#I’d even take decaf at this point just so I can have the sensation of actual warm beverage

[elprupneerg]

I miss hot coffee. If you like hot coffee you should make sure to brush your teeth every day so that you don’t have to get a tooth removed and avoid hot foods that could upset the extraction site. I’d thought I’d miss crunchy food the most but turns out starting every day with a sad lukewarm cup of coffee and running out of milk cuz you’re using so much of it to try and cool the coffee faster so you can have your morning caffeine is. Sad. And unpleasant.

[batsandbugs]

Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww​! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy! 

Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.

Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.

Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.

Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”

She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”

He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.

“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.

“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.  

He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.  

“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.

Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.

“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”

“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.

“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”

Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.

“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.

“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”

“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.

“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.

Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”

“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.

“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”

“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”

Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”

She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.

“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”

“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”

“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.

“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”

Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”

“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”

Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”

“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”

“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”

“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.

“Even worse.”

“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”

“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”

Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”

Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”

Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”

She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”

Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”

“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”

“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.

-0-0-

It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.

Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.

The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.

Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.

Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.

“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.

“I make no apologies.”

“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.  

“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.  

“I take offense to that.”

“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.

“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.

Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.

-0-0-

It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.

“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim.  “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”

“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”

Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”

“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”

“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.

“He gets better.”

“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”

“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”

“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.

They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.

“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”

“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.

The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”

The scene switches to a metal ship.

“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”

“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”

Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.

Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.

“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”

“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”

“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”

“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”

“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”  

Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.

The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.

“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”

They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.

“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?”

“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.

“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette. 

“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”

“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.

“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.

“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.

“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'm not naive," she shot back. 

He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating. 

Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people. 

The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.

“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.

“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”

“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.

The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-

“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”

“What war? What are you talking about?”

“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.

They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.

They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.

“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

“I think it was more like a hundred years!”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”

On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.

“Tt. Amateurs.”

"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”

“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”

“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.   

“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.

“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”

“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great." 

“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”

“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.

Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too) 

@m3owww​ @your-resident-chimken-nuggie​  @loveswifi​ @fusser90​@animegirlweeb​​ @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere​​

[dameronsgalaxygal]

I’ve Been Waiting For You-Chapter 9: Andante, Andante

series masterlist 

Pairing: modern!poe x reader

Warnings: smut (18+), language, mentions of past abusive relationship.

Word Count: 4117

Song: Andante, Andante

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long! I have been so busy but I finally had the chance to sit down and write! thank you for being so patient with me, I love you. ALSO this song is important, so I encourage you to listen! and yes, this one is smutty y'all. this is my first time writing smut, so bare with me. feedback and comments would be greatly appreciated! taglist is open!

Summary: You find yourself wanting to get closer to Poe in a more intimate way. 

You woke up earlier than Poe the next morning. You rolled over in your bed to see Poe, his mouth open slightly as tiny snores escaped him. You smiled. He was beautiful even when he was sleeping.

You reached over, pushing the curl that was resting on his forehead back and kissing his forehead. He stirred and closed his mouth briefly before returning to his snoring state. You chuckled, smiling at him for a moment before heading into the living room.

Rey sat at the dining table with a bowl of cereal. She gave you a small smile as milk dripped down her chin. You laughed and pointed to your chin for her to wipe it off, in which she did.

You grabbed a mug from the cupboard before turning the coffee pot on.

“How’re you feeling?” Rey asked, her mouth still full of Cheerios.

You smiled softly, pouring yourself a cup and turning to face her.

“I’m feeling good.”

She swallowed her food, smiling widely. “Good.”

“It feels nice, knowing I don’t have to hold back anymore. It hurts, sure, but knowing that I have nothing to hide anymore...it's like a release. You know. Poe knows.” You sat down in the chair next to her.

Rey nodded as Rose emerged from her bedroom with a wide grin across her face and a robe around her body. You and Rey both cocked your eyebrows.

“Good morning!” She sang.

“Morning,” You both laughed.

“Have a good night?” Rey smirked, standing up and walking to the sink to rinse her bowl.

“Fantastic.” Rose sat down across from you.

You chuckled and shook your head, “Every day I thank whoever built this apartment for building very, very thick walls.”

Rose giggled and sighed dreamily.

“So,” Rey started, leaning against the counter, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Well…”

The sound of two doors opening caught you and your roommates attention and you flickered your eyes to the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

A sleepy Poe appeared in the hallway rubbing his eyes. You smiled, your head resting in your hand.

Behind him appeared a familiar figure that had come from Rose’s room. Your jaw dropped.

“You’re sleeping with Finn?!” You looked at Rose.

Poe stopped in his tracks before turning around to see his best friend biting back a smile.

Poe smirked, “I knew it!” He pointed at his roommate.

Finn shot him a look, “No you did not.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed as the two boys continued to bicker back and forth. Rey gave Rose a look that said ‘nice job’.

“How long?” Poe asked Finn as he approached you, putting his hands on your shoulders and kissing your head.

“Two months now,” Finn and Rose answered together.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” You chuckled.

Rose shrugged, “You didn’t ask.”

Poe laughed lightly before grabbing himself a cup of coffee.

Rose and Finn continued to talk about their evening while you sipped your cup of decaf and Rey made her way back to her bedroom to get ready for work.

You stood up, walking to the counter where Poe was lingering.

“You work today?” You asked, looking up at him.

He nodded, “Flight at 2.”

“Where to?”

“Dallas.”

You nodded, setting your mug down and wrapping your arms around his neck. “When will you be back?”

“Saturday morning.” He leaned down to peck your lips. “Why?”

You shrugged, your fingers playing with the curls at the back of his neck. “Just wondering.”

He smiled softly, “Do you want me to come over when I get back?”

“Or I can come over. I work until 3. I can come over after.”

“I’d love that” He smiled widely, kissing you again.

His lips were soft and warm, the familiar sensation sending a shockwave through your body.

You pulled away after a moment, sighing softly and keeping your eyes closed.

“You okay?” His voice carried worry.

“Yeah, I think so.” You smiled, eyes opening to catch his.

He smiled before kissing your forehead. “I’m proud of you. For opening up. I know that wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t. In fact, It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” You let out a dry laugh. Poe frowned.

You noticed his face change and shook your head, moving your hands from the back of his neck to cup his cheeks.

“I’m glad I did it.” You ensured him.

He nodded with a sympathetic smile.

“Thank you. You’re the first person I have trusted with all of this. I couldn’t have done it without you. I love you.” You rested your forehead on his.

“I love you too,” He whispered.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

You wanted to tell him over and over again how much you loved him. You wanted to make up for every single time he said it and wouldn’t say it back because you were scared. You weren’t scared anymore.

It was funny, you thought it was going to take you years to get over your trauma, let alone be in another relationship, but Poe was so different. He changed your mind about so many things. You loved him, and you wanted to prove that to him.

He kissed you again before getting out of your embrace and going to talk to Finn. You stayed in your spot in the kitchen for a moment before seeing Rey come out of her room.

“Rey!” You walked over to her as she grabbed her purse from the couch.

“What’s up?”

“Can...can I talk to you about something?” You turned to look back at your boyfriend, then back to your cousin. “Privately?”

Rey checked her phone before replying , “Can you make it quick?”

You nodded, walking to your bedroom. She followed you inside, crossing her arms.

“You okay?” She asked as you closed the door slightly.

You took a deep breath and sat on your bed. You were nervous.

“Y/N?”

“I think...I mean, I want…” You started. Rey cocked her eyebrow.

“I want to go further with Poe. Physically.”

She smiled, “You mean you want to fuck him?”

You shot her a look, “When you put it that way, it makes it sounds like I want to go feral.”

“You don’t?”

“I do,” You admitted, “Just not...yet. I want to take it easy.. Connect with him. If something happens...that’s too much.. I just don’t want to be manhandled right away after getting out of my relationship with Kyle,” You sighed.

“Talk to him.” She said, sitting on the bed beside you, “You know he respects you.”

“I know...but… I don’t know. I mean, the last time I had sex was the day before I came to Florida and...fuck, it hurt. It was just..” You shook your head to fight back your emotions.

“I know,” She put your arm around you.

“Talk to him.” She repeated.

You looked at her, smiling softly.

“He loves you, Y/N. I see it so much.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Knock, knock.” Poe knocked on the cracked open door to let you know he was entering.

You smiled at him as Rey stood up.

“I gotta head to work, I’ll see you both later.” She gave you a look of encouragement before heading out.

You sent her a small wave before standing up to meet Poe.

“Everything okay?” He rested his hand on your cheek, brushing an eyelash away from under your eye.

“Everything’s great.” You turned your head to kiss his palm.

He grinned before releasing his hand and going to grab his shoes from the side of your bed, “I gotta head home and get ready for work, but I’ll see you Saturday?”

“Absolutely,” You ensured him.

“Great. See you then, love you” He gave you a sweet kiss before leaving.

You couldn’t wait for Saturday.

-----

“Can you pass me the Tapatío?”

You reached over the dining table to grab the small sauce bottle, passing it to Poe.

“I don’t understand how you can add that to the ribs that are already drenched in barbecue sauce, which by the way, is kinda tangy. Warn me next time.” You took a bite of your barbecue pulled pork sandwich that was causing a mess in your hands.

Poe laughed as he poured some Tapatío on his stack of ribs, “What, you don’t like a little spice?”

“Oh I do, just not that much! I would much rather be able to feel my tongue when I eat.”

“Weak,” Poe teased in which you shot him a look. He just smirked.

Fuck, that smirk.

You bit your lip slightly as you examined his facial features. You had taken in his looks before, he was your boyfriend for pete's sake, but you were feeling something different now. Since you had told him about what you had gone through, you felt so much more brave. So open. So vulnerable.

It was almost as if one feeling had completely left you and another arrived. Loathing for Kyle was replaced by love for Poe. But there was still something missing it seemed like. That physical connection.

You and Poe continued with your take-out meal and cleaned up your faces and hands since you had both gotten barbecue sauce all over your lips and fingers. Poe suggested that you two watch a movie up in his room since you had finally gotten comfortable being at his place after spending the night after your half-year anniversary a few days ago. Of course, you had only slept in the guest room, but again, you weren’t scared anymore. Plus, you would never pass up an opportunity to cuddle Poe in a big fluffy bed.

“Did you plan on spending the night?” He asked as you crawled into his bed.

“I don’t know, we’ll see how tired I am.” You shrugged.

“Well,” He crawled next to you, “If you decide to stay, let me know. I have some pajama pants and a T-shirt you can wear.”

You nodded, putting your hand on the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. He kissed you cautiously, as normal, and slowly.

