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conjaime · 5 years ago

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Hii can you do a Theodore Laurence imagine pleasee💜💜

ego death ; theodore laurence

Laurie could die by your hands and have no qualms or regrets because you would be the last thing he saw. He had studied a tiny bit of philosophy, of only for you to pique some interest that he happened to be skimming through popular works of René Descartes. He thought that would make him more interesting and somehow make him stand out against the crowd, but you soon moved onto crochet by the time he had actually absorbed anything.

Without you, he couldn’t breathe and his mind began to blur the lines of truth and fiction. His fantasies of you were scribbled with things he would be too mortified to ever read aloud and would always stare when in close vicinity. Even beside the creepiness, it’s not as if you would notice him and all his strange tactics for attention. You never did.

He’d often like to say that you were his first heartbreak, but that would be inaccurate as you two had never really had a romantic connection. Let alone, a steady conversation without him being flustered or blushy. But when you announced your departure to Asia, it felt like some part of him had died.

Stage One: The Spiritual Awakening

He woke, eyes fluttering open with the urge to continue on his daily routine of being a pest to everyone in sight. But he stayed in bed, staring up at his ivory ceiling with something strange clawing at him. Laurie couldn’t describe it, like a piece of him had ripped from his clutches and now he was forced to wallow in some pitiful despair.

His eyes wander around the room, maybe finding something to keep his mind off of you. And his eyes land on Descartes, the name reading clear against the spine of a crimson skinned book. He’d never actually had remembered anything that the man had published, a few quips here and there to impress you; but philosophy bored him and older men telling him how to live his life was even worse.

But his nimble fingers prick at the spine and maybe a bit of refreshing wouldn’t do him any harm.

Stage Two: The Dark Night

Laurie’s a complete mess, others have noticed it and it’s come to the point where he’s utterly aware of his disparity. Jo has given up because she claims he smells like grease and sweat while his grandfather occasionally comes in to only feed him before leaving. He can’t deal with this hole threatening to tear him apart, even with his constant studies, all his mind manages to do is wander back to you.

He looks in the mirror when he figures he looks better than other times and realizes how truly pathetic he is, he can’t even recognize himself anymore. He’s a shell of the boy he used to be, all of this due to your absence. There is nothing but you that remains within his soul.

Isolation, he figured, would always be a fate worse than any death imaginable. But it’s become his only skin that’s left to bare. He feels naked and it’s what propels him to do the right thing.

Stage Three: Exploration

Despite the common misconception about spirituality in fields other than religion, you always had a soft spot for tarot readings and certain types of energy healing. There’s something about it that attracts you to it and your reminded interest in it draws Laurie to explore it more.

He likes citrine out of all the crystals he’s come across, researched to find out it carries some meaning of prosperity and optimism. It’s hung right around his neck, covered by the fluff and frill of his everyday outfits. Sitting at the piano and writing repetitive sonatas that sound good to his ears.

He hopes that sitting and working his fingers to the bone will only lead to reward. He hopes that once you arrive home that you will hear and adore his symphonies all inspired by your lovely memory. Laurie hopes that he can become a better man for you.

Stage Four: Glimpse of Enlightment

When he looks at himself in the mirror, the bags underneath his eyes have become less striking. His sense of self has gone, something that frightens him when he suddenly awakens from a deep slumber in the middle of the night and can’t recall his own name. But this sensation simultaneously intrigues him to discover more.

Books have told him about something underneath what his identity connects to, something labeled as his True Nature. He wants to relish this feeling forever, this gradual enlightment that has been bestowed upon him during your absence. It’s not enough to starve himself of what he craves every singular day of his treacherous life.

Enlightenment is what he seeks and perhaps this heavenly experience will only grow his everlasting affection for you.

Stage Five: Soul Growth

He realizes this doesn’t occur until he’s forced to join Amy during her travels to Europe. Well I. His reflection, that’s when he’s fully aware of the effects occurring during the cycle of ego death. His soul is maturing, maybe not his outer appearance but he can feel it growing tender with each lesson he forces his mind to remember.

He still keeps the citrine wrapped around him, a momento that all of the spirituality stemmed from your jumping interests that changed as quickly as the sun setting. He’s knows Amy has been sent off to find a suitable, meaning wealthy, match for herself and can only assume that you have done the same thing for yourself.

He only wish is that once you return to his home with your husband that you may familiarize yourself with the man he’s grown into. That you may finally notice him as something other than a flustered little boy that can’t even stutter out a full sentence. That in your eyes, he may no longer be a “poor baby” and rather a fully grown cherry to pick from the orchard.

Stage Six: The Surrendering

He has let go of what was most dear to him, your attention and validation. And although some part of him is depressed that his only goal for your relationship has been discarded, it makes him realize that he can expand on what was previously built. That you may guide him into salvation without any insecurities built up by his pathetic ego.

He trusts in his lack of knowledge, that his anger has only been a cover for what had been possessing him all along. He has no fear of what the future may present him, he only knows that soon enough he will return to you and your lovely embrace.

Stage Seven: Awareness and End

It’s the spring when you finally arrive once again, unhappily married and noticeable exhausted. He feels saddened by the result of your exposition but that feeling is subsided once you wrap your arms around him. He’s missed your touch, he’s missed everything about you.

You release him to his disappointment, but the smile stretching your lips apart melts any grievances against the lack of contact during your first meeting in what feels like decades, maybe even centuries. Laurie’s adoration hits him like a ton of bricks and your eyes are enough to send him blushing. He’s grown but under your touch, he’s rendered weak.

“Laurie,” you whisper softly and cup your hand to his rosy cheek, he’s finally been noticed. “the spring is always too kind your features.”

He pressed his head against your hand, lightly kissing your palm. He’s always been some sly romantic, sneaking around acts that he thought you wouldn’t catch. He takes you for a naive fool at time, but his innocence is endearing enough.

“And it’s even more ravishing when I see you against yours.”

You roll your eyes, soft touch turning into a pinch which he yelps at, “You’re such a tease, refreshing compared to the men on my travels.”

He hears that sentence and the butterflies within hi stomach flutter with previously unfound zealousy. This equivalence works in his favor, he’s a man to you now and you’ve grown into his idealistic partner. He wishes he could just melt into you and pepper your face with kisses, but that will have to wait.

After all, you’ve only just returned to your childhood friend, the only man who could truly capture your attention.

“A walk in the garden, my dear?” He dips low into a dramatic curtsy and extends out a hand.

He’s always been a fan for theatrics and you can’t help but accept with a bow of your own. Promptly smacking the back of his head once whole charade is over.

“You’re making me tea, don’t patronize me with exercise.”

idk maybe i like gave up on this when i reaches stage four, but this was probably inspired by listening to ego death in thailand.

#teddy laurence x reader #laurie one shot #teddy laurence #imagine #reader interactive #reader insert #laurie laurence x reader #laurie x reader #little women #little women spoilers #little women 2019 #theodore laurie laurence #laurie laurence #theodore laurence #laurie #one shot

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darklydeliciousdesires · 4 years ago

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In The Blood - Chapter Sixteen.

Thanks for those of you who are reading. I’d love to hear your feedback in the shape of comments, I cannot lie! Please do reach out to me if you’re enjoying what you are reading :)

Tag list - @modernscarlett @sadiemaeve @aarfyie @helenasmirkedno @jasmindaughteroftheworld @minaofmayhem @brittanyshea25 @suckedintothesupermassive @bhairston @carolina-thiell @criminalyetminimal

(To be added to or removed from the list, please DM at any time)

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

Tyra's POV.

That's twice now. Twice in as many weeks that Eric has made me cry. I hadn't cried in over two years before this either. Fuck him for turning me into an emotional sap!

That night he turned up at my house after the Deicide gig and I agreed to go back to work for him, what was I thinking? Why did I open myself up to all of this, enjoying a flirtation with the big, bad vampire, letting my resolution over not sleeping with him get twisted, let myself get twisted by him? I let it happen. I did. I let him in and now look at me, my heart all bruised and my pride battered to death because of Eric fucking Northman.

I'm a fucking moron for having let myself be played like this, to feel this upset, to be sitting here in a puddle of fabric that is the big, old white crochet blanket I've wrapped myself in for comfort (since it was made by my biological mom) crying my eyes out because I don't want to believe that some of what we shared was not real.

I can’t face acknowledging that it didn't mean anything to him when for a while, it did mean something to me. Very much so. Lafayette was right when he described him as one of the most evil, conniving, dangerous and devious vampires around. He was absolutely right.

It's not like I'm in love with him or anything. That’s the truth, too, not something I'm trying to convince myself of. No matter what temporary leave of my normal level headed absence I may have taken, I do not fall in love quickly. I know this for sure. However, when we were together, it felt perfect. I felt content on a whole different level to anything I'd experienced before. Clichéd but true.

What I really enjoyed the most, though? The fact he's Swedish. Before I left him for the last time, we slipped into our home language and spoke nothing but it for hours. It was lovely. I miss my native tongue, I often talk to myself in it when I'm alone in the house. It was nice having someone there to actually speak it with though, really nice.

Another reason for my tears are my complete and all out confusion and shock about the fact I've been linked to Eric way longer than I ever expected, through Godric. I mean, what on earth are the chances?

Now I understand why he never aged a day, why he was pale and cold, also why I never saw him in the daytime. He was a vampire, of course, such a lovely one, too. He was way less abrasive than Eric, gentle almost, but with much strength you could always feel coming from him through his powerful aura.

I can't even begin to try and work out why, why he visited me, why he gave me that key and why Eric snatched it away after grilling me over who gave it to me. Suddenly, a memory comes back to me, of when Eric thrust a small box in front of me recently that he couldn’t get into, asking for my help in order to pick the lock. I remember seeing the same urgency in his eyes then as I noticed when he was staring at my necklace. So somehow, this was all connected, orchestrated by Godric.

Now I think back further, that familiar voice I heard on the phone asking me for my bookkeeping services back in early January could only have been him. He hasn't visited me since I was sixteen, but I tell you right now I'd do anything to see him at my front door, so I could ask him what the hell is going on. When I go and answer a knock at the door a little while later, I am sad that the vampire standing on the other side of it isn't him. I can’t will him to appear, it would seem. Sadly, the one I’d rather never see again has shown up.

“Eric, I've had enough of you playing with me like I'm a goddamned puppet. Just go,” I sigh, weary yet angry, attempting to close the door again only for him to reach out and grab the edge, preventing me from doing so. “I take back my invitation for you to enter my home, so now you can't even barge your way in. Fuck off.” I then add coldly, glaring at him as he reaches into his jacket pocket.

“I have a lot to be sorry for, Tyra. I want you to read these first before we can hopefully discuss that. I'll wait until the sun comes up if I have to, for I understand my face is perhaps the last in the world you want to see right now, let alone listening to anything I have to say.” This is all he speaks, in the sincerest tone I've ever heard him use as he passes me a long scroll of tightly wound paper and an envelope with my name on it.

Moving back, he turns to seat himself on the edge of my porch, his back to me. Pausing by the front door after I close it again, I look down at the items in my hand and almost wonder what to do with them. This all became very strange all of a sudden.

I take them back over to the couch with me, putting the letter down beside a sleeping Poon and then unwinding the first part of the scroll, seeing my name, my birth parents names and then those of their parents. It looks like my family tree.

This is further confirmed as I continue to scan, seeing my mothers' side of the tree break off at my grandparents, Albert and Claudia Roggman, unfold the scroll to read what essentially is a very neatly detailed copy of what is indeed family tree on the Boden side, what I assume to have been amongst the contents of that box Eric had. This is getting stranger by the moment.

Continuing studying it, I carefully unwind the parchment at one end, keeping it tidy as I go by rolling it back up again at the other, astounded by how far back this is stretching. Someone went to truly meticulous detail here, the Boden’s of the 1700's listed, the 1500's, the 1300's and the 1100's. It extends to 100AD and beyond, back to Henrick Boden, his father Alias Boden and his grandfather Thomas Boden. Thomas had a sister, I see, Astrid Boden, who was married to Ulfrik Northman. They had three children, Astrid, Felix and their eldest, Eric Northman.

I just dropped the scroll onto the floor in total shock.

I'm related to Eric? Okay so not so much related, it’s more a case of me being his last living descendant, since the Boden line ends with me, but still. The vampire I now loathe so much for his meddling in my life, nearly killing me too, is the only thing close to family I'll ever have.

You've got to be kidding me. This is the stuff stories are made of, not real life in Louisiana, 2009. Jesus! I just can't believe this, I cannot fathom it at all, the cryptic nature of this whole situation that's suddenly unfolding before me. Remembering the letter, I tear it open eagerly in haste and begin to read, hoping it holds a little more information to pacify the unrest within my mind.

My dearest Tyra,

I hope this letter finds you well. I want to take this opportunity to let you know that even though we haven't seen each other in twelve years, since soon after your sixteenth birthday when I gave to you the necklace, I never left you.

I knew that my presence had caused conflict in your life, what with the psychiatrists visits and the stress your adoptive mother and father went through, all you faced because of it (do you remember when we buried all of your medication at the bottom of your parents garden?) so I decided it was best to watch over you from afar.

It was always my duty to keep you safe, for more than one reason, too. Please do not think I ever abandoned you though, for I didn't. I've watched over you since you were a baby, saw you grow into a curious, intelligent and strong child, upholding the same values when you became the wonderful, successful woman you are today. You've made me very proud.

Now, to answer some questions you no doubt have lingering. Firstly, I wish I could be there with you to explain all of this to you, so you could sit and ask unlimited questions I would of course answer as best I could, but sadly this cannot be. In January, I met my true death, walking into the last sunrise I would ever see. I am so sorry that you had to discover this through written word, I did want to come and tell you myself of my decision, but it was just too risky. You will discover why in due course.

