiping the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand.  “What happened?” he asked her directly.

“W-When I c-c-came back from the g-grocery store I noticed the w-w-window, and I ran inside and I s-saw th-th-this,” she stuttered out.  “I d-d-don’t…I d-don’t know…”

“We are assuming it happened during the period she was absent from the residence,” the police officer said.  “I’ll just need to finish writing Ms. McTavish’s statement and record a list of all her belongings that were stolen.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan said, grabbing at Briony’s hand.  He looked around again to see more mess.  Her covers thrown off her bed, even the mattress protector gone – clearly whoever did this was banking on the old ‘keep your money under the bed’ trick; her fridge door wide open, contents again spewed all over the floor.  He was feeling more and more sick the more he took in.  He couldn’t imagine how violated Briony must be feeling.

“My l-l-laptop is the b-biggest thing,” she began.  “A-And they t-t-took my c-clothes.  Almost all my c-clothes.”

“Were there any items of significant value?”

She shook her head vehemently.  “And then my j-jewellery box.”

“Again, any items of significant value?  Family heirlooms?”

“No.”

Morgan knew Briony didn’t have much, and he knew she didn’t spend much, but his heart broke when she had to give the officer an itemized list of all the clothes and pieces of jewellery that were stolen and how much she had paid for them.  He had $200 dollar shirts and custom suits hanging in his closet, and he didn’t think he’d ever heard Briony go above $30 for how much she spent on something.  The fact that she could even give the officer an itemized list of every piece of clothing and every little piece of jewellery she had meant something.  It meant she knew exactly what she owned – however little it was – and she kept tabs on it all.  He wasn’t even sure about that.  He didn’t really keep tabs on things like he should.  If the same thing ever happened to him, he wouldn’t be able to give an accurate number or descriptions.  He could remember some prices of significance, like his $8000 watch or the general ballpark he paid for all his pairs of Jordan shoes, but he could never be specific like she was doing.  

“Okay Ms. McTavish.  I’ve already made the call for the crew to come to board up the front window and I’m going to be putting a heavy padlock on your apartment door.  Do you have a place you can stay tonight?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Morgan answered for her quickly.

“Okay.  Once the boards are up I’ll file your report and statement.  I’m also going to ask your neighbours if they saw or heard any suspicious activity.  I suggest you take whatever belongings you can for now, anything of value or significance that perhaps the intruder didn’t take, and I will call you tomorrow to discuss your options,” the officer informed her.  

“W-What about my stuff?”

“Pardon me?”

“M-My belongings.  What’s gonna happen with finding my s-stuff?”

The officer gave her a concerned look.  He looked at Morgan briefly too before taking a deep breath.  “Ms. McTavish, there’s really nothing further we can do unless we find the culprit.  Usually in these situations the culprit keeps the items or sells them for any value, if they are even of any value.  We can look at local pawn businesses in the area, but…”

“So my stuff is just gone again.”

The officer nodded his head once, his face still concerned.  “I will try my hardest.  Maybe I’ll look in some of the electronic shops for your laptop, but I really can’t guarantee anything.”

The only things left to salvage were Briony’s books.  Because of course the thief didn’t take the fucking books.  The officer waited for them as she moved in a complete daze around her apartment – no more tears, but her face still stained with them, and with an aura of fear about her.  Morgan could see her hands trembling as she grabbed at her textbooks, the ones she was using this semester in particular, and handed them to Morgan.  She then looked at her small half bookshelf of only two rows, with all the fiction books she had accumulated from various book sales – the book sales she told Morgan about in one of their first conversations – and looked at him.  “Will this fit in your car?” her voice trembling as much as her hands.

“Of course.  What else do you want to grab?”

“That’s it.”

“Briony --”

“I want to go now.”

“B--”

“Please, Morgan.  I don’t want to be here anymore.  Please.”

“Come here.  Come here,” he outstretched his arms to her, and she began crying again as she nestled into his hug and buried her face in his chest.  “It’s gonna be okay baby.”

“Can we p-p-please just g-grab my b-b-books and g-go,” she mumbled into his chest.  “There’s nothing else, M-Morgan.  N-N-Nothing else is-s-s mine.  It all came with the apartment.”

He nodded his head, moving to give her the textbooks she had handed to him.  He bent at the knees and picked up the bookshelf easily, all the books still in it.  He looked at the officer.  “We’re done.  You can lock it up.”

The officer nodded his head.  “Alright then.  You stay safe.  I will call you tomorrow for further information.”  He locked up the door with a padlock as they left, and waited for the crew to arrive to put up the wood boards on the broken windows.

Morgan carried the bookshelf and placed it into the trunk of his car.  Briony, still clutching her textbooks, climbed into the front seat.  When he climbed in and started the car, he looked over at her.  Her cheeks were fresh with tears, her winter jacket haphazardly put on.  He reached over the centre console and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it.  “It’s going to be okay, Briony.”

She tucked her knees into chest as he drove away from her apartment, her textbooks where her feet were supposed to be.  She looked out the window, tears still streaming down her face occasionally.  As the city streets passed by her, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness within her; an emptiness that felt all too familiar.  An emptiness that seemed to follow her for her entire life.  She came from nothing, and now she had nothing.  She could accumulate, she could amass, but she would always end up empty.  The emptiness was not a new feeling, but it didn’t hurt any less just because she had felt it before.  It hurt more now because she knew how it felt to be full.

Everything was a blur until she climbed into bed.  She knew at some point they arrived at his apartment, and they got out of the car and took the elevator to his place, but she didn’t remember.  She didn’t remember anything until she got into bed and practically wrapped her body around Morgan’s to feel any semblance of safety.  Despite the cold outside and the cold in her body, he felt so warm and so full, and she wanted desperately to feel that too.  She knew she wouldn’t – not anytime soon – but it was worth a try.  If she couldn’t have it, she could at least feel it.  

“Briony…” Morgan’s voice was soft as he wrapped his arms around her, placing light kisses on her forehead and the crown of her head.  “Briony, look at me.  Please.”  She pulled away only slightly, enough to get a look at his face.  Her eyes were red and puffy still from all the tears.  “I need to know what happened in your childhood now,” he said.  