When you didn’t pull away after a few moments like you normally do, Poe let a hand sneak up your blouse and rest on your waist. That’s when you pulled away and Poe removed his hand.

“I’m sorry,” He panicked.

“No, it’s-” You began.

“I didn’t mean to… I’ve been so good at controlling myself.”

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth. You swore he was sweating.

“Poe..” You spoke as he rambled.

“I understand if you want to go lay in the gues-”

“Make love to me.”

Poes face shifted completely, his lips parting slightly, “What?”

You sighed, crawling into his lap and putting your hand on his cheek.

“I can’t live in fear forever. You..” You took a breath, “You have been there for me since the day I moved here. You helped me get on my feet with a job..you became my best friend in a matter of weeks. I...I fell in love with you so fast, and while that scared the shit out of me and I couldn’t say it when you did...I now know what I want. I want you. I trust you.”

“Are you sure?” He asked you genuinely, “I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. And I’m sorry if I’ve been pushy toward the subject. You know I would never..” You placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

“I’m sure. I love you, and I want to do this with you. I feel so emotionally connected to you, and I want to..” You took a breath, “I want you to show me what making love feels like. I’ve never felt it before,” You whispered the last part.  

He gave you a soft, sympathetic smile as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Baby, you remember what you told me? Kyle put you through so much pain when he would have sex with you and I don’t want you to relive that.”

You shook your head, “That’s why I want to do this with you. Because I know you’ll make me feel beautiful. You’ll make me feel safe again. I love you, Poe.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He spoke softly. If you two were going to do this, he wanted to do it right.

“So,” You swallowed hard, “I want you to touch me.” You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but Poe happily obliged.

He smiled at you again before kissing you once more, except this time his kisses had more meaning. More passion, More love.

Your hands ran up and down his chest as his ran up your blouse to your back, his fingers soft and light as they grazed your spine.

He pulled away, looking into your eyes for any second thoughts. He failed to find any.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

“Promise me you will let me know if anything becomes too much, okay?” He slowly laid you back on the bed.

“I promise. Just...take it easy with me, please.” You spoke breathlessly.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He pressed soft, gentle kisses from your cheek to under your jaw then back to your lips.

“Okay, you can be a little rougher than that.” You giggled.

Poe smirked before kissing you with a bit more urgency, his hand coming up to rest on the side of your neck. His tongue traced over your bottom lip and you let out a small moan, giving him just enough space to enter your mouth.

He tilted his head to kiss you deeper and you let out another moan before he detached his lips from yours, reattaching them to the warm skin located along your neck and shoulder. He pulled back only to remove his T-shirt.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh full of content escaped your lips. He kissed down your neck to right above the collar of your pastel pink blouse. He stopped, looking up at you. “Can I?”

You looked down at him, nodding slowly. He smiled, his hands coming up to slowly unbutton your shirt. You arched your back to give him easier access to take it off of you, tossing it to the floor. His fingertips traced the lace of your black bra before reaching around you and putting his fingers on the clasp. He gave you another look, waiting for his cue to continue. You nodded and he removed your bra in a second.

You blushed, looking away when you saw his reaction upon seeing your breasts.

“Baby,” He smiled, his hands now gently running over your stomach, “You are so beautiful.”

You looked at him, your cheeks completely flushed.

He leaned down to kiss you, “So damn beautiful. Can I touch you?”

You nodded quickly, your hand shooting up to rest in his curls.

He attached his mouth to your breast, sucking gently and releasing a small gasp from your lips. His other hand rested on your stomach, rubbing over it gently. He moved to your other breast, swirling his tongue over the sensitive bud. You arched your back, already overwhelmed by the way he was making you feel, and he hadn't even reached where you really wanted him.

“Poe..”

He detached his mouth, “Is this okay?”

“More than.” You smiled, running your hand through his hair. He smiled back before kissing down your chest to your stomach right above the waistline of your leggings.

“Are you one hundred percent positive you want to do this? We can stop now, I don’t mind.” He looked up at you.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to stop. I want to feel you.”

With that he leaned up to kiss you again, his hand tangling in your hair. He kissed down your cheek to your neck, your collarbone, your chest, your stomach. He didn’t let an inch of your exposed skin go unkissed. He wanted to take his time with you. To cherish you. To love you.

When he arrived at your leggings again, you rose your hips slightly, giving him permission to slide them down your legs. He kissed your thighs, the feeling of his lips against you making you tingle. He looked up at you one more time before hooking his thumbs underneath your panties, removing them slowly. He smiled.

You bit your lip, already aching for him.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked in which you giggled.

“Please.”

He ran his hands up your body as he settled himself between your legs.

“You’re already so wet, baby.” He smirked before kissing your core softly.

You gasped, a hand shooting to his hair immediately.

His tongue worked slowly, taking in your taste as much as it could. He reached one hand up for your free hand to grab. You took it gladly, squeezing it tightly as his tongue worked against you. He sucked gently on your clit, allowing a moan to escape your lips and your hips to buck forward.

“Please, Poe. Do-don’t stop” You whimpered.

You could feel him smile against you as his tongue continued to lick stripes up and down your throbbing pussy before pushing his tongue inside of you. You began to squirm, tiny whimpers and moans escaping your lips.

“Fuck, Poe.” You arched your back as the muscles in your belly began to tighten, “I’m gonna…”

He pulled back, his free hand rubbing tight circles on your clit, “Go ahead, baby.”

Almost on cue, you let out your release with a whimper of Poes name. He reattached his lips to your pulsating core to ride you through your orgasm, looking up at you as you tried to catch your breath. There was a shimmer in his eyes that you had never seen before. It almost made you want to cry.

He pulled off, licking his lips before crawling back up to you to kiss you again, “You taste so good, baby.”

You whined at his words, pulling him in to crash your lips to his. You reached down as you kissed him to play with his belt buckle. Without removing his lips from yours, he pulled his belt from the loops and unbuckled his pants. You pulled away, watching him as he removed his pants and boxers. Shit, he’s big.

You gulped before trying to adjust your position, reaching for him but he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“I want to take care of you,” You told him.

He shook his head, “This isn’t about me. This is about you, about us. I want to take care of you. Make you feel good.”

You relaxed, nodding slowly. He smiled, kissing you gently before reaching onto his nightstand and grabbing a condom. You stopped him and his face immediately dropped.

“Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head, “I want you to come inside me. I’m safe and on the pill.”

“Baby..”

“Please, Poe. I want this, I want you.” You begged.

He gave you a soft smile before nodding and placing the condom back in the nightstand. He leaned down to kiss your neck as he pumped himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he slowly pushed inside you. The new feeling caused your breath to catch in your throat. You closed your eyes, pulling him tighter to you. He was big, like nothing you had ever experienced before. The way he stretched you made you whimper.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his thumb stroking your cheek gently.

“I just, need a moment..you’re bigger than I expected,” You laughed sheepishly.

He chuckled, “You let me know when you want me to move, okay?”

You nodded, pulling him for another kiss. This time, it felt magical. It felt like there was nothing else to worry about in the world, like your past with Kyle didn’t even exist. You felt like Poe was the only person in your life that existed. This was the closest you had ever been to him. Literally.

You pulled away, his forehead resting on yours. “Move, Poe. Please,” You whispered.

He kissed you again as he slowly began to thrust in and out. You let your head fall back into the pillows as he pushed further inside of you. The ring connected to the silver chain that circled around his neck rested delicately on your chest as he thrusted.

“How’re you doing, sweetheart?” He brushed hair away from your forehead.

“Good, so good, Poe.” You said breathlessly, smiling up at him.

He smiled back at you, kissing you again, grabbing your arms that were wrapped around his neck. He intertwined his hands with yours, resting them on the either side of your head as he kissed your neck.

“Faster, Poe, please.”

He obeyed your request, picking up the pace. He let out a small groan, burying his head in your neck. You squeezed his hands tighter with a high pitched whimper. He made you feel so full, you were sure you never wanted him to leave from inside of you. 

One particular thrust brushed right over your sensitive spot, causing you to arch your back. Poe released his hands from yours, his arms snaking under your back and pulling you tighter to him.

“Is that it, sweetheart? That the spot?” He asked as he hit it again.

“Fuck, yes, Poe, right there,” You whined.

He managed to continue hitting the spot inside you that made you feel so fucking good. You felt your walls begin to clench around him and you gripped his back, fingernails digging slightly into his tan skin.

“You're so warm, Y/N. I love you,” He whispered in your ear.

You let out a loud moan, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut as he reached a hand down to rub tight circles against your clit.

“P-Poe, please,” It was barely audible.

“Almost there, baby. Can you hang on for a few more seconds?” He said breathlessly into your neck.

“Fuck, yes.” You grinded your hips against his as you both reached your high. You had had sex before, but none of it ever felt like this. You felt cared for, loved by, and connected emotionally to Poe. He made you feel wonderful, in more ways than one.

“Shit,” Poe whispered, “Can you cum for me?”

You nodded quickly as you completely clenched around his length. Squeezing him tightly against your chest, you wrapped your legs around his waist to push him all the way inside of you.

“Poe..” You moaned as you released.

“Y/N,” He followed immediately after you.

You gasped for breath as Poe thrusted lazily to ride you both out of your orgasms. Your hands tangled in his now damp hair as he collapsed fully on top of you. His hands snaked back around your waist as he rested his head on your chest.

You both lied there for a moment in comfortable silence catching your breath before Poe looked up at you.

“How was that? Are you okay?”

You smiled, hands continuing to play with his curls, “I am perfect.”

He smiled widely, leaning up to kiss you with such passion. He pulled away to rest his forehead atop yours.

“I love you,” He said gently.

“I love you too,” You kissed him again.

He pulled out of you, collapsing on the bed next to you. You frowned at the loss of contact.

He looked over at you and pulled you to him. You rested your head on his chest, your fingertips gently traced over the small initials tattooed above his heart, which by the way, was beating a million times a minute.

“Thank you,” You whispered, eyes focused on your fingertips.

He smiled, “You don’t have to thank me for anything. You deserve everything and more.”

Your eyes stung as you felt them begin to water with tears. You had never felt so loved before in your life. You had only known Poe less than a year, but it was like you had known him forever.

“Baby? You’re crying.” Poe squeezed your shoulder as he felt a teardrop hit his chest.

You looked up at him as another tear escaped your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He sat up a bit, pulling you closer.

“Nothing. I’m just overwhelmed with happiness,” You smiled softly through your tears, “No one has every made me feel so loved before.”

He gave you a soft grin, leaning down to kiss you again before pulling away and wiping your tears with his thumb.

