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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 4 years ago

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Playing With Fire - Girls Night Out

A/N: So this is my first crack at Chicago fire fanfiction, so don't judge too hard, alright? This will unfold from the beginning of season three, so if you haven't watched it yet, but plan to; SPOILER ALERT! I tried to follow along with the storyline of the show, but some things have been changed. Shout out to my superawesome beta @thorne93, you rock!

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Beth (OFC)

Warnings: Language probably. Drinking

Wordcount: 2245

Beth stood in front of her TV, coffee in hand as she watched the morning news in disbelief. A helicopter had crashed and landed on top of a building, the reporter on scene kept talking as the camera panned out and captured the unbelievable scene that unfolded.

“Witnesses say that there are still people trapped inside the helicopter, but luckily the Chicago fire department is on the scene and working tirelessly to get everyone out safe.”

She couldn't really make out any faces or the names on the uniforms, but the big white ‘81’ on one of the trucks was easy enough to see, and her heart sank in her chest. Everyone she knew and loved in Chicago was on that scene.

With eyes glued to the TV she paced back and forth in her apartment, her heart beating a million miles an hour. “They have to be alright,” she said to herself, feeling more helpless than she had ever done before.

She didn't really register what she was doing when she jumped in her car and headed for the fire house. There wasn't really anything she could do for any of them right now, but she was sure as hell gonna make sure they returned to a hot meal. The plan was to make some lasagnas that they could easily heat up and then get out of there before they returned, but it didn't really work out like that.

One by one they poured into the kitchen, their somber faces revealing the impact of the day they had had.

“Beth? What are you doing here?” Gabby asked, surprised and happy to see her friend.

“I saw you all on the news and figured you’d be hungry when you got back,” she explained.

“You weren't wrong, kid,” Herrmann said with appreciation in his voice.

“You’re the best,” Otis chimed in.

“The best,” Cruz repeated, backing up his best friend.

Beth gave Gabby a tight hug. “I'm glad you’re okay,” she said. Over Gabby’s shoulder, she locked eyes with Kelly and gave him a small smile, but he just averted his eyes and walked away. “What's his deal?”

“Who?” Gabby wondered, turning around just in time to see Kelly disappear down the hall. “Oh. Brittany showed up to the scene today, all hysterical and shit because he wasn't answering her calls and texts,” she explained.

“Wow. That's… a lot.”

“Yeah,” Gabby agreed.

“Alright,” Beth said a little louder. “I'm gonna get out of your hair,” she announced as she started backing out of the room.

“You’re not gonna eat with us?” Mills asked.

“Nah. I have a bar to open. Since my bosses are all busy saving the day and shit,” she said with a chuckle.

Goodbyes were mumbled through mouthfuls of food as Beth walked away. She had no intentions of looking for Kelly, but she saw him sitting in his office and her feet just walked themselves over there and she knocked on the open door. “Hey,” she said softly.

“This really isn't a good time,” he said in an annoyed tone. It wasn't Beth he was angry at, he knew that, but he couldn't help the annoyance in his voice.

“Just wanted to say I'm glad you’re okay. I saw the news earlier and I just… I'm glad you made it back in one piece,” she offered.

Kelly sighed. “Thanks, Beth,” he said with half a smile.

“I'll leave you to it.”

He followed her with her eyes as she walked away, but his mind was on his wife and the inevitable fight that would come later. Beth would never have showed up at a scene like that.

***

“Haagen Dazs and beer.” Those were the first words out of Gabby’s mouth when Beth opened the door. “I need a girls night.”

“You know I'm not gonna say no to that,” Beth said, taking the tub of ice cream from Gabby and letting her inside her apartment.

Things had been kind of rough between Gabby and Matt since she had started working on truck 81 and Matt became her Lieutenant. It was a difficult situation for the both of them and definitely something that would take some time to get used to and to find their new pace.

They both fell onto Beth's couch with deep sighs. “You first,” Beth ordered.

“It's this whole candidate/lieutenant thing,” she said twisting open a beer. “It's not working at home and it's not working at work.”

“I'm sorry,” Beth offered. “You'll find a way to make it work. I'm sure of it,” she tried to assure her friend. Gabby and Matt were strong, solid, so there was no doubt in her mind that they would make it through, one way or the other.

“Thanks. Got any advice?” Gabby asked through a mouthful of ice cream.

“Dude. I literally drove the guy I like all the way to Vegas where he married a stripper,” she noted with a humorless laugh. “Not sure I'm the best to give out relationship advice.”

“Graphic designer,” Gabby corrected, pointing her spoon at Beth.

“Allegedly,” Beth countered, making them both chuckle. “You know what?” She suddenly said.

“What?”

Beth got to her feet, Gabby watching her with furrowed brows. “It's Friday night. We shouldn't be in here eating and drinking our feelings. We should be out in some club, getting our dance on. We’re young and half of us are single… let's go paint the town.”

Gabby mulled it over for a quick second and then jumped on the bandwagon. “You go get dressed right now, and then we’ll stop by my place on our way downtown.”

Beth hesitated for a second. “I'll just wait in the car while you get ready,” she said, not wanting to run into a certain roommate.

“Kelly isn't home. He and Brittany had a date night planned. You’re safe.”

Ten minutes later, Beth reappeared from the bathroom, a short black dress hugging her body, completed with teal accessories to give it a pop of color. “Yay or nay?” she asked

“Definitely yay,” Gabby replied. “Now let's hustle.”

Beth stood in Gabby’s kitchen with Matt and waited for her friend to get ready. The longer she stayed there, the greater the chance she'd run into Kelly, and that was the last thing she needed right now.

“Want a beer?” Matt asked, but Beth shook her head. “You can relax, they’re not here,” he assured.

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Beth lied, making Matt chuckle.

He was just about to call her out on it when they heard the front door and Beth went stiff.

“Casey, have you seen my wallet?” Kelly called out.

Beth was hidden from his view and she would really like to keep it that way, but then a sly grin appeared on Matt’s face and Beth noticed the little black walled on the kitchen counter. She looked up at Matt with big, pleading eyes, shaking her head vigorously.

“Yeah, it's in here,” Matt called out, still smiling.

“Thanks man,” Kelly said, not noticing Beth at first. “Got all the way across town before I noti…” his words trailed off there as his eyes finally found Beth. She looked amazing, so much so that he had a hard time getting words out. “You look… wow.”

“Thank’s,” she said shyly. Luckily, Gabby was just done getting ready and walked in to interrupt the awkward scene that was unfolding. “I'll wait for you in the car,” Beth said to her friend before she turned on her heel and started walking away, praying to some higher power that she wouldn't trip on her high heels and fall on her ass.

“Don't wait up, babe,” Gabby said before kissing Matt on the cheek. “And you might want to wipe that drool from your chin before you get back to your wife,” she said with a coy smile to Kelly.

***

Couple of hours at a loud club was more than either Beth or Gabby could manage before they hopped in a cab and headed for Molly’s. It was great to be out and about and Beth was definitely taking advantage of her evening off, pouring ‘em down like it was her last hurrah. Gabby held back a little, but she didn't want to be a buzz kill, so she just kept an eye on her friend. It wasn't often that Beth got out and it was great to see her in such a good mood for once.

Molly’s was packed, but Gabby found them a couple of seats while Beth went to get drinks.

“One beer and one Mojhito, please,” she requested from Otis with a huge smile, leaning on the bar counter. “Oh, and don't make it too sweet,” she added.

“Coming right up,” Otis said and got to work.

“You look really nice today,” Kelly complimented from her right.

Honestly, she hadn't even noticed him sitting there. “Thank you. Girls night,” she explained.

“I can see that,” he noted with a smile. She was clearly inebriated, but it was nice to see her relax and enjoy herself. “Don't think I’ve ever seen you all dolled up,” he noted.

“Well, that's because you never took me out,” she countered, no accusation in her voice. “Thank you, barkeep,” she chirped as Otis returned with her order. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me.”

And with that, she went to search for Gabby, who she found at a table with a bunch of people from CPD.

It was a fun night, lots of laughter, good conversation, and alcohol. The crowd gradually thinned out and about half an hour before closing, Gabby too called it quits, leaving Beth and Halstead behind as the last two of their group. Herrmann and Otis were getting ready for closing while Kelly sat at the bar and nursed his drink still.

“This has been a really fun evening,” Jay noted, taking a swing from his beer.

“I agree. Nice to be on the other side of the bar for a change,” Beth said, stirring her drink with a straw. Now that things were quieting down around her, some of the sadness she had been carrying around returned. “Think I'm ready to call it, though,” she added as an afterthought.

“Alright,” Jay dragged. “Let me call you a cab,” he offered.

“I literally live 3 houses down from here. But thanks for the offer.”

“Okay. Can I walk you home then?” he pushed.

It was pretty obvious what he was getting at, and Beth wasn't completely opposed to the idea, just the circumstances. “Alright. Just know that I have a pretty strict rule. No hookups after three drinks, and I’m definitely more than three drinks in this evening.” She really hoped she didn't come across as conceited, but she was pretty sure that this was where things were heading.

“Why? I can assure you that I'll be just as devilishly handsome in the morning,” he joked making her laugh. “My intentions are honorable, I promise. Just want to make sure you get home in one piece.” he assured.

“Meet me outside? I'm just gonna say goodnight.”

Jay headed outside and Beth made her way over to the bar, as far from where Kelly was sitting as was possible. “Thanks again for covering my shift tonight, Otis. I owe you one.”

“Don't mention it,” he said, barely looking up from the paperwork he was getting ready before closing.

“Alright,” she said a little louder. “Night fellas.”

“Hey,” Kelly called out, jumping off his chair to catch up to her before she left. He had spent the last hour and a half watching her and Halstead get all cozy and he didn't like it one bit. “Let me walk you home?” he asked in a kind voice, not knowing that there was already someone waiting for her outside.

“Uhm…. no thanks,” she said simply.

“Come on. Just want to make sure you get back safe,” he told her.

She looked into those beautiful blue eyes of his and for some reason she felt herself get angry. “No, Kelly. You promised me some space, remember?”

“You didn't seem so concerned about your space when you came looking for me at the station the other day,” he retorted.

“I wasn't there for you. I was there to make sure my friends were all safe and in one piece,” she defended.

Before Kelly could say anything else, Jay stuck his head through the door. “You coming?” he asked and Beth just gave him a reassuring nod and then he was out the door again.

“Unbelievable,” Kelly snorted. “Halstead?”

“Go home to your wife, Lieutenant,” she spat before she turned on her heel and made her way out of there.

“You okay?” Jay asked as they started their little walk back to her apartment, seeing the change in her mood.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she assured, looking up at him. “I have a question for you, Detective.”

“Hit me.”

“Those intentions of yours,” she started, referring to the conversation they had a few minutes ago. “Still honorable?”

“As honorable as you want them to be.”

Beth looked up at him with a coy smile as she slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. That way she was telling him without words what she was thinking. It was probably a bitch move on her part, using him like that, but right then she didn't care. She just wanted to forget.

Tags: @campingmonkey @deansgirl215 @thevelvetseries

#Chicago Fire #chicago fire fanfic #chicago fire fanfiction #Kelly Severide #kelly severide fanfic #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide series

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cgmayra · 4 years ago

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What do you think the new sonic cartoon is about

There’s not really a lot of news yet, yeah?

My hope... is that it’s either by the Japanese team who made Sonic X (hopefully a continuation) or following the train of reboots, it’s either Sonic Boom or Sonic X remastered something XP

I’m hoping it’s not a ‘entirely new thing’ UNLESS it’s based in the realm of actual canon.

SOA posted that “everything is canon” thing and it really ticks me off sometimes how they follow a trend that is fading, about keeping everything so unserious, but I’m over here with the Japanese GIANTIC lore fountain like-

Oh hey y’all, SOA, did you know SOJ-

HAS ACTUAL CANON LORE???? -There is so many quotes I want to write but due to having NO ACTUAL IMAGES of some of these stated I’ll simply write-

BUT NOT THIS LORE:

Don’t let America tell Japanese Hedgehog lore, okay? They don’t get the culture sometimes and it leads to really bad rewrites of the Sonic characters and storylines--Just ask their creators, get the facts, it’s not that hard, SOA PLEASE there IS canon lore and it’s so good and underdeveloped because no one goes back and expounds upon it like-

Half your villains never return

Your casts doesn’t age or go through actual character building drama

Your stage building is great, why not add exploratory mechanics like they knew they should do in SA1 and SA2? Heck, Even Sonic Heroes and Unleashed had moments to go explore.

You’re not Mario, so quit advertising to younger audiences and realize that kids like to watch what their older siblings are into, we want actually compelling content please!

Sorry, I went off, I just know there's so much potential if you just took the time to go back, research/re-learn it, and develop from there. It doesn’t need to be as complicated as Kingdom Hearts, just BUILD FROM WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. It’s so simple. Zelda has an official timeline, doesn’t always make sense, but Sonic has something similar and even the creators have stated that Classic Sonic is from his own universe and isn’t young Sonic of the past. Do you know what that means???

You can have Modern Sonic diving into his actual past to stop someone from taking over, you could have a Sonic X cartoon showing what happened after Cosmo and going into further games that released just like when they did those arc specials for when SA1&2 were a thing, what about a feature that simply shows Sonic’s world and his adventures and his friends and a big evil they’ve encountered previously, I don’t know--NEO METAL SONIC? But this time, Neo has a new way to rebel, and it’s shown that he’s ALSO separate from Classic Metal Sonic who still serves Eggman?

I mean, pitch some things to Japan and word it in a way that works with their culture and CANON Sonic Lore, It’s so easy to make a new thing, new character, yadda yadda, but what makes a TRUE skill and marketable franchise is taking what is already there and building a firm establishment on it.

Pokemon. Pokemon has evolved but never forgotten the basics. (Pun intended)

If you want to be like any other franchise that is THE one to think about.

What are their shows like? Introducing a time-old favorite or new pokemon to add to your ‘pokedex’ which you have been building upon since the start.

How to make that a Sonic Cartoon thing..?

Every few episodes, you introduce another time-favorite CANON character. They have a few episodes and arcs SPECIFICALLY to re-introduce, re-live background, and then SHOW real developmental change and progression, then a few episodes later you couple that with them reappearing and having some significance in the over-arching theme.

Example? Sonic, Tails, Knuckles and Amy are the main casts.

This one episode, they say goodbye to Team Chaotix (who will return for a significant role later) after having their few episodes arc of their team, who they are, and what they do before they suddenly meet and are introduced to Shadow (who they already know but the audience -if younger- might not until now) and the episode is showing G.U.N after Shadow. We realize Shadow’s past with Maria and G.U.N, and realize that G.U.N are being manipulated by a higher power. Enter the puppet master role of Black Doom which further explains the story of Shadow The Hedgehog after SA2. Then we have his arc after a few episodes and the team are ready to say goodbye to him as well before he drops a plot hint that ties him into the season finale as well, which means we’ll see him again. In that arc, we see him develop from what he once was, to what he was when the team found him again, and finally to what he is now... it shows that he’s still a growing character and by the end of the season arc, we see his ‘new form’ and ranged characterization from a fully rounded character arc that was perfectly executed in the main plot dynamic arc.