I have followed your family line for centuries, guarding your forefathers and then you, with every moral fibre left in me. It was my duty to do this, as well as my wish. The main reason of this I just cannot reveal to you, there can be no written evidence of what you are, for you are not entirely human, Tyra. You are a supernatural of sorts and a rare one at that. This is why I cannot tell you, I'm afraid. It is something I wish for you and Eric to work together in discovering. Believe me, you will learn of your incredible heritage soon enough.

Now, I've mentioned Eric here, which leads me on to the next part of what I wish to explain, not that it shouldn't be pretty self-explanatory by now anyway. Of course, you are where the Boden line ends and he is where the Northman line ends. You have seen from your family tree you are his last living descendant, you are both all the other has left in the world now, family of sorts, if you will. Although, I am not naive to the fact Eric will have seen you as something quite different, as ever he is steered by his loins when it comes to women as beautiful as yourself! I doubt this has changed.

He has lost me, but you, you my brave child, you lost everything and at such a tender age. Because of this I set the wheels in motion for you to find each other after I had met my true death. I didn't want either of you to be alone any longer without blood kin, no matter how very, very distant.

I actually think you'd make quite the pair, as I stated in a letter to Eric I consider you to both be as steadfast, beautiful and intelligent as each other. I will leave you now with the same words I left him with, which is to look after one another.

You will need each other more than you realise right now. Please, Tyra, even though I trust Eric and his insightful decisions implicitly, keep an eye on him for me.

Godric.

By the time I'm done reading the above, I'm in tears all over again. Reading that he is no longer here was hard, for I always hoped that one day I might see him again. It hurts very much to deal with the fact that I won't, as well as the fact I cannot thank him for looking after me, for whatever the secretive reason, it must have been very important to him. I must have been very important to him.

He said I'd made him proud, something which has only stirred my emotions further, knowing the one constant in my life was so proud of me. His words do throw me further into the realms of confusion though, having him state to me that I am not entirely human.

How would you feel to hear that? To know you're not what you thought you were, yet still not have your 'species' (if that's the correct term) identified to you? Also, compound that with the fact that I know have to work all this out with Eric and what do you get? Tyra Boden, pissed off, confused and upset. That’s what you get.

I can't even bear to look at him right now, let alone invite him in, Hell, I doubt he's even still out there. It's been half an hour already, even though it feels like just a few minutes since I shut the door on him.

When I get up and head into the kitchen, taking my emergency bottle of brandy (I have to say Lafayette has given me a taste for it) from the cupboard and pouring a large measure, I can still see Eric through the window sitting on the porch step, waiting for me. I don't even think I'd know what to say to him if I did let him come in right now, my head is spinning truly, my emotions all over the place.

Time for brandy number two, which I throw down my throat at speed, taking the glass and the bottle back into the lounge and curling up on the couch again, picking up the family tree scroll I dropped upon the floor and putting it on the small table at the side of the couch. I then take Godric's letter to me and read it through over and over, sipping my third brandy at a steady pace rather than knocking it back like I did with the previous glasses.

All the while as I sit here, I can feel that Eric is still outside, while I remain indoors, petting a sleepy Poon and sipping brandy, wondering what the hell to do. Should I let him in, hear what he has to say and then discuss this with him? Or shall I just leave him out there in the rain that I can hear has begun to heavily fall?

I'm really stuck between a rock and a hard place here, out there is the only, even though so very distant, family I will ever have, but he just so happens to be the most devious, calculating, mean tempered man I've ever met. What kills me most is the fact that I know he’s capable of being anything but. I’ve seen it, felt it. He’s capable of being wonderful, yet so far he’s chosen not to be, unless under the influence of my blood.

Another hour of decision making follows, before sometime close to 11pm I finally go and open the door, seeing him stand up from the porch absolutely soaked to the skin, walking back to the door slowly.

“You've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do,” I state, watching him nod curtly, dropping his head and looking at the floor for a few moments.

“I realise that. It’s what I came here to do,” he speaks quietly. Looking back up, his gorgeous eyes meet mine as I watch raindrops trickle from his eyebrows and land on his long, blonde lashes. It makes my heart skip a beat just to see that, much to my annoyance.

“Come in.” Swinging the door back and allowing him to enter my home, I watch him walk in and then just stand there, looking big, wet and awkward. I’m glad he has the good grace to look fucking ashamed of himself. So he damn well should, too.

“You're not sitting on my couch in those wet clothes, Go into the bathroom and get yourself dry while I find you some jeans. My ex was close to your height and he left a few pairs here, I'll see what I can dig out.” I then add, watching him nod again while he follows me through my house. I point to the bathroom before continuing to the linen cupboard, searching behind the towels where I know I stashed some of Harrison’s clothes.

“I'm sure I do not deserve to be treated so cordially. Thank you for being so hospitable,” he replies when I return, taking off the long sleeved, black v neck sweater he's wearing and wringing it out in the bathtub. I hand him the deep, indigo blue jeans before turning and leaving him to it. He joins me in the lounge after a few moments, holding his water sodden clothes.

“Where do you want me to put these?” He asks.

'Here, I'll put them through the wash,” I say, taking them from him and heading into the kitchen and through to the tiny utility room, feeling him behind me the whole time as I load the machine, put the detergent and softener in and start the cycle.

“I'm sorry, Tyra. I honestly am. No more games, no more messing your life around, no more hurting you, either mentally or physically. I'm ashamed of myself for becoming violent towards you, I truly am. You're all I have left and I've treated you terribly, perhaps even as badly as I'd treat my worst enemy. All because I didn't want to get too close to you,” he tells me, reaching out and resting his hands on my shoulders, his head nearing mine, eventually resting against my forehead.

I feel myself cave to the moment, putting my arms around him and resting my head against his bare chest. “I’m so, so sorry.” He then affirms once more, kissing my hair as he pulls me into a hug that I don’t fight. I don't know how, but it’s different now. I know he really, truly means it this time.

“You're not forgiven, not by a hell of a long shot. I can understand almost everything else you did, explain it away by your nature and what you are, but making me purposefully fall down a flight of stairs like that? It was beyond cruel of you to put me through that kind of pain, to put me in mortal danger.

“What if I'd had fallen to the floor and broken my neck instantly, had no traceable heartbeat when you got to me to feed me your blood? What if you couldn't have saved my life and I'd have died there in the cellar? All just to give me your blood to keep tabs on me. It was vile and cowardly, Eric,” I tell him strongly, yet I don’t raise my voice at all, not even once. I'm too tired, too weary with all of this to shout.

“I know, I was so reckless with your safety, with your life. I know how much I've deeply hurt you, too. You didn't even need to tell me that, I can feel it. Your energy, it feels different to m. I can physically feel how much distress I've caused you,” he states, while beginning to stroke my hair. I feel like bursting into tears all over again.

I hold it back, though, holding the sob tightly in my throat with everything I have, swallowing hard and letting go of him before we walk back into the lounge and sit down on the couch, Poon providing a nice little buffer between us.

“Okay, you told me you wanted to explain your actions. I think right now would be a good time to begin.” I state, reaching for my glass of brandy and taking a small sip, wrapping my feet in the crochet blanket I previously had around my shoulders.

He’s about to begin when suddenly, Poon awakes, Eric surprising me by stroking her head, then even more so by allowing her to climb into his lap and curl up, kitty croissant style, his fingers tickling behind her ears. She's such an attention whore, she really doesn't care who you are or how long you've been in her home, she'll come and curl up with you if you let her. She isn't aloof like a lot of cats can be.

“I concur, so I'll start from the beginning. It would be an exercise in futility, I think, if I left anything out. You're my family Tyra, my blood. No matter how extremely distantly we’re related, barely related at all, in fact, since you’re my descendant, you still deserve not to be kept in the dark. From this moment forth I will never hide anything from you again because of that.

“A week before you began working for me, I was in Dallas because a cult religious group had captured Godric and I of course was duty bound to rescue him, to find out how a vampire of his strength and integrity had been assailed by this group of brainwashed ignoramuses such as the Fellowship of the Sun.

“As it turns out, he wasn't. He willingly let himself be captured, thinking it would all be for the greater good to let his true death be upheld by them. Little did I know, but he did want to die anyway, regardless of whom brought it about. He'd grown too old to want to carry on at almost two thousand, two hundred years old.

“It was terrible to lose him. I never imagined I could feel pain like I did when I pleaded with him not to leave me. When I returned home, I discovered he’d left me this letter,” he begins, somewhat at length, walking over to where he took off his leather jacket when he came in and hung it up to dry on the back of a chair, taking a piece of paper and giving it to me while I read the letter from Godric.

It explains that he had hired me as Fangtasia's new bookkeeper, that Eric should not let me leave, that I’m perfect for him and that he also has no idea how valuable I am, or will be.

“Of course, then you came along to take the bar on as one of your accounts and immediately I felt like I knew you already. Of course, it was my own blood I was sensing, the ancient family tie we have to each other. Also there was your energy, too. I've never, ever felt an energy like yours before and that combined with Godric's cryptic message to me made me even more determined to find out what you were and why he'd sent you to me.

“I acted ruthlessly in my pursuit of that knowledge, I know this. All the while I could feel myself developing a fondness for you, one that I didn't want to admit to myself and if I'm honest, I still struggle with. Vampires don't deal with having their emotions stirred very easily, as I'm sure you've been able to attain for yourself. Which then brings me on to when I drank your blood, when I made you fall down the stairs, I drank of you too then and what I felt was frighteningly real.

“I felt close to you in a way that I've never shared with any other woman bar Ida, there was something in your blood that made me loyal to you totally, not wanting to leave you. It was then that I felt remorse for what I'd done, I was honestly ashamed at myself at that time. With each time that I've drank your blood since, I've felt closer to you, felt a bond forming that I’ve tried to break, yet deep down I knew I couldn't and actually didn't want to do it.

“To counteract that, I told myself I could not have a weakness, could not and should not let myself open up to you like that way again. When I set it up for you to find Deborah and myself together, only half of me wanted to do it. The other half craved for it to be you in my arms, but I was too afraid to admit that to myself. Too afraid to let myself feel how I did again about a woman as I felt...” he trails off, looking away from me and down at his bare feet for a few second.

“About Ida, because you don't want to lose someone you care about all over again,” I finish for him, hoping my simple guess is not too far off the mark. I realise it isn't when he begins to nod.

“Yes, but also I know I could never feel again for another woman what I felt for her, I could never promise that kind of emotional investment. I'm simply not capable. Or rather, I do not feel capable, but I suppose I won’t know until I try.

“I have thought about it, believe me I have thought long and hard. I’ll I can conclude is that if I have a true weakness, it's not being brave enough to let myself do what I so desire,” he replies, shifting a little in his seat and making Poon get up from her resting place in his lap and hop down to the floor.

“What is it that you desire to do?” I ask tentatively.

“To prove I am worthy enough for you to keep me in your life firstly, secondly to get to know you better. Everything else, whatever it is, will just have to follow that. Also, to stop acting like the gutless asshole I have become. Pam was right when she chided me, told me I was above such behaviour. I am, this I shall prove to you,” he tells me assertively.

“I can handle that. Just so we’re clear, are you saying to me that you want to, I don't know, have a relationship of sorts with me?” I broach, nervous as to what his answer may be.

“I'd like to discover whether it's something I'm capable of. I cannot promise you I would be, though. The only thing I've committed myself to for the last thousand years has been vampirism. Applying commitment to just one person would be very difficult for me to get used to, no matter how much I do genuinely enjoy your company. As I said, though, I want to try.”

I have to be honest, what he's said so far is very fair. Honest, too, this time. Don't ask me why, but I just know he isn't lying to me. For that, I reward him, just a smidgen, despite the fact he’s not out of the woods with me yet.

“What was that for?” He asks, after I've moved closer and kissed his cheek softly.

“A thank you, for being so honest with me. No matter how brutal that honesty may have been in parts, I very much appreciate it,” I say, watching a small smile curl his lips.

“I'd also like to add here, I'll need considerable time as well. You can't get back on the right side of me that easily. It'll take time for me to decide whether you are really what I want, or whether the aggravation you've caused me so far has damaged that idea beyond repair,” I then state. It isn't all dependant on what he feels, or if he thinks he can cope. I do and will have a voice in this.

“Then let’s agree to just see how things go.” If there's only one thing I know I can firmly agree upon tonight, it's to simply see how things go. After so much confusion, so much revelation, simplicity is nothing but a welcome thought at present.

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etraytin · 4 years ago

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Quarantine, Day 119

July 8

Apparently running the legs off the kittens during the day and then giving them wet food immediately before I sit down to write is the best recipe for peace and quiet in the kitten room. I've been feeding them extra since they moved into the big kennel since they are moving more and I want to make sure they are very plump and well fed by the time neutering day rolls around. They're both well over three pounds, but I have had problems in the past with kittens missing weight by less than an ounce and having to wait sometimes weeks for another slot to open up. These guys are ready for homes, I don't want them to wait longer than they have to!

This morning I was finally able to fully close out the Red Cross call I started a week ago yesterday. I had three clients I was trying to reach and I got two of them right away that night, but the third one I just couldn't get. He'd tell me a time and not be there, I'd leave a voicemail, the phone wouldn't connect, etc. Finally at 9pm last night, literally hours before I couldn't have done anything for him without a special exception from my supervisor (our latitude only runs for seven days after a fire), he got in touch with me and I was able to do his interview. This morning I was able to drive out to where his wife was staying with a friend and get her the assistance card she needed, and I felt good about that. I don't like feeling like I've left a client unfinished, even after I've done everything I can, so this was really nice!

We played Dungeons and Dragons again today too, something that the kiddo looked forward to literally all day long. He doesn't always have the niceties of play down, like "let the DM finish describing things before you start asking questions," but he is enthusiastic and creative, so that is very fun. My dice were absolute rubbish during the entire session, a little embarrassing for a druid on a woodland adventure, but that did give the kiddo a chance to shine. The sacrifices a mother must make, alas! Playing D&D makes me miss the hero points system from Mutants and Masterminds, where you can take ranks in the Luck feat and spend hero points for strategic rerolls. They are incredibly useful for people like me whom the dice rarely favor.