“I love you, Y/N, so much. And I plan to prove it to you and show you your worth for as long as you’ll let me.”

You chuckled softly, wiping your tears and putting your head back on his chest, “You’re such a sap.”

“It’s just the truth!” He laughed.

“I know. I just...have never really felt this way before. I didn’t think I would be able to after...everything.” You sighed.

He traced tiny shapes on your back as you continued, “You’ve shown me hope and love. I cannot thank you enough, Poe. Because of you I think I’ll fully be able to heal completely. I trust you more than anyone. I know we only met nine months ago, butI feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

He was silent, all he gave you was a smile and a kiss to the crown of your head. You snuggled closer to him, closing your eyes and sighing happily.

“I think I’ll stay the night tonight,” You giggled as you yawned.

He smiled, “Sounds good to me.”

It didn’t take you long to drift off, but Poe laid still, stroking your back and staring up at the ceiling.

You had given yourself to him, something you were so scared of doing in fear that you would end up hurt and betrayed. He had known your past, your trauma, your secrets. You had told him everything.

But he hadn’t told you everything.

taglist<open> @twomoonstwosuns​ @darksideofclarke​ @damnyoudameron​ @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ @rewritingstarrs​ @aidela​ @softly-sad​ @fanfiction-trashpile​ @lanatheawesome​ @fantasticcopeaglepasta​ @the-cry-of-youth​ @yeeintensifies​ @itsamedeemoney​ @yougottakeeponkeepinon​ @cloud-leader​ @multifandomlife22​ @aroseamongthestars​ @liadamerondjarin​ @eternallyvenus​ @xremember-me-notx​

[lillegalloli94]

Moonlit Café

Back when I was in my last semester of college, I took a creative writing course and wrote a short ten-minute play called “Moth to the Flame” about a moth that fell in love with a spider and went to spend her last night with her. Since that play ended tragically, I’ve since imagined those characters in different scenarios and, of course, one of those scenarios is a coffee shop au.

Click… Click… Click… Click…

The mindless noise pinging by her ear was all Allura could do to keep herself awake in this late, dead hour.

Click… Click… Click…

The Moonlit Café prided itself in serving the nocturnal crowd into the darkest hours of night. Be it 3pm or 3am, they had a coffee fix for all types, from the earliest bird to the latest night owls. Of course, that did mean someone had to man the front line, and that someone, five days a week, was none other than Allura herself.

Click… Click…

She didn’t mind it too terribly. She was a moth herself so such a schedule was natural for someone like her. She didn’t have an issue with the hours itself but in the lack of action she typically saw on an average day. There were the regular patrons that liked to take advantage of the cool, quiet atmosphere; they’re the ones that kept the graveyard shift alive and kicking. But between those revitalizing few, was nothing but the smell of coffee, the lingering sweet air from the pastries and mindless, almost automatic, clicking.

Ding!

The front door’s bell chimed, a sudden shift but not alarming enough to encourage professionalism in Allura’s stature. The most her body would manage was get herself ready to ring up the customer at the till.

“Welcome to the Moonlit Café. Will you be dining in house this evening or to-go?”

“To-go,” a deep, husky voice spoke back to her, drawing her eyes up from the screen to find her patron staring down at her with dark, expectant eyes.

Now, Allura has dealt with spiders before and was self-assured that they never gave her pause for alarm. Sure, there were still people that would insist that they’d gulp her down in a second if given the chance, but she never took such warnings to heart. She’s seen small and cute little jumpers. She’s talked with gentle giants much too aware of their overwhelming size to want to hurt anyone. But this…this was possibly the first time she ever felt her chest seize up, her heart stilling and her breath catching in her lungs, under a spider’s striking gaze.

“Hello?” she waved a hand towards Allura, “Still there?”

Her normal body functions rebooted and her brain remember that she still had a job to do. “Y-Yes, sorry about that.” she straightened up her posture, her eyes looking much more awake and her antennae perked from their droopy dog positioning. A quick clearing of her throat and a kind smile and she was ready to serve. “What can I get for you?”

She followed her hand, long, slender fingers wrapping around her chin as she pondered the menu, “Hm… let’s go with a small mochaccino. Extra milk and whip cream.” she said, pointing towards the item’s picture display.

Allura tapped away on the till, ignoring the stabbing sensation ramming through her body while using up every fiber of her willpower to keep her hand from shaking. “Will that be regular or decaf coffee for your mocha?” she asked.

“Oh, decaf then.” she answered, the soft upturn in her tone sending a soft fluttering sensation through Allura’s stomach.

“Alright…” she successfully managed to restrain herself from squeaking out, “Will that be all for you?”

“Yep, think that’ll do it for me.”

“Gotcha. And…” she reached for a cup and braced her pen against the side, “could a get a name for you?”

Her spider guest stared at her for a moment. She supposed it was a strange request with it just being the two of them, but Allura considered it the perfect excuse to learn this new customer’s name. She was just doing her job, after all.

“Just Eva is fine. You don’t want to try writing my full name on that tiny thing.” she told her with a soft chuckle, waving off the idea of even trying to attempt the impossible.

“Just Eva, then.” Allura muttered, taking a second to make her penmanship as pretty as she could against the curved surface. She even went as far to as add a curling heart at the end of her name. “I’ll have it ready for you in a sec.”

Allura turned from the front counter and walked closer to the machine. She set the cup down with a soft tap and lifted her arms to let a second set of limbs sprout free from her sides. A couple extra hands always got the job done faster but she more liked the flare four arms could accomplish as opposed to two. It kept her mind entertained and sane to perform a little show, to add a bit of pizzazz to her coffee making process.

Extra milk, she reminded herself as she poured more into the cup. Extra whip, she shook the can and squeezed on a hearty amount while keeping the spiral neatly coiled. Some cocoa powder to dust it like chocolate snow and some chocolate shavings sprinkled on because why not.

The whole time, she could feel her heart thudding in her chest, her eyes desperately wanting to turn back and gauge her audience’s reception but held tightly to the strain. But she was watching, wasn’t she? This electrifying tingle she felt coursing through veins and tickling the ends of her nerves, she was definitely watching, waiting…staring.

“One decaf mochaccino, extra milk and whip cream.” Allura swallowed down the hum of her racing blood, topping the drink with a domed lid before passing it over.

“Looks good. So, what do I owe you?” she asked her, voice smoother that butter and richer than fresh cream. Her gaze lowered towards her wallet, a perfect display of her lovely lashes that added an extra sultry shade to her already dangerously seductive irises.

Immediately, a thousand answered raced across her brain, most of which pretraining to abandoning her post and taking the rest of the evening off with this late-night patron. But she couldn’t, not over coffee anyway.

Allura eased down those impulsive thoughts and gave her brightest smile that could rival the full moon waiting outside. “Actually, it’s on the house.” Okay, maybe one impulsive thought might have slipped past her.

Her guest gave a concerned raise of her brow, the corners of her lips turning upward in a nervous smile. “You sure about that?” she asked.

She couldn’t just take it back now, that would be even more off-putting. Double-down, she commanded, barking the order to the rest of her body, Double-fucking-down. “Certainly. It’s only a couple of bucks, anyway. Think of it as a free sample.”

She laughed softly, “And you’re positive you can be giving out free samples this good?” she asked, a bit of a smirk on her lips as she eyed the barista.

“You want to pay that badly?” Allura tilted her head, putting on an innocently curious façade.

She laughed a little louder this time, “I’d feel a bit better knowing my drink won’t be putting you in some future trouble.”

“Oh, if that’s what you’re worried about, it’ll be fine. The owner is one of my best friends. The worst she’ll do is take it out of my pay and I can live with that.” she said, unable to keep the bubbling giggle from escaping her lips. “However… if you really want to offer compensation, then perhaps… could you tell me what your full name is?” 

She could see the intrigue starting to come over her eyes again, flickers of bewilderment and a hint of suspicion rising in her gaze. 

Allura waved a hand, “No need to worry, I don’t plan on doing anything wicked with it. You’ve just got me curious about how long your full name would have been.”

The spider considered it, studying Allura’s eyes and possibly deciding how much she could trust her. She must have figured she could trust her word decently enough judging by the returning smile on her lips. She reached for her drink, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup and lifting it off the counter. “It’s Evangeline.” she said, tipping her cup slightly towards her server before turning, “Thanks for the drink.”

“Have a nice night.”

The door’s bell chimed again, a soft thud from the closing door leaving a gentle ringing in the air before everything died down into silence once more. It was then, when everything was still and her spider visitor’s figure disappeared into the dimly lit, midnight air, did Allura find it the perfect time to officially freak-the-fuck out.

Each of her four hands grabbed at her thick, rosy locks, pulling the hair over her face and squealing into its voluminous mass. What was that, her heart raced in her chest. What even was that?? The organ pumped harder and faster, feeling like it was about ready to explode in her ribcage. Is this death? Is this what death feels like? But it felt so warm and freeing and, honestly, kind of good too. No, actually, really good. The scared tingle of adrenaline tickling at the back of her head was amazing, like her body was truly living for the first time.

Her upper hands lowered her hair from her eyes, her glistening, pleading gaze searching the glass door and begging for her spider to come back sooner. To give her another dosage of her piercing eyes. Another taste of her dark chocolate voice. Another feel of her incredibly intimidating, towering stature. Allura already felt herself addicted to the spider’s surplus of flavor. And the icing on top, the juicy cherry sitting right on the peak, was that enchanting song of a name.

Evangeline. 

Evangeline. 

Had she ever known a name as enticing as Evangeline? Had she ever known one as charming, as stunningly gorgeous, as Evangeline? Surely not. She would have remembered. She would have been prepared for the striking beauty of the letters that made up Evangeline. This was new. A deep fascination. A worthwhile obsession. All for the spider known only as Evangeline.

(Disclaimer: I don’t drink coffee but I love the idea of cafes)

[sigritandtheelves]

Ground

Rating: Mature Timeline: post-Requiem, au Tags: angst, romance, aliens/mytharc, and (lord help me) fluff Words: 4.3 k

A/N: This is the fourth and final work in a series I’m calling Bearings that begins with “Drown,” “Surface,” and “Harbor,” following the reproduction arc from seasons 5-8. CW for all parts: mentions of some sensitive reproductive topics (IVF, loss, miscarriage, infertility, birth, etc.). Because I wanted to rework the season 8 mythology and timeline so it actually made sense, this is quite a bit more plot-heavy than the previous installments, but I hope it’s not too far off in tone from the others.