POKEMON. Introduce a character, have a specific few episodes of character growth with that character, and have them appear again to reinforce said characterization growth.

If you really need a new thing, and not a reboot, just let me pitch a few concepts and I’m SURE we’ll have a successful BRANDED feature for you. It’s only a matter of time before Sonic is taken seriously enough again by the company to have a massive Sonic BOOM in popularity and satisfying media. I just want to hopefully contribute if I can...

Yes, not very neutral writing, but I’ve seen a lot of ‘call to arms’ writing recently and I kinda jumped on that bandwagon, so if this is unprofessional, I AM A HUMAN WITH EMOTIONS AND SONIC NEEDS, GRAB YOUR SWORDS, YOUR BOWS, AND YOUR POETIC PROSE CAUSE ITS ACTION TIME PEOPLE.

Seen and not heard, is now heard and please be seen T-T

#ask cutegirlmayra #cutegirlmayra ask #sonic #sonic canon #sonic lore #new sonic cartoon 2020 #sonic cartoon #sonic netflix

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revengersfanfics · 5 years ago

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Roger Stevenson (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: You’re desperate to get your family off your back about having a boyfriend, so you pull a certain super soldier into a sticky situation.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: I would like to preface this by saying: I wrote this three years before Endgame came out on Wattpad, but I haven’t posted it on Tumblr because I knew people were going to think I was jumping on the Roger Stevens bandwagon 😂 Anyways, I hope you enjoy! -C

She let out a sigh before making her way to the park where her niece’s birthday party was being held. She’d been dreading it for days. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family. She adored them, but they had a habit of meddling in her love life even though she’d told them on countless occasions that she was perfectly capable of finding a significant other on her own.

“(Y/N)!” Her mother exclaimed. She pulled her into a hug. “You know, you really should visit more often. We haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s only been like two months,” she giggled. “Plus I’ve been swamped with work.”

“You know, it’s okay to not work for five minutes,” her mom half joked and half scolded. “That reminds me, your father’s boss’ son was asking about you the other day.Your father could set you up with a date Saturday?” There it was. She was trying to think of some bullshit excuse as to why she wouldn’t be able to go when she noticed a tall muscular blonde walking beside her.

“Hey honey,” she pulled the complete stranger into a hug. The man tensed up at the sudden contact, but even so, he didn’t immediately call her out and/or punch her in the face. Perhaps he noticed the look of complete and utter desperation in her eyes.

She wasn't sure why she did it. It would’ve been so much easier to explain a fake event she had to attend, but no. Instead she had to follow a cheesy romantic clichè and bring a fake boyfriend into it.

“Sorry I was late, doll,” he smiled. “Traffic was terrible.”

“Mom, this is my, uh, boyfriend…” She gave a weak smile. She was ready for her conspiracy to crumble at any moment.

“Uh,” he paused as if he’d forgotten his own name. His previous strong facade was beginning to deteriorate. “Roger Stevenson… It’s so nice to finally meet you, your daughter has told me so much about you.” It was amazing how well he recovered. She was sure the guy must’ve been an actor and if he wasn’t, he most definitely missed a calling.

Her dad made his way over pretty soon after, probably to threaten poor Roger.

“You must be her father,” Roger smiled. “Hi, I’m Roger.” He stuck his hand out for your dad to shake.

“That’s quite a grip you’ve got there, Roger,” her dad grinned.

“Aunt (Y/N)!” A smile crept onto her face upon seeing her niece. She ran up and jumped into her arms. “You came!”

“Of course I did! What kind of person would I be if I missed my favorite niece’s sixth birthday?” She squeezed the little girl tightly before setting her back down on the ground. “I’m telling you, if you keep growing, you’re gonna have to start carrying me around!” She let out a giggle.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” her sister laughed. “We’re getting old. Who’s this?” She looked over at Roger.

“This is Roger,” she introduced him. “Roger this is my sister, Anna.”

“He looks like Captain America,” her niece stated bluntly. She didn’t notice the man’s striking resemblance to the superhero until then, but he could’ve been his twin.

“You know, I get that a lot and I really don’t see it,” he chuckled nervously. By that point her niece had lost interest and run off to play with her friends some more.

“So, what do you do for a living, Roger?” Anna questioned.

“I uh… I own a pet shop,” Steve hated lying, he really did. For one, he was absolutely terrible at it, and two, it was just wrong. He’d conjured up his fake persona because he wasn’t sure who her or her family were and he wasn’t sure if he could trust her, but now he just felt awful. He wasn’t sure why. She literally dragged him into it, but both her and her family were so nice.

“Oh that’s great!” Her mom exclaimed.

“We should probably get going,” she announced shortly after. She didn’t want to stay as long as they did because she didn’t want Roger to be any more uncomfortable than what she’d already made him, but he seemed to have a blast after the initial interrogation from her family. He absolutely loved her niece, which would make the inevitable ‘breakup’ that she’d have to make up later, even harder.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she gave the man a wide-eyed look as soon as they were out of earshot of everyone. “I know I probably seem like a complete lunatic because even I think I’m a complete lunatic at this point.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. “Trust me, I did my fair share of misleading today as well. When I left the house this morning I was Steve Rogers and single.” Steve Rogers. Her niece had been right. He was actually Captain America. She wasn't sure how she hadn’t pieced that together before. “Sorry for lying, I just wasn’t completely sure if I could trust you, but I think I can safely say you’re not dangerous.”

“You know, I hardly think you should be the one apologizing for lying,” she giggled. “But I will say, maybe Roger Stevenson isn’t the best fake name.”

“I’m not good under pressure,” he laughed. “Although, it did work. You didn’t know it was me.”

“That’s true, I’ll give you that one,” she laughed. “I should probably get going.” She sighed. She didn’t want to leave yet, but she assumed that after everything she’d put the poor guy through, he’d probably want to leave.

“Wait, I was wondering if you’d like to go get a bite to eat tomorrow night?” He scratched his neck nervously. “You know, since we are dating and all…”

Out of all the things she expected him to say, that certainly wasn’t it. She’d literally dragged him into being her fake boyfriend, but apparently he didn’t mind too much. “Yeah,” she smiled. “I’d like that.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #avengers #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction

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darkblueboxs · 5 years ago

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If you're taking requests, maybe the foxes reacting to soft andreil? I love seeing their relationship through outside perspectives

Sorry for the delay! I ended up with two very different ideas for this and wrote both of them. I’ll be posting the other one in the next week or so! [EDIT: Here it is!]This was great fun to write. Thank you for the request.

In the Eye of the Beholder

Read here or on AO3

#1 Dan

Dan raps her knuckles against the door to the monster’s flat and waits. Nicky greets her with an impressive mop of bedhair and a baffled expression which smooths over only when Neil darts past, citing brunch with Dan as his excuse for being awake at such a thoroughly reasonable hour on a Sunday morning. He’s in high spirits, from what Dan can tell, rolling on the balls of his feet as they wait for the elevator to arrive. Dan is ready to put it down to excitement over their plans – she has a stack of potential recruits under her arm thicker than Les Misérables for them to discuss, hopefully with a stack of pancakes of equal height on the side. Then she spots the light bruise peeking over the hem of Neil’s collar, and draws a very different conclusion about the source of Neil’s good mood.

She smiles as they step into the elevator, but keeps the observation to herself. While some members of the team love to badger Neil for the slightest insight into his relationship, Dan is willing to push her curiosity aside for the sake of Neil’s privacy. He has plenty other teammates to pester him without her jumping on the bandwagon.

Just before the doors slide shut, an arm bursts through the gap, forcing them open. Andrew is as stoic and terrifying as ever (not that Dan would ever admit it) even while wearing Neil’s foxprint-patterned pyjama bottoms. The quickened rise and fall of his chest is the only hint that he ran to get here.

Neil raises an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of his underdressed partner.

Andrew lobs something at Neil which bounces off his chest and lands on the floor between his feet. Neil stoops to scoop it up, and Dan sees that it’s his wallet.

“Thanks.”

“Idiot,” Andrew huffs. He retracts his arm, and the doors slide shut on the sight of him stalking back to their dorm.

Neil taps the wallet against his hand a couple times before sliding it into the wallet.

“You’re both idiots if you think I’m letting you pay for brunch,” Dan says wryly.

Neil shakes his head. “I said I was going to pick up some stuff at the store afterwards. But thanks. Brunch is on me, though.”

“We’ll see,” Dan says, which means no. “Okay, I’ll admit it. That was sweet of him.”

The corner of Neil’s mouth twitches. “Nah. He’s just making sure I come back with the junk food I promised him.”

“Sure.” And, oh, Dan had been trying to be good, but she really can’t help herself any longer. “So, did you guys mean to give each other matching hickeys, or was that just a fun little accident?”

Neil slaps his hand to his neck and groans.

All in all, it’s a great morning.

#2 Kevin

Aaron’s trial is coming up. Kevin wouldn’t care (well, he would, but for different reasons) except that it’s making the cousins snippy and fractious. More so than usual. Andrew isn’t sleeping properly, although he would deny that it had any relation to the trial. Unfortunately, his insomnia is contagious, which ends with Neil losing focus at their night practice, having spent the best part of a week running on fumes and gatorade.

Kevin has been patient – patient by his standards, anyway – but the third fumbled catch in a row snaps his temper like brittle bone.

“Get the fuck off my court, Josten.” Kevin says, smacking the base of his racquet against the floor.

“Fuck you,” Neil answers reflexively. He stops to push his lengthening bangs back from his face.

“I’m not joking. You’re in no state to play. Get the fuck out.” Kevin wishes Neil would take it as the blessing it is, a night to re-focus and re-calibrate, but instead he’s glaring Kevin down like he just asked him to eat sewage.

Neil turns away from him to send another ball barrelling towards the goal. It misses by an entire foot.

“Neil,” Kevin says sharply, readying for a fight that neither of them have the energy nor patience for.

Before he can begin, the doors to the court bang open. Andrew stands in the entrance, arms crossed. It’s the expression that ends an argument before it’s had time to start; Kevin knows it far, far too well.

Andrew leads Neil away to the showers while Kevin continues his drills.

When he’s finished washing up, he finds the pair in the team lounge, collapsed on the wider of the couches. Neil is asleep, slumped into Andrew’s side. Andrew looks up as Kevin enters, but he doesn’t move his hand from its resting place in Neil’s hair. Although Neil was the only one of the pair training that night, Andrew’s hair is plastered against his head as though he, too, is fresh out of the shower. Kevin tries not to consider the implications.

They wait in silence for a few minutes, watching as Neil sleeps, properly sleeps, for the first time in far too long. Neither are willing to disturb him, but the night is late and Kevin has a whole host of classes waiting for him in the morning.

“I’ll walk back,” says Kevin. Andrew meets his gaze for a long moment before nodding briefly. The bags under his eyes betray him.

Kevin darts back into the lockers to pick up Neil’s abandoned kit bag. When he passes them again, Andrew has slouched onto his side, having manoeuvred Neil in front of him so they can both lie comfortably. His arm is slung protectively around Neil’s waist like Andrew is prepared to beat off the world to keep him there.

Kevin knows they spend more nights in each other’s bunks than out of them in the dorm, but somehow they’re always up and away before anyone else is awake enough to give them any hassle over it. Kevin doesn’t care, but Nicky can be overbearing at the best of times, and Aaron is… well, Aaron. But here, in the privacy of an empty stadium, it looks like Neil has finally found enough security to drop off at last, and Andrew looks ready to follow. Kevin shuts the door behind him, not quite smiling, but close. It was strange to some, the idea of Neil and Andrew, but anyone who saw them curled up together would see it plain as day. They just fitted.

The next day, Neil is closer to being himself again, and no more is said on the matter.

#4 Matt

Matt has to admit that press duty with Neil is never boring. The interviewers seem to share his opinion, visibly perking up when Neil follows Matt into the room. They lost to the Bearcats, but it was close enough that Matt doesn’t have to lie when he says that he’s proud of the team’s performance today.

“Some are saying that the failure of the defence line in later stages was due to Minyard’s performance in goal in the second half. How would you respond to that?

Matt doesn’t know why he bothers opening his mouth; the question may be directed to him, but he knows damn well that a boulder in the shape of Neil’s fury is already barrelling in this hapless reporter’s direction. “Well-”

“Last time I checked, this was a team sport,” Neil says loudly. “Was I hallucinating that, or has there been a few rule changes since yesterday?”

Matt isn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. Coach had told Matt to keep an eye on their resident fire-starter as though anyone was at all capable of controlling Neil when there was a mic in front of him. Matt feels sorry for the poor sucker that will one day be assigned to the role of Neil’s publicist, because he’s sure that Neil will drive them into an early grave alongside Matt’s.

“You have to admit that the number of goals that he let in-”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that his entire defence line had already played two full quarters before he even stepped foot on court. People get tired the longer a game goes on, of course defence is going to suffer in the second half. But sure, keep pinning it on the goalie you clearly have it in for.”

Matt claps a hand on Neil’s back. “What he said,” he agrees, staring down the reporter.

They take no further questions.

Matt doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he leaves the showers to see Andrew and Neil alone in the locker room he ducks back out of sight. He walks into at least one dramatic confrontation amongst his teammates per week, and sometimes the best way to deal with the daily bouts of fox drama is to hide and wait for the storm to pass.

“Point me to where I asked you to lead my own personal crusade.” Andrew’s flat tones echo off the tiled floor. Matt regrets leaving his Ipod in his bag. The conversation doesn’t seem too personal to overhear, but Andrew and Neil have never been the easiest reads.

“I’m tired of them talking shit about you just because they have a vendetta against anyone with your…” Neil trails off. Matt imagines him to be making several expressive hand gestures; it’s hard to condense all of Andrew’s history and circumstances into one word. “…everything,” Neil settles on.

“Your principles should not intersect with my business.”

“Even if it could affect your future career?” Neil’s words are met, unsurprisingly, with silence. “Besides, yours do.”

“Explain.”

“When I first came here, you told Nicky to back off. Not out of concern for me. Because of your principles.”

This time, the silence stretches so long that Matt doesn’t think Andrew is going to answer.

“Point,” Andrew concedes.

“Besides, is it so bad that I’m standing up for you?”

“Only when it’s making new enemies for you. How many does one man need?”

“I’ve got room for a few more,” Neil says. There’s a rustle of movement, and, oh, are they kissing? Matt strongly suspects that they are kissing. It’s more than his life is worth to look. He takes a few steps back, rattles his kit loudly and makes as much noise as possible before entering the locker room. The pair are a safe distance apart by the time he enters, and Matt gives them a probably-not-convincingly-casual nod before busying himself with his change of clothes.

The pair spend the journey home holed up together at the back of the bus, and if he suspects that they’re doing a little more than talking, Matt keeps it to himself.

They’ve earned a little privacy, after all.

#5 Aaron

“Well, maybe if you stopped and took the time to, I don’t know, explain literally anything that you do, we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.”

“Aaron,” says Bee, a gentle reprimand. He isn’t in the mood to hear it. His attention remains on his brother, who’s features remain the same stony, impassive blank that they have in almost every joint session to date. It’s an expression that makes Aaron want to tear his hair out, or kick his brother’s face in, or both.