For the past couple of days I have been cleaning out the linen closet, which is also the bathroom closet because we have no bathroom storage. It has become incredibly disorganized and impossible to find anything, not ideal for a place that is most likely to have things you are looking for while half-asleep, naked or both. While I was cleaning I took out the deluxe showerhead with handheld sprayer that I had in our last apartment, figuring I should finally go ahead and put it up in the master bathroom. Our last place in Florida had a truly amazing standalone shower worthy of a deluxe showerhead and this place only has a paltry bath-shower combo, but I already have the thing and it's a shame to waste it. The kiddo picked it up today and somehow got covered with water, which is incredibly weird since the last time it was hooked up was before we moved to Virginia in October 2018. The showerhead was packed in a box, moved across many states, unpacked and then spent a year and a half in the bottom of the closet, and somehow it still had water in it? Needless to say, it was not very nice water and he had to change his clothes. I am baffled.

My only other real accomplishment today was spending several hours listening to podfic and untangling a skein of yarn that had become untwisted and horrifically snarled in an accident that nobody will admit to causing. I don't derive great satisfaction from undoing yarn tangles like some knitters do, but I was very happy when the yarn, which is really pretty yarn that I was looking forward to using, was finally safely in a ball and ready to go. My mom has asked me to make a couple of crocheted mask bands with buttons for her, so maybe I will use the yarn for that. She'd probably like the color a lot. Maybe I'll double check the wedding colors and make them for everybody in the wedding party. I have lots of yarn and many buttons, it could work. All I need is the motivation!

#quarantine #feral kittens #dungeons and dragons

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boredinterview · 5 years ago

Conversation

Libby Jansing on self-care, snickerdoodles, and divinity.

H: what are you wearing?

L: I’m wearing a striped rainbow sweater and this corduroy jumper thing my aunt got me for Christmas like two years ago. it was hers when she was younger and she gave it to me. she’s like “I saw it and I thought of you!” she’s my godmother.

H: my nanny texted me this morning when I was at cece’s, this picture of these overalls she saw on a facebook ad. she was like “these look like you”, they had like flowers all up and down.

L: that’s so sweet, I love that! I call my grandma nanny too.

H: oh yeah! I feel like we’ve talked about that before.

L: yeah, I love when other people call their grandma, nanny. It’s so sweet. my grandpa who I didn’t really know—he died when I was little—but we called him poppy.

H: dude! I call my grandpa pops, but then on my other side of my family, my dads mom is called grandy. which, she chose that name for herself. she started enforcing it when I was in the womb. and my grandpa, he died when I was little too, but we called him pawpaw.

L: that’s really sweet, I love that. my catholic grandparents were just grandma and grandpa which is like such catholic shit.

H: basic, straightforward, down to business. No frills whatsoever.

L: exactly!

H: so, describe your idea of self-care.

L: I think for me it shifts and changes depending on how I’m feeling. I’ve been really focusing on astrology lately and I think the transits really effect how I interact and take care of myself. It’s been a lot of trying to start new things which I think is because of aries season. starting new things—not even necessarily finishing them—but just starting them is making me feel good. and honestly still just like taking baths every day.

H: yeah, that’s so nice. what kind of new things have you been starting? like creative projects?

L: I’ve started a few things. I’m still working on five commissions that I have left which are projects I need to prioritize since you know they’re for people. I’ve been paid for them so I have to finish them, but I’m getting close on all of them which is good. I purchased a printer so I can print off the shipping labels.

H: hell yeah, that’s great!

L: also my friend Kelly and I are starting a podcast!

H: (excited gasp)

L: it’s an astrology podcast. we also talk about politics, we just have the best interactive mercury signs with one another. I have a gemini mercury and hers is in aries so we just talk talk talk and can’t stop. I’m always thinking constantly but I don’t always take note, I’m better at communicating my ideas out loud rather than writing them out so I’m excited to be communicating on a level like that.

H: yes! that’s so good.

L: yeah, so that’s been fun. I’ve been baking a lot too which I don’t really do usually.

H: amazing. what have you made?

L: I made snickerdoodles the other day just because I had those ingredients in the apartment and like.. they were so good! I felt like I did a really good job.

H: I love snickerdoodle ice cream.

L: snickerdoodles I think are my favorite cookies. I love cinnamon.

H: same! what is something that brings you joy lately?

L: I watch the British baking show a lot, and that brings me joy.

H: I love that show. I need to catch up on it, I know they switched out some of the hosts right? Like Mary Berry isn’t on it anymore.

L: I don’t think anyone’s the same. I haven’t watched the new seasons at all. like the two hosts—I don’t know anyone’s name on it at all—they’re introduced like every episode and I can never remember any names except for Mary Berry. her name is so easy. I know most of them are gone now though.

H: the old ones are nostalgic.

L: it totally does feel like that.

H: okay, what do you miss?

L: I miss thrifting honestly. going to antique stores and just looking at things. I don’t miss buying things, I miss browsing. also I really miss my friends.

H: I feel you. I miss both of those things a lot too.

L: yeah! I miss flea markets.

H: I’ve been so tired of all my clothes too which is so inconvenient! I’m trying to think what I can do at home to alter my clothes.

L: same! I don’t want to online shop for anything that isn’t essential either cause I just feel like that’s shitty.

H: I know. I feel like it’s a little bit irresponsible in a lot of cases.

L: yeah same. I’m also excited to get back in the studio. tommy and I are sharing that studio in Brighton.

H: yeah! the space looks great!

L: it’s part of sew valley. it isn’t really working right now, like their production isn’t going right now. I’m just excited to make clothes but I think I’m going to start crocheting clothes as well.

H: yeah that’s awesome you can just make new shit! It’s a good skill.

what do you not miss?

L: I do not miss working at all. honestly I’ve needed to go to therapy less during this time.

H: (laughing)

L: it’s fucked up. literally that’s how bad capitalism is. like, it’s shitty both ways because I’m not making any money right now and unemployment is really hard to get for whatever reason, but I’m so happy to not be at a restaurant every day. Honestly I think I’ve decided to go to a state school and get my masters in something. I’m thinking about going back to school—that’s what this time is giving me.

H: that’s awesome!

L: yeah.

H: the restaurant industry is so crazy sometimes because it feels like every single day just piles on and you don’t really have time to consider shit like that.

L: not at all.

H: you’re just so spent all the time.

L: yeah I was constantly tired. It was really hard to make things during that time too, I found myself very mentally exhausted all the time. I don’t have the temperament or personality to be a host. I can fake being sweet in that position but it’s hard to be on all the time.

H: yeah, I think that’s the hardest part about it. If you’re having an off day talking to the people who don’t care about you and don’t show you respect is really difficult.

L: yes. that’s exactly it. there’s always people that you meet who are nice, but even people who are kind to you and nice—it can still be exhausting after a while.

H: yeah it’s just so high volume.

L: yes!

H: what is something beautiful you’ve seen lately?

L: there’s a german sheperd that lives above me and this dog is so beautiful. sometimes it sounds like there’s a horse above me (laughing) but this dog is so pretty. I love seeing him every day.

H: that’s beautiful, I love that. that’s a great answer to that question.

describe your concept of divinity.

L: that is such an intense question but I love it. I had a super religious upbringing, going to a catholic school all my life and like even my preschool was Christian. I think I went to one year of public school when I was five. it was a young fives program and it was like… fucking amazing. the public school systems are amazing, we were like planting things in the ground. I think because of that it really engrained in me a need for ritual. catholics are very ritualistic. It’s a very clear stepping stone to me to get into my own spirituality. when I realized, you know—christianity isn’t it. It’s not great. It’s not for me and I don’t think it’s like, net good for the world. I always felt spiritual and connected whether it’s like to other people or the divinity in each other. I feel like everyone has divinity within themselves and it’s just about accessing it and respecting it. I feel like I more so practice it than I know what it is. you know what I mean?

H: totally, it’s a feeling.

L: yeah absolutely. I don’t know what it is. astrology is super important to my spiritual practice and tarot. I don’t know how it works, but it works you know? I don’t understand how these things happen. I love mystery and the mystical. I would be so bummed if I didn’t have that in my life. things that you can’t explain—I think that to me is what divinity is. I see it around me all the time.

H: thank you so much, that was awesome to hear.

L: I love that question. what is it for you, harris?

H: oh man! now I’m being interviewed. I am coming from a similar mind as you. I was not raised religious. I have people in my family like my grandparents are christians but even then we only went to church when I was really little so it didn’t have like a lasting effect on me. in terms of religion I was afraid that it might be real just because of hell, and then I rejected that pretty early once I started to like feel …gay. I was like “this doesn’t add up.”

L: yeah! harris, when I was little and I was like “oh… girls are pretty” probably around eight or something—my reaction was like “I’m going to be a nun when I’m older so I don’t have to think about sex” genuinely! That was my reaction.

H: wow!

L: I feel like I didn’t reject it, I went extreme. that’s like the guilt that comes especially with catholicism, it’s a religion built on guilt. it’s like even if you are worthy of god you’re still a sinner, it’s all built on guilt and like how shit you are as a person. it’s not great, you know? but you started to reject it after you were feeling gay?

H: yeah I stopped putting any stock into religion at all. but I have always been very spiritual as well. I’ve always felt like similar to you, a feeling of connection with my surroundings and things I can’t see or explain. I love astrology because it’s this weird cosmic thing that is just so fun to talk and learn about and somehow rings true. I don’t understand how it’s so accurate but it is. I love the moon (laughing) I love—not to get all over here with it—

L: get over there with it!

H: (laughing) I think poetry is a part of it for me as well, just conjuring things up that feel like they come from somewhere else. there are things that are impossible to understand which is crazy and cool.

L: yeah, I love that. that’s beautiful. thank you harris.

H: yes, thank you!

the next question, what’s your favorite body part?

L: oh my god my favorite body part. I feel like hands are my favorite utility. I’m so grateful for my hands, I think about it all the time. the cutest part for me though is definitely noses. everyone has a good nose.

H: I agree, I agree.

L: it’s such a fixation for people, like an insecurity but I literally see everyone’s nose and I’m like “that’s a cute nose.”

H: yeah! there’s no such thing as a bad nose.

L: no, noses are amazing, I love them. and I feel like smell is such an interesting sense too. it’s so connected with taste. do you remember that chef’s table episode where the chef has cancer on his tongue and he loses the ability to taste and smell the food?

H: yeah!

L: I think about that a lot. smell and taste is so important especially if your life is devoted to it. it does bring a different aspect of joy to life. the external part of it but its function too.

H: yeah, its amazing that he was able to continue and find new ways of creating with food.

L: yeah, so cool!

H: tell me something stupid.

L: (laughing) I could say so many things. because I’m in this new space, this new apartment, my body hasn’t figured out how to be in it yet. I live very much from the shoulders up.

H: YES!

L: and like, from shoulders down we don’t really know what’s happening. it’s a mind of its own. I’m very clumsy. my dad used to call me a bull in a china shop when I was growing up, and that rings true! I’m genuinely not aware of my body. I feel like that’s the gemini stellium, I’m very in the brain and not where the body is. I keep hitting this part of my leg in the same spot every single day and I have this giant bruise. It’s getting bigger because I keep hitting it. It’s in the bathroom, the toilet is just in this location that my body hasn’t gotten adjusted to. it’s the outside of my knee.

H: fuck. you’re body just isn’t with it yet.

L: it usually isn’t with it and in this moment it just has no idea.

H: I hope you start adjusting soon!

L: me too Harris! I think I will. tommy said it’s probably just a matter of time.

H: (laughing) I don’t love that for you but I love it.

L: it’s one of those things I’ll cry in frustration about and then laugh over how silly that is.

H: do you have any confessions to make?

L: (laughing) forgive me harris for I have sinned! confessions, oh my god. I’m transported. probably, you know! I hear my neighbor groaning and moaning a lot and I feel like I’m being too hard on him, you know what I mean? I feel like he’s just a person but my brain is taking me to this place. I feel like he’s an incel that’s going to kill me, and I know that’s irrational. he’s probably just living his life. I have to be careful for myself. I feel like I judge people too hard from a safety standpoint sometimes but I think that’s also without a basis.

Madison: I feel like you’re really good at meeting people though and then changing it. you’re good at not letting your initial judgements cloud when you meet someone.

L: thank you so much Madison, that makes me feel a lot better. I feel like my scorpio rising energy makes me not trust people right away but I try to not let that influence too much. sometimes you have to listen to your intuition but I don’t want it to get in the way of me treating people like people.

H: totally! I also feel like that instinct comes from a place of being a person in the world who is vulnerable. the hesitation is understandable. it’s not necessarily bad.

L: I’m okay having it and I should listen to myself when I’m really feeling something but I don’t want it to get in the way of treating people with humanity, that’s my fear with it. I want to be actively aware of that portion in my brain that jumps there immediately.

H: that’s a practice everybody should be doing definitely.

L: yes, in multiple ways.

H: to bring it to a close I’m going to ask you a series of one word questions.

wanting?

L: food. I’m hungry.

H: wishing?

L: I’m always wishing. fantasy, that’s me. I’m always a little bit in the clouds sometimes.

H: advice?

L: If you have any I’ll take it.

H: I’ll get back to you on that.

L: anyone who feels like they have advice to give me, I’m open. I’m usually not for unsolicited advice but I’m asking for it right now.

H: allowing?

L: myself and others to make more mistakes and not punish them for it. holding people accountable but allowing people to grow and make mistakes.

H: doing?

L: doing crafts! yeah. that’s my answer.

#interview boredinterview

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witchsheartbooks · 5 years ago

Note

How would the crew deal with having a partner with insomnia?

As someone who suffers from insomnia. I felt an obligation to write this one myself. Enjoy!~

Claire:

-She comes into your room, a look of concern on her face as she notices the bags under your eyes.

-You insist that you’re fine and explain about your chronic insomnia.

-She can’t help but feel guilty.

-She sits next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and smiling warmly at you.