_+_

She comes home from the hospital to her empty apartment where there is nothing she wants to see, then to his empty apartment where she feeds his fish and draws circles with her left hand on her abdomen. We made you here, she thinks. On his couch, she watches the blank screen of his TV, dazed. His computer disappears. Her computer disappears. She vomits. She calls her mother. She meets the man that’s taken on the impossible task—so earnest, so by-the-book—so unequipped to find her partner.

A week after he’s taken, she stands among scrub grass and cacti, screaming his name into the dark. Beside her the boy Gibson touches her elbow. “It’s there,” he says and points.

“Where? Can you hear him?”

“Yes.”

But they are ripped away from the ship—by FBI helicopters and trucks, shot in the foot by their own people—before she can even think how to possibly reach him.

She comes, slowly, to trust this other man John, though he won’t believe her about Mulder’s abduction. She takes her prenatal vitamins with decaf coffee in the morning, grimacing at the taste. Her mother doesn’t understand, but brings her soup, crackers, ginger ale. She sits on the couch and watches her daughter cry, pats her knee with the empathy of a woman who has been pregnant and alone for long stretches, though never quite like this.

There is a sense of pressure in her belly, of fullness always, like she’s eaten too much, like there’s no more room. On a fuzzy monochrome screen she finds the shape of a peanut, hears the whoosh whoosh of a tiny heart and thinks Oh Mulder, it’s real. The doctor tells her that January 9 is her due date and she thanks her, takes the plasticky printout of the ultrasound paper to hang on her fridge. She touches the peanut shape in the mornings while she drinks her bad coffee alone.

A month goes by. Then two.

The air crackles hot in August and she burns with it—she has too much blood for this heat. Her suits are too tight, her skin is too tight. Her organs complain until one day she doubles over in pain as her strained abdominals split to make room for all her internal shifting. She thinks of those gestating monsters screeching to life in jelly-like bodies, of explosions of blood and claws in the Arizona heat.

“Agent Scully, you alright?” Doggett grips her arm and tries to straighten her, but the tearing sensation grows. She pulls the trashcan to her and vomits. He brings her water in a paper cup.

“You have some bad sushi or somethin’?” he asks.

She smiles at him sadly as she gets hold of herself. “Not quite.” She needs to tell him. The concerned look on his face pushes her over the edge. “I’m pregnant,” she says, and his concern turns to utter shock. When she tells him how far along, a new kind of understanding comes onto his face, but he doesn’t ask questions, for which she is very grateful. Eventually, he forgives her for not telling him sooner.

Two days after her confession, a crackling, distant voice comes through her phone. “Agent Scully,” it says: Gibson’s far-away voice. “Agent Scully, it’s coming back.”

She packs two bags and flies west.

_+_

Helena Montana, a drab motel room: Gibson, Scully, Doggett, Skinner.

“They’re bringing them back,” Gibson said, blunt as ever: “They’ve changed their brains.”

Doggett, pacing the small room, pinched his lips in frustration. “What are you talkin’ about?”

Behind his wire-framed glasses, the teenager narrowed his eyes. “They changed their brains so they can’t fight back. Mulder and the others. So they can’t fight back like I can.”

On the room’s small desk, a police radio squawked, and they all listened to hear if it were news. When it became clear that it wasn’t, Scully turned to Gibson.

“What you can do, that’s something that can be turned on, right? In some people or in everyone?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s why they wanted me so badly before. It’s why they’re still after me now.”

Skinner heaved a sigh and stood from the desk chair, but with John’s pacing, there was nowhere to go. “Alright, so now what? They’re just turning off this god module or whatever it is and dropping everyone back off? That’s it? We just wait to collect their trash?” Scully bit her lip to keep from objecting to this. Realizing what he’d said, Skinner winced, then softened his features.

“I think what’s important here,” Scully said, “is that we find the people who were taken and make sure they’re okay, and that we protect Gibson and any others who might help us win whatever might lie ahead. That means Gibson should stay here when we go out, and someone needs to stay with him.”

Skinner and Doggett looked at each other for a moment, battling it out in steely gazes. “I’ll stay with him,” Doggett said eventually.

“No,” Gibson’s eyes were wide. “Agent Scully has to stay.”

“What? No, I’m not staying. If Mulder is out there, I need to get to him.”

For the first time, Gibson looked frightened. He reached out his hand and touched Scully’s arm. “I couldn’t tell before, which is good. That means they don’t know either.” Wide eyes peering up at her, an unusual nervousness to his speech. “Agent Scully, your baby is like me.”

---

There were tears, some arguing, but in the end, they trusted Gibson. Skinner and Doggett patrolled as much land as they could until the reports started coming through the staticky radio: strange lights, electrical disturbances, car crashes from distracted drivers. And then—people in a field. Dazed. Lost. Uncertain how they’d gotten there.

Scully had taken up the path of Doggett’s pacing, hand on her belly, ear to the radio always. People in a field. People, not bodies. She felt little flutters of movement from inside her, sparked by her agitation, her restlessness. She thought: Be calm. I’m sorry. It’s okay.

The movements slowed.

She looked at Gibson, who was reading on one of the double beds. She saw him now as he must have been: an infant, someone’s child, a toddler stacking blocks: loved. And what he’d become: quarry, fodder, a weapon in someone else’s war: hunted. How few times she’d bothered to see him as the former, she thought, ashamed.

“Gibson, where are your parents?” She asked.

He looked up at her suddenly, as if in surprise. A little smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “You know, no one has asked me that in a long time.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t think they’re dead, but I haven’t seen them since I first met you. I think those men who wanted me took them.”

“And you haven’t tried to find them?”

He shook his head. “Not safe.”

Scully looked at his socked feet stretched out and stacked on the bed, his too-big tshirt, his khakis with holes in the knee. “Do you miss them?” she asked.

The smile was gone now. “Yeah.”

She walked over and sat beside him, put her arm around the boy, who stiffened at first before relaxing. She wondered how long it had been since someone hugged him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If… when we figure all this out, we’ll find your parents. We’ll make sure you have a family to stay with. Even if it’s us.”

Before the silence could stretch into awkwardness, her cell phone rang: it was Skinner.

“We got him,” he said. “I’m bringing him to you.”

---

They’d thought the location random—chosen for its sparse population, its vast expanses of open land, perhaps. But they were wrong. A UFO cult, a cluster of abductees in the outskirts of Helena had been kept off the map. This trip was a dropoff and a pickup, another round of collecting and neutralizing potential human weapons. Scully found this out later. After.

Skinner brought him back whole, as he’d promised, only three months late. Scully was out the door and on the sidewalk before the engine of Skinner’s rental car cut off, and they were flying to each other across a motel parking lot, crashing into each other with arms and lips and legs while Skinner stood awkwardly and rubbed his bald head.

“You’re back, you’re back,” she was saying into his mouth and his hand was buried in her hair as he fell back against the car with the weight of her, his muscles weak from disuse. “Are you okay?” Genuine concern in her voice, but she was also nearly laughing with relief, with the unbelievable solid weight of him here in her arms. He was wearing the same clothes he’d disappeared in, as if no time at all had passed.

Mulder kissed her again, buried his face in her neck. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just a little weak. A little confused.”

She touched his chin to lift his head, to look at him, touched his hairline, searched for new scars: two small ones at either temple and her bottom lip was trembling. “Oh Mulder, your poor head.”

He was shaking it, though, his soft hair tickling against her palms. “Nah, it’s okay. I don’t think there’s much more they can knock loose. Maybe even straightened things up a bit in there.” He smiled sheepishly. The look on her face was everything at once: love and relief and gratitude and sorrow and lust and hope.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

He kissed her again. “If I could remember, I’d know I missed you too.”

She took his hands and pulled him toward the motel. “Come on. There’s a lot to talk about, and then you need to rest.”

---

When all five of them were in the room, they talked about everything but one—the one thing she was saving to tell him in private. They tossed around ideas about how to save the world, Mulder and Scully thigh-to-thigh on one of the beds, inseparable. Doggett kept glancing at them, glancing away, fascinated by the magnetic pull of their presence together in a room. Skinner was used to it and untroubled. Gibson, overhearing things the others could not, blushed occasionally and looked perhaps the most uncomfortable of all. But it grew late and they could not know all the answers in one night.

Mulder and Scully rented a third room for themselves where, in the dim illumination of a bedside lamp, she held out her hand to him and gestured for him to sit. When he did, she lowered herself beside him, not touching. She was suddenly terrified in the small room, which smelled like very old cigarettes and cheap air freshener. He was watching her with increasing concern; she was gnawing her lower lip, afraid he wouldn’t be as happy about this news as she, afraid he would see it somehow as a betrayal, a weakness, a call to give up—all the things she knew he’d feared at one time.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said finally, eyes locked firmly on their feet, on his boots, still scuffed with Oregon mud.

“What?” he asked.

“I… I’m not sure how,” she began, careful with each word, “but it seems that sometime last year, something changed for me. Physically.” She chanced a quick look at him, found only concern and question. He pulled her hand into both of his and squeezed her fingers, offering encouragement. “Whatever infertility I experienced after my abduction… Mulder, it’s gone. I am most certainly not infertile anymore.”

His eyes narrowed at her words, considering them carefully, and then widened as he realized their import—she could almost see his heart beating, could almost hear it over the rattling of the air conditioner. “Scully,” he said. He swallowed. “How do you know?”

She almost pulled her hand away, sure he would let go anyway when she spoke her next words. “Because I’m pregnant,” she said, and then watched him carefully: “With your baby.” And goddamnit, she couldn’t help it, there was a smile tugging at her lips, even through her fear, because she’d hoped for and imagined this moment so many times in the last months, and here he was, alive and whole. They hadn’t talked about children again, not since they’d been together, not since that terrible time between Emily and Antarctica, and she had no idea what he might be thinking now.

“With my…” he said, trailing off, his face utterly inscrutable.

“I’m sorry to tell you like this. Before you were taken, I didn’t know.” She watched his face, anxious for any sign. She began to pull her hand away, but he held it tight. He lifted his eyes to hers: hooded, lost, vulnerable, but also… hopeful.

“My baby, Scully?”

Another twitch of a smile, her own hope irrupting. “Yeah.”

He did let go of her hand then, but only to touch her further, to pull her arms away so he could gaze at her middle, to pluck at the buttons of her black blazer. “How… how far along?”

She helped him with the buttons, revealed the gentle slope of her abdomen, a softness he’d not seen in her since before she was abducted. “About eighteen weeks,” she said. His fingers spread out, itching to feel, and then, so so gingerly, he touched her middle. Scully’s eyes closed at the sheer enormity of it, the feel of his hands, the knowledge of his understanding, finally finally. One of his hands moved to her cheek and she opened her eyes to his: wet and hopeful, sure and steady in his love. She cupped his face as well, and they looked at each other with thumbs to cheeks and lips as they had in his doorway a year ago.