“What would you like me to explain?” says Andrew, more of a challenge than an offer. Aaron snorts, because, where to fucking begin?

“How about we start with your little fuck-buddy, seeing as you’re so keen to start on mine.” Earlier that week, Andrew had returned early from a class to find Aaron and Katelyn together in their dorm room. The result, while not outright violent, had been deeply unpleasant for all involved. And of course, Andrew was being an ass about it.

“Aaron. We’ve talked about this. How can you expect Andrew to talk about Katelyn respectfully if you won’t offer the same respect to his own partner?”

Aaron scoffs. “It’s not the same.”

Andrew’s eyebrow… it doesn’t quirk, but it twitches. “Oh?”

Aaron gestures vaguely. “You know what I mean.”

“I can assure you that I don’t.”

“Me and Katelyn. You and Neil. It isn’t the same.”

“How so?” Andrew’s tone isn’t in the danger zone yet, but it’s edging towards it.

“I’m not talking about the gay thing. I’m talking about…” The hand Aaron was waving clenches into a fist as he drops it into his lap. “Don’t make me say it.”

Andrew and Bee share a look over his head.

“Aaron,” says Bee.

“I just, fucking…” Aaron grapples with words, struggling to find a combination that won’t rip them apart any worse than they already have been. “How the fuck can you expect me to believe that you and him… that you’re real. That you’re normal, that you’re like us, after everything those fuckers did to you. What makes him so different?”

Andrew watches him. Just when Aaron resigns himself to the fact that no answer is coming, Andrew speaks. “If I ask him to stop, he stops.”

Aaron bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he thinks he might have drawn blood. “It can’t be that simple.”

Andrew shrugs.

“How?”

Andrew’s eyes flicker upwards, like he would rather be anywhere else, having any other conversation in the world than this one. “We have a system. We don’t touch each other without asking first. We listen to each other. We talk. What more do you need me to say?”

Aaron falls silent. He doesn’t know what he needs from his brother, still, but it’s something.

“I have a question in return,” Andrew’s eyes flick to Bee. He isn’t looking for permission, but she nods in encouragement nonetheless. “Katelyn. What makes her so different?” Andrew meets his gaze dead-on as he turns Aaron’s own words back on him. “How can you trust her, after everything that bitch Tilda did to you?”

And finally, it all clicks into place.

Aaron forces himself to look his brother in the eyes. So much like his, yet at the same time so different. “Okay,” he concedes at last. “I see.”

Because, at last, he does.

#7 Allison

Neil appears at Allison’s door with a black eye, a bust lip, and the words “don’t freak out,” spilling from his mouth before she can get so much as a word in.

“Great start,” she says, pulling him in. “Who do I need to kill?”

“My shoelace came undone and I ate shit while I was on my run. I just need enough makeup that I can get through class without looking like I’ve been in a fight again. Do you know how many of my lecturers have taken me aside to give me the domestic abuse hotline?”

“You should know how to do this yourself by now.” Allison rolls her eyes as she leads Neil through to the table.

“You’re better at it,” he admits grudgingly, and oh, doesn’t that just warm her heart to hear.

“Nice try. You’re still taking me out for coffee after this.”

Neil pulls a face, and Allison laughs. It doesn’t take long – Allison has treated him in far, far worse shape, as much as she’d rather not think about it – and soon there’s only the faintest smudge around Neil’s eye.

“Can I tempt you to some mascara? Glitter?” Allison asks, waggling her eyebrows as she spreads the contents of her makeup bag out for his inspection.

“Maybe next time,” says Neil, “When I’m not going to a calculus lecture.”

“But that’s the best place for it.” Allison dabs the tip of his nose with her brush, and Neil’s face scrunches up as he tries to hold back a sneeze. His hair flops back down over his forehead as he moves, falling into his eyes.

“Don’t move just yet,” Allison says, yanking a drawer open and fumbling for the kitchen scissors. “I’ve been meaning to deal with that mop for weeks, and right now I have you trapped.”

“Oh, no,” Neil says flatly, but still he surrenders herself to her demands. Wise move.

“Perfect,” says Allison a few minutes later, ruffling Neil’s hair to shake away the last loose strands. “Ready for the red carpet now. I hope there aren’t any cute guys in your maths class, or Andrew is going to go mad with jealousy.”

Neil snorts. “He’s not really the type.”

“Mhmm,” says Allison, because in her experience, everyone is the type.

Speaking of the psychotic little devil himself, Andrew bursts through the door just as Allison is brushing up the last of the trimmings.

“Hey,” Neil says, apparently impervious to Andrew’s thunderous entrance. Andrew ignores the greeting, taking hold of Neil’s chin to turn his face from side to side.

“Kevin said you fell,” he says, relinquishing the grip. Allison half-turns away, pretending to busy herself tidying but really listening, because the monster’s overbearing-boyfriend performances are rarely seen in public yet endlessly entertaining.

“Shoelaces. Who could have seen it coming?”

“I did. And warned you. Twice.”

Neil winces. “My bad.”

Andrew mutters something under his breath that seems to involve the words kill you. The day Allison understands their relationship is the day that she gives up on any and all gossip for the rest of her life.

Then, Andrew pauses, distracted. “Did you trip and fall onto a pair of sheers?”

“Allison gave me a haircut. How does it look?”

Andrew holds his hand in front of Neil’s face. When Neil nods, Andrew runs it quickly through his hair, gently tugging at the roots as he goes. “Awful.”

“Hey,” Allison interrupts, outraged. They both start, and Andrew’s hand drops away, like they had forgotten she was there. Which was the point, really. She holds the scissors in Andrew’s direction. “You’re next, scraggy.”

“When I’m dead,” Andrew replies flatly. It’s clear he isn’t joking. Neil shakes his head at them both.

“Come on, then,” Allison says. “Neil’s taking me for coffee. Give us a ride and I’ll buy you the sugariest, most expensive drink on the menu. I’m hoping the diabetes will finish you off if lung cancer falls through.”

Andrew glances between them. “Fine.”

Sugar and Neil; the keys to Andrew’s stony little heart.

#8 Nicky

Nicky is fully capable of responding to his cousin’s newfound domestic happiness with maturity and decorum.

He just chooses not to.

This has nearly ended in violence no less than eight times. But really, how can he be expected to let it lie when his cousin, who came to him an unruly, violent teen to whom any conversation was like pulling teeth with plastic tweezers, is, for the first time, experiencing the gay teen college romance Nicky could only have dreamed of?

With his fiancée a million miles away, Nicky has to live vicariously when it comes to matters of the heart. There is no better subject for this than his violent baby cousin, who, it seems, isn’t such a baby anymore.

Nicky is beyond late for his class already when he realises that his laptop is dead. He had been skyping with Eric until ass-o-clock in the morning, forgot to plug it in before passing out in his bunk and is paying for it three-fold. He has two options; pencil and paper (what is he, a toddler?) or steal someone’s laptop. The answer is both clear and obvious.

Andrew’s is the first to hand. He most likely won’t surface until noon, by which time Nicky will have returned from class, leaving him none the wiser. The perfect crime.

Or it is the perfect crime until Nicky opens the laptop in the middle of his seminar to a webpage that is filled with very, very unsafe-for-classroom content.

Nicky slams the laptop shut. It wasn’t a video, none of the sites Nicky knew from his own fits of late-night loneliness. Large blocks of text, diagrams that were more analytical than downright pornographic. Nicky slides the laptop open again, just enough for the screen to light up once more, and tabs up. No, not porn. Informative. Educational.

The girl beside him, although unable to see his screen, is giving Nicky some very strange looks. Nicky glances back to the laptop before sliding it shut once more. Pencil and paper will have to do.

The class is drier than dirt, leaving Nicky’s mind with far too much space to think. A dangerous pastime in Nicky’s case, Eric would say teasingly. Nicky had assumed – well, not that he had thought about it, much, but Andrew always seemed so set and sure of himself that it was hard to imagine him googling how-to guides like an acne-riddled teen the night before prom. His apparent innocence is weirdly adorable. Not a word Nicky uses out-loud in his cousin’s presence, but true all the same.

Nicky remembers his first time. Awkward, uncomfortable, and involving entirely the wrong set of genitals. He can only hope Andrew and Neil’s is better.

He shouldn’t get involved. He really, really, shouldn’t.

Nicky slips the laptop back into place mere moments before Andrew slouches into the living space. Nicky watches him as the coffee-maker gurgles away, thinking.

“Andrew.”

Andrew glances up. Nicky isn’t sure what he reads in his face, but it must be setting off alarm bells, because his hands move almost unconsciously to his sleeves. Nicky holds his hands up.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I just…” Oh, this is a lot more awkward than Nicky anticipated. “You know, I’m always here for you. If there’s anything you want to talk about.” He clears his throat. “If you have any questions…”

Andrew’s eyes narrow. They flick in the direction of his desk. Nicky remembers, far too late, Andrew’s impossibly perfect memory. He would remember the exact position he left his laptop in. Nicky is busted.

“Don’t borrow my laptop,” Andrew snarls. The coffee brewer clicks, and it may be the only thing that saves Nicky’s life.

“I’m sorry! I was in a rush!” Nicky says weekly. “If it’s any consolation, the guy who sits behind me now thinks I’m a grade-A pervert.”

Andrew slams a mug down on the counter so hard he almost cracks it. “One more word. One more.”

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise, I’ve been there, okay?”

Andrew takes his coffee and his laptop and leaves without another word. Nicky counts it as a blessing.

The next day, he’s working his way through the mother of all essays when Andrew enters the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Nicky keeps working until Andrew pulls a chair over to Nicky’s desk and sits in it. He stops typing mid-sentence, fingers hovering over the keys.

“Everything okay, Andrew?”

“I want you to take a moment and remember how many knives I have on me right now.”

“A lot, I assume.”

“A lot,” Andrew confirms. “If I had any other choice in the world, I would take it. But I have you. So, I’m going to ask you something, and you are going to be calm and level and mature and everything that you usually are not when you answer.”

“Of course,” Nicky says in a heartbeat. He can’t think of a single time Andrew has ever come to him for help, not even when he was wrapped up in bed and coughing his lungs out the day before his AP Calc exam. Nicky has never been more determined to get something right in his life.

“How,” Andrew says, stops, starts again. Today is full of firsts; Andrew is usually so careful and measured with his words. “How do I do it without hurting him?”

Nicky’s heart is ready to melt or break or explode, maybe all at once. “Oh, Andrew.”

“The knives, Nicky. Remember the knives.”

“Okay,” says Nicky, and he tells Andrew everything he can. He wants, more than anything, for Andrew to be safe and happy, and if it involves going into details that even Nicky is squeamish about discussing with family, then that’s what he’ll do.

He offers to write out a list of reliable books and websites for Andrew to check out, ones he used himself and others Eric recommended to him. Andrew shakes his head.

“Just tell me. I’ll remember them.”

When they’re done, Nicky almost claps Andrew on the shoulder. He thinks better of it, hand hovering mid-air before he withdraws it. “Andrew.”

Andrew is half-way out the door, but he stops, which is more than Nicky expected.

“You’ll be fine.”

Andrew huffs, and abruptly disappears. Nicky smiles to himself as he turns back to his essay.

It took him a long time to piece it all together, but the truth is that Andrew really can be quite sweet, in his own terrifying way.

Nicky wonders how long it will be before he has to give Neil the sex talk too. Maybe he should offer.

Best not to; he has some self-preservation instincts, after all.

#9 Renee

Renne likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. Some of his quirks are more obvious than others, however; it doesn’t take a student of human character to notice that when Andrew wants to spar, it’s usually because he has something on his mind.

Renee is hardly in a position to judge, not when she finds the cut and blow of a vicious fistfight as cathartic as he does. There’s still a piece of Natalie Shields underneath all of Renee’s growth like the pit at the heart of a peach. Sometimes the best way of holding her down is by letting her out in controlled increments. Give her the inch so she won’t take the mile.

As usual, it is only when they have beaten each other to exhaustion and back that Andrew is ready to talk. They sit cross-legged in the centre of the room, slurping down apple-juice cartons like kids in the playground, and finally, Andrew speaks.

“I want you to train Neil.”

Renee sets her carton down. “I thought Matt was teaching him to box.”

“He’s a shit boxer.”

“Neil or Matt?”

“Both.”

Renee shakes her head. She reaches back to pull out her hair tie, letting her bangs tumble back into their usual place. “Is there a reason Neil hasn’t asked me himself?”

Andrew is silent. There it is; the heart of the matter.

Renee sighs. “I’m not going to force Neil to train with me if he doesn’t want to.”

“I don’t force Neil to do anything,” Andrew says sharply. Renee winces; it was a poor choice of words on her part.

“Why do you think he needs it?”

“Matt is teaching him how to box. It’s not the same as real fighting.”

Renee hums. “Can’t he do something for fun?”

“That’s not the point. Besides,” Andrew pauses. “Matt only knows how to fight like the fuck-off giant that he is.”

Renee can’t argue with that; Matt never had to learn the same style of combat that she and Andrew did. He may teach Neil how to throw a good punch, but there’s a big difference in stance and strategy when your opponent is a foot taller than you. Renee and Andrew learned that the hard way.

“And who is it that you think Neil is going to be fighting?”

Andrew waves one arm in an all-encompassing gesture. “Have you met him?”

“Andrew.”

“Renee,” he shoots back, imitating her tone and inflection.

“What did he say when you suggested that I teach him?”

Andrew scrunches up his features in an imitation of Neil’s ugh face. “He said that he gets enough bruises as it is.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Andrew doesn’t roll his eyes, but his eyebrows twitch as though he’s considering it. “He also said he doesn’t need to get any better. Because he…” Andrew grimaces. Sharing is still tough for him, even after years of therapy and trust. “He has me to protect him.”

“As I said,” Renee says, smiling. “He’s not wrong.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He has his moments.”

They finish their juice boxes in silence.

“Well,” says Renee, getting back to her feet. Her legs may be going stiff, but there’s still some fight left in her. There always is. “I may not be able to train Neil, but at least I can train his bodyguard to the best of my ability.” She holds her hand out to Andrew. After a moment of careful consideration, he takes it, using the pull to swing himself to his feet. “One more round?”

Andrew nods, determination setting in his eyes like concrete. “One more round.”

Renee likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. This time, as they trade hits and kicks, it isn’t anger or frustration powering Andrew’s movements; it’s something far more powerful.

She thinks – hopes – prays – that the worst of Neil’s fights are behind them. All the same, she sleeps a little easier knowing that, should the day come, Andrew will be at his back with a knife in each hand.

That’s love, after all.

Thank you for reading - please let me know what you thought

Still open to requests!

#aftg #andreil #tfc #neil josten #andrew minyard #my fic #asks #anon

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eldritchteaparty · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 9/20 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter Summary: Jon returns to work, and Melanie King interviews for a position as archival assistant that Elias forgot to mention he had posted. Martin cuts Jon's hair.

Chapter 9 of my post-canon fix-it fic is out and yes, I jumped on the haircut fluff bandwagon.