She shook her head.  “No.”

“You said ‘So my stuff is just gone again’ to the police officer.”

“Morgan.”

“Briony, please.  Please.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again.  “I th-thought I was finally safe,” she hiccupped again, still shaking slightly as Morgan held on to her.

“What do you mean?”

“Th-Th-This happened all the time as a k-kid.  All the t-t-time,” she revealed finally, wiping a stray tear away.  “Esp-p-pecially when we were between places.  Or at the homeless sh-shelt-t-ters.  And they’d t-take all my mom’s s-s-stuff.  They’d take m-my st-stuff too.  Anything they thought was of value.  Th-That’s why I always ended up w-with n-n-nothing.  And that’s w-why we’d always end up with n-nothing.  I was always s-so s-s-scared.  We’d always have to st-start from s-s-scratch.”

In-between places.  Homeless shelters.  They’d take my stuff.  Starting from scratch.  Morgan felt sick to his stomach.  This had happened to her before.  Often.  As a fucking child.  As a child with an alcoholic mother who had no will to protect her.  With a mother who had no will to attempt to make their situation better.  How somebody could create that environment for a child; how someone could be complacent in making a child that scared; how someone could not care about their child to that degree, Morgan would never be able to understand.  

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Morgan said.  “You’re safe with me.  You don’t have to worry.”

“She’d never t-tell me everything was going to be okay because sh-she knew it was never going to be ok-kay,” Briony continued, and Morgan knew she was talking about her mother.  “And when I finally l-left I thought everything was going to be okay.”

“I’ve got you now.  I’m here for you now.  It’s going to be okay.”

“N-No it’s n-n-not,” she shook her head, unable to believe him.  “M-My laptop’s gone, I have no c-clothes, I didn’t even have m-m-much to begin with and now I have n-nothing again and-d- I --”

“Briony, no, no,” Morgan repeated, squeezing her tighter.  “You have me.  You have me.  You don’t have nothing, you have me.  I don’t want you going through this alone.  You can’t go through this alone.  Because you’re not alone anymore.”

She buried her face in his chest again, unable to cope with his words as tears streamed down her face.  There was too much emptiness, too much pain.  She could only cry herself to sleep, and Morgan, heartbroken, could only listen, his heart breaking with each passing sob, each passing tear he felt wash his skin, each passing tremble of her body.

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Seiðr, Ragnarøk - Fjor Jutul

[7/7/2020 Edit: The full fanfic is being posted on Wattpad. Currently I have updated it with Chapter 24]

Foreword:

•We only get a little glimpse of Fjor in this chapter since this is the first one. He’ll be more active in the second one.

•I’ll keep the story on Wattpad, I’ll post the first few chapters here therefore I attached the story link (I am posting the chapter first on Tumblr so do not get confused if you just see the cast on Wattpad).

•The main characters Rosalinde and Sven are German, hence there are/will be some dialogues in German in each chapter with a given translation of course.

Enjoy :3

(Wordcount: 3134)

*1* Home Sweet Home, I Guess?

/2nd of March, Sunday/

"Wach auf, meine Liebe, wir sind fast gekommen." (Wake up, my love, we are almost there.)

Rosalinde Griebel opened her eyes slowly upon hearing her mom calling her from the driver's seat. She had been sleeping on the back seat since their last stop –it had always been easy for her to sleep while travelling with the car, especially when she felt annoyed and grumpy. After rubbing her eyes, she straightened and sat the middle seat with a yawn.

"All those language shifts from German to Norwegian still confuse me," Rosalinde muttered as she leaned forwards to turn the volume of the radio up. Then she sat back "I'm still having mixed dreams."

Her mother, Astrid, nodded as she casted a look at her daughter from the rear-view mirror "I know, sweetheart, it is the same for me, too. But when it's just the two of us, speaking German is like an instinct, you know?"

"Of course, we are German, after all. It is only our fourth year in this country." Rosalinde responded while reading a sign they passed by. Edda Municipality. She rolled her eyes in annoyance "In which we had to move for the second time because of you, Mutter." (-e Mutter = mother)

Her mother took a deep breath; it was as if she was sick of Rosalinde bringing up this very topic all the time "Do you really want to do this in the car? Argue with me for the fifth time today?" she asked, her voice was tired.

"Whatever, I'm still mad at you." Rosalinde spoke angrily as she crossed her arms on her chest and moved to the left seat, leaning the door. In fact, this time it was not her mother's fault –the hospital in Oslo, in which her mother worked as an anaesthesiologist, wanted her to be transferred to the one in Edda due to the doctor shortages. Still, Rosalinde was carrying a grudge against her mother because of forcing her to move to Norway when she was 14 and turning Rosalinde's life upside down. Therefore she was using this second moving as an excuse to remind her mother of that thing she would never forgive her for.

Not once she asked about my opinion, whether I wanted to leave my life in Germany behind. It was always about her, about her life. I never understood how she acted that selfish against her own daughter.

If it were up to me, I would have never moved to Norway –not that I do not like it here, Norway is an amazing country but I deeply loved my life in Germany. I loved every bit of Aachen, I loved my friends and I loved my dreams. And then one morning, the woman whom I call "meine Mutter" shattered all those dreams to pieces.

Rosalinde pushed her ginger hair away from her sight as her icy blue eyes focused on a large factory complex. The buildings were emitting too many gases, upon realising that she grimaced "Are they even allowed to emit all those gases? They seem pretty poisonous to me."

Her mother, who had ginger hair just like her daughter, frowned "I am not quite sure." she responded "But I rather not think about that."

Rosalinde shrugged "Have it your way." she murmured while she took her phone from her pocket. As she made the airplane mode off, a notification from WhatsApp appeared on her home screen.

Sven: Hey, sleepy head, are you up yet?

Rosalinde raised an eyebrow as her gaze drifted to the woman driving the car "Mom, how does Sven know that I have been sleeping?" she asked in a suspicious way.

Her mother chuckled while she took a left. They were starting to get close to the city centre "He called me to check up on you when you were sleeping –seems like your phone was off."

"You know I put it on the airplane mode when I sleep." Rosalinde said and turned back to her phone. Her nails with black nail polish were shining as she wrote the reply.