“Are you okay?” she asked, tentative.

“Okay?” His eyebrows lifted. “Scully, this…” he was shaking his head and then grinning, remembering the warmth of his vision of a boy on the beach, the enormous flood of love he’d felt for her then, that he felt for her now, that he felt for some hypothetical child he hadn’t even known was possible. “I am so very okay, Scully.” And he kissed her again, one hand still on her belly, whispering into her mouth how much he loved her and how fucking happy he was going to make her, and she reveled in it for as long as she could, for a moment longer, drunk on this brief moment of pure hope and possibility, before she pulled back and held his eyes again.

“There’s more,” she said, because it was them, and of course there was more, and there was always something to haunt their happiness, always some cloud holding a future storm. Two parents, each exposed to different strains of a virus, both exposed to a vaccine, both exposed to the markings of a miraculous ship: epigenetic conjury working itself along their every double helix, activating, switching on in the tiny cells that would later become their child (and yes, though they could not know it then, in time their children). It was science and mysticism and love-magic, combining like a perfect syzygy. It was the history of them, their lives, their suffering, their work, their love, emerging of some dark alchemy into a perfect future person, housed now beneath his palm. “The baby will be like Gibson,” she said: a weapon and a target and a key.

“But it’s ours,” he whispered—it was a question and a statement.

“Yes,” she said. “Only ours. Of that I’m sure.” And therefore so much more than merely weapon, target, key.

She hauled him onto the bed with her and they stripped each other bare. His mouth found all the newish parts of her changing body and poured its devotions onto each in turn. Her skin was on fire, her body aflame with reunion and relief and the hot glow of life in her every heartbeat. Her toes curled against the hair of his calves. Her back stretched in an arc, pressing ever toward him. She could feel her pulse between her legs. She begged him to cut his worship short and to just please fuck her now because she was dying without him and she’d been dying this whole time, even though her insides said otherwise, and she needed him everywhere but mostly inside her now. He did not need convincing. He gave and she took and she gave and he took and they came together in sweetness, then collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs, his fingers on her belly. He rubbed small circles, wishing he could feel the same little movements she could. They slept and slept until the sun was high and Skinner was banging on their door.

They answered, barely dressed and blinking against the too-bright August sunshine. There was more to do. Always more: paperwork and planes to catch and the news of more abductions. The syndicate may have been ash in the wind, but the war raged on, indefinite.

_+_

This is the truth that they learn: that there are no happy endings, no tragic endings, no endings at all really—only the infinite struggle, the work, the dark seeping in at the edges, and their love to push it back. There are moments, stringing out into the future. He fingers the monochrome peanut shape on the ultrasound tacked to her fridge, and a faraway smile booms on his lips. She presses the tips of his fingers to her belly where she swears there’s a foot, but he shakes his head. She tells him soon. He drinks her bad coffee in the morning (“It’s decaf, sorry”) while they plot a new resistance against the end times, elbow to elbow at her kitchen table.

Without much fuss, they request transfers to Quantico for consulting work, where they can stay below the radar. They let his apartment lease run out, and his things crowd into her space for a time. Doggett suggests a new partner for the X-Files, a woman with the right kind of background, and then they are six against the world including Gibson, nine with the Gunmen.

“Do you want to know?” The doctor asks.

They look at each other. There’s such giddiness in his eyes: he is bouncing on his toes and she bites her lip to stop from laughing. The gel on her abdomen has warmed to match the temperature of her skin. She nods, unable to deny his excitement. “Okay.”

A new image joins the peanut: a bigger peanut but with vaguely humanoid features, a tiny hand in the air (“He’s waving!”).

He finds some land, a farmhouse: isolated, but not too far. He buys it. They will let her lease run out as well. They move, which takes too long because he won’t let her carry anything heavier than a lamp. She doesn’t mind. She feels overflowing and overfull: ready already, though she has a month to go yet. On the creaky floorboards of their new (old) porch, he tells her to close her eyes.

“Oh no,” she says. “What have you done?”

“Just close your eyes!”

She does, and he leads her through the door, aligns her body where he wants it, fiddles with something, and then says, “Okay, open.”

It’s a Christmas tree: a pathetic little thing, exactly what her Charlie Brown would pick, but he’s done the lights up and they shine so pretty. There’s only one ornament, a little white bassinette. She can’t help it: she cries.

The heater clanks and the water pressure isn’t perfect, but the place is. The house is so utterly them, with her heirloom bookshelves, her modest antiques, his ridiculous kitsch and clutter (an alien bobblehead on the mantle joins her carefully chosen candles). His Navajo blanket finally meets her plush couch and clashes terribly, wonderfully. Her boxes, marked in color-coded labels, come open beside the ones marked “Mulder stuff” in hasty sharpie. Their things forge a strange and heady intimacy of contradiction that parallels their own story.

On their first real night in the house, they grin stupidly at each other across the pillows in the light of a waxing moon. It feels impossible. They grasp the moment and hold it anyway. His arm breaches the space between them, hand cupping her belly. “What is that, a knee? Feels too big.”

She finds where his fingers are and laughs. “That’s his butt. Look, see, he’s still sort of sideways. But his head is moving down.”

“That’s good, right?”

Another goofy smile. “Yeah.”

He brushes her cheek with his knuckles, so in love with her he can’t stand it. “Three weeks,” he whispers, and she nods. But after a moment, the smile fades. The house settles and creaks around them. The bed sheets rustle as she rolls to her back.

“I’m worried,” she says.

“About the birth?”

A frown as she thinks. “In a way, but not how you think. I’ve been thinking of how embedded the syndicate was in the medical establishment, how vulnerable spaces like hospitals are when our enemies can look like anyone.”

He’s frowning now too. “Do you think someone will try to take him?”

A pause, a bit too long. “I don’t know.” She rolls to face him again, the weight on her back too much. “Probably not.”

“That’s not good enough. What can we do?” he asks.

“I may have an idea,” she says.

---

On New Year’s Day it snows, a fine white coating at dusk. They stand on the porch to watch, he wrapped in his well-worn blanket, she in his arms. The sound of the snow is like leaves rustling, but steady, persistent, soft. “They’ll be here,” he says; his voice rumbles against her back, chin moving against the top of her hair.

“Even in the snow?”

He kisses her head and wraps the blanket more tightly around them. “Yeah.”

The Lone Gunmen come bearing gadgets and Gibson, who has been staying with them. Frohike wears a red stocking cap and holds up a bottle of whiskey. “Happy Holidays!”

“We saw you for Christmas a week ago, Melvin.” Mulder is laughing as he lets them all in.

“The holiday is not over until the clock strikes midnight on January 2, and you can quote me on that.” He slaps the bottle of whiskey against Mulder’s chest on his way past.

Around the table, they eat and are merry, some faces growing redder from high spirits of all kinds, others from the fire. They have brought Gibson to be their guard, their alarm should the wrong person come near, but also as their friend. He will stay until the baby is born, and after if he likes. It’s been so long since he’s known family.

On the twelfth, she feels the first real contraction and by evening, she is breathing hard through them. Arms linked around his neck, she hangs and sways, moving her hips.

“Should I make the call?” He asks, and she nods. “I’ll make the call.”

The midwife arrives at nine, certified, but illegal in the state of Virginia. She is a spunky woman of sixty, well vetted by both the Gunmen and Gibson, who lets her in and smiles at whatever he hears in her mind. He stays by the door when the excitement moves upstairs.

Maggie appears next, and her daughter cries when she sees her. “Oh, mom,” she says, teary, sweating, gripping Mulder’s arms in only a tank-top and underwear. “How did you do this four times?” And then she is racked again by another contraction, burying her face in Mulder’s chest. He rubs her back and murmurs encouragement for a full two minutes of quiet groans.

By two a.m. she is on her knees on the stripped bed, gripping the footboard and leaning back, pushing hard as Mulder holds her gaze and whispers words of love. He is born at 2:36 a.m. on January 13: William Scully Mulder, red and roaring, caught by his father and lifted straight into his mother’s arms with tears all around, save the midwife, who smiles and checks and makes notes and says, “Oh Dana, you did so well.”

By the time the first light of dawn breaks through the bedroom windows, the midwife has gone home and the little family sits propped on pillows, in warm blankets and soft pajamas on the remade bed. William has been wiped clean and nursed, weighed and measured, swaddled and kissed. He sleeps the dreamless and hard-earned sleep of the newly born. His parents’ eyes move between each other and the child, not sure what else to do under the weight of what this night has brought.

Maggie tiptoes in with two mugs of tea, which she sets on the bedside table. “Do you want me to take him? You two should sleep. I don’t mind.”

Scully nods and gratefully passes William to his grandmother, who says goodnight and slips into the nursery.

In the quiet of their bedroom, they are alone again, dazed by the enormity of the wide, unimaginable future. Mulder cups her face, kisses her nose, her lips. “You’re incredible,” he says.

“I’m a mess,” she says, and laughs.

“Let’s do it again,” he says, and the look she gives him could shatter glass. But she is smiling, too.

“Things might be okay,” she reasons, posing it as both a question and a statement.

“Yeah. I think they might.” He bumps her shoulder, nips at her ear, pulls her down into the blankets and pillows to rest.

There are still worlds to save, still many battles in this endless war. But there are other kinds of moments waiting, too. Here is where they will hold their ground: in this house and in each other.

- end -

This was probably the hardest thing I’ve written because the pacing and reconstructing a new plot for s8 didn’t seem to fit with the way I’d told the other installments. I was a grumbly mess for a long time in writing it, and I’m still not totally happy. But thanks so much for reading. Tagging @peacenik0 who listened to me complain, and @kateyes224 who offered a quick second pair of eyes and some reassurance. Thank you, friends!

[cryptidsandcatacombs]

Coffee Date

Summary: Tagora and Oz are out enjoying a small coffee shop on Alternia. Oz has a few mental issues to sort out and Tagora is being a sneaky ferret.

A/N: Take my s/i and what they are as part of a Homestuck/Hiveswap AU where I change the canon facts a little. I am aware of canonical facts concerning trolls and their biology as well as cultural norms, but again this is an AU and also *gives you a permit that says “I do what I want”*. 

I should also specify that adults are indeed allowed on Alternia in my self insert  au and Tagora and Oz are both depicted as 18+

It was a Fall day on Alternia. Well, what someone like Oz would consider Fall weather. The weather on Alternia was anyone’s guess on this bitch of a planet anyways.