Read above at AO3 or read here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

Jon returned to work the day after they learned about (or more rightly, remembered) the Leitners. Martin had very mixed feelings about it. Even though Jon was eating again and getting enough sleep and making a show of taking his vitamins, Martin wasn’t sure he’d ever feel like he had taken enough time to recover. More than once, he found himself daydreaming about what it might be like if Jon just decided he was never going back to the Institute. Sure, Jon had said it wasn’t an option, but that was before—well, before now. Maybe, if things weren’t going like he’d assumed, he could be convinced to work somewhere else and finally get away from all of this. Or maybe work nowhere, if he wanted. Martin could make that work. He’d taken care of two people on one job before.

On the other hand, the Leitners had really shaken him. It felt like the Institute was sitting on a bomb that could go off at any time if someone took a wrong step—and most of the people walking on it didn’t even know it was there. If it ever had felt as simple as just leaving, it certainly didn’t now. And as long as that was the situation, he needed Jon there. They all needed Jon there.

He’d actually assumed Jon would head straight for the Leitner Room when he got back, but he didn’t. When he asked him about it, Jon’s answer was that Martin had already been there, and there wasn’t any point. That caught Martin off guard—after all, this was the man who not even two weeks ago had re-read every document Martin had tried to read for him—but when he pointed that out, Jon shrugged.

“Maybe I’m trying something different.”

Martin gave him a look. “Really?”

“Why not?” Jon gave what passed for a smile with him this week, and Martin felt like he had to accept it. “Besides, we don’t want to risk drawing attention to them. I think that’s the worst thing we could do.”

The rest of the week was mostly uneventful. Even Jon spent some time in the stacks helping out with client requests, which they somehow had still not caught up on. The only thing that stuck out was that once, on his way out of Sasha’s office, Martin found Jon at his desk going over several page of hand-written text and decided to ask him about it.

“So… Sasha said that people were still coming by with—stories, I guess?”

“Yes.”

“Is that one of them?”

“Yes, I’ve been reviewing them. Sasha really doesn’t like reading them herself, so I’m—” He looked up at Martin. “What?”

“I just didn’t realize. That’s all. That—” Martin frowned down at the papers in front of Jon. “That looks an awful lot like… well, a statement.”

Jon followed Martin’s eyes back to his desk. “I suppose it does. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Martin found the resemblance vaguely troubling, though he couldn’t put his finger on why it stood out to him. Nothing had changed, really, it was just about what it looked like. There were certainly enough other pressing things happening.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it,” Jon said, putting his hand on Martin’s arm.

“No, it’s—it’s fine. I guess I should have assumed people were still coming in… I don’t know why it’s bothering me.” He shook his head and squeezed Jon’s hand briefly before turning to head back to the stacks. “I know you’d tell me if there was anything serious. Well, it’s all serious, but anything we could—you know what I mean.”

“Martin, I—"

“No, it’s really all right. I’m just worried about everything, I guess. Sorry for interrupting.”

“You weren’t,” he heard Jon say behind him as he left.

Otherwise, though, things almost seemed to be looking up. Even Tim, spotting Martin on a ladder while reshelving some heavy volumes, commented that Jon looked better.

“I mean—I feel like he does?” Martin agreed, straining to make room on the shelf at an awkward angle without dropping the book in his hand. “I think some—time off—actually did him some good.”

“Or maybe he was so heartbroken about missing our lunch together that he decided he couldn’t stay home another day.”

“I’m sure that was it, Tim.” Martin rolled his eyes as he finally managed to squeeze the book onto the shelf.

Tim was ready to hand him another volume from the cart when he paused, looking up at Martin and down at the cart again. “Wait, was that number—did it end with .5268 or .57?”

Martin looked back at the book he’d just placed on the shelf. “Let’s see—damn it, it was .57.” They hadn’t been paying attention, and they’d managed to miss the poorly placed divider on the cart. Now Martin was going to have to get the book back out of the shelf he’d only barely managed to squeeze it onto, although that maybe explained why it had been so difficult in the first place.

“Sorry,” Tim said. “That was my fault.”

“No, not really. I could have caught it too.”

“Be careful.” Tim shifted to the other side of the ladder as Martin leaned precariously toward the book that now didn’t want to come back out. “You know, Jon’s lucky to have you to take care of him.”

Martin was glad he could blame the color in his face on his efforts to pull the book.

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

“Um—what?” He almost had it now. “I guess? Yes? What are you getting at?”

“Just that I’m still here to listen. If you want to talk about—what happened.”

The book finally came loose, and Martin barely managed to hang on to it and keep his balance on the ladder—but he did. “Here,” he said, tossing it down to Tim once he’d regained his footing. It was his only answer.

***

Even the weekend felt better. He was finally relaxing a little bit about the Leitners—after all, they’d been there for several months and nothing had happened yet, and they were flagged now if anyone asked about one. There were very few people with a key to the room—just the others in the archives and maybe Elias—and none of them were likely to take a sudden interest in them as long as they didn’t attract it.

Jon stayed in bed with him. They went to the store. They made breakfast together—well, Martin made breakfast, but it was a real breakfast with eggs and bacon, and Jon watched him make it with more admiration than it deserved. At some point, Martin borrowed Jon’s trimmer, the one he used on his beard, and finally gave himself the haircut he’d been needing. It felt nice; it felt like a normal thing to do. Afterward, he checked on Jon in the sitting room and found him reading.

“Reading anything important?” Martin asked from the doorway.

“Just a book,” Jon said, briefly holding up a small, worn paperback that Martin recognized from his bookshelf. He walked up behind the couch to look over Jon’s shoulder.

“Like—a normal book that regular people read?”

“A normal book, at least,” Jon said, temporarily closing the book on his thumb to look at Martin. “Oh. You did it. Your hair, I mean. It looks—it looks great.”

“You think?” Martin ran his hand over the shortest part, where he could feel the bristle of the fresh cut against his fingers. “You know, I think I finally found a couple grey hairs this time.”

“Get over it.” Jon lifted his thumb to check the page number and then let the book close entirely before turning to rest his head on his arms on the back of the couch. “You do not get to talk about grey hairs.”

“I wasn’t complaining, I was just mentioning it,” Martin protested. “And I like your grey, it makes you look—”

“Do not say distinguished,” Jon groaned. “Everyone always says that.”

“All right—I won’t.” Martin bent down to kiss Jon instead. Jon started to kiss him back, but Martin stood up. “No, I don’t want to distract you.”

“Oh.” Jon raised his eyebrows. “Is that how it is?”

“Yeah. It is. It’s been forever since you’ve read just a book, and—well, it was something you said you missed.” He kissed Jon one more time, but this time on the top of his head. “And… thank you.”

“For what?”

“For—for trying.”

Jon looked surprised for a moment, and then his face softened. “Martin—”

“Nope,” Martin said, backing away from the couch. “We’re done here. You read. I think I may actually go give poetry another shot.”

“Really?” Jon asked.

“Yeah.” Martin shrugged. “Some of my—his—notebooks were in the stuff from storage. Thought I might go through them and see if it’s any good. It’s not like I was doing a lot of writing—well, there.”

“All right.” Jon sat back on the couch, but turned to look at Martin one more time before opening his book. “You know—if you write anything you like, I’d—”

“Oh, don’t worry, I would never put you through that,” Martin joked. “Just—enjoy your book.”

Martin didn’t end up writing anything—just a line or two that he didn’t like anyway—but going through the notebooks was fascinating. He remembered writing most of the poems in them. For some of them, he could even pinpoint exactly what he had been thinking about when he wrote them, or what had inspired them. He wasn’t afraid anymore that he was losing memories; he found he could navigate memories from the two existences almost side by side now, if he tried. It wasn’t a perfect description, but it was sort of like comparing two different edits of the same document.

He didn’t really identify with the version of him that had written the poems in that notebook. In a way, they annoyed him; it felt like going back and reading things you wrote as a child. He had outgrown them, maybe. He felt like there was simultaneously so much more and so much less to everything he’d tried to capture than he’d understood at the time.

Still, that didn’t stop him from wishing he could have been that person, or stayed that person, or become that person—he wasn’t sure how to think of it, but there it was. He’d liked writing that poetry; it had made him happy, inane as it was. He wanted to like writing it again.

***

Of course, Monday brought another unexpected turn of events. It started with Elias walking into the assistants’ office while Sasha was briefing them on the day’s activities. He looked tired after the weekend, which Martin realized was typical for him, but also vaguely enthused.

“Everyone,” he announced, “I’ve brought someone by that I’d like you to meet. A candidate for our new archival assistant position.”

“Wait,” Sasha said, crossing her arms. “What new position?”

“The one you asked me to advertise.”

“Well, yes, but that was like eight and a half weeks ago. Things were—different. We have Jon and Martin back now, thank god. And you never got back to me, so I just assumed you were ignoring me.”

“I have never once ignored you.” Elias shook his head at Sasha in feigned shock. “And to prove it—you just told me last week you were still behind on the archiving work, and that you weren’t comfortable following up with the reports we’ve been receiving.”

“Technically what I said was that I don’t think we should be dealing with them at all, they’re really not what an archive—”

“And as I told you, although only god knows why, some of our patrons are quite interested in those reports. So, we will keep dealing with them, but this”—Elias held up a finger—“is where our candidate comes in. Look, Sasha, I really think you’ll like this—and as always, I promise you’ll get final approval.”

“All right,” Sasha threw her hands up. “Bring them in.”

“Rosie,” called Elias, “please show her in.”

Before Martin could process it, he found himself staring at Melanie King.

“Melanie,” he said, surprised.

“Oh—” Melanie turned to look at him, and her lack of recognition brought him back to the moment. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Um,” Martin stammered. “Well—no. I guess maybe I just—feel like I know you? From your YouTube channel.” He laughed uncomfortably.

“Oh, right,” Melanie appeared equally uncomfortable. “I get that sometimes. Um—well, not all that often, actually. Sorry, tell me your name?”

“I’m—I’m Martin Blackwood. I’m one of the assistants here.” He belatedly stepped out from his desk to shake her hand, and she smiled again.

“And I’m Tim Stoker.” Tim’s relative comfort as he also shook Melanie’s hand seemed to put her at ease, at least until she rested her eyes on Jon. He was still sitting at his desk.

“Jon,” Tim prompted him.

“Hm? Oh, right, I’m—”

“I’m guessing you’re Jonathan Sims,” Melanie said.

“That’s—” He seemed mildly surprised. “Yes. I am.”

“My partner, Georgie—Georgie Barker—she’s the one who saw the ad. Said she’d heard someone she used to know might be working here, and well—anyway, we talked about it, and eventually she convinced me to put in my application.”

Jon realized she was waiting for him to say something. “Oh,” he managed.

Her smile faded slightly. “Well, nice to put a name to a face, anyway.”

Elias gestured toward Sasha. “And this is Sasha James, our head archivist.”

“Hello, Ms. King,” Sasha said warmly as she stepped forward. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You too.” Melanie took the hand Sasha offered to her. “Mr. Bouchard—Elias—was just telling me about the work you do here, and if you don’t mind, I’d love to chat with you about it.”

“Of course,” Sasha said, leading the way to her office. “Come on in.” Elias followed behind, and they closed the door behind them.

Martin immediately pulled a chair over to Jon’s desk, leaning close and speaking quietly so that Tim couldn’t hear. “What do we do?”

Jon considered. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“But, well—can she—I mean, if she signs a contract, will it be like—”

“No,” Jon shook his head. “No, definitely not.”

“Are you sure?” Martin was still worried. “How can you—”

“I’m sure,” Jon said definitively. “No one’s getting stuck here. Look—that was all Jonah Magnus’s doing, completely. He doesn’t exist here, and when he did, he certainly didn’t have the ability to trap people in his employment.”

“Hm.” Martin still wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Martin, it’s fine,” Jon said, taking his hand. “If it weren’t—if I had any doubt—I’d stop it. I’d find a way. I wouldn’t let her go through that again.”

Martin nodded; Jon’s confidence, at least, gave him confidence. He went back to his desk and continued organizing his tasks for the day, although he was so distracted he hadn’t made much progress when Sasha’s door opened again. She walked out and closed it behind her, leaving Elias and Melanie inside.

“What do you all think?” she asked.

There was a brief silence, and then Tim spoke up first. “It’s a surprise, for sure, but if having someone else around helps you out, I’m all for it.”

“Well, she certainly doesn’t have the sort of background we usually look for, but as Elias pointed out, she has a lot of investigative experience.” Sasha leaned back to sit casually on the round desk in the middle of the office. “Normally that’s not something you’d need in an archive, but as long as we’re being asked to start following up on some of these statements—”

“I can follow up on those,” Jon interrupted. “She doesn’t need to—"

“Jon, onsite research and interviews are exactly what she does.”

“Yes, but as you’ve said, her credentials aren’t—”

“Oh, you’re a certified private detective?” Sasha asked with a note of sarcasm.

“I just meant for an archive—”

“I understand, and credentials are important, but I think we can also all agree that Martin, for example, has become an excellent assistant.”

Tim snorted. “Jon, I dare you to argue.”

Jon ignored him.

“Anyway, Jon,” Sasha continued, “I haven’t forgotten you’re interested in the statements too—I was going to ask you if you wouldn’t mind helping Melanie get adjusted. You know, help her out a bit. That’s assuming we go ahead with the offer and she accepts.”

Jon thought for a moment, then sighed. “All right. Yes.”

“Good,” Sasha said. “Martin, any thoughts?”

“Um—no,” Martin said. “I’m sure she’ll be—she’ll be fine.” Jon had said it would be fine.

“All right,” Sasha said, standing up. “I’ll tell Elias to make the offer.” She disappeared back into her office.

When they came back out, Melanie was smiling and chatting happily to Sasha about an episode of Ghost Hunt UK she and her crew had filmed in Glencoe. Part of Martin was still very nervous for her; the Institute clearly wasn’t the safest place in the world, even if she wasn’t caught there. Another part of him, though, maybe a bigger part, had missed her, and he would be glad to have her around—and seeing her and Sasha together gave him hope, somehow.

“Oh,” Melanie turned just before she and Elias left the office together. “Jon, Sasha mentioned that you’d be helping me get comfortable with things around here, and well—I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Jon said, not looking up from his desk.

This time her smile vanished. “I’m sorry, did I—did I do something to offend you?”

Now Jon looked up. “What? Why would you say that?”

“It’s just—I feel like you already don’t like me.”

“I—no,” Jon said. “I’m—”

“He’s been ill,” Sasha said. “He’s still recovering. Please excuse him.”

“Oh,” Melanie said, but she looked doubtful. “In that case, I hope you feel better.”

“Right,” Jon nodded. “Thank you.”

After she left, Sasha turned to the assistants. “As you may have gathered, she’s already accepted the offer, and she’s quite happy about it. She’ll be starting on Thursday, and I’d like to suggest that instead of lunch this week, we go out to dinner that night to welcome her. Please try to make it, if you can.”

Martin wasn’t sure if he was dreading it, looking forward to it, or both.

***

“Ready for supper?” Martin asked when they got home that night.

“Actually, first—I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

“Sure,” Martin said. “What is it?”