- “If you can’t sleep then I’ll stay up with you okay, [Y/N]?”

- You give her a nervous smile and insist that it isn’t necessary for her to do that.

- But Claire has always been that type to look more after others than herself, so she insists.

-“If we put a movie on, do you think you might fall asleep that way?”

- You weren’t entirely sure it would work, and you didn’t quite want Claire ruining her sleep schedule.

-Claire does in fact win in the end, putting on a movie for you both and sitting next to you on the couch.

-The two of you snuggle under a crochet blanket while Netflix runs in the background.

-The program quickly turns to white noise and midway through the second program you notice that Claire is fast asleep against you, lightly snoring.

- You eye the analog clock on the wall, noticing it was already past three in the morning.

-Though with the combination of warmth and two sets of white noise, you actually find yourself drifting off as well.

-It seems her little idea worked after all.

Ashe:

-He lingers in the doorway and his more cheerful mask is replaced with his more neutral and serious looking expression.

-He slowly walks over and leans against your back.

-His chin rests on your head. Keeping his tone gentle as he addresses you.

- “Trouble sleeping, [Y/N]?”

- You smile up at him trying to mask your looming exhaustion.

-You insist that it isn’t a problem and you can handle it.

-He knows better, his medical experience gives him more insight on the matter than you choose to disclose.

- “Oh? When’s the last time you slept?”

-Your tongue catches in your throat and you give him a more nervous smile.

-He sighs gently, shaking his head and goes to rifle through his bag.

-He leafs through the pages of a leather bound journal before slapping it shut with one hand.

-He retrieves something else from his bag and offers it to you.

- “It’s one of my own variations of a sleep aide. It might not work all the time but perhaps I can strengthen it if you ever grow immune to certain dosages.”

- You perk up and thank him with a tight hug.

-He pets your hair and insists you take one and lay down.

-He also stays with you until you fall asleep.

-Going so far as to lay next to you and spoon to see if that helps.

-Which with the combination of the aide and Ashe’s warmth, you quickly drift off.

Wilardo:

-He blinks calmly as he listens to you admitting about your insomnia.

-He beckons you over to join him, patting the space next to him on his bed.

- You tilt your head in minor confusion but comply to his nonverbal direction as you stare over at him curiously.

- “I’m well aware of how it is to have a tortured mind while wanting to just shut down and get rest.”

- He leans closer to you, chastely kissing your temple before leaning back only slightly.

- “I could offer you a distraction, [Y/N]. I have plenty of ideas. Ones of which could have your mind wander to other more pleasant things.”

-He spoke to you in a gravely low tone of which always caused you to shiver in delight.

- A blush dusted your cheeks and out of shyness you lightly put your hand on Wilardo’s cheek to push his face away.

-He simply chuckles at your reaction.

- “Alright, Alright. Though I do have other ideas.”

- Hearing this, your attention is on him again, giving him a quizzical look.

- “ [Y/N], exactly how much do you know about flower meanings?”

- Your eyes nearly sparkle once you make the connection of where he was going with this.

- He grins at you and takes your hand, leading you out of the red room.

- The two of you somehow find yourself in a vast fantasy space.

- The two of you in a large field of flowers while stars littered the expansive sky and water around you.

- Neither of you could fathom how you got here but enjoy your time none the less.

-He sits with you and points to certain flowers, explaining about their colors and meanings.

- You always enjoy hearing him go on about his profession considering it’s the most he ever tends to speak.

-After a while, you find yourself slowly succumbing to fatigue.

-You lean on Wilardo’s shoulder, still listening as he went on.

-You don’t remember when you fell asleep.

-But Wilardo gives a faint hint of a smile at his handiwork.

-The next morning the two of you are no longer in that space.

-Though you both hope to visit it again.

Sirius:

-He’s been eyeing you the past few days, studying your patterns and contemplating how to approach the situation.

- A classic case of insomnia with a dash of sleep deprivation caused by it.

-He had gone over the necessary options for what he could do for you, over analyzing them actually.

-He calls you to his room in the evening and he has tea ready for the two of you.

- “Sit with me, [Y/N].”

-He meant business and you could tell. Though there was something else in his eyes, concern?

-So, you comply to his instruction and eye the warm drink in front of you.

-You glance over to him curiously, wondering what this was all about.

-“[Y/N] you’ve been fatigued as of late.”

-You go pale and simply stare at him as his brilliantly captivating crimson eyes rest on you.

-You didn’t think he had noticed in the slightest, but that was a foolish thought. How could he not notice?

-You weren’t exactly good at hiding when something was wrong, so he was bound to confront you about it eventually.

-Though your boyfriend was ever the worrywart, so you couldn’t help but smile, upon realizing he had been thinking so much about you.

-You then openly admit your insomnia and sleep deprivation to him.

-He rested his cheek against his fist as he listened to you.

-He gently scooted the tea cup towards you again.

- “I know how much you enjoy my brews, s-so…I thought I’d make one that might help you sleep.”

-He then tried to mask his blush by lifting his own cup to his lips for a sip.

-You noticed though, you always did.

-You drink your tea with him and it’s lovely as always.

-A mix of Chamomile and Lavender, he had explained to you that it was good for quelling anxiety and assisting with relaxation.

-He then of course rambled on abit about some other teas before catching the sight of your smile.

-Realizing he was rambling, his blush returned, and he waved his hands abit.

- “W-What the devil is that look for?”

-You explain to him that you find his ramblings to be cute and that you enjoyed listening to his voice.

-It takes him…a few minutes to process your statement.

-His blush nearly lit up his whole face and even covered his ears.

-You decide to distract him by asking him to read you a story!

-Specifically, Lewis Carrol’s Alice in wonderland and its sequel, Through the Looking Glass.

-He eyes you warily but after a moment, he seems utterly delighted, a grin spreading across his lips.

-The two of you curl up with your tea in his bed, bundled under the covers.

-He begins to read to you and his voice is smooth and lovely to listen to.

-Occasionally you’d catch charming linguistic cues from his faint English accent and that only made you melt.

-You quickly lose yourself, enamored by the sound of his voice and the way he narrates the story.

-The combination of the finished tea, the warmth from being next to him in bed coupled with his voice sent you briskly to dreamland.

- The two teacups set off to the side on the side table and you snoozing peacefully while leaned against his shoulder was something he found to be cute and utterly endearing.

-He could get used to this, perhaps he wouldn’t openly and verbally admit it.

-But should you ask him for this again or for it to become an evening routine, he wouldn’t complain.

-He brushes a wisp of hair away from your face and places a kiss on your forehead.

-He was the affectionate type, just more so behind doors and he never really initiated such things.

-He watched you for a few minutes and the sound of your breathing lulled him to sleep right along after you.

-The book dropping gently on his lap as the two of you slept there, propped up against each other.

-Both of you share a Wonderland esque dream and speak of it when you both wake in the morning.

Noel:

-You walk into Noel’s room since you were unable to sleep.

- He smiles kindly at you as always, greeting you cheerfully as he quite enjoyed your company.

-“Good evening, [Y/N]. Did you have a good day?”

- You nod and find yourself joining him at the window where he stood.

-Though as he looked at you, his warm expression shifted to one of concern.

-He had noticed the bags under your eyes.

-“You’re having trouble sleeping again aren’t you, [Y/N]?”

-You had wanted to keep that information to yourself, but Noel could always read you.

-You simply give him a nod but follow up with insisting that you can handle it.

- He isn’t convinced, worry is still evident in his features.

- Noel always worried for you, just as he worried for his two best friends but even more so.

- He takes your hands and holds them gently.

- “As you know, I’m nocturnal. How about you stargaze with me! I’ll talk about the star names and constellations!”

-You beam at him over his enthusiasm and nod.

-You always found Noel to be utterly adorable when he got into his mindset about stars, constellations, and space.

- His tone was warm and gentle even as he spoke passionately about his interests.

-He nearly talked your ear off.

-Going so far as to pull out books, star charts, maps and many other texts.

-Noel always liked having his examples for you so that you could follow along easier.

-At one point you mention how it’s a shame that you are stuck staring at the star clustered sky behind a window.

-An idea hits him, and he takes your hand again, pulling you to him.

-You blink and the both of you appear in a fantasy space.

-One of his own construction, you’ve been here before.

-It was filled with flowers, moon boats, stars littered the sky above you both and even the water that held the floating moon boats was overflowing with stars as well.

-You both lay back in the field of flowers, watching the sky above you.

-Your partner continues his ramblings and occasionally you watch his expressions.

-You find that fatigue begins to wash over you, the more you focus on Noel’s voice.

-He notices that you drift to sleep and smiles to himself.

-He places a kiss on your forehead and goes back to gazing up at the stars while you rest there next to him.

~Mod Sirius

#Witch's Heart #Claire Elford #Wilardo Adler #Sirius Gibson #Noel Levine #Ashe Bradley #Mod Sirius #Anonymous

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years ago

Text

You Again

A/N: counting down the smooches. Here’s 18, another Ryan kiss to cap off your Saturday. Not connected to Passing Through, this one stands alone, just like the cheese.

Word Count: 2,183

Prompt: from @breanime

You sat on your couch, knees pulled up to your chest, the heavy orange and green crocheted blanket that was normally draped over the back cushion wrapped around you as rain lashed at the windows and wind howled down your chimney. The channels changed on the television as you mindlessly flipped through them. You weren’t sure what, if anything you were looking for. Something to take your mind off of the fact that your friends were out right now, probably having a great time laughing, drinking and enjoying a local band or musician at Candy’s. It was your friend Kate’s birthday, and normally you’d be there dancing in front of the stage area, swaying your hips freely with a beer in your hand and not a care in your head. But when you’d heard that Dave was going to be there, with her, you decided against it. Nope, don’t need to see that display, no thank you. You frowned as you settled on a baking competition show.

It had been almost a year since he’d ended your 4 year relationship, confessing to you that he’d spent the last year and a half cheating on you with a woman named Madison that he’d met at the gym. It was beyond you as to why he’d waited so damn long to tell you, or why he thought your anniversary was the right time to break the news, but you’d never felt so dumbstruck or betrayed in your life. That night stuck with you even after you’d cried all your tears and thrown out all his sweatshirts and broken the glass in the framed photo on your bedside table as you tossed it forcefully into the dumpster one night in a drunken rage as your roommate Amy cheered and clapped, shouting an enthusiastic “Fuck youuuuuu Dave!”.

Most of your friends were on your side of the rift, but Kate’s boyfriend and your ex had been friends since highschool, so there was no way that he wouldn’t be invited to her party. That fact had been confirmed by Amy after she’d run into Kate at the coffee shop a few days back, Amy telling you with a roll of her eyes that not only was he invited, but that he was bringing Maddie with him. You’d sent Kate a text that same day, apologizing and promising that you’d have some kind of make-up celebration afterwards. She responded saying that she completely understood, and that she was sorry about the whole situation. You’d told her not to worry, that you’d be fine. And for the most part, you were. Enough time had passed that you had stopped missing Dave, stopped feeling down on yourself. You’d even started to dissect the details of your relationship, finding that things that you had brushed off or swept under the rug weren’t as small as you had convinced yourself that they were at the time. For the most part, barring random bouts of self pity and greeting card holidays, you had moved on completely. But that didn’t mean you were ready to share the same space with the man who’d stomped on your heart, or the woman who he’d chosen over you.

You sighed as the baker on your screen sprinkled little heart shaped decorations on perfectly frosted pale pink cupcakes. It hadn’t helped matters that in the past few months your sister had gotten engaged, while you had yet to go on a date post-Dave. Not that you hadn’t been asked out. You definitely had. By more than a few guys, actually. Most had been easy to turn down due to their personalities or lack thereof. But they weren’t who you were thinking of right now. Thunder clapped right outside your window, a bolt of lighting splitting the sky right on top of the boom.

You dropped the remote as the show panned to one of the other competitors, their hands deftly squeezing a piping bag full of rich, dark chocolate. The baker flourished his wrist so that the cocoa ribbons formed musical notes, filling a whole tray with bass and treble clefts before popping it into the blast freezer in a hurry. A hurry. Just the way Ryan Brenner had moved into and out of your life. “Oh, come on.” You meant for the comment to be contained in your brain, but you heard it out loud in the empty house, and you threw your head back against the couch with a huff as your memory took over the reins.

You’d been out at Candy’s with Amy; she’d dragged you out after you’d wasted six of your precious vacation days calling out of work to wallow in your pajamas after what she’d come to call “the event”. After downing a few rounds of shots, each one toasting another thing Amy “always hated about Dave”, she’d suggested that you both switch to beers and head over to the music stage, where a guitarist was setting up to play. Shit, you remember thinking in your heartbroken, inebriated state, he’s...something.

And that was before you’d heard him sing. Before you’d seen him play. To hear him, to see him- it was synonymous with feeling him and knowing him, and it was at once comforting and unsettling. How much of this is him, and how much is the booze? Amy had gone back to the bar for another beer, but you’d waved her off, entranced by the performance in front of you. She was just happy to see something other than tears or vacancy in your eyes, so she mouthed a “be right back” and vanished into the crowd that had gathered to hear the music while you stayed planted where you were, enthralled by the way his quiet nature somehow transported you somewhere else. He’d spent the majority of his set with his eyes closed or focused on the strings that his long fingers were plucking, but a few times you felt them land on you, and you were sure that your heart had stopped in your chest, changing the way that it beat as it restarted.

Even after the last notes had evaporated into the stale, beer scented air, and he’d spent a few minutes talking to a few patrons that had gathered, you couldn’t move or take your eyes off of him- off of the way he held his guitar, or the way he looked down when he smiled upon accepting a compliment. You noticed his eyes flicking your way every now and then, and you told yourself to move, to turn and walk towards the bar where Amy had been chatting with an attractive stranger, but the enigmatic energy that he brought to the room had you rooted. Even as he set his guitar down and brushed his hands- the fingers marked with thin black lines- against his jeans, taking a few long strides towards you, you were unable to move. Well, guess this is happening. As he got closer you could smell crisp fall air and crunchy brown leaves, coffee and cigarettes overpowering the peanut and beer aroma that Candy’s could trademark if they wanted to. “Hi, I’m Ryan,” he said, chocolate eyes shining as they looked directly into yours, a sheepish smile climbing his cheeks above the patchy beard that claimed his jaw.