Oz was wearing a lovely purple scarf given to him by Gamzee. It was a bit clumsily made at first but Gamzee did his best. With a bit of help from Marvus and Kanaya, the scarf turned out amazing. Gamzee said it was sort of something to “make a brother feel all welcome and shit into the dark carnival family.”  The Dark Carnival being the name of the circus run by the purple bloods.It was wild and eccentric, but never left you bored. Then again, boring was never in a purple trolls nature. That’s one of the things Oz liked about them. He was still getting used to being a part of it himself. Though, despite his best efforts, he wonders if he’ll ever truly belong with them, even if he is a purple blood himself. 

“But I’m only half,” he whispered to himself. Suddenly, his phone rang interrupting his thoughts. The phone ID said the words “GorGor” on it. Oz answered it without a second thought. 

“Hey Gorgor what’s up,” Oz said casually. “Same old as always,” Tagora said with a pleased smirk. “I just called to inquire if you wanted to join me for a nice cup of coffee a bit of a ways into my area. It’s about a 5 minute walk from my office.” “Don’t you usually make your own coffee,” Oz asked. Tagora could be incredibly picky about his coffee. “That’s not what I asked.” Straight to the point as ever. “Or does practice schedule not agree with this,” Tagora asked.  It’s true the circus practice schedule left him somewhat busy. Being both a tightrope act and a tarot reader was no joke. Also, not to mention everyone on Alternia wanted to come see the half troll from Earth. It was an overnight sensation. 

“Nope, not today. It’s a bit of an off season right now,” Oz answered. “Excellent, meet me by my office in 10. Don’t be late,” he said with a click of the phone. He hung up afterward.  “As expected, he never likes to waste time with pleasantries,” Oz said heading towards his office. It was going to be a boring day anyhow. All the other trolls were off doing something or another. Gamzee was having a jam with Tavros, Marvus was off doing god’s knows what, Karako was doing his own little art projects,and etc. Oz would have called Tagora earlier himself, but he didn’t want to bother him in case he was busy. Guess that answers that question. 

Luckily, it wasn’t much of a walk to get to Tagora’s place. He kind of knew how to get there by heart by now anyhow. Oz gave a timid knock at the door. He was probably inside not wanting to be outside for as much as possible. This is another reason why Oz was surprised he asked to go to a cafe out of the blue. Being in a somewhat open and social environment isn’t really Tagora’s style. What was going on today? The door opened for Oz and he stepped inside. Tagora was busy getting his coat and scarf. Both in shades of teal and purple. Oz looked around as Tagora quietly got his stuff together. Oz would never stop being impressed with Tagora’s interior decorating nor his cleanliness. It smelled nice too. Wait, was that smell actually Tagora? What scent was he wearing? It was a nice floral scent, but also had a hint of cologne to it. Very nice combination. 

“Ready to go,” Tagora said suddenly stepping into Oz’s line of sight. “Oh yeah sure,” Oz still kind of startled. It was then Oz noticed Tagora’s lusus over his shoulder. The ferret gave him a soft bit of acknowledgement. The lusus was already used to his presence. 

“Well, then lets go. The seats in this place are sporadic and I don’t like standing around waiting for a table,” Tagora said leading him off. “Oh yeah, good idea,” Oz said following behind him.

“By the way, nice scarf.” Wow, a compliment from Gorgor was as rare as a blue moon. “Thanks. Gamzee, Marvus and Kanaya made it for me. Gamzee wanted to make me a gift,” Oz said giving a sentimental smile. Tagora made a small noise that made him sound almost impressed. “Whats up,” Oz asked. “Nothing just uh...never mind. Coffee shop is up here,” Tagora said clearly avoiding the question. 

Oz had passed by this coffee shop a few times himself, but had been putting off going in.There were a few trolls outside. Some clearly art students. Tagora opened the door for Oz to step in. As Oz stepped through, Oz could tell that it wasn’t that crowded. Guess too many people don’t want coffee at this time of day. Pity. It was a nice day for it.  Tagora was already off at the counter ordering for what appeared to be both of them. “Wow, not even gonna ask me,”Oz mumbled. Fair enough though. He probably knew more about Alternian coffee and tea than he did at this moment. Being around juggalos meant drinking lots of faygo and water. None of them were really that much of tea or coffee drinkers.  Tagora came back with a couple of cups ushering Oz to sit in a nice place downstairs. “It’s a bit quieter down here to be honest. The only people you’ll find down here are people trying to study or writers,” Tagora shrugged picking a table towards the wall. Everything screamed him wanting to be away from people as much as possible. So again, why invite Oz out. 

“I ended up ordering you the closest thing to a decaf mocha or whatever it was on the menu.” Now it was Oz’s turn to be impressed. “What? You don’t think I remember your preferences. For shame,” Tagora snarked. “But you didn’t ask,” Oz still kinda confused.  “That’s cause I know you’re still having problems reading our writing and you can’t really understand cafe jargon yet I’m guessing. Plus, I know you get nervous in those situations. Your as much of an anxious wreck as I am face facts,” Tagora said in a matter of factly voice. “Plus, you don’t think I remember this stuff? Of course I do.”  “Oh yeah. I told you that a few months back didn’t I,” Oz remembered. Tagora was being strangely open today. What was going on? What was up with Tagora period? Did he lose a bet or something?

“Anyways, how’s practice going? No accidents via the tight rope as of late I hope,” Tagora said taking a small sip of what could be described as something with a dark, burboun but very rich scent. Slightly sweet actually. “Meh,I had a close call the other day. Luckily, Gamzee has fast reflexes and a quick panic button,” Oz explained as he took a sip of the mocha. Wow, this was so nice. Tagora really did know what he was doing. 

Oz looked up and..wait, was that panic on Tagora’s face. “Hey, you ok,” Oz asked taking notice being a bit concerned. “Yeah um I”m fine.” Liar. Tagora moved to once again change the subject. “They seem to be treating you well. That’s nice to have here on big bad Alternia.” Tagora was apparently trying to prod something out of Oz.   “Yeah they are...” Oz said seeming distant. Tagora’s lawyer mind had already detected red flags. “But...” Tagora said getting to the point. Oz was taken aback.  Well, no use hiding it now. Oz was used to Tagora being able to see right through him. To be honest, having someone like that around him that can see right through his bullshit is refreshing.  “Well....god, how long has it been since I came to Alternia. Like almost a year,” Oz explained. “I’m just...I’m still getting used to the idea of being half Alternian. Ever since Dad found me and explained what he was...what I was...I thought I’d be ok,” Oz continued. 

Oz then pointed at the several troll features that were slowly starting to develop on his body. He was in his 20s sure, but he was a late bloomer. His horn had fully grown and his teeth and eyes were following after. “When I started growing these, I was with my mother who didn’t tell me who my father was. My dad didn’t even know he had a kid,” Oz said kind of sadly.

“Does your mom know you’re here,” Tagora asked even though he kind of knew the answer. “No. Dad kind of found out about me on one of his visits to Earth. He wasn’t too happy mom hid me from him. She was kind of an abusive bitch anyhow,” Oz said bluntly. “So, it’s best she doesn’t know.”

“And to be honest, I’ve been getting acquainted at the idea of being a purple blood, but..” Oz cut off trying to find the words to say. Tagora leaned forward with a raised eyebrow. “I have no idea if I really fit in. Like they can rap. I can’t. I don’t have much of the clown thing going for me. What am I? Why am I here? What can I do? I want to be part of them so bad, but what if I can’t.” Oz held his head in his hands semi defeated. This had been bugging him for ages, but was afraid to tell his best friend Gamzee because he was afraid it would make him and the rest of the purple bloods like they weren’t doing a good job. That’s the last thing Oz wanted especially since they have been so welcoming and kind. 

The sound of a chair can be heard backing up. The sound of steps moved closer to Oz. Oz looked up to see Tagora placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Give me your hands for a minute,” Tagora asked. Oz did as he said. Tagora took them both gently in his hands. 

“Listen Oz,” Tagora said rubbing Oz’s hands in little circles with his thumbs,”You really do fit in with them in so many ways. They’re a pretty accepting and laid back bunch, which you are. You may not be able to do what they can do, but it’s ok to be just a little different. I’m pretty sure they are too. They just want you to be a part of their lives Oz. They worry about you. I hope you know that. You’re going to fit in, even if you’re different and you’re not going to lose them. I promise.” 

Tagora always did have a habit of getting to the heart of a problem. It was his habit as a lawyer and as someone whose very much sharp as a whip. He may not be able to socialize much, but it’s moments like these where he shines. 

“Besides, you’re a circus clown in your own way,” Tagora joked. Oz smirked and laughed a little. “Besides, don’t you have your own song writing and creative writing thing you do. It’s not rap or painting, but it’s your own thing . Trust me when I say you’re definitely one of them,” Tagora smirked. 

“Hey Tagora...,” Oz said smiling a little,”Thanks.” 

“Hey, I’m here ok. Just don’t be afraid to open up to them ok,” Tagora grabbing the cup from his original seat.

Oz gave a small smile. “Ok but no promises.” 

Tagora shrugged. Something told him that’s was as far as he was getting right now. “Anyhow, tell me when your next show is,” Tagora asked.

“Why do you ask,” Oz said with a raised eyebrow. Wouldn’t he hate going to something like that?

“Curious. I want to see where our schedules land,” Tagora answered.

“Oh, in a month. We don’t have as many shows this time of year,” Oz explained. “Noted,” Tagora said taking a sip of his coffee. 

Oz took a sip of his as well, but Oz couldn’t help but feel like Tagora was hiding his own secrets. Could just be the mocha or emotional high he was on, but Oz shook it away as just being paranoid. 

Tagora walked Oz back to his hive where Gamzee was waiting. “Hey Gorgor. See you helping a brother out,” Gamzee said giving Tagora and small wave. “It’s fine just please use netting under those tight ropes please,” Tagora said in a bit of a naggy tone. 

“Oh, you told him about your accident the other day huh,” Gamzee chuckled. “Yeah, but I’m fine as you can see,” Oz sighed. Tagora pulled Oz into a quick hug. “Just take care of yourself ok,” Tagora said before walking back to his own hive.

“So Gamgam, how was your jam quest with Tav” Oz asked letting Gamzee in. The sound of a huge dog was running to the door. The dog lusus was about as big as Oz. That wasn’t saying much seeing as Oz was 5′2. 

“Oh you know. Crack some sick motherfucking beats. Lay done some wicked lyrics. Ya know how it is,” Gamzee said petting Oz’s lusus. 

“So what you been all up to,” Gamzee asked flopping over onto the couch. “Went to a coffee shop with Tagora. It’s weird. He’s never usually into doing that stuff. He even asked when my next show was. He’s been acting weird all day.”