“Would you cut my hair for me?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Martin crossed his hands in front of his chest for emphasis. “I’m no good with scissors. I mean, I could try to trim the ends if—”

“I meant like yours. Well, not exactly like yours, that’s just—” He cleared his throat. “I want it short.”

“Why?” Martin asked, taken back.

“Would you hate it?”

“No!” Martin said immediately. “No, that—it’s just a big change.”

“Yes, exactly,” Jon agreed. “I think that’s why I want to do it. I mean, I won’t insist if you don’t—”

“No, it’s—if you’re sure, I’ll do it.”

They brought one of the chairs from the balcony into the bathroom. Jon reached back to pull the tie out of his hair, but Martin got there first. He tugged it loose, straightening out the strands that got caught on Jon’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re ok with this?” Jon asked again. “I think you’re more attached to it than I am.”

“Not really,” Martin lied, thinking about how he’d taken to brushing it out of Jon’s face while he’d been so out of it. He did kind of miss those moments. “I mean, it doesn’t actually matter how I feel, but—well, ok, give me a moment to say goodbye.”

“Whatever you need,” Jon said with amusement.

“No—no, I’m good.” Martin sighed and pulled it back again, this time into a low, loose ponytail. “So we’re absolutely going to get hair everywhere. I usually just take off my shirt and then jump under the shower afterward, but we could try a garbage bag or something—”

“I don’t mind.” Jon started to unbutton his work shirt, but then stopped. “You’re ok with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I—oh.” Martin suddenly realized he hadn’t seen Jon without a shirt on since the hospital after Hill Top Road, evidently not wanting to expose his scar again. “Jon, it’s—it’s fine. Sorry I didn’t realize before now.”

Jon still hesitated; Martin bent down and kissed him, reaching to undo the button under Jon’s fingers as he did. “Really, it’s fine. Just don’t black out.” He was trying to add some levity, although he wasn’t sure he pulled it off.

“I think I can manage that.” Jon finished unbuttoning the shirt; Martin took it from him as he pulled off the t-shirt underneath, and tossed them both out onto the bed. He deliberately avoided looking directly at Jon’s chest so as not to worry him.

“You’re really, really sure about this?” he asked, twisting his hand into the ponytail. “I mean, once this is gone—it’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“All right.” Martin took a deep breath, and with the scissors they’d borrowed from the kitchen cut his way through Jon’s hair, just above the tie. “There it is.”

“Oh god.” Jon wasn’t even looking at the hand Martin was holding up—he was looking at his reflection in the mirror and the uneven chin-length mop of hair that was left behind.

“We could leave it like that.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’m kidding. Here.” He set the hair down on the counter. “Although it is kind of rugged. With your beard, you’ve got a sort of lumberjack thing going on there.”

“Right—very rugged. Until I stand up.”

“Nothing wrong there. You’d be the world’s most adorable hipster lumberjack.”

The look Jon gave him in the mirror said everything.

“All right, all right—here we go.” The trimmer buzzed to life, and bit by bit, the remaining length fell away.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Jon asked.

“Oh—I had a—a friend who taught me years ago. I used to cut his hair.”

“A friend?” Jon asked.

Martin realized he’d stumbled over that pretty badly. “A boyfriend.”

“You can say that, you know. You don’t have to hide it.”

“No—I know.” Martin stopped cutting for a moment to switch out the guide. “Or I assumed, I guess. It’s just that we’ve never really talked about any of that stuff. Well, I know Georgie, obviously—knew Georgie? But that kind of just happened. It felt weird just now.”

“Well, next time it doesn’t have to.”

“Thanks. I—I really do appreciate that.”

Jon nodded. “I’m sorry that—we really did everything backward, didn’t we?”

“Couldn’t be helped.” Martin flicked the trimmer on and off to make sure the new guard was attached properly. “I mean, there are definitely things I wish were different, but it’s not like I regret it.”

“Me neither,” Jon said.

“Besides, we’ve got time to make up for it now.”

Something about the sad smile Martin saw reflected in the mirror made him lean down and press his mouth to Jon’s bare shoulder. It was nice for a moment, but he quickly found himself spitting out hair clippings. “Ok—I do regret that.”

“Oh god, sorry.” Jon turned to try to help him brush some of the pieces off his face.

“And that is why we took the shirt off in the first place,” Martin said when they had gotten most of it, still grimacing. “Anyway, I’m almost done here—just want to get a little more off the top.”

Jon nodded and turned back to face the mirror again, and Martin continued, mulling over the day’s events.

“Jon,” Martin said, “what was with you and Melanie today? You really did seem like you didn’t want to talk to her. Are you that upset about her working on the statements?”

“No, it wasn’t that. I mean, I don’t like it—I’d rather handle it myself, or with you—but that wasn’t it.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I? There was something.”

Jon hesitated, but finally answered. “I think it’s better to—try to stay unattached.”

Martin turned off the trimmer again. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. “That’s why you’ve never taken Tim up on drinks, too, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Jon, you—you need friends.”

“They don’t need me. And they certainly wouldn’t want to be friends with me if they knew what I brought here.”

“Jon—”

“It’s just better if I keep my distance.”

“Well, I disagree. And I hope you’ll at least come to dinner on Thursday.” Martin could see there wasn’t a point in arguing at that moment. He turned the trimmer on for one last touch up, but didn’t spend much longer on it—he was pretty pleased with it, overall, and it was easy to ruin a good cut by being too picky.

“What do you think?” he asked when he was finished; he was actually nervous to hear the answer.

“It looks great,” Jon said, turning his head in the mirror to look at both sides. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“It really wasn’t that hard,” Martin answered, but now that he knew Jon liked it he had to admit he was feeling pretty proud of it.

“Do you like it?” Jon asked.

“I do.” Martin set the trimmer down and stood back to look at it from farther away. “I’m definitely going to have to get used to it—but I mean, this is easier now.” He stretched his fingers out to scratch the back of Jon’s head.

“Oh,” Jon said, tilting his head back a little. “That’s—that’s quite nice.”

“You know—” Martin started to say, but then stopped as he felt himself blushing.

“What?” Jon said. “Everything all right?”

“I just—I know we don’t usually say stuff like this, but… well, I’ve been staring at you for thirty minutes straight, and you—you’re really quite good looking.”

Jon looked at Martin with his mouth slightly open, but quickly regained his composure. “You don’t have to say it. It’s obvious you think it.”

“Well.” Martin dropped his hand indignantly. “In that case, maybe I—”

“I mean, I can’t think of anything else that would have attracted you to me, so by process of elimination—”

“Oh, shut up.” Martin leaned in and kissed Jon hard, pressing his hands into the now-short hair at the sides of his head. It had been a while since they’d really kissed, maybe since they’d made up after their argument, and Jon returned it with equal insistence. “I can’t believe you turned that into an insult.”

“Sorry. You’re right, I’m not used to it.” Jon kissed him again, gently this time. “Shall I try again?”

“All right, but me too.” Martin tilted Jon’s head up by the chin. “You’re hot.”

Now it was Jon’s turn to blush, but only for a moment. “So are you.”

“No, you can’t just say that. You really are hot, I’m—” Martin cut himself off, realizing the hypocrisy of what he’d started to say. “All right, this is hard.”

“Maybe just back to this again?” Jon reached to kiss him one more time.

“All right. Until we get more practice.” He couldn't help running his hand through Jon's hair as their mouths came together again.

He could definitely get used to it.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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britts-galaxy-brain · 5 years ago

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The Normalization of Toxicity

This will be my last post, and unless some miracle occurs within the greater Tumblr community, my last time on Tumblr in general. I’ve been thinking on giving some sort of final update for a while now just to get some things off my chest. This may be long and/or rambly. I will be linking some resources at the end of this post that have helped me tremendously over the past couple of years.

First off, I would like to express my utter disgust at what this website and by extension the fandom communities in general have devolved in to. I greatly underestimated just how out of control this beast had become. Before I got on Tumblr for the first time, I had heard the rumors but assumed they had been wildly exaggerated. How wrong I was, and yet I remained in denial during most of my time here, including when I was sharing information and speaking openly with people I should never have trusted. That is the only thing I feel I need to sincerely apologize to Lily for. Yes, what she has done and continues to do is reprehensible. Yes, everything I have shared about her is true and I have done my best to keep every bit of this sensitive information as accurate as possible. I absolutely should NOT have shared it with the people I did. All I succeeded in doing was feeding the beast, and contributing to the mental distortions and distresses that causes her to act the way she does in the first place. I did so with the best of intentions, albeit I was tainted with anger in such a way that I was denying at the time. I didn’t handle this well. I didn’t research the audience I was sharing this information with. That was a massive mistake which ended up producing the exact opposite results than what I hoped would happen (either Lily would see the pain she caused people and would be inspired to change for the better, or would be ousted from her position and be unable to hurt others).

I stupidly believed the people who claim to care about this sort of thing were being genuine. They aren’t. These self-described ‘hunters’, at their core, mainly care about fueling the drama they use as an escape from their real life. The worst of them use it as a means to cover up their own closet skeletons and stroke their own egos. In the short time I was regularly involved with all of this, I witnessed an increasing amount of instances that have left me completely dumbfounded. Open predators are defended by some, while the ones who claim to want “justice” do nothing that would actually bring any sort of justice. These people are quickly forgotten within the internet’s short attention span, and they are left to continue to do what they do. People bandwagon around them, reducing the impact these people leave and making it harder for their actual victims to be taken seriously. It’s difficult to know how much of the dishonesty is intentional, or a result of moderate to severe uncontrolled mental illness. In Lily’s case, most of the conversations surrounding her involve debating her political and entertainment opinions rather than things she’s done that actually warrant discussion, and even that has been handled incredibly poorly and has just fed into her self-defenses. I do not excuse myself from feeding into it as well.

On the topic of mental illness, I realized a hard truth during my hiatus. The things we use most as coping mechanisms are actually harming us. I quit social media entirely for a few months, and realized I really was addicted. I also realized the memes and self-deprecating jokes we think are cathartic and helpful are feeding into these negative feelings about ourselves. They reinforce the identities we’ve built around ourselves. “Being trash”, “depressed”, ect become a comfort zone because that is what becomes familiar. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not railing against social media in general, just how we’ve been using it. Think about the last time you scrolled your Facebook feed, or whatever you spend a lot of time scrolling on. You automatically relate to and maybe even laugh at self-deprecating images and jokes. “Hah, I’m so fucking depressed.” “Hah, I’m garbage.” “Hah, I have no friends.” “Hah, I want to kill myself.” Now think about when you see something positive. “Psh, that’s not me.” “I don’t deserve that.” “I’m actually ugly, but okay.” You push against anything positive because on a deep level, it scares you. It threatens the identity you’ve built around yourself, which is the thing that gives you a sense of grounding to the world around you and the role you play in it.

I was an absolute MESS when I first started challenging my own darkness. I hadn’t realized just how deep I had gone. I was horribly paranoid. Angry. Deeply depressed. My memory is still recovering from the several years of constant extreme stress I went through. I’m finally getting stable, which is genuinely the first time in my life I can say that. It felt fucking weird for a while, and it still does at times. It feels strange being comfortable in my own home. It feels uncertain but great that I’m at a point where I can afford my bills and still have some money left over. I’m finding interest in old and new hobbies. I have real goals for the future that I am actively working toward. I have a support system that cares about me enough to tell me the truth instead of enabling my bad habits and behaviors, and it took a long time for me to trust that they truly had my best intentions at heart.

It has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever experienced. I had to break and completely reshape myself. It has taken daily maintenance, practice, research, ect and I have gotten lazy and fallen off the wagon multiple times, but I absolutely refuse to let myself go back to where I was. Never again. It has cost me quite a few people that I thought were friends, and most of my family. I’m still not quite where I want to be with myself, but I’m taking steps to get there and I feel like I’m making real progress.

I guess the point to this is to hopefully send out a message of hope to those of you who want to get out of the dark, and are ready to do so. There are ways to heal, and you deserve that, regardless of your past or what other people have said about you. It’s never too late and it’s okay to hurt and grieve during this process. It isn’t easy, it can take quite a while and a LOT of willpower, but it is doable.

I may check back at some point to see if anyone has any questions or would like advice, but I won’t be discussing Lily any longer, nor will I be resharing any information about her. It’s out there in multiple places if you really want to find it.

That’s all for now. I wish you all the best and hope this reaches someone. - Thought Bubble https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpuqYFKLkcEryEieomiAv3Q - Therapy in a Nutshell (licensed therapist specializing in anxiety, depression, attachment styles, and trauma-related mental illnesses. Uses neuroplasticity along with other therapeutic practices. This one has helped me the most.) https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCybBViio_TH_uiFFDJuz5tg - Einzelganger (Philosophy channel with a focus on stoicism and individual existentialism.)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCiRiQGCHGjDLT9FQXFW0I3A - Academy of Ideas (Philosophy channel with a focus on self-mastery.)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-tLyAaPbRZiYrOJxAGB7dQ - Pursuit of Wonder (Philosophy channel with a focus on existentialism in relation to the world as a whole.)

#toxic #philosophy #self-help #self esteem #fandom #mlp #mlp fim #thought bubble #update #peet post #lily orchard

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keilanabug · 5 years ago

Text

Stargazing

Peter Parker x fem!reader, although it’s not the whole focus

Special thank you to my friends for letting me use their names or this fic could’ve gotten confusing to read.

Warnings: None. This is pure fluff.

Picture below belongs to Sierra Mahseelah. Please do not use.

You had gone stargazing several times before. You had gone stargazing several different places. It was one of your favorite things to do wherever you went.

But in New York, it was hard to see the stars with all the light pollution. You were so used to seeing the stars as you fell asleep.

So when you suggested to go Stargazing to the Avengers, they looked at you like you were crazy. “Y/N, there is nowhere to go stargazing in the whole state of New York where it will be possible to get away from the light pollution.”

“Whoever said it was here?”

Tony gave you a questioning look. “I know the best stargazing spots ever. And there’s no place like Montana.”

The Avengers chuckled. “You want to go to Montana?” Nat questioned.

“Yes! Please! Stargazing there is so much fun. And I know the best places we can go in Montana. My friends can meet us there. It’ll be fun and relaxing. And next week is the Sturgeon moon. Between that and the wildfire season, the moon will look amazing.” No one was going for it.

But luckily, Peter came to your side. “I think it sounds like an amazing idea Y/N! C’mon Mr. Stark it’ll be fun. Besides, I’ve barely left the state besides to go to D.C.”

“I mean, it’s not a bad idea. I mean, I think it could be fun.” Nat agreed. Tony still didn’t seem convinced. “C’mon Tony. It’ll be fun for Y/N to go home and Peter I’m sure would like to go somewhere besides NYC and D.C.” Steve said, jumping on the bandwagon. Tony looked at the four of you.

“I never said it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Well you didn’t seem convinced it was.” Nat shot back.

“You know what? Fine. We can go to Montana to Stargaze. What day is this ‘sturgeon moon’?” Tony asked.

“August 3rd.” You answered excitedly. “So I’ll call my friends and I can have them meet us at the spot around 9:30z could I go up a couple days early to help them set up?”

“Set up?” Peter asked, making it sound outrageous. “What do you have to set up? You gonna throw a whole party?”