“Hi,” you managed, telling him your name. “You’re...you play really well, Ryan.” You smiled, and it felt like dusting off an old box in the attic.

He looked down at his shoes, whole head swinging towards the floor before scooping up to gift you with a sheepish grin. “Well, thanks, I… I just like connecting with people when I play, you know?”

Oh fuck. He felt it too? Your whole face, your neck and your ears flushed a vibrant red as you realized that this interesting, talented, borderline otherworldly individual was telling you that he’d felt the same spark from you that you’d felt from him. You wanted to reply with something smart or memorable. But you’d just let out a burst of laughter that sounded foriegn to you. Oh, come. On.

Instead of scaring him off though, it had only made his grin widened, a flash of white teeth and a slip of his tongue as it came out to wet his lips. “Can I…” he nodded towards the bar where Amy was staring at the two of you, her jaw nearly dropped to the sticky floor. “Wanna grab a drink?”

“Sure, Ryan,” you somehow answered. Why?

You’d spent the next hour or so talking to Ryan, hearing about his travels, about the things that inspired him and the places he’d been. But when the conversation turned to you, you had to be honest with him. You’d told him that you’d only just gotten out of a long term relationship, that it had ended messily, and that while you very much enjoyed talking to him and hearing him play- and looking at him and seeing the way he felt the music, and being in the same space as him- that you wouldn’t feel right carrying anything past the current conversation. He’d hung his head again, this time less sheepishly and with what you thought looked like disappointment, but he’d raised it again with that brilliant smile. “Well,” he’d said, “I’m gettin’ ready to head outta town tomorrow, but I’m set to be back in the area ‘bout a year from now...maybe I’ll see you again and things’ll be different.”

You blinked and you were back on your couch, the baker with the candy hearts being dismissed from the show on the screen. A year from now. Your phone on the arm of the sofa caught your attention, lighting up with a text from Amy. YOU NEED TO GET HERE NOW. Oh...come on.

You grabbed your phone, your heart in your throat. What do you mean, A??? Why?

He’s here. Playing again. That guy. YOUR GUITAR GUY.

You stood so rapidly that the blanket fell from your shoulders in sync with the flashing lightning outside. Ryan? He’s...he said he’d be back but… your heart was thumping the same way it had when you’d been rooted in front of him on the small stage at Candy’s, and you realized that even though you were a skeptic at heart, you couldn’t dismiss the serendipity staring you in the face. Fuck these cupcakes, and fuck Dave and Madison. You responded that you’d be there soon, clicking the power button on the remote and rushing to your bedroom to change, hands raking through your hair in lieu of a brush. Twenty minutes later, you were dressed in jeans, tall black boots and a maroon sweater, your hair pulled into a braid. Ten minutes after that you were walking purposefully towards the front door of the bar, pulling it open and welcoming that familiar divey scent into your nostrils. You were vaguely aware of Dave standing by the bar, a frown on his face as he saw you, Madison draped over him like a feather boa. You smirked, walking straight to the stage, slipping Amy a discreet high five as you passed her. His voice filled your ears as you got closer, and you found the same spot you’d stood in roughly 365 days ago, the first time his music had infiltrated your heart and mind. Within a few seconds of your feet finding the same beer soaked boards, his eyes opened on you and you saw the recognition flicker like a flame. Hi, Ryan.

You’d watched a few more songs, and this time he didn’t make time to talk to anyone before heading over to you. “You again,” he said, a smile on his face and in his voice.

“Me again,” you said, holding your arms out to show off your wet hair and soaked sweater- it was still raining hard when you’d walked in, the weather nor your ex doing anything to dampen your spirits. “Can I get you a drink, Ryan?”

He shook his head, soft brown hair peeking out from under his ball cap.

“No?” you asked with a tilt to your head.

“Are things...different now?” he asked quietly.

You bit your bottom lip, eyes on his as you nodded. They sure are.

Before your head had come back to neutral, he’d taken a step closer. “Can we skip the drink this time?”

You nodded again, slowly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Again, before the nod was even done, he’d taken another step, this time placing his hands on your waist to pull you closer as his lips found yours. You involuntarily whimpered as his kiss melted on your lips, just like the baker’s chocolate on that dumb show you’d been watching, sweet and smooth, pure and delicious, full of longing and missing and need for the connection that you’d shared a full twelve months prior. When you finally parted, he brushed his nose against yours. “Can we do that again?”

You laughed against his lips, one hand coming to rest on his bearded cheek. “You bet we can, Ryan.”

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @agent-bossypants @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @songtoyou @ymariejp @breanime @gollyderek

#ryan brenner #ryan smooches #smooch prompts #kiss prompts #kiss drabbles #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner musical angel #you again #fuck these cupcakes and fuck you dave

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havingaverydrarryday · 5 years ago

Text

Untitled

Fandom - Harry Potter / Drarry

I am totally open to title suggestions.

Second draft, not beta-ed.

Set right after the Battle at Hogwarts, with Voldemort’s defeat the Death Eaters and their families are arrested and charged accordingly, or so the general population was led to believe.

While under house arrest until her own hearing, Narcissa Malfoy awaits news of what will become of her husband and son and forms a surprising friendship with Auror Potter who has taken it upon himself to see that she is comfortable until her conviction or release.

But when several prisoners inside Azkaban die mysteriously, including one Draco Malfoy, Auror Potter does what he can to find out what happened and discovers far more than he ever expected.

Not epilogue or true timeline compliant.

Untitled by HAVDD

Chapter One

They came at night.

With the battle still raging behind them Narcissa had taken her son’s hand and led him away, and though she still deeply loved her husband she did not spare a glace behind to see if he was following.

They had gone home, or gone back to what was left of it. The Manor had been abandoned leaving nothing behind of the horrors that had gone on there for so long. Nothing but the blood stains and the sick, sucking feeling of the dark magic that had soaked into the walls.

None of them had felt particularly comfortable coming back to this place, but without actual plans for the future they didn’t really have much of a choice.

They had spent a quiet evening discussing what to do next as they poked at the exquisite meal the house-elves had prepared that none had the appetite for.

Draco had somehow managed to fall asleep some time after midnight but neither Lucius nor Narcissa felt able to sleep.

The couple had been in the sitting room of their suite when the Aurors suddenly broke through their wards as if there were not even there.

They had had no chance to defend or protect themselves, and had been forced from their rooms and into the main hall in nothing but their night clothes and bare feet, not even given the dignity of dressing gowns.

Narcissa and her son clung to each other with all their strength as the Aurors raided the manor searching for anyone else that may be hiding there, or any Dark artifacts that had been left behind by Voldemort or one of his followers.

Lucius had been pulled away from his wife and son immediately, roughly marched to the door just as more Aurors moved in on mother and son, separating them from each other.

“He has the mark,” one Auror announced after pulling up the sleeve of Draco’s navy blue pajama top. “Take him out.” The Auror pointed towards the same door Lucius had been taken through.

“Mother!” Draco’s voice echoed through the hall even after the Auror apperated the youth out of the building.

“No!” Narcissa cried out, not even noticing the hand that tightly squeezed her wrist so that her arm could be examined as well, or the half dozen wands pointed at her.

“She’s clear,” one of the many around her spoke but still the held her back, not allowing her the chance to see her husband or her son as the Aurors had already removed them from the property.

“Narcissa Malfoy, you are being charged with several counts of conspiracy. You will be held here under house arrest without your wand until you go to trial or all charges are dropped.”

“Lucius, Draco?” She begged.

“As both bear the Dark Mark they will be held in Azkaban until their trials, or the marks fade. If the Mark fades proclaiming that they took it under duress, they will return here to await trail as their charges are reevaluated or dropped. If the Mark does not fade they will continue to trial and near certain conviction. Of what happens after that is up to the Wizengamot.”

There was no sympathy in the Auror’s tone as he spoke, and with how rehearsed as he sounded Narcissa was certain she wasn’t the first to lose family this day.

She was escorted to a small sitting room and was allowed to have one of the house elves bring her some tea as she waited for the Aurors to complete their search of the Manor. Then she was told that the Malfoy family assets were being seized for reparations. There was a very real chance that once the family’s house arrest was served they would be homeless.

By the time the sun rose that morning the house was void of life, heavily warded so no one could come on or leave of the property unless as a Side-a-Long with an authorized Auror.

Only one suite on the main floor was left open to her, every other room also warded and sealed stopping her from entering them. A small kitchen had been provided for her as were some books and basic entertainment by way of radio and handy-crafts. The only Floo that was left active was the one in her suite’s sitting room and it was Narcissa’s only connection to the outside world, connected directly to a Floo in the MoM. It was where her mail and food would be delivered for the foreseeable future.

Though she had pleaded to keep just one house elf for company, that request was also denied her, even when several of their devoted elves volunteered to stay for their mistress. According to the Ministry’s warrant, even the elves were to be held for reparations pending the outcome of the trial.

Weeks passed in near silence with no updates or messages from her husband or son; however she did have a surprising visitor. The first soul she had seen or spoken too since her home was raided.

“Mr. Potter,” she gasped in surprise and ran her hands down the front of her dress to smooth out the wrinkles. She had only been allowed five full changes of clothing, three nightgowns including the one she had been wearing during the raid, a single jumper, her dressing gown and various sets of stockings and undergarments.

She also hadn’t been left with any way to properly clean or tend to the clothing and as a result she had been forced to hand wash them in the small basin in her en suite bath. She didn’t even have any soap to wash them with; she simply rinsed them as best as she could and hung them across the bath tub from a rope she had crocheted with the yarn she had been given.

The Auror in charge of her case has assured her that if she sent a note in the Floo with her needs they would be met, she had yet to see it happen.

“Hello Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry said softly, kindly ignoring the obvious discomfort she had in regards to the neglected state she had found herself in.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked of the man who had appeared unannounced from the Floo in her sitting room. He smiled and sat in the chair she had motioned too and accepted the tea she served him from the simple setting she had be left to use.

He took a small sip of the weak, watered down brew but smiled as if it were the best tea had ever had. Setting the cup down, he cleared his throat and pulled a thick stack of documents from a pocket inside his Auror robes. “Lucius’ trial is tomorrow. Though I’m not assigned to his case I am going to sit in and make sure that he receives a fair one. I’ll admit that I don’t like your husband but I do admire you and I respect your son now that I know that he did what he did as a way to protect you and your husband. If I can, I will do all I can to make sure your family comes home to you as soon as possible.”

Narcissa didn’t cry, nor did she speak as she was unable due to the tightness in her throat after hearing the sincere declaration from the Harry Potter.

“I…” she tried with difficulty. Taking a shuddering breath she finally managed, “thank you.”

Harry smiled for her again and quickly finished his tea before rising and striding back to the Floo. He pulled a pinch of powder from his pocket but paused before he threw it in. Turning back to her he said, “I’ll come back in the next day or so to let you know how things went.”

Still choked up by his kindness she just nodded and stared at the flames long after he had stepped into them and disappeared.

Less than an hour later a bundle tumbled from the hearth leaving a trail of soot across the carpet. Taking the small parcel to the table she found a small note stuck to the top with a charm, it read-

‘Just to tide you over

Regards

-H’

Inside she found two other wrapped packages. In the smaller one there were two Black Family crest teacup and saucer sets, a packet of Bourbon Creams and two tins of fine tea. In the other, wrapped in a plastic bag from a muggle market she found a small bottle of delicate wear laundry detergent and matching liquid softener with a sweet lavender and French vanilla fragrance.

Rather than be embarrassed that he had notice the state of her clothing she was grateful that his simple kindness had granted her some of the comforts that she had been denied in her seclusion.

Stripping to her slip she took the dress into the bath and let it soak in the sweet smelling water while she made a proper cup of tea with leaves that hadn’t already been used twice before.

As promised Harry Potter returned two days later at lunch, bearing the gift of a fresh, hot meal, another packet of biscuits and the information she had desperately been waiting to hear. They ate first and waited until tea had been served before finally getting to the subject at hand.

“The trial had been, as I expected, monumentally prejudiced,” he began, “but myself and others were there to ensure everything proceeded fairly.” He took a deep breath before giving her the news. “Lucius has been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban, with the chance of early release after serving five.”

She sat with her eyes closed for a moment, forcing herself to accept the information then opened them and met the kind green eyes that had been looking on her. “And Draco?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“He is still in holding,” Harry replied. “I wasn’t allowed to see him but I was told that his trial hasn’t been set yet. Apparently they want to process the bigger names first, especially ones that have been known to be loyal from the start. As such there are quite a few that have been marked to go through before they get to him. The good news is there’s a chance he’ll get time served by the time his trail does come up, and even if that doesn’t happen the time he’s spent will be counted towards whatever time he may need to serve. So if he spends six months before his trail and then he’s sentenced to a year, he’ll only have to serve another six months.”

She nodded in understanding and thanked him multiple times for all he had done for her only stopping when she realized she was making him uncomfortable. He once again promised to visit in a few days then was gone in a blaze of green flame and Floo powder.

From then on for months Harry came every Sunday at 10:30 in the morning for Brunch and usually stayed until 4:30.

He always brought the meal, news of the outside world, various things her caseworker failed to provide, and something to brighten her days. Usually a bouquet of flowers and something to help pass the time like books and crafts. Especially after learning of her fondness for Muggle word puzzles. She now owned dozens of crossword and word find books. However Narcissa had begun to think that Harry only came to visit her because there was no one else for him to go to.

She knew he had inherited Grimmauld Place from Serius Black after her sister had murdered him, but she didn’t know if he lived there or not. She was fairly certain he didn’t live with his Muggle relatives. Draco had told her rumors he had heard at school stating that the family had wanted nothing to do with him and had only taken him out of fear of retaliation from the wizards what had placed him in their care after the death of his parents.