“Mmmhmmm about that. I was kinda waiting and keeping this little thing all up to myself and shit, but I think you gotta know seeing as it’s not ok to leave a brother confused and all,” Gamzee said. “We’ve been kinda noticing you haven’t been your old beautiful self, so we may have kind of caught Gorgor after one of our shows to lay down the deetz. He goes to all of them you know. I know you be all not up with the facts, but he does. You perform late, so I’m not surprised you don’t up and notice him from your tarot tent,” Gamzee explained.

“Wait, what, but he hates going to places like that.” This was shocking to say the least. “He does don’t get me wrong, but he cares. It’s why he all up and invited you for a feelings jam at the cafe. We told him we kinda had a hunch you hadn’t been yourself and something wasn’t right up in that thinkpan of yours and I think that kinda worried him a bit. We thought that you might be feeling a little out of place, so he thought maybe taking you to more places like a cafe would be a mighty fine solution. I figured that whatever you weren’t ready to be sharing to us you’d share in time. So, may as well get it all out with someone who can help,” Gamzee explained with a small smile.

“So wait he took me to a cafe cause he wanted me to feel comfortable with Alternian life and talk about my problems at the same time,” Oz asked. “Yeeepp,” Gamzee confirmed. 

“Oh,” Oz face palmed. That explaines so much. “Shhiittt, he even suggested we make that nice scarf for you. Something about making you feel more at home or whatever. I was trying to use this old thinkpan of mine to think of a motherfucking idea on how to do that and Gorgor be all up and knowing a lot of amazing things, so I asked him,” Gamzee explained.

Well, that explains why he wanted to change the subject. Tagora you absolute goober. “But uh listen my brother, whenever you wanna slam down a cold one and have a good feelings jam, I’m here for ya,” Gamzee said giving Oz a soft but slightly protective hug. 

“Actually, can we do that,” Oz asked. May as well. This afternoon with Tagora may have been just what Oz needed. 

[xoxopimpimxoxo]

CHAPTER REVEAL: DIRT (BOOK 1) of EVERGREEN SERIES by CASSIA LEO 

Title: DIRT

Author: Cassia Leo

Series: Evergreen Series

Release: January 12, 2018

DIRT - CHAPTER 1 LAUREL

I hugged Jack Jr. tightly against my breast, and he molded his soft, warm body to mine. His eyes remained closed as his tiny fingers curled around the fabric of my blouse, his rosy lips puckering as he geared up for more food.

“You sucked me dry, little fella,” I whispered, leaning in to press my nose against the downy-soft, golden hair on the top of his head. I inhaled his scent and my muscles unspooled. “But I’ll be back to feed you soon. I promise.”

Why do babies smell so damn good?

Before I got pregnant with Junior, my favorite smell was orange blossoms. As a teenager, I often got scolded by my mom for picking the flowers off the orange tree in our backyard in Portland. I’d rub the creamy petals between my fingers, bruise them with my fingernails, then sniff my hand for hours until the scent wore off.

When I was pregnant with Junior, my favorite scent became the rich aroma of the forbidden coffee I could no longer drink.

After Junior was born, and my decaf days came to a glorious end, I realized how wrong I’d been. There was absolutely no scent as sweet and soul-quieting as the smell of the top of a baby’s head. Bonus points if the baby was lying peacefully on your chest sound asleep.

“Are you ever going to put him down?”

I flicked my head sideways, startled by Jack’s clear, baritone voice.

He stood in the doorway of Junior’s nursery, the silhouette of his six-foot-three athletic body framed by the warm light in the hallway. His head was tilted to the side. He’d probably been standing there admiring us for a while. After six years together, I knew Jack’s body language and facial expressions better than I knew my own face.

I stood from the rocking chair and stole one more sniff of Junior’s head before I placed him gently on his back in the center of the crib. I adjusted the left sleeve of his pajamas, pulling it down to make sure it covered his entire chubby arm. I didn’t want to imagine him waking up cold and alone in here.

Jack appeared at my side as I switched on the video baby monitor. “He’s going to be fine,” he murmured, reaching down to stroke the soft patch of hair on Junior’s head. “In fact, he’ll probably enjoy some time alone. After all, he is just like his daddy; sometimes, we need a break from the constant attention from the ladies.”

I rolled my eyes and headed for the door. “Making jokes only makes leaving him slightly less scary, you know,” I said as we stepped into the hallway of our five-bedroom home in Hood River, Oregon. I couldn’t wait to fill up every one of these bedrooms with brothers and sisters for Jack Jr.

Jack chuckled as he followed closely behind me. “Less scary is an improvement,” he replied, grabbing my hand to stop me in the middle of the corridor. “You promised Junior you’d be back soon. Can you also make me a promise?”

The hallway lights made his brown hair look glaringly shiny, but I couldn’t help but notice how weary his blue eyes looked tonight. Since Junior arrived three months ago, I’d been so focused on my baby boy’s vulnerability, his scent, his beauty, I hadn’t slowed down enough to appreciate how those were the same qualities that made me fall in love with Jack.

Suddenly, my worries about leaving Junior with my mother for the evening evaporated. All I wanted to do was kiss Jack, grab hold of that dark hair and make love to him for hours. I wanted to replace the weariness in his eyes with dark hunger, or maybe a glint of mischief.

I squeezed his hand and smiled at the thought of possibly having sex with him in public tonight. We hadn’t done that in a while.

“What kind of promise?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nope, you’re not allowed to ask. Just promise me you’ll say yes.”

My stomach vaulted at the sound of those words. They were the same words Jack spoke when he asked me to marry him. I wondered what he would ask this time.

The phrase “just promise me you’ll say yes” had become like an inside joke, our own private, unspoken promise to each other that we would always do whatever it took to stay together. The last time he had uttered this phrase, he asked me to stop taking my birth control pills. With Junior here, it was easy to trust that whatever Jack asked me for this time would turn out to be exactly what I needed.

I tilted my head back so I could look up and into his crystal-blue eyes. “Yes, I can make you a promise.”

His expression became sober. “Promise me you’ll be present tonight.” He fixed me with a piercing gaze as his large hand cupped my face. “It’s just you and me for the next three hours. Promise me.”

I smiled. “I promise. Just you and me. And I’ll even put my cell phone on vibrate.” As I said the words, a sharp finger of fear prodded my subconscious, telling me it was a bad idea to risk missing a phone call tonight.

The weariness in Jack’s eyes melted away as he smiled. “I can deal with that, but you have to promise me one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

His smile turned almost menacing as he looped his arm around my waist and drew me close. “Promise me you’ll lemme smash that blonde bombshell booty,” he said, landing a light swat on my ass.

I shook my head as I recalled how we often had sex in public during our first year together, in our senior year at Oregon State University, Cascades. For some reason, once we graduated and moved in together, having sex in public seemed like something we couldn’t get away with so easily. We decided public throw downs — throw down was our nickname for sex — would be reserved for special occasions like anniversaries or vacations.

Truthfully, Jack and I kicked off our relationship by having sex on the first date. He was always a very difficult man to resist. When he showed up at my apartment to pick me up that night, I couldn’t resist his suggestion that we should stay in and make paper masks of ourselves, then put them on and ask each other first date questions as if we were the other person. I had never laughed so much on any date. Ever. But when he asked — while pretending to be me — if I’d ever had sex with someone on the first date, I couldn’t help but respond with, “I’m Jack-fucking-Stratton. I’ve fucked a lot of girls on the first date. But none as gorgeous as you.”

Jack always knew how to keep things fresh and alarmingly sexy. Six years in and my body still craved him almost every second of every day.

Today was our three-year wedding anniversary. We’d only had sex twice since I gave birth to Junior three months ago, and both of those times were truly awkward.

The first time was painful. My C-section incision hadn’t fully healed yet, and even trying to have sex with him behind me was uncomfortable. The second time we tried, Jack was so afraid of hurting me, he stopped midway through. There’d been a lot of oral sex happening in this house since then.

Luckily, a few weeks had passed since our last attempt, and I had repeatedly assured him I was fully healed up now. I was certain that even if the sex did hurt a little, it would still be worth it. I couldn’t understand couples that didn’t consider sex an important part of a relationship. I never felt more complete, more present, more alive than when my body and mind were entwined with Jack’s.

I smiled as I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I think I know just the place for a proper throw down.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Ooh. Tell me more.”

As he leaned in to kiss me, my mother’s voice interrupted us.

“Are you two making out again?” she said, standing at the top of the stairs with her hands on her hips as she gawped at us. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Jack laughed and I shook my head as we moved toward her.

“We’re just trying to keep you entertained while you’re on vacation, Beth,” Jack said.

My mother cocked an eyebrow. “If I wanted to watch porn, I’d open up your laptop and have a look at your internet history.”

“Mom, don’t be gross,” I protested, trying not to laugh.

Jack smiled as he held out his elbow for my mom to grab hold as they descended the stairs in front of me. “I made a special collection of links for you. They’re in a folder labeled Tantric Geriatric. You’ll love it.”

I rolled my eyes. Jack and my mother exchanged jabs like this all day.

My mother was staying with us for a few days, so Jack and I could have some time to ourselves and get some much-needed uninterrupted sleep. She was leaving tomorrow to go back to the house where I grew up in Portland. Though she pretended as if she was desperate to get home to her Craftsman cottage in the city, and I even teased her about how she was dying to get back so she could see the handsome new neighbor she’d been going on about, I knew she was going to miss Jack’s pretend insults as much as she would miss Junior and me.

My mother practically shoved me toward the front door. “I order you to go have fun,” she said, smiling as Jack opened the door and stepped outside. “And don’t come home until you’re too drunk to walk.”

I shook my head. “Thanks, Mom. Please call if you need anything. And don’t answer the door for anyone. There’s a house that got broken into a few streets away.”

She waved off my paranoia. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll be fine. See you later, babe.”

I blew her a kiss, then I closed the door behind me.

* * *

“I have to admit, having sex on the waterfront was one of my favorite public throw downs ever,” Jack said, pulling his Tesla into the long driveway of our four-acre dream home. “But do we really have to wait until our fourth anniversary to do it again?”

I tugged the silky fabric of my skirt straight as I pressed my thighs together. Though my body was still raw with the evidence of the dirty deed we’d just committed, I couldn’t wait to get Jack inside and pounce on him again. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the sensation of him moving inside me, and how good he was at making me feel beautiful.

“We can do that anytime we can snag a babysitter,” I replied as he turned the car off.

He made no move to exit the Tesla. “Well, babycakes, you’d better get ready to interview a fuck-ton of babysitters.”