“No. I just want to make sure your first time Stargazing is perfect. Besides, I’d like to see my friends. I haven’t seen them since May.” You explained.

Sure, the Avengers were your friends, your family even, but your first home would always be in Montana. It hasn’t been your choice to come to NYC, your parent’s jobs had required you to move here.

But that’s ok. You had a better chance to use your skills for things like helping the Avengers and becoming part of the team and working in the labs at SI and finding and making amazing new friends. Like Peter.

You flew out a few days later. You had vetoed the idea of calling them, so you could surprise them instead. And you knew that even with the short time frame, they’d be able to pull together something nice for the Stargazing night. Heck, you often threw your stargazing night party the same day you decided to do them. You weren’t worried.

Your best friend’s mom picked you up. She was in on the surprise thing and you’d be staying with one of your friends for the few days you would be here before the Avengers came.

“Are you excited to see everyone again?” Your best friend’s mom asked. “Yes. New York is great, but nothing beats home. I can’t wait to surprise all my friends.” She smiled at you.

“Miriam has no clue right?”

“No, no one does.” It was a 30 minute drive from the airport back to your hometown.

When you pull up to the house, you immediately jump out of the car, running to the front door like you had many times before. You opened the door with no hesitation yelling, “Miriam! I’m home!”

“Y/N?” You heard your friends voice from farther inside the house. Before seeing her face pop out, seeing yours.

“Y/N!” Miriam yelled in excitement, barreling into you for a hug. “Oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you! What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be back in New York…”

She whispered in your ear, “...the Avengers?” Only your closest friends and immediate family knew about you working with the Avengers.

“Yes. But I need your help. And the help of a few others.” Miriam smiled. “We’re getting the free back together?”

You smiled, “We’re getting the crew back together.”

Once you had the crew, which was composed of you, Miriam, and your friends Joselyn and Mackenzie, you told them the plan.

“Look, I’m not here for just any reason. I’ve convinced the Avengers to come out here and stargaze. But I need some help from you guys and want you guys to come with me.”

“You convinced the Avengers to come to Montana and Stargaze?” Joselyn asked you like you were crazy.

“Yes, ok. I want it to be perfect. Peter’s coming too and I want him to be impressed. Plus, it’s the Sturgeon moon and with fire season it’ll look absolutely amazing.”

“Peter?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend? Ooh! How long have you been dating? You didn’t tell us about any boyfriend.” Miriam said.

“He asked me out to prom and we’ve been dating since then.”

“Since April?! And you didn’t tell us?!” Mackenzie exclaimed.

“It didn’t seem important. That’s besides the point. I need your help to set up a stargazing night for the Avengers. So I need any trucks I can get. Blankets and pillows too. Maybe tents if we can’t get enough trucks. And shopping for some treats and food? Can I count on your help?”

Your friends smiled at you before saying, “Only if we can come along too.” You smile, thinking about it. “Fine. Just, don't embarrass yourselves.”

Your friends cheered as you laughed. “Ok, so here’s the game plan…”

The day came and you had everything set up and ready at Miriam’s property. Trucks, and tents and even some hammocks between some of the trees. You had no idea when the Avenger’s would get here. You were just trying to have everything perfect and ready for them.

And you expected lots of different entrances for the Avengers. Landing the jet in the middle of Miriam’s field was not one of them. But you honestly didn’t expect anything less. You watched as the plane landed and the Avenger’s walked out of it, looking around.

“This is actually really nice.” Nat said, surprised. “Hey, don’t sound so surprised. I can have good ideas too. Welcome to Montana guys. These are my friends Miriam, Joselyn, and Mackenzie. They helped me with this.” The Avenger’s introduced themselves. It came to Peter and they smiled.

“So this is the boyfriend?” Miriam questioned. You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “Yes, this is the boyfriend. Peter these are the friends I’ve told you about.”

“Oh. Ok. So what do we do during the stargazing party?”

“Yeah, what do we do?” Steve asked.

“Well, we cuddle up in our trucks or the tents with blankets and pillows, while we watch the stars. Spot constellations and what not. I often take pictures and we play music from my phone using a Bluetooth speaker. We also have lots of snacks. My friends already claimed the middle truck. I claim the outside left one with Peter.” Peter smiled.

“Anything else is free. You can often fit two to three people in the back of each of these trucks. So we can probably fit 4 to 6 more. It just depends on how massive you are and how much room is left in the trucks.

“The sun is almost completely set. Help yourselves.” You smiled. Everything was going well so far. You grabbed your camera before asking your friends and Peter if they wanted to do photos which they happily agreed to.

A bit later, soft music played in the background. You were talking to your friends when Peter grabbed your hand, pulling you down from the truck’s tailgate.

Peter walked you away from your friends. You chuckled, “What are you doing Peter? I was about to go snuggle up in the truck.”

“What? I can’t dance with my girlfriend?”

“Dance? Since when do you dance Parker?” You asked. “Since this seemed like such a romantic moment. Under the stars with my favorite girl with soft music playing in the background.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Just dance with me please.” Peter pleaded. You chuckled softly. “Fine.” Peter took your hand, placing his other on your hip. You got into position and you quietly danced as music played. It still wasn’t completely dark, but as you danced, you could see the moon rising, a bright light red color. You smile before placing your head on Peter’s chest as you dance.

The song ended and you looked at Peter who gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Can we go lay in the truck now and actually look at the stars now?” You asked.

Peter gave you a teasing exaggerated eye roll, “I guess.” You laughed, hoping into the back of the truck. You moved towards the back of the truck before lifting the blankets and getting under them, Peter following you. You snuggled close to each other, looking up at the stars.

Everyone was impressed with the amount of stars in the sky. And having lived most your life in Montana, you had grown so used to it, and were able to point out constellations.

But Peter has his eyes on you. He loved how happy you were. You pointed out every constellation Peter thought possible and he admired how much you enjoyed something so simple. And you wanted to share it with everyone. Most of the Avenger’s were talking to each other or spacing off or sleeping already. And here you were, pointing out stars, with your closest friends helping spot ones you were having trouble finding.

Peter finally looked up at the sky and pointed out a star. “I like that one. Look at how bright it is. Like you, you’re my little star.”

You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend. “You know Peter, that’s also the northern star.”

“And you’re always pointing me in the right direction.” You were speechless. “Peter-“

You were cut off by a gentle kiss from Peter. When you pulled away, you smiled. “That was so sweet.”

“The kiss or the words?”

“Both.”

He kissed you again. “Ok, ok you two. No more PDA. You’re disgusting.” You and Peter both started laughing at Miriam’s scolding. “Wait Y/N and Peter were showing PDA? We can’t have any of that.” Steve scolded. You and Peter were laughing hard now.

“Excuse me teenagers, you are not allowed to show PDA. Remember the rules?” Tony yelled. You laughed with Peter. “Ok, ok. No more PDA. Promise.” You said.

You looked back at Peter. He shrugged. “You know you look really cute when you're pointing out the stars.” Heat rose in your cheeks. “Stars are my favorite. When I miss home, I can look up at the stars, and know that my friends are sleeping under the stars and everything feels right again. That’s part of why New York is too hard for me to live in. Too much light pollution.”

Peter smiled. “Well, I like the stars. They’re so beautiful. They remind me of you. Bright and happy and hopeful. A little light peaking through the darkness.”

“I love you Peter.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

And with those words, you snuggled up close, keeping each other warm during the cold summer night, falling asleep while watching the stars.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my story!!! Feedback is always welcome. I hope you enjoyed it. Huge thank you (again) to Sierra Mahseelah (who is my uncle’s girlfriend) for giving me permission to use her photo.

Tagging some people: @tommysparker @the-crazy-fanfictionist @halfblood-princess-505 @angel-spidey @spideygirl2003 @tonguetiedholland @greenorangevioletgrass

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #peter parker #tony stark #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #peter x reader

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raisingsupergirl · 5 years ago

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My Supernatural Courage, pt. 1

*Author’s Note: Since writing this, I’ve had a thought, and I’m mulling it over. It might change my stance on things. It might not. Regardless, proceed, dear reader, to better understand where I’m coming from and where I may end up.*

I've been nervous a lot lately. I think everyone has. Not scared. Just nervous—uncertain. I've been nervous about the corona virus. I've been nervous about maintaining my hours at work. I've been nervous because I overcommit. I've been nervous because this past weekend I had to give a speech in front of my freemason brothers and had to play music in front of my church family. And, most of all, I've been nervous about the widespread civil unrest. But the weird thing is, even though national tensions seem to be on the rise, I'm finally starting to achieve some inner peace. Not because I've reached some sort of new normal or because I've given up in some way, but because my frayed nerves weren't actually about the civil unrest at all. They were about my own inner battle. And it took a bunch of local hillbillies to finally set my mind at ease.

If you've followed with me for long, you know that I stay pretty busy. A few weeks ago, I posted about how I didn't have time to truly commit to the conversation regarding ALM vs BLM. The week after that, I posted about not being ready to die because I still have "stuff to do." Well, even though I knew this past week would be crazy busy, I had one request for Father's Day weekend—I wanted to do nothing. And nothing is what I did. My family spent Saturday at the waterpark, nothing but fun and sun. And then we went out to my mom's for dinner on Sunday. That's it. No blogging. No editing. No mowing the grass. Nothin'. And it was amazing, not just because I needed a breath, but because I needed a moment to think. Creatives know that it's essential to recharge every so often. And after I took Father's Day weekend off, I had newfound clarity on, well, a lot of things.

Like I said, the following week came with its own stresses. Not only did I have a ton of editing to do along with practicing songs for the upcoming weekend's church worship team, but that Thursday night, I was to be installed as my masonic lodge's master for the upcoming year. It's been five years in the making—five years of growth, learning, mistakes, and patience. I've learned so much about what it means to be a man in that time. The core masonic principles are brotherly love, relief, and truth, and it's principle duties are to be, "diligent, prudent, temperate, and discreet." And as I said in my speech last Thursday night, masonry is a confirmation of the men we've always been and a reminder of the men we want to be. It doesn't forge us, but it does sharpen us. And as I dwelt on those principles the week leading up to our officer installation, an inner peace settled over me. But, unfortunately, as I said before, it took a bit of a slap in the face by a really ugly counter protest in a nearby town to get me there.

Growing up and living in central Missouri, you'd think I would be used to racism. And I guess I am, but only in the, "Oh, look, a black guy. How about that?" sort of way, which I guess isn't really racism, but I'm also not surprised when I see someone raise an eyebrow at an interracial couple (I also won't deny that I've heard plenty of racist jokes in my day, but I'm not going to get into the nuances of political correctness, Mel Brooks, and South Park). Again, I've always seen it as lack of exposure more than actual racism, and while I've known there were hardcore racists living amongst us, I guess it's just been an out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. But those blinders were ripped off this last week.

There was a BLM rally in a town about thirty minutes from my house. And, as you'd expect, there were plenty of people who showed up with "White Lives Matter" and "Blue Lives Matter" posters. Which is fine. As I said last week, we live in a free country, and our diverse viewpoints make up the spirit of this huge country. But this rally was pretty awful. First, there were local storeowners standing on their roofs with rifles, looking down on the protestors. I guess I get it. Protect your house, and all that. But, geez, was it really necessary to have your weapons shouldered and at the ready. And, obviously, that increased tensions, leading the BLM and ALM folks to move from "peaceful" to a little more verbally aggressive. And that, unfortunately, led a few of the more, ehem, outspoken anti-protestors to (and I almost hesitate to say it) act like monkeys and pantomime lynchings.

I've seen the pictures. I've heard the reports. The BLM protestors weren't innocent. They threw out racial slurs and accusations. But they didn't resort the that level of debased scum. And I don’t use that phrase lightly. Thinking about it makes me want to spit. Or punch someone. It's no different than making sexual jokes to someone who was molested as a child.

It's easy to write that horrible display off as a small, idiotic percentage of the community. It's easy to sigh and move on, remembering that most people aren't that way. But… some people are! They exist in my community! And those people infect the rest of us. The more they talk, the more they normalize actual (even if it's subtle) racism. Thankfully, their public actions have called them out. They've done much more harm to their cause than good. And that event was at catalyst for me. Well, that and one other.

This next turning point was a small one. It was a simple comment by a black lady. She responded to an "ALM" Facebook post. It was simple and humble. "Everyone already knows that all lives matter but everyone don't agree that black lives matter and if it is never said then we will never matter. So because I say black lives matter it's because I wanna be just as important as you would be to the world…"

Yes, I already knew this obvious truth. Yes, I'd heard it a hundred times. But the way she said it, the fact that it came from her, and the timing of it in my life just made things click. BLM isn't just a social movement with an agenda (which I tend to tie together with human imperfection, various other motives, and some of the rioting). It’s a statement. And it's a simple statement, at that. It doesn't have to be political or loaded. "Black lives matter," I said with a smile and a nod as I waited for her to cross the street. Just imagining that scenario makes me happy. Is it wrong to open a door for a woman, wave a tattooed biker on in front of us at a stoplight, or pay for the meal of someone richer or poorer than us? No. Such acts don't relinquish any of our own self-worth or threaten our futures. They're simple, humane kindnesses that make the world a better place. They're acknowledgements that we are a diverse world, and it's neat to remind specific peoples that they are important, not just to us, but to the Most Holy Lord God.

Oops. I'm sure I lost some of you just now. And that's okay, but stick with me. I'm a Christian, through and through. Christ is a part of my everyday life, and one thing that I've reminded myself of for a long time is that every person I meet is a unique child of God. Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan, and Freemasonry reminds us by proclaiming, "Every human being has a claim on your kind offices. Do good unto all." And even though it took me a while to get here, I've found peace in those sentiments. I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. And I'm not afraid in the slightest about the future.

When I hear about rioters pushing down statues, I'm reminded of Jesus overturning the moneychangers' tables in the temples. There are plenty of excuses to maintain the status quo, but none of them are really good ones. What are you afraid of? Losing our history? Really? I can still find MySpace comments I made fifteen years ago, and my mom still has pictures of me naked in the bathtub. We're not talking about destroying someone's personal property or threatening their lives (or livelihood). We're talking about a symbolic act of desperation. Was it smart? Or right? Or productive? Who knows, but it's nothing to freak out about!

White people, what are you afraid of? Seriously. Are you afraid that black people will enslave you? Are you afraid of economic collapse? Are your guns going to be taken from you? Your jobs? Your freedom of speech? I mean, c'mon. Even if all of those things did happen (which they won't), who cares!? … Okay, wait. I get it. Slaves care. I'm sure it sucks. But you know how black slaves survived in early American history? They relied on God! Remember the Jews? Christianity was literally born out of a nation of slaves! Oppression is woven into the story of humanity, start to finish. We're a broken world. It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven. The first shall become last, and the last shall become first. Are any of these ringing a bell?

Okay, sorry. I got a little worked up there. But I can't help it. Everyone is so afraid of losing stuff, and nobody is taking five seconds to ask why. Why, truly, are you alive? What are you trying to do? Okay, yes, I get the compulsion to protect your family and future generations. It's biological (which doesn't make it any less important). It's engrained within our race's perpetuation. But we are one race, and I’m sorry, but your family isn't the pinnacle of genetic, moral, and intellectual perfection for the human race. Your kid may have won the spelling bee, but he's not going to cure cancer.