He had not mentioned if he lived with anyone else so she just assumed he lived alone.

She also knew that he was in a training program to ‘become’ and Auror, even though he already held the official title of one. He had also opted not to return to Hogwarts to complete his N.E.W.T.S. and was doing them at the Ministry Of Magic under the guidance of a tutor as he completed the Auror training.

Five days a week for close to 12 hours a day the young man spent at the MoM in classes and training, and for several hours each Sunday was spent with Narcissa. If there had been other friends or family, then why waste what precious little spare time he had with Narcissa in the dark sad shell of Malfoy Manor?

Was it just pity? She didn’t think so. He genuinely appeared to enjoy her company, and he certainly was the brightest point in what had become her very small world.

Looking at the kind young man seated across from her and hesitated questioning him for a moment out of a fear that he would stop visiting, but there was a kind of sadness about him that she so very much wanted to ease.

Delicately clearing her throat she brought his focus from his plate to her face.

“Harry, I’ve wanted to ask you something for a while now, but I’m not sure where to begin.”

“You’re welcome to ask me anything Mrs. Malfoy, even if it’s something personal. I promise to answer as best as I can.” She could tell he was being completely honest.

“Why do you come to visit me?” she more of less blurted out the question and he looked surprised. It only took an instant to realize it was the question she has asked and not the way she had asked it that had surprised him.

“Because you’re alone right now and in a way so am I,” he replied and it was her turn to wear a look of surprise and he smiled for her.

“I don’t understand,” she said in a confused tone, surely he had many friends falling over themselves to be around him.

“I don’t really have much in the way of family,” He began. “I lived with Muggle relatives growing up but they we don’t get on and parted ways when I came of age.”

“But surely you had friends in school.”

“I did, Ron and Hermione. I was also quite close to most of Ron’s family but things are strained right now. Fred, one of Ron’s brothers died during the battle at Hogwarts and his parents Molly and Arthur, and Fred’s twin George were crushed. Molly is taking it harder than most because she’s pretty much alone now. All her other kids have moved out except her daughter Ginny. She and I dated for a bit but I broke it off, and now both Ginny and Ron are angry with me. I guess they expected me to marry her though I had never planned on it, and now they know that I’m not…” he trailed off with a shrug. “It makes things hard, I’d like to visit with Molly but with Ginny there all the time and looking at me like I were dog dirt on her shoe, I just can’t. And with Ron and Hermione getting married, Hermione is siding with Ron at the moment. I don’t even know if I’ll be invited to the wedding.”

Narcissa gave him a look of sympathy. It was obvious these ‘friends’ saw him as more of a celebrity than an actual person with feelings.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.”

Harry smiled for her. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. I just hope that everything we’ve been though will count for something and they can move past their disappointment with me.”

“But they should even be disappointed with you,” Narcissa insisted. “It’s obvious you care about them but if you are not in love with the girl then breaking it off was best thing to do.”

Harry’s smile turned a little watery and Narcissa rose and gave him a hug. Harry wrapped his arms and her slim waist and sighed, soaking in the gentle contact of another human that had no ulterior motive for touching him.

“I’ll always be here for you if you need to talk,” she assured him, “unless I end up in Azkaban.”

“You won’t,” he assured her. “Like Draco I’m certain that by the time they get to you, you’ll be released with time served. You might get probation but I seriously doubt you’ll see the inside of a cell.”

She smiled as she returned to her seat, and then took a sip of tea. “Who do you supposed will be tried first, me or Draco?”

Harry thought it over for several minutes before replying, “Draco most likely. Azkaban is horribly over crowded right now and they’ll want free up space as quickly as they can. You and the others under house arrest aren’t using any cells so you can wait longer.”

She nodded. That did make perfect sense; she only hoped they would move things along a little faster so her son could come home. That reminded her, “Mr. Potter. Do you think you could arrange for someone to check on Draco for me? I know the Mark had been forced on him, it should be long faded by now.”

That was true; all forced Marks had faded away just days after Voldemort died. But if Draco was still being held then his mark hadn’t faded, meaning he had taken it willingly. He almost didn’t want to grant her request and tell her he was still marked, but it had been nearly eight months now and neither of them had heard a word about him or how he was fairing.

“Tomorrow I’ll see what I can do,” he promised her. “His trial should surely be coming up soon.”

Late the next evening Narcissa sat at her table circling the words in one of her word find books when a package suddenly fell from the flames, landing a few feet from where she sat. It wasn’t uncommon for packages from Harry to arrive throughout the week but one had never arrived so late before.

The only reason she was even up was because she had been unable to sleep.

Setting her book aside she went over to collect the package. There was a parchment attached to the brown paper wrapped parcel the bore an official ministry seal. It came away easily and she set the box down and took a seat before breaking the seal and reading the letter.

Harry found her some seven hours later still seated at the table, the letter lying before her.

He had received a message from a colleague in the Auror’s department when he was having his morning tea; all it had told him was to get to Narcissa. They had known Harry was friends with her and apparently she had received some bad news the night before. Though they hadn’t specified what kind of news, Harry and trusted them enough to go right away.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” He whispered taking in her ashen face and vacant expression. He crouched so he was in her line of sight, but she seemed to see right through him. His gaze fell to the letter and his heart sank to his feet.

~Dear Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy

It is with my deepest regret that I must inform you that your son Draco L. Malfoy has succumbed to an illness of the lungs on January the 14th. As this illness was highly contagious and had claimed the lives of several other inmates prior to Mr. Malfoy, we have opted to cremate the remains to prevent its spread.

The ashes have been returned to you, and are in the package that was included with this letter.

As your son died before his trial we are dismissing the case. All charges against him have been dropped and anything of monetary value belonging to him that have been seized for reparations shall be released to you.

My most sincere condolences

Killian Bloom, Warden ~

Harry had seen the small package in the floor and felt sick at the thought of that tiny parcel containing all that remained of one of his dearest friend’s son. The same young man that had risked his own life with a lie that kept Harry alive.

He swallowed painfully and dropped to his knees to pull the ice cold, unmoving woman into his arms. Almost immediately she began trembling, then the most heart wrenching sobs spilled from her as she collapsed against him.

They ended up sitting on the floor together as Harry rocked the devastated woman he held in his arms. It was Molly all over again, how she had been when she had gotten home and it had finally came crashing down upon her, but unlike Molly Narcissa had no one to comfort her. No husband or other children to cling to, no one except Harry.

He stayed with her all day and held her as she dozed fitfully with her head on his shoulder. As evening descended he managed to get her to eat a few bites and drink a cup of tea and some Dreamless Sleep before tucking her into her bed. He stayed another hour or so, just to be sure she was sound asleep before taking the letter and Draco’s remains and Flooing to the MoM.

“Mr. Potter?” A witch called out to him in surprise. It was after hours and most everyone had known that he hadn’t come in or called today.

Harry ignored her as he stalked angrily through the halls to Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office. Shacklebolt’s secretary didn’t even attempt to stop him as he walked through the open office door without even knocking.

“Harry?” Shacklebolt said in surprise. He was already wearing his outer robes and holding a thick sheaf of parchments.

Harry set the box he held firmly on Shacklebolt’s desk and the other man eyed it, raising an eyebrow in quest. “That’s this?”

“This is Draco Malfoy,” Harry said before holding out the letter for Shacklebolt to read.

The man set down his parchments and took the letter, then sank slowly into his chair as he read it.

“How is she?” he asked softly.

“She’s just as you would expect a mother to be after getting a letter telling her that her only child is dead, and having no one around to comfort her.”

“It says he did yesterday, when did she get it?”

“Sometime between supper and this morning,” He replied taking the seat across from Shacklebolt. “She wasn’t speaking so I don’t know for certain.”

“I was aware that a few inmates had died recently but I didn’t know about young Malfoy,” Shacklebolt sighed.

“I want her out of there,” Harry told him. “I don’t care what you do or how you do it but I want the charges dropped and some of her money released.”

“That’s going to take some time,” Shacklebolt warned him, “At least a few weeks, but I can authorize a temporary release to your custody until everything is cleared, effective immediately.”

Harry closed his eyes and sighed tiredly.

“Harry, I want you to take a few days off and see to your friend. I’ll start getting her charges dropped first thing in the morning and I’ll also look into seeing that she gets a visit with her husband.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied sincerely and Shacklebolt gave him a wan smile.

“I truly am sorry it happened this way,” Shacklebolt told him. “Someone should have told her gently in person and not like this,” he handed the letter back with a sad shake of the head. “Not like this.”

Draco Malfoy may have been a Death Eater but he was also someone’s son, a young man barely of age who spent 8 months in prison without even being formally charged, then had died of a deadly illness and was cremated and dumped out of a Floo onto his mother’s floor like a piece of garbage. It made him sick.

Harry carefully folded the letter then picked up the small package from Kingsley’s desk.

He made a few stops before Flooing home, the first was at a small shop where he bought nicer container for Draco’s remains, and the other was a furniture store where he picked out a few things for Narcissa. When he arrived home he set the urn and the box on his mantle before stopping to hang his jacket. He then climbed the stairs, shopping bag in hand, to the second floor of the small three bedroom house he had bought with some of the money left to him when Sirius died.

The unused bedrooms were completely empty because no one had wanted to visit or stay overnight since he moved in, so he had seen no need to furnish them before. He performed a cleaning charm to remove the dust from the cream colored carpet before opening the bag and setting out the tiny items it held. A quick counter spell and the miniature bedroom set grew to full size. After a few adjustments in the placement he took out the remaining items and set them on the bed and returned them to their proper size as well.

Hanging the new jade colored curtains had been a pain as the spell meant to make them fit any window hadn’t been very clear. Though they now covered the window completely, they still hung a bit crooked as the bottom edge wouldn’t charm straight, but it was hardly noticeable when they were open to let in the light. The soft sheers had been a little more cooperative as were the Any-Size sheets.

He stood back looking around to see if there was anything else the room needed. The queen size bed was in a warm honey colored wood as were the matching bed side tables, dresser, and wardrobe. The bedding was in soft shades of green and went well with the cream carpet. The lamps had matching stained glass shades with a dragonfly pattern, and deep emerald bases.

There really wasn’t more he could do to the room and decided to let Narcissa make any changes she chose when she arrived. He then collected the new towels and bath things he had bought, as he really had only had one towel, and carried them to the upstairs bath and put them in the cupboard behind the door.

A quick Tempus charm told him that it was nearly 10 at night and that he had left Narcissa alone for over four hours. He quickly hurried back down the stairs, throwing the shopping bag in the trash on his way. Not bothering with his coat he grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and threw it in the flame, “Ministry of Magic.”

He stepped out of the After Hours Floo only to step right back in, tossing another pinch as he went, “Malfoy Manor.”

Narcissa was exactly where he had left her only she was awake now, her eyes staring ahead at nothing. She hadn’t been left with much when sent into confinement so it only took Harry a few moments to gather all her things, spelling them so they fit into a single small bag.

“Come,” he urged her, getting her up on her feet and guiding her to the Floo. He threw in a pinch and they were on their way.

A few minutes later Harry was leading her up to the room he had prepared for her.

“I got Kingsley Shacklebolt to release you to my custody,” he told her gently after she had taken a seat on the bench at the foot of her bed. “You’re still technically under house arrest but for now you’ll be serving it here in my home. The wards are the same and you will still be without a wand until he gets the charges dropped.” He wanted to tell her they were trying to get her a visitation with Lucius, but in the chance that that fell through, he didn’t want to get her hopes up.

She glanced around the room with empty eyes.

“The bathroom is the next door to the right,” he told her with a motion to the door leading back out to the hall. “The wards and restrictions for leaving the property are the same her as they were at the Manor but you have free reign of the whole house and the garden.”

She didn’t show much interest and Harry sighed.

“Shacklebolt will also be working to return some of your property to you as soon as the charges are dropped but tomorrow I’m going to see if he can get one of your house-elves back to you now so there’s someone to care for you while I’m at work or in classes. Is there one in particular you would like me to ask for?”

She was quiet for so long that he had begun to think she wasn’t going to answer, so when the softly uttered “Tippy” what whispered he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Tippy,” he repeated. “I’ll make sure Shacklebolt knows. Most of the elves have been sent to Hogwarts until they are sold or returned so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get Tippy back to you.”

“Harry,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“We’re family now, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you,” he backed out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

He had sent the request for Tippy with his owl Agnes that night and before morning tea he received a reply. Narcissa was to be granted a small sum of money and one house-elf to tide her over until her case could be reviewed before Wizengamot in an emergency hearing scheduled in two weeks time. The outcome of this hearing will decide if the charges are dropped or if she will go on probation. Either way she would no longer be held to the restrictions of house arrest. Afterwards Draco’s financial holdings will be released to her and they will also decide how much of her estate will be returned. Should she go on probation Shacklebolt assured Harry that he would be given the assignment of being her probation Auror. After the hearing in two weeks she would be allowed to see Lucius with Auror escort to Azkaban.

Harry set the letter down and gave Agnes a treat before going to the lounge to make a call.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall’s voice sounded pleased she saw who her caller was. “What can I do for you?”

“Sorry to call so early Headmistress, but Shacklebolt told me that the Malfoy house-elves are there at Hogwarts.”

“Yes, that is true.”

“Mrs. Malfoy had been allowed to have one house-elf returned to her, she has specifically asked for Tippy.”

“I’ll see that she is returned to the Manor immediately,”

“Mrs. Malfoy isn’t at the Manor, she’s at my home.” Harry looked away for a moment. “Draco died of an illness while in custody at Azkaban. The warden was less than kind when he informed her and she’s devastated. She’s still under house arrest but Shacklebolt has allowed her to continue it in my house so she won’t be alone, the elf is so she’ll have someone to care for her when I’m at work.”

“Please give her my condolences and if you’ll allow me, I would like to come by for a visit this weekend.”