I laughed. “Babycakes? That’s a new one.”

Jack rarely used the same term of endearment twice in a row. He liked to keep me guessing.

He scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, that one was kind of creepy. Now that I’ve tried it out, I think I can bury that one in the nickname graveyard.”

“Try the incinerator,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

“Duly noted,” he replied, exiting the vehicle.

Jack and I glided unhurriedly along the flagstone walkway, which was lined with sparkling pathway lights. As we made our way toward the steps leading up to the covered porch, I stopped in the middle of the path and closed my eyes as I inhaled the sweet scent of the lavender and honeysuckle I’d planted with my mom’s help.

That was when I made a wish, a corny wish, but I didn’t care.

I wished that every person could find someone they loved as much as I loved Jack. I wished every child could feel as loved as Junior was. And I wished every anniversary could be as perfect as this one.

“No… No, no, no!” Jack’s voice grew louder with each no.

They say mother’s intuition is scientifically proven to exist. I knew by the tone of Jack’s voice, without even opening my eyes, that my world would never be the same. I knew in that instant, I would regret leaving Jack Jr. tonight for the rest of my life.

Though I knew something was wrong, I wasn’t prepared for what we found.

At some point, while we were lost in our blissful celebration, the front door of our home had been forced open. This discovery was what had made Jack cry out in disbelief. Father’s intuition must also be a thing, because he told me later that, even though the door was still closed, the moment he saw the gouges in the wood near the handle, he had felt that same sense of dread. That feeling that the universe had suddenly tilted on its side, discarding us into black nothingness.

The house was ransacked.

Furniture upended, paintings and flatscreen televisions torn off the walls, shards of shattered vases littered the floors. Complete and utter chaos.

The master bathroom doorknob looked as if it had been shot off. We found my mother’s lifeless form huddled against the bathtub, my baby boy’s dead body clutched tightly in her arms.

** END OF EXCERPT **

DIRT Synopsis:

A hard-hitting, emotional new series from New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo.

Jack and I had everything. Then, in one brutal instant, the universe tilted on its side, discarding us into black nothingness. Now, I have a cocky a**hole for a husband. The only way we communicate anymore is when we’re fighting or f**king. With nothing left to lose, I write Jack a goodbye letter and head for Portland, where I quickly meet a neighbor who helps me find a job. My new neighbor—broody, tattooed ex-soldier Isaac Evans—is complicated. Nevertheless, we form a fast friendship, bonding over our mutual desire to create something beautiful from the wreckage of our lives. But despite the distance between us, Jack and I are still trying to make things work—fighting and f**king dirtier than ever. And he doesn’t appreciate my new friendship with Isaac. Not one f**king bit. 

Links: 

iBooks: http://bit.ly/dirtibooks

Release Alert: https://cassialeo.com/dirt-alert/  

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/EvergreenGR

Dirt Playlist Direct Link: https://open.spotify.com/user/cassialeo/playlist/7dUHV27ZCwfC5sAT4gtbP4  

Dirt Trailer Direct Link:https://youtu.be/TuibAMY4QNM 

​Rafflecopter Direct Link:http://gvwy.io/2vn41ok 

Facebook Giveaway: http://bit.ly/2pDvr9l 

About Cassia Leo:

New York Times bestselling author Cassia Leo loves her coffee, chocolate, and margaritas with salt. When she’s not writing, she spends way too much time re-watching Game of Thrones and Sex and the City. When she’s not binge watching, she’s usually enjoying the Oregon rain with a hot cup of coffee and a book.

♥ STALK HER: ♥

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Website: http://cassialeo.com

 ♥

[chronicbodylove]

Sitting in Dublin airport waiting for my gate to open to see friends I haven’t seen since I returned to Ireland from 4 years of travels from 2011 to 2015 had my heart in a flutter. I didn’t think I would even make it this far so excitement was an understatement. I booked long-term parking for the week (€35) so I could drive straight to the airport car-park and back without bothering anyone. I never thought of how much energy that alone would take out of me and I kind of resigned myself to not going but… needless to say the Universe works in mysterious ways and so began a very spontaneous holiday when my sister offered to get me to the airport and I borrowed my mam’s spare walking stick – a mind-melt in itself; but I could barely hold myself up so this was a good compromise to get my waning ass to a sunny destination. I could feel everyone in my family rooting for me to make it. (Thanks guys!)

Two days prior to departure something inside of me started tightening and it happened all day. A feeling like someone was pinching and putting every one of my muscles and nerves in a vice grip; it was excruciating and left me very weak. If you know those cold compresses that you snap the button and everything inside hardens and freezes up it’s a similar body sensation to that, only I’m not a cold compress so my body – through no fault of its own – is definitely mis-firing for some reason. I had just one more day in work to push through but that feels like climbing Everest to anyone with M.E. and fibro or chronic pain. I finally broke down and had a big cry and hug with my mam in the morning (natural medicine at it’s best). I was nearly falling asleep at my desk in work because I had to take mini doses of xanax (0.125mcg) to just take the edge off the spasms and burning pain. Up to this point I have only ever taken cbd oil, thc oil, edibles or xanax at night; but it all comes full circle and just when you think you are managing your condition someone pulls a rug and you realise you haven’t been out-running your pain at all; it’s actually getting worse in ways.

  Not knowing if your body can hold itself up is a humbling experience, even more so when you leave your routine to travel by yourself, but I didn’t manage alone. I reached out to the group in Chronic Pain Ireland asking them to hold a good thought for me for a lower pain day and someone suggested to ask for airport assistance which I did when I was checking in online. But when I reached the airport, I checked my cabin luggage in and never thought to ask the desk about the assistance. I figured I had to find a specially dedicated desk. Well through fatigue and stubbornness I made my way level by level to the departure gate. Drinking a decaf coffee after check-in and after an hour’s rest I made my way to the gate. This all could have been helped if I had just sought out the airport assistance but my fear of being judged ‘not sick enough’ and the enveloping brain fog both kept me operating on auto-pilot to just get to the gate. Using the stick was a trip in itself. I had to slow my pace right down so it helped me conserve energy. It also made me realise how fast our society paces itself at – it’s too fast people! Fellow travellers bumped off me and stood on my feet trying to get around me faster and I thought: ‘Have I done this to people using aids?’ And the answer is Yes! Unfortunately I have tried to get in front of people many times, not considering anything but that they were in my way; slowing me from my destination and for that I profusely apologise right now.

Once on the plane there was nothing I could do but put on my eye-mask and stick earplugs in and try to stop anymore stimulus making the pain worse. Once I got to the other side I was too embarrassed to ask for assistance with the language barrier (again no need to be a martyr Niamh asking would have solved it for me easy peasy portuguesey) but I managed well enough taking it slow on the stick. I collected my luggage and through the kindness of Portuguese airport staff got skipped to the top of the queue for a taxi. Small wins yay:)

Checklist for my next holiday with chronic illness

Lift to and from airport both sides (Download Uber app if used in country)

Book Airport Assistance

Use Airport Assistance

Ask for help when needed

Eye-Mask and Ear-Plugs

The Ultimate travel pillow

Sunglasses

Walking stick/Mobility aid

Powerbank charger for phone/tablets

Suitcase with wheels

Use Google Recommendations for everything

Hoodie… because where ever you go your inability to regulate your body temperature will follow.

Copy of prescription

Is marijuana decriminilised there?

Book 2 days off to recover when you get home.

Fado Vadio Singer Joao Gonzales

The holiday itself was amazing. It took a few days of taking extra meds and powering down early at night to allow me to actually catch up with the girls, but they were so understanding we only did one or two things a day when I was feeling able and took an uber everywhere til I was strong enough to walk longer distances. Sometimes when you live with a condition you think everyone else has frozen in awesome time. But they have their battles and work and routines too, plus we had all calmed down from our backpacking days so the pace suited us all.

The sunshine renewed me. Oh how it renewed me! But more than that it was the laughter between friends that have backpacked and couchsurfed together and shared so many adventures in so many countries. Reliving our shenanigans made me feel real again. And we added so many laughs to this trip we could write a book on Portuguese faux pas. I got to watch Joao Gonzalez sing Fado Vadio – Portuguese Blues (Fado Vadio literally translates as bohemian, vagabond or loafer Fado and is used to describe Fado sung more to express emotions than for commercial ends which explains why I loved it so much.) I highly recommend it if you find yourself in the Tourist area of Bairro Alto.

The magical sound of the infamous 12 string Portuguese Guitar accompanying Joao above

We used Google Recommendations and it saved us a tonne of time traipsing around discerning between mediocre tourist meals and authentic Portuguese food and top notch local entertainment so be sure to check it out to conserve some energy on your next trip!

Marijuana is also decriminilised in Portugal so I didn’t feel like a misgreant when I needed some natural pain relief. They have adopted it so well; Irish Government take note! The whole city had a very chilled out vibe with a great park life dotted with kiosks selling 70 cent beer and €2 wine. I wasn’t drinking alcohol but I did appreciate their freshly squeezed orange juice mmmm. There was hula hoopers, circus performers, tai chi & yoga enthusiasts, just lots of people hanging out, being friendly and jamming with their instruments of choice. Plus they had park massage areas and were so dog friendly they’d probably massage the dogs too:)I felt rejuvenated when I was leaving and was sorry I had only the 6 days because by the end of it I wanted to walk more and I even got my hula hoop out for 5 mins before my leg pain put a stop to it. Who knows how much better we’d feel if we lived in a warmer climate?

I had a bit of weakness after the flight was delayed home and I had to stand on the bus journey to the airplane platform but I managed somehow. I returned to work the next day at 3pm to 11pm and instantly began a flare up. I don’t know how I managed to push through… my brain was literally shutting down. By day 3 I was glaring at people, feeling like they were about to tell me I’d done something wrong or just wouldn’t understand their question because of the rapid decline experienced with M.E. and fibro flares. I’m convinced it makes us work from our ancient limbic and reptilian systems of the brain; explaining why I feel driven from emotions such as anxiety and overwhelm along with heart palpitations, my cognition is impaired at that point but my nervous system feels under attack and keeps me wired from fear. I’m sure when more funding is allocated towards research they will uncover many facets of what we have been trying to explain to doctors for years. Our day will come but until then it’s camaraderie and sun holidays all the way. I need more of these vibrant colours and belly laughs in my life!

    How Not to #Holiday with a #chronicillness #fibro #meawareness #myalgicencephalomyelititis Sitting in Dublin airport waiting for my gate to open to see friends I haven't seen since I returned to Ireland from 4 years of travels from 2011 to 2015 had my heart in a flutter.