So, ease up a little bit. Let the rest of the world have a little space. Do I agree with everything the BLM movement has been associated with? Of course not. And I never will, because there are a lot of people who hitch themselves to bandwagons, regardless of their own, personal motives. If rioters make the USA into Mad Max, well, then you'll finally be able to tell your wife, "I told you so" about all of the guns and ammo you've been buying over the years. If one truly evil civil rights activist rises up and turns us into a nation of white slaves, well, I guess we'll just have to focus in a little more on being kind to our neighbor, looking to the afterlife, and trusting in God to reward us for obeying his commandments. But more than likely, all of the extremists on both sides will be cut off from the herd, and the rest of us will (eventually) live in a slightly different-looking America than what it has been for the past couple centuries. That's the funny thing about time—the present eventually becomes history. We don't continue to live in it, and we don't forget it. We accept it, learn from it, and move on. Simple enough.

In the end, it's your choice. I've probably offended just about everyone with this post (but as usual, I did it in a super nice way, so good luck calling me out, jerk). But this has been my journey to peace with the situation. My family will live on. My nation will live on. Maybe we'll be blessed with earthly comfort, or maybe we'll be sharpened by trials and tribulations. But eternity waits for me, and while I still walk this earth, I'll have no problem praising and building up specific people and specific groups. Why? Because differences are what make people awesome, and I'm not afraid to remind them of it.

#equality #peace #finding peace #blm #alm #christianity #inner peace #civil unrest #protest

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seriouslyhooked · 6 years ago

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Tennessee Whiskey

Historical CS oneshot set in the Wild West. Killian is a part of a raiding group pilfering from wagons and other rich parties on the way out west. He’s made a lot of money, but he’s had very few happy moments in the last few years. Then he meets Emma Swan, a saloon owner who blows his old life out of the water instantly. Could become something bigger if I ever find the time, but for now, just trying to answer a mixtape prompt for the song ‘Tennessee Whiskey’ by Chris Stapleton. Available on AO3 here and FanFiction here.

A/N: Okay all, so full disclosure I got this prompt a LONG time ago. Like more than a year ago, honestly maybe more than two, but I just never could find the needed inspiration to get something going. If my original reader wanted a set story to go with this, I’m sorry – I didn’t have a note with it and so I’ve just gone with where the music took me. Well, the music and a recent viewing of ‘The Magnificent Seven.’ For some reason I’ve got cowboys and sharp shooting on the brain now, and this is the fluffy bit of insta-love cuteness to come out of that. Be forewarned, however, that it’s not really all the historically accurate, and I don’t actually know much about westerns so. It’s just meant to be a little dose of fun and nothing too serious. Hope you guys enjoy!

Living this way used to feel like enough.

The thought crossed Killian Jones’ mind not for the first time as he sat astride his horse, making his way towards the only town for miles as the sun set on the open plains. In the last of the light this evening, this corner of the world he’d taken up temporary residence in showed its true natural beauty. The sunset went on for miles, as the long grasses blew in a soft, summer breeze. It was peaceful out here, quiet in ways that should calm a man’s soul, and it was moments like these where he understood what drove people from the certainty of coastal cities and into the unknown. The promise of making a home in a place like this was a beautiful one, but for Killian it would likely never come to pass.

That was a sadness of his own making. After all, his line of work was defined by more nomadic tendencies. To keep steady control over the raiding in these parts, Killian constantly followed big fish, businessmen seen as top prizes out here on the voyage to the West. Doing that took nearly constant movement and checking in with his spies and informants. He may only have three men actually in his pack of land bound ‘pirates,’ but his operation required a hell of a lot more, mostly ordinary people who kept an ear the ground but also knew discretion.

As a habit, Killian valued loyalty above all, and he reimbursed those who helped him find his marks for sticking out their necks for him. And in the end, though it might not be a proud kind of living, Killian had no real regrets. The only people he ever stole from were rich men and their minions, all of whom saw these western lands and its inhabitants as arbitrary obstacles on their way to more success. They’d trample on folks and ruin their livelihoods just to get another dollar, and Killian didn’t stand for that at all. So he did what he could, and if it made he himself a richer man in the process, so be it. He never claimed to be on the side of the law, just on the side of a particular shade of justice.

“Aw, come on Captain, don’t look so glum. We stole everything but the pants off those New York goons without shedding a drop of blood,” his friend and one of his partners, Will Scarlet, announced proudly, puffing out his chest in a display of self-approval. “Easiest money we’ve made all year. Hell, we could all take a vacation for a long, long time.”

Killian ignored Will and turned to Graham Humbert, the most collected of their group, as well as the quietest. Graham had been a lawman at one time, but for reasons he didn’t like discussing, he decided the law just wasn’t for him after years of playing Sherriff further East. Killian never asked for details, and Graham never offered, but it didn’t lessen Killian’s trust in his friend. They respected each other’s privacy, and at the end of the day, being closed up never stopped Graham from being a critical part of the team.

“See that the people in Fayette get their cut,” Killian instructed, tossing a bag with a percentage of their day’s haul towards Graham. “They wanted a new roof for the church and help with a barn raising, and there’s plenty there to get them started.”

Graham nodded and then nudged his horse back in the other direction. With a low whistle he signaled his other companion, aptly named Wolf, to accompany him, and immediately the massive, gray, mixed-breed dog followed. It should take Graham a few days to get there and then meet them back in the town ahead of them, but that was fine by Killian. If he had his way, he’d be spending the next few days with a bottle of rum and the luxury of an actual bed. In all honesty he didn’t know what he was more excited for, but sad as it might be to admit, he suspected it was the liquor he wanted most.

“You do understand the term vacation, right Cap?” Will asked, continuing to poke when they all knew how that could turn out. Killian wasn’t a man to be messed with ever, but on a day like today, when he’d woken up before dawn, laid siege to a giant bandwagon owned by one of the most corrupt robber barons around, and taken on at least eight guards just by himself without much food or water in between? Well, today was not a day to cross him.

“If even you grasp it, then Killian must,” the last of their band, Robin Locksley, replied. He uttered the words with a knowing grin, and Killian realized that meant a barb for Scarlet was on the way. “There are few men out here in these western wilds with as little sense as you, Scarlet. Best remember that.”

This was the teasing of men who at this point were like brothers, having known each other for more than a decade, but as much as he might respect and regard both Will and Robin, Killian still wished to skip this whole thing. He tuned out their playful bickering, instead focusing on finding out a way to feel something again. He didn’t really care what at this point, he just wanted to feel. It had been forever since something or someone had moved him in some way, and usually he relied on some libation or other to do the trick. Alcohol was a grave sin to some, but to Killian it was the one he danced with most. Yet because of that, it felt like his life was just a series of mad dashes and daring highway high-jacks with a lot of meaningless, often drunken, nothingness settled in between.

Eventually, Killian was put out of some of his misery when they finally arrived in town. At first glance, ‘Storybrooke’ Nebraska appeared to be completely ordinary. It looked like a lot of towns out here, in that everything was all together, consisting of one main street and not much else. But upon further inspection, Killian was intrigued. This was the-middle-of-nowhere, USA, but the windows into these shops were elevated and sophisticated. There was no real general store, but rather shops that specialized in clothes or tools or feed. There was a tavern and a bakery, a saloon and a hotel and all of them were clean, well maintained, and ready to be seen. There was no doubting that the people of this town, this previously unknown hideaway, were proud of the place they called home, and that pride seemed to translate into the very energy that radiated through this place.

“Seems different, doesn’t it?” Robin asked, giving word to Killian’s own thinking. Killian replied with a nod as he descended from his horse, petting the animal in a silent show of thanks before setting him up before the trough of water outside the saloon doors.

“What do you think it is? It can’t just be the name, right?” Will asked and Robin only shrugged.

“Hell if I know, but you can be damn sure I’ll be finding out.”

That was as glowing an endorsement as any of them had given a place in a good long while, and without their even having to discuss it, Killian knew they’d stay here at least a few days. While the area had people present and the saloon itself was filled with patrons, Killian knew there’d be rooms available. No place so far out of the way lacked for vacancy, and who knew? Maybe Robin was right. Maybe there was something different, and worth exploring here.

Before he could get into that though, he needed food. And rum. God did he need some rum. He only hoped they had it, since many a podunk prairie town did not, but when they were seated and greeted by a pretty, though somewhat timid barmaid who introduced herself as Belle, Killian was joyous to find there was rum in supply. She immediately fetched him a glass and filled it to the brim, and when he downed it quickly, she only smiled and offered him more. He thanked her genuinely, and surprisingly her kindness continued.

“We don’t have much, but what we have is yours to share. That’s the town motto after all,” the woman said, her smile easy even though she was clearly a bit flustered by the presence of the three of them.

“That’s pretty catchy. Who came up with that?” Robin asked jovially.

“The mayor,” Belle replied, her tone even though Killian could tell Belle’s feelings were mixed on the person in question. “She’s good at things of that nature.”

“She?” Killian clarified.

“Regina Mills,” Belle reiterated. “You three have never been to Storybrooke have you?” They shook their heads and the brunette stifled a laugh. “Well, I reckon you’ll have quite a time getting used to it. It’s not like many other places. Storybrooke is…”

“Different?” Robin and Killian offered at the same time and the woman smiled warmly.

“Yes. Different is a good word for it.”

“And your heart, lass? Is that up for grabs?”

“I beg your pardon?” Belle asked as Will interjected in a way that none of them followed.

“You said before that anything in town could be ours. Is your heart on that list of things yet to be distributed?”

The words from Will had Killian and Robin’s heads whipping so fast to see him that it put a horse’s full out sprint to shame. Her heart?! Had Will just asked about her heart? And if he had, did he really think that boyish play was about to work on this kind of woman?

“My heart is my own, sir,” she said, fighting the blush that came to her cheeks and showing a bit of annoyance for the first time tonight. “Excuse me for a moment.”

When the girl left under the pretense of getting them some of the evening’s special meal and ordering another round drinks, it took only a moment for Killian to reach around and smack Will along the side of the head. His friend never saw it coming, but he should have. What an asinine and completely ridiculous move on his part.

“Oi! What was that for?”

“We’ve been here five minutes and already you’ve made trouble,” Killian quipped. “Stop toying with that girl. She’s been nothing but kind to you.”

“Toy with her? I’m going to marry her!” Will barked out, seeming genuinely put out at being called on his actions.

“Oh here we go,” Robin muttered, sharing a look with Killian before taking the time to school their stupid friend. “What in the world makes you think that girl will possibly marry a bonehead like you? Especially when you come in guns blazing and laying on lines like manure on a corn field?”

For the first time in all the years Killian had known him, Will was struck speechless. He stuttered his words, stopping and starting only to realize he didn’t have anything to say. He was drawing a blank on what he could offer that lass and it served him right. After all, who the hell did he think he was, claiming to fall for a woman after being in her presence all of one whole minute?

“Your drinks, gentleman,” a silky-smooth voice said from beside them, and even before he turned to look, Killian knew the woman who uttered them would be gorgeous. Just hearing her affected him in a way no woman had in ages, and the adrenaline that moved through him was something he only ever felt in the thick of a wagon raid. Only ‘gorgeous’ was a word that didn’t actually do her justice, and when he took in the sight of her for the first time he was lost.

All at once Killian understood what Will had meant moments ago. It hit him like lightning striking a tree, leaving sparks and wildfire crackling in its wake. There was no denying the connection or the immediate desire he had to pull this beautiful woman into his arms and hold her close. She was perfection made real, with long blonde hair pulled back tight, knowing green eyes that challenged them all in a way he’d never seen before, and lips made for stolen kisses on a hot summer’s night. But everything about this woman told Killian she was a proper lady. She might be working in a saloon, and she may come across as tough as nails, but underneath that strength was a delicacy he yearned to embrace. He wanted to hold her close and then steal her away from here. He wasn’t sure where they’d go exactly, but he knew he’d go anywhere with her and that once he had her in his grasp, he’d never want to give her up.

“You’re not my future wife,” Will proclaimed, with a tone of actual sadness and despair, and a loud growl emanated through the space.

It took a second for Killian to realize he was the one who’d made the noise, and that he’d moved into a stance that was defensive and tense at his friend’s mostly harmless comment. Meanwhile everyone was looking at him, especially the woman who’d captured his attention. Her brow furrowed a bit as if she was confused or shocked by his actions, but he saw the way her pulse sped up a bit and the tiny bit of pink that spread across her creamy skin. Then he saw the harsh swallow she undertook before she found her voice again, and though she was determined to seem unbothered, he knew she wasn’t. She was affected by him too, and that calmed the irrational voice in the back of his head that was making him act like a mad man.

“If you’re referring to Belle, then no I am not, and thanks to your less than gentlemanly behavior she’s dipped out of helping you all for the night. She’s my best worker and can quite literally handle any one. But you,” she said, pointing at Will and staring him down assertively. “You she’s run from.”

“Your best worker,” Robin said, drawing out information that Killian was desperate for but couldn’t seem to ask himself. “So this establishment is yours than, Miss…?”

“Emma Swan” she replied, a hand coming over to her hip as she smirked at them, like she supposed they’d be totally thrown off at a pretty lady owning a saloon. “And yes, the saloon and the inn above are both mine.”

“Well that makes it easier then, seeing as we each need rooms for…” Robin looked at Will and then at Killian and his smile grew to a full blown grin. “Well for the foreseeable future as it were.”

“Wait, you’re staying?” Emma asked, a hopeful sound cutting through the usual collectedness of her voice, and when she looked at Killian, he finally found a way to talk again.

“Aye, love. We’re staying. For as long as you’ll have us.”

A beat passed between them where the whole rest of the world seemed to fade away. Killian, in fact, was so transfixed that he rose from his chair. Such a bold move might have frightened off another, but his actions prompted Emma to lean closer towards him ever so slightly. In this moment it was undeniable that they were in this together. This immediate and overwhelming attraction was something they shared, and it was also something Killian was hell bent on exploring more of. He only had to figure out how best to convince this beguiling woman of his honest intentions.

Before he could do that, Robin cleared his throat and it took everything in Killian not to draw his gun. He’d never actually injure his partner, but that was how much he loathed breaking this connection he shared with Emma. Instead his fists balled up and he shot his old friend a glare that could strike a weaker man down in an instant.

“Right,” Emma mumbled, her actions reflecting how flustered she must feel at all of this. Still she rallied, slightly shaking away the fog of emotion they’d just been in to resume her role as proprietor. “Well, as you might expect things are a bit slow this time of year. Actually things are slow all year. That’s the thing about hidden gems like Storybrooke. They’re out of the way, so no one really knows what they’re missing.”

Emma’s words were increasingly taking on a rambling quality, and it was obvious that she was operating outside of her regular way. This change made Killian smile, and that smile only grew as Emma stuttered at the sight of it. By God, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and as capable and elegant as she was, he could see the tell-tale signs of shyness that only love could bring. Wait, love? It was too soon to be thinking love, wasn’t it?