Rosalinde: Yeah, got my beauty sleep.

Sven: How do you find our new home so far?

Rosalinde: Idk, we shall see.

After five minutes, the car stopped in front of a small, blue coloured, triplex house. It also had a small garden, which was separated by the gardens next door with high bushes. Rosalinde and her mother got off the car and started carrying the boxes to their new house, during which another car stopped right after theirs. The first one to leave the car was a blonde, teenage boy. Rosalinde smiled as she saw Sven on her way back to the car to take the last box along with her luggage.

Sven approached her with a smile similar to Rosalinde's "Hey baby boy, you have arrived right on time." Rosalinde called Sven as she took the last box.

Sven rolled his eyes "What do you want this time, Lin?" he asked. It felt like he was coming across with similar scenarios a lot.

Rosalinde sent him a big, fake smile "It is your turn to carry my luggage."

After dropping the things at Rosalinde's house, the duo went outside to the garden. It was near 5pm and the weather was getting colder "It does not seem so bad, does it?" Sven asked, causing Rosalinde to look at him. His blue eyes were on her.

Rosalinde nodded "Well, for now, yes. The view is beautiful actually." she said, then smiled warmly at him "At least I have you with me here –I do not know what I would do if I had to leave my best friend behind once again."

Sven hugged her tight "I am glad you're with me as well. I would not want it any other way. We are lucky that both our mothers were transferred to the hospital in Edda." he said as he caressed Rosalinde's chest-length, straight, ginger hair. Sven's mother was an orthopaedic surgeon "Plus we left all those toxic people back in Oslo."

Rosalinde took a step back, leaving his arms "Toxic people are everywhere, dummy."

Sven rolled his eyes "Just for once, be a little more optimistic." he murmured "You do not have to be as black as the clothes you wear."

Rosalinde stuck her tongue out at him "I am being realistic; you can go live in your little utopia if you want."

Before Sven could snap back at her, the duo heard Sven's mother calling him "Sven, darling, come help us with unpacking!"

Sven smirked at Rosalinde "See you soon, neighbour." he said as he turned back to leave. The wind was messing his blonde hair.

Rosalinde rolled her eyes while she shouted behind him "Saved by your mother as always!"

"Go help yours already, Lin!"

***

It was past 7pm when Rosalinde and her mother were finally finished with unpacking. Rosalinde was lying on the grey couch in the living room, which was together with kitchen, as she scrolled in Instagram while her mother was searching for something in the kitchen. A few minutes later she called Rosalinde.

"Lin, do you want to hear the bad news?" asked the short, ginger haired woman.

Rosalinde didn't even lift her blue eyes from her phone "We have no food in the house and you want me to go get something, right?"

She heard her mother chuckle "Sometimes you make me think that you can actually read my mind." she said "Can you go to Spar and buy us some pasta?"

Rosalinde locked her phone as she slowly stood up "Nope, it does not work on you and you know that pretty well, Mutter." she said while walking towards the stairs "Any wishes as for the pasta?"

Her mother thought for a second "Penne could be nice. Oh, and buy a bottle of red wine as well."

Rosalinde nodded as she climbed the stairs "Can you take out my bike and unfold it? I'll change into something more appropriate –I can't go shopping with my pyjamas."

Arriving at the second floor, Rosalinde went for the second room in the row. There were four rooms on the second floor: the first one was her mothers, right next to it came Rosalinde's. At the right end of the floor was the so-called "hobby room", which was mainly used by Rosalinde when she practiced with her guitars –she had one acoustic and one electric guitar. On the parallel of Rosalinde's room was the bathroom and right next to it were the stairs leading up to the attic.

Opening the white, wooden door she entered her room. The walls were beige for now, she was going to paint them lilac later that week. In her room the first thing to see was her desk, which was at the corner, leaning the parallel wall. It was white, just like the door. On it were her laptop, a grey table lamp, some notebooks, a pen holder and a little cactus in a blue pot. On the wall, which was on the left side of her desk, three wall-mounted, white shelves could be seen. She had placed the snow globes she collected on the highest shelf, then came her candles on the middle one. The last shelf mostly contained random things that she couldn't find a better place to put.

Right next to the desk, a white bookcase with five shelves stood to its left. Only the upper two shelves were full, for that moment. Between the bookshelf and the bedside table was a window. Then to the right of the window she had her bedside table along with her bed, which was leaning the right wall of her room. The bedside table was light blue and had three drawers. In the first drawer she had her jewellery boxes and her hair pins, in the second one came her underwear and socks. The third one contained her pyjamas. On the bedside table she had a picture of her 14-year-old self, graduating from primary school in Germany. There was one other picture which was taken in Oslo the previous year, in which she was with Sven. Other than that she a clear jar that had an amethyst, a pinch of unused ground coffee and a handful of pine needles inside –which kept the negative energies away.

The quilt cover set of her bed was in a darker shade of purple, in addition she had hanged a dream catcher right above her bed. To the right of her bed was another window. Lastly her wardrobe was right next to the door, to its right. Yawning loudly, Rosalinde headed towards the grey wardrobe and took off her pyjamas, throwing them onto her bed. Then she wore a thick, maroon coloured sweatshirt and black, skinny, ripped jeans. As she took a look at herself at the mirror which was mounted on the outside of the wardrobe's right door, an unpleasant realisation hit her.

Argh, I have school tomorrow. And I am going to be the new girl. Again.

Putting her ID and some money in a small purse, Rosalinde took her phone and went downstairs. Her mother was waiting for Rosalinde at the door as she passed her daughter a black leather jacket. Placing the phone and the purse in the pocket of her jacket, Rosalinde wore her black Harley Davidson boots "Well, I'll be back soon." she told her mother.

"Sei vorsichtig, Liebling, wir sind noch ziemlich fremd in dieser Stadt!" her mother shouted behind Rosalinde as she mounted her bicycle. (Be careful, darling, we are still quite foreign to this town.)

Rosalinde did not bother looking back at her "Ich weiß, Mama!" (I know, mom.)

The ride to the supermarket was quite calming in fact. It took her approximately fifteen minutes and the weather was rather cold but she had always liked cold weather, it always made her feel alive and cleared the traffic of thoughts from her head. The streets were mostly empty, she had seen some cars here and there but it wasn't much. As she arrived at Spar, Rosalinde dismounted her bicycle and locked it to a nearby street lamp.