“You’re always welcome here,” he assured her. A short while later the call ended and a muted ‘pop’ announced the arrival of an absolutely tiny and surprisingly cute house-elf dressed in what looked like two pink handkerchiefs knotted at the shoulders and belted with a tattered blue ribbon. Her ears were huge and pale and her eyes were green.

“Tippy?” he asked and the tiny thing nodded vigorously.

“Yes Mr. Harry Potter.”

“You’re mistress upstairs, second door on the right,” he told her, then asked, “did the Headmistress tell you what has happened?”

Tippy’s eyes filled with tears, “Master Draco?”

Harry nodded.

“Poor Mistress Sissy,” Tippy said tugging her ears, “Poor, poor Mistress. Tippy go to Mistress now.”

“Yes, go on.”

With a pop the tiny elf vanished.

Tbc...

#drarry #harry x draco #draco malfoy #Harry Potter #fan fiction #narcissa malfoy

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mariniacipher · 6 years ago

Text

But Light Sides Do

Inspired by @quillfics42 onehot “Dark Sides Don’t Do Holidays”

Summary: Patton gets his fellow Light Sides to make a christmas gift for their new housemate.

Character: Patton, Roman, Logan, Virgil is mentioned and has a small appeareance at the end

Pairings: none, platonic L(A)MP

Warnings: none

Words: 1.761

“But why?” Roman whined, ignoring the way Logan rolled his eyes as Patton gave him a stern look.

“Now Roman, I know you don’t like Anxiety much, but I won’t stand for anyone here not getting a present on Christmas!”

“However good your intentions may be, I don’t think that Anxiety would necessarily appreciate your efforts, seeing his apparent disdain for the holidays.”

“I understood 80% of that sentence!” Logan’s eyes would get stuck at the back of his head one of these days. “But really, Logan, why not make an effort to make Anxiety feel more included? We don’t even really know him, and he probably moved here for a reason- Maybe he’s another Light Side!”

“Yeah, right, that dreadful- dork looks ready to kill a man and you think he’s a Light Side? He should try lightening up first, if you ask me,” Roman grinned at his joke, to the amusement of no one, except Patton who laughed out of politeness,”Also, his eyeshadow is absolutely garish, you’d think he doesn’t even TRY!” Roman threw an arm against his head as he fell against the logical Side next to him, who only smirked as he let Roman fall to the ground, making no effort to catch him. “TRAITOR!” The prince wailed from the ground, gripping one of Logan’s legs, gesturing dramatically with the other arm. “How could I, the all-beloved, talented, beautiful, charming, favoured Side of all be betrayed like this- by my own brethren no less!”

Before Logan could reply, already moving to pinch his nose, he fell. Roman grabbed the other’s leg, breaking out into thunderous laughter, only getting louder at the logical Side’s disgruntled expression. But his laugh was quickly cut off in favour of high-pitched squeaks, Logan wasting no time at all tickling him into submission, a cruel smile on his face.

“Unprepared for retaliation? A shame, for the prince to go down due to such an easily avoidable error.”

“Hey! Let me- Let go of me, you fiend! I demand to be freed- Patton! Patton, save me! Save me from this vile villain!”

“No- Patton, please-”

High-pitched laughing filled the living room, interrupted by screams. Patton’s smile was absolutely innocent, a stark contrast to Roman’s positively gleeful one. Logan, meanwhile, was crying for help. “Aww, come on Lo, we can stop as soon as you agree to helping us with anxiety’s present!”

“Us?”

“Yeah, of course, or do you not want to help?” Patton smiled, as sweet as a cherub, while Logan yelped on the ground in front of him, and Roman wasn’t frightened, per se, he’s a prince after all, but well- a prince always does good deeds whenever he can!

“No- I can’t wait, Patton, we shall show that Grinch the joys of Christmas! I am already thinking of ideas,” he grinned, conjuring a scroll of parchment and a self-inking quill, writing down the headline- “A Gift For A Grouch”- in pink, glittering, cursive writing.

Logan relaxed as Patton moved away from him in favour of looking over Roman’s shoulder as the creative Side jotted down ideas, calming his breathing and his nerves. Patton and his incessant tickling, it was humilitaing.

“Hey, Lo, c’mere, look at all of Roman’s ideas!”

“Yes, very fascinating- what would he do with a set of Magic: The gathering cards? He doesn’t have anyone to play with.”

“I was brainstorming, genius,” Roman muttered, striking out the idea. “Besides, I think we all know the obvious winner here-”

“Yeah, the onesie!”

“No- You mean the collection of works by Edgar Allan Poe, correct?”

“No! The make-up set, you fools! He obviously needs it.”

“Kiddo, don’t be mean!” The only reply Patton got was displeased grumbling, but he went on unbothered. “And we don’t know if he even likes that scary stuff, or if he already has it, if he does.” “And scary stories belong to Halloween, not Christmas.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t know his size, so we can’t make him a hoodie either, not even regarding how strenuous it’d be to make a hoodie in such a short amount of time.”

“Uh, I can conjure?”

“But it’s a present, it should be handmade!”

“Okay, well, we can’t very well sneak into his room and just measure him-”

“-I could! It’s what I did to get the measurements for your Christmas sweater last year! Did you know that you sleep-talk?”

“No, I… did not, Patton. Thanks for informing me of that,” Logan noted, stiffly. He’d definitely get a lock tomorrow. Maybe earlier.

“You’re welcome! Oh! What if we get him a housewarming present?”

“And what would that be? Maybe a stocked wardrobe?... I don’t think I’ve seen him in anything other than that hoodie in years, it’s a crime.”

“Roman!”

“I can’t help it if it’s true!”

“Well, maybe he just gets cold quickly?”

“I think it’s more likely to be a coping mechanism, seeing as Sides usually have a deeper connection with what they embody, and hoodies being widely considered to be calming for people dealing with heightened anxiety due to stimulating the skin, offering warmth and comfort, as well as hiding the person’s figure.”

“Either way, we could make him a blanket! That way, he’d be warm, and whenever he uses it he can remember that even though none of us expected this, he is welcome here!”

“A grand idea, Padre!”

“Thank you Roman!”

“It does seem fitting. I’d suggest Princey designs it, for obvious reasons, while Patton and I make the actual blanket.”

“That emo nightmare won’t know what hit him, it’ll look so amazing!”

“Remember that it’s supposed to fit his aesthetic!”

“Shall do, dear Patton!”

“Aaand he’s gone. Well, let’s start on the actual blanket. Would you mind conjuring all we need, and get Thomas to research the process behind making a blanket, I don’t think I’ve got one in my records, and you’re more familiar with creating a sudden flash of interest in one of these,” he fished for a flash card, just to be sure,” DIY-projects.”

“Course, Lo. Ohhh, how about we make it weighted?”

“Like the one we made for Roman, so his incessant moving wouldn’t keep him up even longer? Well, I don’t see anything wrong with it, although it’d be a considerable amount of extra work.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage!”

So it was decided.

Roman came down with his drawing pad just a few minutes later, Logan planning how to do the actual blanket, guessing how much Anxiety would weigh to calculate the amount of pellets they’d need, and how much cotton would be needed to make it pleasantly soft, while Patton hummed christmas carols to himself, rolling out a batch of sugar cookies he’d quickly thrown together, before lining up a batch of different cookie cutters to make as many different shapes as possible. He especially liked the pumpkin and the elephant ones, as they always made Logan pinch his brow in that adorable, confused way of his.

It didn’t take long for Logan to be finished with the match behind it, and he sat next to Roman- Patton subtly keeping an eye on them, to make sure they wouldn’t argue too badly- looking over the prince’s designs and offering both praise and criticism. Both working towards a shared goal, it was easier to accept each other’s differences, easier to appreciate the other’s strengths.

The end product was a mix of black, purple and red, with stripes of white on the upper side, truly capturing Anxiety’s emo style, even if it seemed a bit more goth than his usual aesthetic. The flannel pattern wasn’t the main subject of their pride, though. That would the underside of the blanket, where they’d settled for a soft, crocheted blanket from Patton, in a light violet tone that looked like the clouds in the twilight of the dying sun, a calming colour with black embroidery they’d added, at the start just to proof that they were better at it than the other. The final product was a mixture of extravagant floral swirls and linear, geometric shapes, somehow slotting together perfectly. Patton squealed as he saw the two pieces of fabric, hugging both of them, and crinkling the blankets, almost choking on his own breath and excitement.

Patton had the most experience with the sewing machine, ,so he was the one sewing the blanket together, Logan weighing the pellets and mixing them with cotton to put into the patterns of the quilt and Roman eating some- not all!- of the sugar cookies- “A snack deserves a snack!”- and decorating the others, singing festive broadway and disney songs under his breath to avoid Logan getting into another tirade about waking their new housemate.

A bit more than an hour later, the quilt was finished, and the Sides looked it with pride. Anxiety would surely love his present! Patton wrote a quick note to put on the folded blanket and, seeing as Logan was barely seeing straight and Roman had offered to carry him to bed, walked upstairs and to Anxiety’s room, knocking quietly to check if he was awake, before slipping inside to quickly put the blanket on the desk, but- the kiddo was freezing! He was freezing, even under his numerous blankets and covers, this wouldn’t do! Patton covered the dark Side with the quilt, tucking him in as the kiddo snuggled deeper into the weighted blanket, quickly stilling, a tenseness leaving his form that Patton hadn’t even noticed was there. He put the note on Anxiety’s bedside cabinet and snuck out again.

“Merry Christmas, kiddo!”

They all tried to cover their disappointment when Anxiety failed to acknowledge their gift, if anything only growing more hostile with time, and never once uttering a thank you. Unknowing that the dark Side had accidentally knocked their note under his bed when reaching for his phone, Roman saw no reason not to let his hurt turn into bitterness, enjoying to get a rise out of the ungrateful Side. Logan, of course, had no such emotionally based reasoning, but if pressed he would admit that the other Side’s dismissal of their efforts was a tad… rude. But then again, he probably thought it a silly gesture, with his talk of Dark Sides not “doing” holidays, so he’d be glad to respect his views. Patton tried to stay nice, but wrapped under his covers, he was hurt- but he kept on hoping, he was sure Anxiety was nice under all his snarling and teasing!

He’d eventually be proven right, but none of the Light Sides knew that yet.

#sander sides #sander sides fanfiction #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #christmas ficlet #continuation i guess?#let's hope this isn't awful #platonic logince #fluff #some angst in the last paragraph but not much

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icequeen-shiva · 6 years ago

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a follow-up of sorts to my fat girl post

i’ve had multiple people dm me about their own experiences, and i don’t want to spread myself too thin in any direction. i didn’t want to keep addressing this individually over and over again, so i thought... maybe this would be best? :\ please hear me out, and please know i mean this as kindly as i can. that’s where i want to come from with these massive thought posts. kindness, but also firmness that i owe myself.

to start out, i appreciate SO MUCH how much this has touched people. i didn’t think it would have such an impact, because i’m a small blog. when z asked me if he could reblog it, i was floored. if what i said has impacted you, i’m happy with that. i’ve received such positivity and that makes me terrified that i’m going to sound like a bitch. i really, really don’t mean to come from a bitchy place right now. please know that.

... but i don’t wanna talk about it more than i already have, and i’m sorry, but i have the right to choose that for my own mentality.

i didn’t put up that post with the intent to open myself up to conversations with strangers, acquaintances at best. i’m not saying i don’t appreciate the feedback. i am TOUCHED that it’s resonated with people, please believe me. that makes me so happy. and i’m not at all saying don’t talk to me if you want to thank me for what i said and tell me your reasons, anything like that. you can! i love knowing it’s helping! you all have such different backgrounds, but we connect on this. that’s great. i’m really, really glad if my post has helped you in some way.

but i have to say, one thing: although i understand that my wording may have definitely implied it, i don’t think i’m a worthless POS. far from it. and while i do appreciate all of you reminding me that oh, i’m beautiful, i’m not worthless, etc. .... yah, i know. and i know a LOT of other people do need those reminders and they don’t believe they’re worthy of anything. i know that maybe you need to hear those things. i know it feels like the thing to say. and thank you for the kind words, truly, but... those aren’t my words. i did finish that post saying something like “it’s no wonder i’m alone,” i totally understand WHY i’m getting these kinds of responses and again, please understand i really do appreciate your replies. i really, really do. but that’s at my worst, when i’m looking at myself physically. when i am being a bitch at myself. when i’ve had a rough day, when i’m angry, when i’m jealous. yes, i look at my body sometimes and think “that’s disgusting, why haven’t I taken the steps to change my life yet if I hate this part of me so much?” but that is a reflection on my flesh suit. that is NOT a reflection on what i think of ME, as a person, overall. frankly, i think i’m fucking fabulous. and i’m not lying. and it’s been hard as hell to get to that point, and honestly, most of the reasons it’s been so hard have NOTHING to do with my weight. my weight struggle has been the one i’ve had my entire life, and it’s the one most people identify with, but it is NOT the struggle that has shaped me the most.

and i do not have to explain that to anyone. i refuse to. i’m sorry if that strikes your curiosity, but i’m not going to talk about it.

the big reason that i don’t want to talk struggles-- fat struggles, depression struggles, life in general, whatever it may be-- is because that’s simply not what works for me, historically. i don’t enjoy it. i don’t feel better after it. i usually feel worse, and i know that’s not how it works for several people, but that’s how it works for me. i’m really, really sorry to those of you who have wanted to use this to bond with me, but i don’t... do that. i’m sorry. talking about it works well for many people i know, but it just doesn’t for me, and it works even less when i’m talking to a stranger. and i’m sorry if that sounds blunt, but that is what we are. acquaintances at best. on the internet. we connect on knowing what it’s like to be fat in this day and age. but we do not know each other, and i don’t open up to strangers more than once in a very, very long time, and i’ve met that quota with the fat post. what works for me is meditation, working on my writing, looking at stupid cat videos until i’ve laughed enough that the smile comes naturally again, sometimes i’ll look up new crochet patterns for hours, sometimes i’ll hook up the snes and play one of my favorite old games. but at heart, all of my coping mechanisms are disconnects from other people, rather than connects. i’m sorry if you want to connect as your coping mechanism, but i have to politely decline. i really, really don’t want this to sound like i’m not interested if it doesn’t benefit me too. i don’t want to be a bitch. but my prerogative is my mental health.

if talking about it even to a relative stranger helps you, then please, find someone who is comfortable doing that with you. i am not trying to shame anyone’s ways to cope. do what works for you to let out the negativity. d o i t. just don’t do it with me, is what i’m asking.

i pretty much suck at talking to people AS A WHOLE, as you may have noticed. and i feel terrible about it and like i’m going to be viewed as a bitch who ignores people, and i’m not trying to do that. even before the fat post, i’ve had many dms and i just .... i didn’t want to talk so i didn’t, and that was rude, i know. i regret it, and if i’ve ignored you, i am sorry. that was childish of me, and i know i should explain this up front and hope for the best. and it’s never been anything against the person at all, it’s always been just me wanting to chill on the internet and interact only in likes, reblogs, and replies to posts. the last few days haven’t been the best so now i want even less to talk directly one on one with people, so all of you responding to the fat post are getting a hit from that. it’s not your fault or anything you’re doing. it’s just me. i’m really sorry. i’m extremely nonsocial and 8/10 times i just DON’T want to talk. to anyone. so selfishly i let myself not talk. i don’t care if you’re my very best friend, i don’t care if you’re barack obama, i don’t care if you’re jesus, if it’s one of those 8 times then i’m gonna find a way out. “liz, why did you make a blog then? this revolves around communicating with people. you have to talk.” because i wanted a little piece of the tickling community for myself that wasn’t on a toxic garbage forum and that’s not really so much to ask.