The supermarket was almost empty as well; the red-head quickly took a package of penne and a bottle of Chianti and headed to the cash desk. The cashier was an old woman with curly, grey hair and sharp blue eyes, which made Rosalinde feel uneasy in an unusual way. Upon seeing the blue eyed red-head, the old woman smiled as if she had known Rosalinde in person.

Not bothering to hide her frown, Rosalinde placed the things on the desk as she took out her purse from her pocket. The woman didn't ask for an ID while Rosalinde placed the pasta and the wine in a plastic bag "That's 237 krones." said the old woman. While Rosalinde was handing her 250 krones, their hands touched each other for a moment. The red-head gasped as the familiar feeling of being drawn into a vision surrounded her.

"You are a good kid." said the old woman to a tall, blonde boy wearing round glasses. As she smiled in an odd way, she raised her right hand –on her little finger she had two golden rings –to caress the boy's forehead. The boy gasped for air, his pupils widened for a moment, then returned to their regular shape. At the same time whispers in a different language could be heard.

"You are the chosen one, boy."

"Tor, God of thunder!"

"Innocent blood shall spill!"

"What was prophesised by the Völva thousands of years ago has come to occur –Ragnarøk!"

As the vision slowly let Rosalinde go, the red-head abruptly pulled her hand back. The old woman was eying her in a mischievous way. Quickly shaking herself, Rosalinde took the plastic bag and put her purse back in her pocket "You can keep the change."

Not daring to take another look at the old woman, the red-head left the supermarket at a trot. When she was outside, she took a deep breath in order to steady her mind and her heart, which was beating like crazy.

What the hell was that? And what is wrong with that woman? Argh, this town is beginning to annoy me already!

Should I tell mom about the vision I had?

No, not yet. First I have to see if I can interpret what I saw.

What brought Rosalinde back to reality was the sound of a whistle. After placing the plastic bag in the basket, which was attached to her bicycle, she turned back to look at the source. There were three boys leaning a black, 4x4 Volvo a few meters behind her. The one standing on the right had fair skin with brown hair and from what Rosalinde could make out, he had an attractive face. Next to him stood a blonde boy with his hair reaching his shoulders, he was slightly shorter than the brown haired one. The third one had dark brown dreadlocks at a level with his chin, he had dark skin.

Rosalinde raised an eyebrow in their direction.

The one with the dreadlocks called at Rosalinde "Hey, darling, are you from around here? 'Cus I ain't seen you before."

The red-head rolled her eyes at them as she showed the boys her middle finger and mounted her bike. She could hear one of them saying "Well, Oscar, seems like you've found a tough one here." while she drove away.

***

It was past 11pm when Rosalinde's mother came to her daughter's room, who was chatting with Sven "Meine Lieben, es wird spät und ihr geht zur Schule morgen. Ihr müsst schlafen." she said. (My dears, it's getting late and you have school tomorrow –you must sleep.)

Rosalinde was sitting on her bed crossed legged whereas Sven was sitting on the purple rug, leaning the bed "Mama, wir sind nicht fünf." the red-head spoke in an annoyed way. Sven chuckled. (Mom, we are not five.)

"Meine Mutter erwartet mich in einer halbe Stunde, Astrid, mach dir keine Sorgen." Sven responded with an understanding voice. The woman with ginger, shoulder-length hair smiled warmly at the teens and closed the door. (My mother expects me in half an hour, Astrid, don't worry.)

Rosalinde fell backwards onto her bed "I don't want to go to school!" she grumbled "The new girl process bores me."

Sven pushed a strand of blonde hair away from his face "I am not fond of it either but since we have no choice, just try to enjoy annoying everyone around you, Lin." the boy spoke "Except me, of course."

Rosalinde chuckled as she straightened, once more sitting on her bed "You know me way too well, Sven." she said while she messed his soft, blonde hair.

Sven pushed away Rosalinde's hand "Hey, hands off my hair." he muttered as they heard a scratching sound coming from behind the door. Sven laughed "Well, this was your call, cat mom.”

Rosalinde stood up reluctantly and headed towards the door. As she opened the white door, a grey Scottish Fold entered the room "You just could not stay downstairs, could you?" Rosalinde said and took her cat into her arms, heading to her bed once again.

"Is Valkyrie happy about moving to Edda?" Sven asked while he patted the cat. Valkyrie started to purr.

Rosalinde shrugged "I have no idea, she had been sleeping the whole day –including the car trip." the red-head responded as she raised the cat into the air to level its face with hers. Then she left a kiss on Valkyrie's nose, which in response jumped from Rosalinde's hold and fell on its four feet onto the floor.

Sven smiled "Somebody does not want to be loved tonight." he said while standing up. He moved to Rosalinde's desk and took his coat from her chair.

"Ah, it's just Valkyrie being grumpy like her owner." Rosalinde murmured, then raised an eyebrow at Sven "Leaving already?"

"I am tired, Lin –I wasn't the one who slept straight for two hours in the car." Sven said after wearing his coat "Meet you at eight?"

Rosalinde nodded as she watched him leave "Gute Nacht, kleines Mäuschen!" she shouted behind Sven. (Good night, little mouse!)

"Ich bin kein Mäuschen, Lin, hör schon auf!" Sven shouted back in response from downstairs. Rosalinde laughed, she had been calling him little mouse since they were sixteen to annoy him whenever she got the chance. The biggest reason behind it was the fact that Sven was afraid of mice. (I am no little mouse, Lin, give up already!)

I am so lucky to have a best friend like him.

•

•

•

Well, how was it? Was it worth your time? I am literally dying to hear your feedbacks!!!! I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter (:

Do not forget to give me feedbacks ((:

Take care ^-^

[dasfuzzy]

This thing still exists...?

So...I guess I'll start off by saying that the main reason for this post is because I got the Tumblr app a while back and have periodically gotten the notification that someone has liked my blog (hello, by the way), so this is twofold:

1) Give an update because, y'know, I haven't touched this thing in a long time, so there's a lot to update, and

2) Find out who's been liking my blog and why. So I guess comment, message, note, or whatever the hell people do here and let me know what got you interested in my ramblings.