(note: not everyone on tickling forums instead of tumblr is toxic garbage. some of them are very good people.)

anyway... please, please understand that i don’t mean any of this offensively. please, please understand you are all wonderful people and i hope you find happiness and a light in yourself. it’s not easy to like yourself. i count myself lucky that i’ve somehow learned to do that, in spite of things.

i appreciate all of you and how my words have helped you. some of you have expressed you want to become friends, and maybe in the future we will be. i’m just saying we’re gonna need more common ground than we like tickling and we’re fat and depressed. (and we need me to not be a fucking wall when people try to talk to me. i'll work on it.)

but please don’t be upset with me if and when i don’t want to have a conversation about how hard our lives have been. or a conversation at all, because i’m just not up for being social and that’s just regrettably how i’m wired at the present. i’m sorry for not addressing this better on a one on one basis. i need to learn how to do that more effectively. i hope i haven’t hurt anyone, and i’m sorry if i have. i’ll probably still be around right now reblogging and browsing the dash, but i can tell you right now that if you try and talk to me, i’ve used up my brain for the minute and i’m not in.

liz out.

#mental health #please don't think less of me #@everyone

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myownsuperintendent · 7 years ago

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Fic: “Welcome”

In Wyoming, they spend the first morning with Emily. Inspired by the Season 11 casting rumors. Rated G, also here at Ao3.

.....

“Good morning,” she says when the two of them come downstairs. “I made breakfast.”

The sight in the kitchen can only be described as a spread: there are eggs and bacon and pancakes and a large bowl of pristine-looking cut fruit. “You didn’t have to do all this,” Scully says, wondering if this is normal in the Van de Kamp home or if she wanted to do something special for them.

“Of course I did,” Emily says. “You’re guests.” So that answers that question. “Besides, I like to cook,” she adds, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, it looks great,” Mulder says. “More of an actual breakfast than I’ve had in…maybe ever, come to think of it.” Emily lets out a surprised laugh and hands them plates.

When they’re settled around the kitchen island with their food, Emily says, “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk last night. Could you maybe tell me something about yourselves?” Scully wonders if this is the kind of person she is: someone who likes to smooth things over, to say that they didn’t get much of a chance to talk without pointing out the reasons why, to make things better with breakfast. But then she adds, “I remember a little bit, but not very much. Well, I was only three, I guess,” and Scully reconsiders. There’s more to it than that. She almost sounds like she’s apologizing for not remembering more, and of all the shocks of the past twenty-four hours, that somehow seems like the biggest one of all: that her daughter, the little girl she couldn’t save and never thought to look for, thinks she needs to apologize to her.

“Of course,” she says. “We can do that.” She’s twenty-three, now; maybe they can’t catch up on all that time, but at least they can try. Still, it’s so hard to know where to begin. “Well,” she says at last, “we both work for the FBI. Maybe you got that part. And I’m a doctor, too.”

Emily nods. “That’s neat,” she says. “Should I call you Dr. Scully then?”

You can just call me Mom, a part of her wants to say. She wonders if Emily wants her to say it too or if it would be too much, too fast. She thought about this same question twenty years ago, deciding that Emily could call her Dana for now, hoping that soon enough—when the dust had settled, when they were back in Washington together, when she’d given Emily a sense of home—her daughter would want to call her Mom. Right now, that decision seems as good as any other. “Dana’s fine,” she says.

“Okay, Dana,” Emily says. “And what should I call you?” she asks, turning to Mulder.

“Just Mulder,” he says. She’d thought this part might be easier for him, at least, but he’s watching Emily with the same look of wonder and bewilderment that she suspects is on her own face. They’d talked about it last night, alone in the guest bedroom. She would have been ours, Mulder finally said, you know that, and of course she did, she’d always thought it, but somehow she’d never got around to finding out that he thought it too.

Emily frowns. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t really like my first name.”

Emily still looks a bit puzzled, but she nods and says, “Mulder, then. Where do you two live?”

“Near Washington, D.C.,” Scully says. “We have an old farmhouse—not working, though, not like this place. We have a dog, too. His name’s Dagoo.”

“Oh, I love dogs,” Emily says. “What kind is he?”

“Not sure about that,” Scully says. “We sort of found him.”

“You stole him, you mean,” Mulder says, and Emily looks back and forth between the two of them, clearly trying to work out whether this is a joke or not.

“He’s…it’s a long story,” she says. “I can show you a picture of him, though.”

“That’d be nice,” Emily says, and Scully quickly finds a picture of Dagoo on her phone—one of the rare ones where he’s not a blur—and passes it over. “Oh, he’s so cute!” Emily exclaims. “I really wish I could have a dog. But we can’t have them in my building.”

“You don’t live here?” Scully asks.

Emily shakes her head. “I live in town. I work at the optician’s, you know?” No, they don’t know. Her daughter works at the optician’s. For all the times she’s thought about Emily, imagined who she could have grown up and been, she’s never imagined this: there were too many possibilities to hit on the right one. “So it’s easier. But it’s still pretty close to here, so I come home a lot.”

“Do you like your job?” Mulder asks.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice!” Emily says. “You meet pretty much everyone. I don’t think I’m going to stay there forever or anything, but it’s a good job.”

“That’s great,” Scully says. “And what do you like to do? When you’re not at work.”

“Well, cooking,” Emily says. “Like I said, I really like that. I like to read a lot. And I crochet. I made these.” She sticks out her feet, clad in purple wool socks.

“Nice,” Mulder says.

“Yeah,” Scully says. “They’re really great.”

“Thanks!” Emily says. “I could make you something, if you like. It’s pretty easy.” She smiles. “How about the two of you?”

As the two of them answer, Scully realizes, not for the first time, how much their lives are entwined with their work. Even their leisure reading has something to do with it, most of the time; how many times has she sat on the couch with a medical journal, Mulder across from her with some old newspaper clippings about Bigfoot sightings? She wishes she had something like crocheting, not connected to anything mysterious or dire, something that left you with a warm pair of socks for your pains.

At a pause in the conversation, Emily leans forward, her elbows on the island and her legs wrapped around her stool. “I just wanted to say,” she tells them, “you shouldn’t worry about Will.”

That feels impossible. It always has, of course; last night just diverted the worries into a new channel. Scully thinks about the closed door the two of them passed on their way downstairs this morning, the door with its sign reading WILLIAM’S BEDROOM KEEP OUT THAT MEANS YOU. The sign was obviously old, done in faded crayon, and yet she couldn’t help thinking it was directed specifically at them. “We just…” she begins, and then she breaks off, not knowing what she wants to say.

“You talked to him last night, right?” Mulder says. “Was he…how was he?” Scully presses his hand in hers, knowing he’s wondering, just like she is, if their son really hates them.

“He was still upset,” Emily says. “But that’s what I mean. You shouldn’t pay attention to all those things he said. It was just because he was upset. That’s what he’s like.” She frowns. “I don’t want you to think he’s usually that rude, though. We were raised right.” Then she makes a face. “I know that sounds so strange. They were going to harvest our cells, when the time came, but we have manners and I had ten years of ballet lessons, so that’s what matters?” She looks like she’d be good in ballet, with those long legs that she certainly didn’t get from Scully. “It’s a little more complicated than that, I guess, even though it doesn’t sound like it. They really do…did…it always felt like they loved us, anyway. Things were normal. So maybe you can see why Will’s upset?”

“Of course we can,” Mulder says.

Scully nods; they do see, even though that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “It’s all right if you are, too,” she says. “We don’t have to…I don’t want this to be the kind of thing where we all pretend everything’s okay when it’s not.”

Emily nods. “Well, I wouldn’t say everything’s okay,” she says. “This is going to take some getting used to.” Scully is beginning to suspect that her daughter has a gift for understatement. “But I’m not upset with the two of you, anyway. This isn’t your fault.” It doesn’t feel like that. “I think it’s different for me than for Will, anyway. He doesn’t remember anything else. But I was eight when I came here. I’d already been a couple of different places… It's not that I don’t feel at home here. Mom and Dad always—” She breaks off, messes with her fork. “Well, they said I was really shy when I came here, really closed off, but I opened up to them after a while. But I guess…maybe I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, or something. Not that I thought it was going to drop like this.” She half-smiles. “I think I just knew that things might not be permanent. And Will didn’t, really. He’s used to this one thing, which is good, in a way, because like I said, they really did take good care of us, and we were happy. But it’s hard for him now.” She pauses. “Does all that make sense? I’m not really the best at explaining.”

“It does,” Scully said. “You explained it very well.” There’s still a lot more that needs to be explained—on both sides—but it’s good for a start. “We hope you know you can talk to us. About any of this.”

“Oh, of course I do,” Emily says, and in spite of everything she’s been saying, her face is so open.

“Will you…could you tell Will that he can talk to us too, maybe?” Mulder asks. “For when he’s ready.”

Emily nods. “I will,” she says. “Besides, he’ll have to come down soon enough. He can’t stay in his room forever. He’s always hungry,” she adds, her voice conspiratorial. “I’ll put some of this in the fridge for him,” she says, jumping down from her stool and going over to the breakfast food, in which the three of them have barely made a dent.

“Here,” Scully says, “we’ll help you clean up.”

“Oh, no,” Emily says. “No, the two of you sit and rest. You had such a hard day yesterday.” That understatement again.

“We all did,” Mulder says. “So let us help, Emily.” The tentative way he says her name.

“Well…okay,” Emily says. “But you really don’t have to.”

“We know,” Scully says. “We want to.” She smiles at Emily, who nods and starts putting the eggs into a plastic container.

“Thanks for your help,” Emily says, once everything is cleared away.

“It was no problem,” Scully says. “Emily…you said you remembered a little bit about us? Do you mind if I ask what you remember?”

She looks like she’s concentrating. “It’s not a lot,” she says. “Not really…I don’t exactly remember things about you, you know? It’s more like images.” She looks at Scully. “Your necklace,” she says. “The one you have on. And I remember your voice, I think. It sounded familiar last night. When you were trying to tell us that things would be okay. The same tone.” She’s always done her best to reassure her children: Emily when she had lost the only family she had known or when she was so sick; William when he got fussy at night or when he was going away from her for what she thought was the last time. Things hadn’t been okay then. She hopes they can be now, but she’s still not sure. “And about you,” Emily says, turning to Mulder, “I remember…” She pauses, then contorts her face, her cheeks puffed out, her mouth scrunched in. “You made that face,” she says, and then she breaks into a grin and a laugh.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. “I think I did.” He grins back at her. Scully smiles too.

“Well, that’s about all,” Emily says. “I don’t think I remember anything else. Maybe you can tell me about it, sometime.”

“Of course,” Scully says. “If you want to hear.”

“Sometime,” Emily repeats. “Do you want any more coffee? We could go sit in the living room.”

They carry their mugs down the hall, then settle onto the couches. It’s not the smoothest process: Scully’s about to set her mug down on the table when Emily murmurs, “Do you mind waiting for a second…” and reaches out for coasters, and then there’s the tentative dance of who should sit where, if they should be side by side or if they should look each other in the face. There’s a leg broken off an end table, evidence of last night. There’s a sweatshirt that must be William’s thrown over a chair, but there’s no William. “Do you have more pictures of Dagoo?” Emily asks. “He’s so cute.”

Scully takes out her phone and scrolls through the pictures, explaining: there’s Dagoo again, there’s her and Mulder on a case in Wisconsin, there’s the house, there’s the yard, there’s Dagoo trying to eat a shirt. Mulder leans over her shoulder on one side, adding commentary, and Emily leans in on the other, looking, asking questions. She takes out her own phone after a little bit, and then she’s the one to explain: there’s her apartment, there’s her and her friends on her birthday, there’s her boyfriend (his name’s Steve, he works at an insurance company, and they’ve known each other since they were eleven), there she is trying to ski (“I’m really bad, though,” she says). There’s a selfie, her and William, making faces. “I could text you this one, Dana,” Emily says. “If you’d like.”

Scully nods. “Thank you,” she says. She can’t say more.

“Give me your number,” Emily says, and when Scully does she texts the picture. “You should send me that one of you guys,” she says, and Scully does.

It’s not everything, not yet, not even close to it. But it’s something.

#my fic #the x files #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #emily sim #txf season 11

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