I guess the three main things I would discuss here were my job, my love life, and my situation in general, so those'll be the primary focus for now. I guess I'll start with my love life just to get that out of the way as it's typically the focal point and most salacious content here (and possibly the most interesting to y'all).

Well, I'm gonna tell you right off the bat that things have changed drastically since I last was here. I will say that if you're expecting me to tell all, you're gonna be disappointed. I know in the past I never really held back on my feelings and about dishing out the truth, but this is a different situation than any in the past. All I'll really say is that since August of 2017 I've been in a committed relationship with someone that I truly love and can see myself being with for the rest of my days. Our relationship hasn't been all sunshine and rainbows, however, mostly due to nagging injuries and surgeries stemming from a work-related injury on her part (she used to be a physical therapy assistant), but I've done everything in my power to accommodate her and make things work. It hasn't been easy and it's taken it's toll on me, but at the end of the day I try to remain optimistic that things will get better with time.

Regarding my job...er, jobs, I've bounced around a bit since I was last here. I think I was still at Dave & Busters, but I was able to leave there to become a preschool/toddler teacher at a highly-accredited daycare center called Bright Horizons. It wasn't the easiest job and with me being who I am (profane and a fan of mature content, a la Game of Thrones, Walking Dead and wrestling) I felt like I was walking on eggshells at times, especially because the director was a bit of a prude, but I really enjoyed it. I was one of only two male teachers in a facility of approximately 30 teachers, so the kids really enjoyed the change of pace. I learned a lot being there, especially since I only had a few early education courses under my belt beforehand and I had some great mentors guiding me along.

Unfortunately, I made the decision to leave after 18 months for a couple of reasons:

1) The landlady finally sold the house, so my mom and I had to move (more on that later), and

2) There was an incident where I might've let slip a bit of profanity on the job. Basically it was nap time and most of the children were sleeping. I was in one of the preschool rooms at the time and at that age, some children just don't want to sleep, so we have to either try to soothe them or at least do what we can to keep them quiet so they don't wake the other children up. So I'm with another, younger teacher sitting with the non-sleepers, one of which was on the autistic spectrum and had an action plan in place that inform us of what we can and cannot do in certain situations that normally wouldn't apply to other children. Anyways, that particular child was not having any of nap/quiet time and decided to start walking around the room. In my frustration, I might've uttered under my breath "what the fuck". A few days later, I get a call from the director and she asks me if I used any profanity while in the classroom. I tell her that I don't recall doing so; she tells me that another teacher informed her that I had and she would need me to type up a formal statement of what I recall from that particular event. I stuck to my guns and said that I honestly don't recall doing so and, after submitting that to her, I was put on an indefinite administrative leave. As much as I loved that job, I took that as a sign that maybe it was time to find another job, something that pays better because I knew I was going to be moving within the next few months.

On the first day of my "leave", I asked friends if they knew of any good-paying jobs that had openings. I was only making $12.40/hr, which is only $.40 over minimum wage, so I was definitely open to suggestions. My best friend told me to apply to where he worked, Fitzgerald Tile, because they were looking for warehouse workers. He said they could start me at $18, so I leapt at the opportunity. I went down that Monday and met the warehouse supervisor to have an interview. I'll give you an almost word-for-word retelling of how that interview went:

Him: "Do you know how to drive a forklift?"

Me: "Yeah."

Him: "Great, you're hired."

Me: "Oh...okay."

Okay, that might be stretching it a bit, but that was more or less how it went. Really, he outlined some of the basic duties, asked if I was able to lift up to 50lbs unassisted, know that I'm expected to work 50 hours a week, then had me fill out the application, mostly for the sake of having it on file. He told me that I would just have to meet with the HR person to finalize the paperwork and discuss pay and my schedule, then I'd be good to go. Here's the thing: I never got to talk to the HR person. Ever. I was waiting for over an hour then told that we could do it another time, so I just went home. I should've noticed how sketchy the whole thing was. I should've picked up on all the red flags, but I didn't. So I go home, call my boss, and tell her that I'm giving my two weeks notice. She obliges and I ask if I could come visit down the road. She says that it would be in the best interest of the children that I stay away so they don't get the wrong idea. Basically I haven't been back there besides one time when I stopped by after hours to catch up with my favorite colleague and mentor, Jen.

Anywho, here I am on November 19th at the asscrack of dawn starting at the tile warehouse. I meet with the warehouse supervisor (I don't fucking remember his name; he's honestly not worth remembering) and he asks if I know how to drive a forklift. Uh...we talked about that when you hired me, but anyways, I say yes. "Great. Hop on, drive around a bit, get a feel for it, then get to work." Um...I dunno about those guys, but when I was at Lowe's where I learned to drive a forklift, we had to be licensed to operate one. Not to mention if they bothered to do a background check, they'd learn that I was fired from there for getting into an accident on a forklift and causing damage to a bay door. But I do as they say; I grab an order sheet ("grab the biggest ones first", they tell me) and get to it. Basically the way they run things is they put the sheets out on a table, everyone grabs one, gathers everything up on a pallet, then drop it in the outgoing delivery area, then do it all again until every order has been filled. I should also mention that I started right as they were moving warehouses to North Reading, so after the orders were pulled, we had to get other pallets ready to ship to the new place. Remember how I said I was never able to talk to the HR person? Well, I was never given a schedule because of that, so I guess it was understood that I would come in at 7 in the morning and work until everyone was done, which typically wasn't until 8 or 9 at night. I adhered to that mindset for maybe a week and a half; after that, I started sneaking out after at least doing my 8 hours a day. One day the supervisor caught me and said that I can't do that again. I didn't give a fuck. Another day he tells me that I'm not working fast enough and need to step it up. Maybe if someone took the time to train me on the other lift that was smaller and had forks that extended, I'd be able to be more efficient, but no; the only machines I could use were the huge lifts that are barely able to maneuver in the narrow fucking aisles and the order picker, which is basically a standing lift with a small tray-sized platform that you could place stuff on and lower it back down. That thing was kinda fun because it had controlls that kinda felt like piloting a mech and it was fast as hell.

Fast forward a few days and a few hours into my shift the supervisor tells me that I'm being let go and he hands me my last check and a pamphlet for unemployment benefits. No reasoning, just that I'm gone. Probably because I was "working too slow" and would leave when I felt like it, but I could give two shits; they never cared about me and I was tired of working under those unreasonable conditions. I manage keep my composure and start heading out, telling the few friends that I made there that I was fired; they wished me well and said I'd move onto something better. No shit. Once I get to my car, I burst out crying, trying to comprehend the gravity of my situation. I text my girlfriend and she asks if I want to come over to her house; I do partly because I needed the emotional support and partly because she was only 5 minutes away and my drive home would've been about 30 minutes. Honestly, I probably could've reported them to OSHA since they were in violation of god knows how many rules and regulations (hell, during the first week at the new warehouse, someone managed to destroy an entire bay: 3 shelves with 4 pallets each, totalling I believe over $6000 worth of product), but I just wanted to wash my hands of that place entirely. Since it was mid December, I decided to just take time to enjoy the holidays before looking for a new job, especially since I had made enough money there to keep myself afloat for about a month.

So, regarding the move, mom and I spent the last few years looking for places nearby for when the time came, but a lot of places were either in undesirable towns, were too expensive (this is Massachusetts; rent prices suck balls), or didn't meet our needs/standards. Ideally we were aiming to find a small house or even duplex to move into since we'd been in a 2-story, 3-bedroom house since January 2001, but we ended up settling for a 2-bedroom apartment in a small complex in Reading. It's been a bit of an adjustment for many reasons, but we've made it work. One of the biggest annoyances is that we don't have any laundry machines in our unit or even our building, so if we have to wash our clothes, we need to bring our stuff to one of the neighboring buildings that has a credit card-opperated laundry room with seven washers and 8 dryers. Kinda obnoxious to have to go through all that trouble and pay to do it, but condidering heat, hot water, and facility maintenance and snow removal are all covered in our rent (which is $1750/month), it's a small price to pay, I suppose.

Once we got all settled into the new place, I started job hunting again. For years I've wanted to do something technical, like be a plumber or maintenance engineer, but it's nigh impossible to find entry-level jobs like that. I somehow managed to find a job posting on Craigslist for a preventative maintenance engineer at a hotel in my old hometown of Woburn (ironically it's across from my old Dave & Busters), put in an application, and about a week later I had the job. Basically what I do is go through the guestrooms and make sure everything is in working order and is clean. I do about 2 rooms a day, repairing things as needed, be it electrical, plumbing, painting, or whatever else. I started back in early February of this year and in April the chief engineer was unceremoniously fired, leaving me as the sole engineer at the hotel. We had outside help come in periodically, but generally speaking I was the one keeping the place together until we hired a new chief this past October. I had to learn how to take care of an outdoor pool and how to take readings on it daily. I had to represent my hotel at engineer trainings normally meant for chiefs. Hell, I was very close to being promoted to chief myself until they found the new guy. But my efforts weren't in vain: our scores from our guest surveys for maintenance and upkeep were always above expectations and everyone at the hotel appreciate and respect what I do there. They raised my pay as high as they could go because of the amount of work I was putting in. My boss even got me two $75 tickets to a Ring of Honor show since he was a wrestling fan like myself. I think it's safe to say that I definitely bounced back from Fitzgerald.

I guess that about wraps things up. It's currently two weeks until Christmas, so I've got that to look forward to. I'd apologize for the lengthy rant, but I think that's par for the course on my blog. Again, if you're new (or even if you're not), feel free to leave a comment, note, message, or whatever and let me know what brought you to my blog or if there's any questions, comments, or suggestions for things that I could discuss. I figure I've been away from this thing for a long time, why not be a bit more active. Anyways, that's all I got for now. Hope y'all are well; take care of yourself!

[lunasaturnine]

Vienna and cultural trauma

WOW so cool to sign into tumblr and see 99+ notifications, and think “oh a post got some attention,” but it’s actually just general attention!

My astro blog is ready for some action! Or maybe ppl are just bored bc of the quarantine. Either way, it would be cool to write.

I want to write about VIENNA.

I just took a course about somatic healing of trauma and it gave me a good overview of how trauma recovery works. Chapter 1 of trauma recovery is gathering resources. Chapter 2 is dipping or oscillating back into the memory, whether it’s a clear memory or just something held hidden in your body, with your new resources, and allowing circles to complete. Chapter 3 is being bigger bigger brighter in the world !!! (It’s a nice course, it’s on somatopia.com, it costs $40 if you have that to throw around, it’s like 2 hours of videos of a nice man talking in a soothing voice in intelligent language about healing from trauma)

Now I’m thinking about cultural trauma and Vienna. I have long felt that helping to heal the Hitler wound of Vienna is one of my soul’s major dharmic thrusts. So I googled “healing cultural trauma” and most resources out there talk about the trauma of the victim culture. That kind of trauma is totally different, because it recommends amplifying the traditions and greatnesses of the culture, and when you’re a cultural perpetrator of violence, amplifying the greatness of your culture is a trigger because cultural superiority is what lead your culture to be violent. But there are still a lot of resources with a lot of valuable information. I’ve only skimmed a couple things so far and it seems like one thing people emphasize in cultural healing is human connectedness.

The internet is a little hard to navigate on this topic, but I found an NYT editorial called “I loved my grandmother but she was a Nazi.” The author’s sweet grandma was literally a Nazi but she was a nice person who didn’t hate Jews. When the author talked to her about it, she would deflect. “He said a lot of things, I didn’t listen to them all” and “I was caught up in my own life” etc. The author says, that’s bullshit, there’s something she’s avoiding, and I can’t understand what it is or why she’s doing it, and I’m hesitant to say this because it might seem like I’m trying to forgive Naziism but I’m really just trying to understand who I look at when I look at my grandmother. It’s the most direct address of the West’s Nazi wound that I’ve found in my two and a half minutes of searching on google and I think it’s on the nose.

In the readmore are my more concrete thoughts on potential resources for Western/German/Viennese healing, and thoughts about what working through phase 2 would look like for a perpetrator culture.

Resources

On this reddit post:

https://www.reddit.com/r/history/comments/5nfqwp/my_grandmother_grew_up_in_nazi_germany/

there are some resources. First of all, 1. there are people from diverse backgrounds respective to WWII, coming together and talking as equals in the same kind of “room.” The descendants of the persecuted and the persecutors are together and they are not enemies. The knowledge, and SOMATIC FEELING EXPERIENCE, of that, can be  a resource. I am typing over this brusquely and that’s Mercury magic for you and you should know that I just burst into sobs. That in just a couple of generations, the grandsons and daughters of enemies can be together and not hate each other and even love each other is an immense resource and can be leaned into at any point. There is a vast well of cultural relief available here. My tears are thankful, grateful tears, tears of relief. I am thinking of the parks in vienna that are holocaust memorial parks. I am thinking of that horrible statue out in front of the Albertina that is a memorial to cultural violence but at the same time, also represents the trapped soul of the Perpetrator culture, since we are all One. In the same way that a piece of music which opens with a terrifying chord represents both the terror experienced by the terrorized, and the menace of the terrorizer, AND THE FEELINGS IN THE terrorizer that caused them to generate this chord... off on a tangent, and I’m not sobbing anymore! That was crazy. I have a tendency to lock my feelings up, but being alone in this house and in this quarantine, I can open up locked wells of feeling like that.

That resource is IMMENSE, and it’s RIGHT in front of our faces all the time. I took a class on 20th century germany in undergrad, and the professor was a young guy with a Nazi grandfather, well I’m not sure if he was a Nazi but he was a German soldier, and he remarked on it. And I think at the time I thought “how lovely” but if you sit with that feeling, it’s deep as hell. And if you sit with it from the perspective of a penitent perpetrator, it’s REALLY FUCKING DEEP.

So that’s available. Im gonna post this real quick as a way of saving the draft but I have more ideas.

Okay. Continuing,

Resource 2 also from reddit post

The top respondent says his German POW uncle had a British GF. That’s similar to the first resource, but more immediate. I’m sure there are lots of stories like that. Intercultural experience that nullifies certain tensions

Resource 3 also from reddit post

The stories of people who did do the right thing... maybe. I dont know. I’ll get off this post soon but it’s interesting. Idk if this counts as a resource, it’s kind of a tangent, but the more I learn about karma and trans-life inheritance of it, the more it seems true that it really is better to die living in line with your beliefs than to live safely. Like the person in Pweuy’s post. That father died but his karma was pristine as far as this was concerned and perpetrator trauma did not cling to him.

ok jesus this is an interesting post... the girl skipping over the river of blood as it trickled out of the asylum... the hitler youth boy befriending a lamb and the nazis slaughtering it in front of him... the russian soldier who guarded the german girl because she reminded him of her daughter...

Okay. Before I go on, I want to clarify that I am not specifically talking about people who held Nazi beliefs in their core. There is a special type of perpetrator injury that is specific to that kind of thing, true villains and terrorists. I’m talking more about “ordinary Germans” who didn’t think very hard and got swept along, moderate supporters to moderate resisters. As a culture, they were moved by the tides into Naziism. They have culpability, but not the exact same kind of culpability as perpetrator people. The culture moved to perpetrate these crimes, and they were a part of that culture. That’s the specific kind of wound I’m interested in healing. There is a poster on that page whose grandma really loved Hitler...

Ok! I spent a lot of my energy in that page, now its 10PM and I still have veggies to prepare. I need energy for this next thing I was going to talk about.

Resource 4 - this one specific coffee shop

I’m putting *s in its name because I like this blog anonymous. P*****n is a coffee shop in Vienna that is the only happy place I went. There were places that were ok... and fine... maybe pleasant... but this place was American levels of happy. Waiters danced around and were actually relaxed and happy. P*****n’s theme is intergenerational communication. It hires grandmothers to work behind the counter, and make pies, and you’re supposed to buy a slice of their pie and talk to them a bit. And then the waiters are young, and they communicate with the Omas. And the Omas are maybe not old enough to have been Nazis but their parents were.

They also include a bit in all their menus about intergenerational dialogue and wondering what more they can do and how they can be more of a space for it.

I had MANY genuinely pleasant little experiences there... and I think that little space that some person with a vision made, is a blossoming flowerpot with lots of healing energy where true dialogue could happen. So that could be a resource too. The happiness of that place. In fact, these conversations could happen there.

But I wouldn’t want to break the space. The course I just took talked about titration, which is just accessing a TINY part of the traumatic memory, so you don’t get overwhelmed. This is a very icy fucked up conversation for a lot of people. My Viennese friend told me to talk more quietly about it than I was. Actually I did talk about it there with some people! The German girl was surprised that I thought Vienna had a wound. So was the Irish girl actually. For other people it’s really evident. My Viennese friend. D**n. Rf: “it’s ALL I feel when I am there.” ME. God that conversation was sooo gentle and sweet and light. The Irish girl was wondering if she should move to Vienna or stay in Barcelona, and the three of us talked about Vienna nd it was SOOOOO LOVELY, holy BALLS.

But even if we don’t hold conversations there exactly, that could be a really good place for conversation to start. I could reach out to the people who run the shop to ask them about it. And then maybe conversations could happen in other places (don’t want to spoil the sweetness of the shop).

Resource 5 - personal as I investigate maybe not really a resource - but yes maybe it is a resource: Grounded, comfortable people who are Viennese, and who understand the goals and also understand the sensitivities of Viennese people more than I do; 

Resource 6 - people who are experts at cultural healing in victim cultures

Resource 7 - fostering dialogue between those two parties, also me.

Again I’m really playing fast and loose with the idea of resources. Maybe. We’re starting to move into phase 2, also, because with this dialogue, I want to open up some scripts for how to TITRATE sensitively.

phase 2

For instance, notice that I didn’t say something like “Remembering Vienna’s amazing heritage of incredible music that has the power to redeem and heal equal to and more accessibly than religions.” I think it’s true that Viennese music is a major healing resource (BEETHOVENSCHUBERTMOZARSKLTBSLJRTHBLEWSKJNS:OFDFD), but since it is bound up in Viennese identity, that notion is complex. Also, it’s not only that Viennese identity is nasty because it’s nazi and therefore that gives Schubert etc a dark tint, but also, the grand things that Vienna has contributed to western culture are now a part of Vienna’s current wound of degradation, cheapification, and humiliation by TOURISM. although I will say that I think Resource 8 should be MY OWN deep internalization of the healing power of Viennese music. Posting again to save...

...not only does that music help me be healed, but it also helps me understand healing process in the specific language of the culture i’m interested in

okay.  Phase 2. 

A picture of what I think sorta needs to happen

I think Omas that say “It was just a lot of talk, we ignored it” and “I was busy in my life”... I think what needs to happen for a perp culture is for them to actually own their part in the villainy, to claim it and stand in it and feel the pain, and say “I’m SORRY, this was HORRIBLE, I AM SORRY.” THIS WILL ALLOW THEM TO BECOME NEW!!!!!!!

That’s a v different healing process from like native american healing etc.

I really think somatic approach is a better road in than cognitive because, god, imagine cognizing all of this HORRIBLE SIN bit by bit knowing your culture perpetrated it and not having anyone to blame it on. Jesus.

How might the process of getting there look?

This is vague especially now that I don’t have that burst of energy. Conversations...

Here’s a question. After resource gathering.

“Knowing that bells rang for Hitler in Vienna, how does it feel to be Viennese?” IN YOUR BODY?

Damn THAT’S GOOD! THAT’S THE FUNDAMENTAL QUESTION. How does it feel to be Viennese? The goal is for it to feel OK.

Um, speaking specifically about Wiener trauma and their welcoming of Hitler, a few years ago, I read this in some guidebook, Vienna’s government acknowledged that they welcomed Hitler and that they were wrong, and investigating that is important for my mission. It’s cool because 1. it’s a Big Ol Step and 2. it lays groundwork for all of this.

Step 3 is really beautiful to think about. In the course I took, it’s where the instructor got out of his soothing calm neutral demeanor and started speaking passionately and bursting with smiles.

In addition to being able to be more firmly grounded in their own individual and cultural identities...

Okay, so, I’m drawn to this because I’m drawn to it, punkt. That’s all. But also, and I think I’m really late on the uptake here, I think I was due in Vienna many years ago, I think that whatever work I do in Vienna is helpful for the echoes of Naziism in today’s world, such as Trumpism (which does not...exactly... have the same kinds of premises but uses a lot of the same kinds of mecahnisms) and actual brazen nationalism, white supremicism, and far right movements. Hitler is a LOUD and REVERBERANT figure in our history for this kind of energy, and if we can do healing surrounding him, re-discovering resilience in the moderates, helping them go through the emotional journey they need to go through, they will be a beautiful resonant horn call from the past, a solid core of NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that will strengthen the culture of the entire FUCKING world.

Music will be a part of it.

I have always loved Vienna, and I can’t really analyze it. I love it like a girlfriend. I know she’s problematic. And she can be really really horrible.

The wound is deep. The horribleness, the life negating quality not only of the FUCKING WRETCHED SHOP CLERKS, but also of the WAY -- THINGS -- HAPPEN, of the overall weird ass SPIRIT in Vienna, is... God DAMN WHY do I like that city so much? It’s bizarre. It’s very pervasive. I don’t enjoy experiencing it, I don’t think it’s attractive, I don’t like it. I love Vienna THROUGH that wound. I REALLY LOVE Vienna. That’s one of the clearest things that I know in my heart. I love Vienna... and that’s the whole story. It’s one of the easiest things for me to say.

Lots of people love a city. We do it for reasons. I think our hearts are drawn where they are drawn because we are attracted to healing the specific karmas of places. The karma of my hometown is mainly racial, with native american underneath. The coffee shop that is equivalent to P*****n serves often as a place of racial conversation and healing. It is actually pretty amazing. And once there was a white supremacist with a gun there and he stood up on a table and let people see his gun. He didn’t yell or anything. But that vital thing happened there in that coffee shop.

Excuse me I also love coffee shops and Vienna is the land of coffee shops.

Okay. I love Vienna! I literally love Vienna, with my heart. I love Vienna.

One last thing. I’m saving then editing...

The postscript: A major resource, and it kinda sidesteps some things, is language. It will be much better if German is spoken in these conversations. When I went to Vienna last, I didn’t prepare my German because when I went to Vienna first, everyone spoke English and it was simply easier to speak English all the time, so I figured I wouldn’t try to give the illusion and disappoint. But lo... the native people really, really resent it if you don’t even try to speak German. They actually seem to experience it as an injury. It is wild, if you’re not expecting it.

ALL OVER VIENNA I saw the Graffiti stamp/brand, “Tourism is terrorism.” 

When I was in the airport and the cute customs dudes asked me the purpose of my visit, I said “TOURISM” and they laughed. That was fun. But it was a lie. I was a pilgrim. I... know I was a tourist, technically. But I felt such hatred for the tourists standing like apes in front of the Schubert statue in the Stadtpark. Their wretched selfie smiles plastered on top of the emptiness of their experience. My purpose in Vienna had nothing in common with theirs. And I claim that I didn’t do a lot of the tourist things - not many museums or concerts or whatever.

One of my more pleasant memories was going into a used book shop and asking about a book in the window, a German-language edition of the tao te ching from 1923 (a very strange time). I asked in English. The clerk was confused and asked if I spoke German, and I answered in German that I spoke some German, but was learning, and knew the TTC very well, and that it’s simply usually easier to speak in English. I might have used imperfect German, but I felt dignified and natural doing it.

Ok, not only the German language, but the quiet Viennese demeanor of Scorpiness. Scorpscorpscorpscorp. Quiet, observant, emotional, and responsive to gentle tenderness and consideration, and traumatized by brashness. 

Both the spoken language, and the language of the demeanor, I think are somatic approaches that sidestep cognitive...things and make the culture feel unconsciously accepted and open.

On my first trip I learned howwwwww AMERICAN I was, and then on my second trip I opened myself up to my inner Wiener and was quiet and scorpy, and I felt warmth emerge from the people and city in response. It felt really right, and it felt like i was honoring...her, and it felt um sort of romantic. ha