Struck as he was by the thought of having found love after so many years of secretly wanting it, Killian allowed Robin to take the lead. Robin was the one who coordinated payment for their meal and procurement of their rooms. Things then began moving very quickly, with Emma showing them the way to their lodgings while maintaining every level of professionalism. It wasn’t until Robin and Will had called it a night and headed in for bed that Emma’s show of strength began to waiver, but by the time they’d reached his door, Emma’s cheeks were flushed again and her voice had grown hoarse and gravelly.

“Your room, Mr. Jones.”

“Call me, Killian, love.”

“I shouldn’t,” Emma said, though she looked disappointed at her own defiance.

“But you want to anyway,” he countered.

“Not everything is about getting what you want.”

Hearing her say this clawed at something in Killian. He couldn’t easily explain it, but for some reason it pained him to hear Emma speak like this. A woman like her should have everything her heart desired and more. She was beautiful and bright, strong and in control, but she was also so much more. There were layers to this beautiful woman standing before him, intricacies that he wanted so badly to understand better, but more than anything he just wanted to see her happy. It was mad to admit that, but there it was.

“I disagree,” Killian replied, with more softness this time even as he stepped forward and took her hand in his, a gesture that escalated things between them in a split second. He felt the need and want for her intensify the moment they touched, and he watched Emma’s reaction to it, knowing she felt the same, even if she was trying to be reasonable. “I find in life that the best thing to do is listen to your instincts. It’s about balance in the end, love, between heart and mind.”

Emma looked at him and he could read so many unspoken emotions within her. She seemed fit to burst at his heartfelt words, but he didn’t know precisely why. Would she accept this? Would she trust in the callings of two hearts even if her mind said this was happening far too quickly? Or would she run from him, siding with good sense but ultimately denying them of an important moment together? He just wasn’t sure what she’d choose, until her thumb ran gently across the hand that held hers in a subtle, reassuring motion.

“I’ve been told before that my gut is my surest weapon. It’s what’s gotten me to where I am, and it’s what always kept me going, even when the going was hard.” She looked at him curiously, her eyes scrutinizing his face. “What is it?”

He realized then he’d been frowning and before she could get the wrong idea he clarified his thinking for her. “It’s nothing, love. I just hate to think of you going through anything like a hard time.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Killian,” she said, and though he normally might have recoiled at being called ‘sweet’ he had to admit he loved it coming from Emma, almost as much as he loved hearing her say his name. “But I wouldn’t change the things I’ve seen or the trials I’ve been through. They made me who I am today, for better or worse.”

“For better,” he responded, his fingers coming up to brush a strand of her blonde hair back behind her ear. The moment became charged, both of them giving into this desire to be closer, though Killian had no intentions of doing anything but talking more with Emma. He’d never betray her honor, and he’d never take any kind of advantage without truly claiming her as his, which he intended to do as soon as he believed she was ready. He opened his mouth to say as much, but then the sound of gunshots pounded out into the night from outside, and he moved as quick as he could to shield Emma.

“Stay here, love,” he instructed her, moving her into his room before she could even speak. “I’ll handle this.”

“Oh no you won’t,” she replied, pushing back at him. “Not alone any way. This is my business – my home - and I’m coming with you.”

“Emma, you can’t. It isn’t safe…” he trailed off from his words as she produced a pistol from her person that had escaped his notice and then quickly gathered another from a hidden board inside the hallway, readying both for whatever might happen and holding the guns with all the poise of a fully-fledged sharp shooter. He was enthralled by the actions, distracted to a point where all he wanted was to pull her close again, despite the dangers down below. Because whoever this creature was, she was a marvel, and Killian knew that in all his life before and in all his life here after, he’d never meet a woman quite like Emma.

“I’m not some damsel in distress, and you should know that now before this,” she gestured between them, “becomes something more. Now are you coming, or am I handling this alone?”

He followed her immediately, stunned but enamored with her stone-cold poise. She was a remarkable woman, fearless and brave, and though he had to sober up to be in the right state of mind to handle this, it was hard work. Killian was thrown both by his regard for Emma, but also by his immediate worry for her. Things in these parts were known for getting out of hand, and he wasn’t willing to allow anything to happen to his lass. They’d only just met, but Killian would be damned if he let a hair on her head be harmed.

Moving down the side steps with complete quiet was easily done thanks to the aid of Emma’s intimate knowledge of this building. She knew every board and divot and could successfully maneuver around each one, and Killian was more than willing to follow her lead. In fact, it was only at the moment where they heard yelling in the main room and Killian knew that trouble was directly in their way that he put his pistol back at his side and grabbed Emma’s hips, swiveling her back behind him and putting himself between him and the villain just yonder.

“Killian what are you -,” Emma’s whispered censure was interrupted with the quickest of kisses that he stole from her lips.

It was fleeting and swift, a product more of need than real satisfaction. Truthfully, he did it because he knew that anything could happen. In a gun fight there was always a chance that an opponent would outsmart you or that luck wouldn’t fall on your side, and damn if he could risk not ever having tasted Emma’s lips or showing her what he wanted to be between them. Maybe it was selfish, but to him it felt perfect, and he took Emma’s immediate yielding to the kiss, and her subsequent dreamy gaze as a cue that she felt the same. Luckily her distraction also allowed him to explain himself. After all he had a plan, but he needed Emma elsewhere, not just charging into things with him. With rapid fire instructions, he imparted his thoughts, and Emma agreed, though Killian wondered if her acceptance had more to do with the lingering feelings of that kiss than anything else.

Either way, it was time to face the music, and Killian did so by stepping into the light of the saloon once more. He had a few moments before the gun slinger noticed him coming out of the shadows, and in that time he got the lay of the land. It appeared to be one rogue with a rifle causing all of this trouble, but though he didn’t appear to be any kind of real master mind, Killian knew this man currently had all the power. For there, trembling slightly even as she held her head high and tried to stay brave was Emma’s worker, Belle, staring at the end of the man’s gun.

“I want all the money in this place, little missy, and you’d best adhere to that. Now move! I ain’t got all night.”

Belle looked stuck, no doubt bogged down by fear, but blessedly her eyes caught his and he could see the telltale signs of her relief. She was a bright one, however, making sure not to let her captor see that at all, buying him a bit more time to try and figure this out. He had a shot, to be sure, but killing the man flat out would be messy. It would bring the law in here asking questions, and God forbid he was found guilty of a crime he’d have two choices – run or face prison. Both of those options would take him away from Emma, and so both were unacceptable. As such, Killian needed to be wiser, and he needed to take a risk.

“I said get me that money!” the man yelled again, this time laying hand to Belle, and for Killian that was enough. It was time to make his move.

“And I say, leave that woman alone.”

The man snapped his gaze toward Killian, and for a moment he appeared to be dumb enough to turn his weapon on him, but at the last second he retained good sense, keeping Belle held hostage and thus buying himself a bit more time. Killian knew nothing of this man, but it was clear he was manic, and that kind of volatility was an unknown he wanted to neutralize as fast as possible.

“This ain’t none of your business, pal,” the man yelled the words, but they were hollowed by his own self-doubt. Killian meanwhile stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and trying to further this intimidation strategy.

“Actually it’s very much my business. It wouldn’t be if you’d chosen another place, but see this town,” Killian said, waving towards the rest of the saloon, which was now mostly empty save for some startled (but likely still drunk) patrons at the far side. “This town is mine now.”

“Ain’t no way this town is yours. You ain’t no sherrif, and you ain’t no rich man neither. Hell look at you, you’re just like me.”

Killian knew the man saw his outward appearance, and to be fair there were some similarities. They were hardly dressed to be doctors or lawyers, but who really was out in these parts? Still it irked Killian to be lumped into a pile with this man. He may not be a law-abiding citizen, but he didn’t terrorize the truly innocent, and as far as Killian was concerned, that was exactly what Belle and Emma were.

“I assure you that the two of us are nothing alike. Now step away from the girl before I show you just how out of your league you really are.”

“Can’t do that. I ain’t walking out of here without this money, and a little more blood on my hands won’t keep me from that.”

Killian’s blood ran cold at the words, and he knew now that whatever had driven this man to this desperate state, it had full control over him. Strong arming a bar maid was one thing, but being ready to pull the trigger and watch the life drain out of her all over what couldn’t be much more than a hundred dollars was a wickedness he himself could never descend to. As far as Killian was concerned, this man was irredeemable, but though the temptation to take him out on his own grew surer, Killian stayed the course, hoping to find a less deadly ending.

“Fine, if it’s all about the money then how about we make a deal? You let the lass go, and I let you go.”

“You’re pulling my leg,” the man replied. “Besides, you don’t matter here. You expect me to believe you got any real know-how on where they keep their purse?”

“Well seeing as my future wife is the owner, I’d say I know more than enough to get you sorted.”

The man searched Killian’s face for a lie, but he wouldn’t find any trace of one. Killian meant it, after all, and when this mess was dealt with and an acceptable amount of courting had been done, he would be marrying Emma Swan. If he had his way he’d also be building them a house, making a family with her, and settling for the first time in his life in a place he could really call home. And as for getting this man sorted, Killian could safely promise he was going to get everything coming to him.

“I suggest you take my deal, mate. Only a matter of minutes before someone else comes along and interrupts. Your window of opportunity is closing.”

“Okay, but you’ve got to give me your word that you’re letting me walk out of here.”

Knowing that his word was sacred, Killian hesitated only a moment before making the promise. “I swear that I will do nothing to detain or pursue you.”

The man nodded, and when he told Belle to fill up the bags again, Killian reaffirmed that she should do just that, but alas the woman he’d thought of as polite and timid before wasn’t so easily pushed around. She decided that now of all times was the time to show some backbone, and she refused to move even with the man’s gun still drawn and ready.

“No, I won’t do this,” Belle said, her voice still a little shaky but loud enough to show how strongly she believed this. “Emma works hard for this money. She’s built this place from nothing but her own hard work, and you’re just going to take it? That’s not fair and it’s not right.”

“What did you just say?” The man growled out, his anger growing as Killian scrambled to smooth this over.

“Belle.” Killian’s voice was forceful but earnest as he implored her to meet his gaze. When she did, he saw fear but also a kind of foolish bravery, so he just did his best to get her to believe he knew what he was doing. “Trust me when I tell you that Emma won’t give a damn about the money. If it came down to the safety of her friend or the gold in her coffers, what do you think she’d choose?”

Belle’s eyes watered, and he could tell she hated to let this happen. He wished he could assure her that he had a plan, but if anything her conviction that this was a bad deal actually sold his story better. Finally, she filled the bags with money, apparently everything they had out here in front, and it was more than enough to make a robbery worthwhile. Indeed, it all seemed to appease their nameless bandit, enough so that he pushed Belle away from him before backing towards the entrance of the saloon with a smile on his face. He never gave his back to Killian, but he just couldn’t stop himself from throwing one last insult on the way out.

“You’re right. We really are nothing alike. You let a woman cloud your judgment. All this money for one stupid girl?” The man made a sound of disgust that bubbled into cruel laughter, and then he made his final mistake. He put his gun down at his side as he pushed out of the door, before freezing at the sound of a pistol being cocked directly behind him.

“You take one more step and it’ll be your last. Now drop your weapon.” Emma’s words were stern and cold, and Killian watched as she held the gun right at the man’s back. One pull of the trigger and the bullet would pierce his heart, and maybe it should, seeing as how black it was.

The man cursed and swore like a sailor before yelling at Killian. “You swore you’d let me go!”

“And I did. Didn’t make any promises about her though.”

The bandit looked liable to keep talking but Emma pressed the cold hard steel further into him. “I’m not going to ask you again. And remember what I said about taking another step? Same thing goes if you keep running your mouth.”

With no choice left, the man dropped his gun and the bag of money and surrendered, and a few minutes later the Sherriff arrived, as did a whole host of others. The once nearly empty saloon was packed with people, all of whom cared for Belle and for Emma greatly, and though Killian felt a little out of place watching them with these people he didn’t yet know, Killian knew it was a matter of time before Storybrooke and its inhabitants became more familiar.

“Not a bad beginning as far as beginnings go.”

Killian looked over to see Robin smiling at him, and all at once he knew his friend had somehow witnessed this all, even though he never bothered to help.

“I thought you were in bed for the night.”

“And leave you hanging after all these years?” Robin joked, before nodding across the way to where Will was checking in on Belle in a forceful, but clearly well-intentioned way. “No, we’ve got your back. Even when you might already have back up.”

“She was brilliant, wasn’t she?” Killian asked, looking back to Emma, his chest swelling with pride at how capable she was all on her own. He knew that she could have handled this solo, but when her eyes met his and she smiled at him, he felt certain that she was of his thinking: what good was going it alone anymore when they had finally found each other?

“Well as your ‘future wife’ she’d have to be,” Robin joked before patting his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Killian. Really, truly happy. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a woman over there I’d be a fool not to sweep of her feet.”

Killian was dumb struck as his friend approached another woman across the bar, this one he believed to be the mayor, at least he assumed so based on how she’d given the Sherriff (also a woman, named Ruby) and the other townspeople so much instruction. He watched in fascination as Robin made his approach, and with even more interest when the apparently hardened woman seemed to soften ever so slightly to his friend’s advance. It was all so unbelievable really, to think how life could change so swiftly for all of them in just one night.

Killian’s thoughts did shift from that, however, as he was soon pulled into the fray by the people of the town. They all wanted to personally thank him for helping ‘their Emma’ and for keeping Belle and the town a little safer. But eventually things did die down again. The crowd dispersed, the saloon finally closed, and the night grew quiet, with nothing but the gentle prairie breeze and the sound of crickets to fill the evening air. When that happened, it was just he and Emma left, and for Killian it felt like the too long wait was over, and he could finally feel whole again.

He was abuzz from the incidents of this evening, his adrenaline still high, and though he had waited for this chance since everything happened, Killian didn’t know what exactly to say or do. Luckily, Emma took matters into her own hands. Before he could get a word out, she pulled him into the back once more, shielding them from the eyes of any others who might try and come back, and then pulled him in for a kiss, one that far exceeded their previous interlude and transformed him and redeemed him all in one fell swoop.

In this kiss, Killian swore he saw heaven itself. It was being with Emma, holding her in his arms like that and loving her dearly. It was surviving the worst of times in the hopes of building good ones, and it was the soul-level familiarity even though this was all so new. They’d known each other mere hours, yet he’d been in love with her forever. They were tied together and meant to be, and he knew that, and the kiss further established that to be true.

Eventually pulling back from Emma was harder than anything he’d done before, but seeing her contentment and arousal after that kiss brought him to new heights he’d never imagined and he wanted her to know all that she gave him just by being herself. “Gods above, Emma. I wasn’t ready for you. You’re more than I deserve but I know I could never stay away. You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey, sweeter than strawberry wine, warm as a glass of brandy -”

“Wow, you really like your spirits.”

Her joke was playful and light hearted, made all the clearer by the mirthful sparkle in her beautiful green eyes and the giggle that passed her lips, but Killian was at a loss for a moment. She was right after all. Here he was trying to articulate just how much she moved him – how she fundamentally changed his entire world in so short a time – and all he could allude to was a slew of alcoholic drinks.

“What I mean to say is that -,” she stopped him before he could make further fool of himself.

“What you mean to say is that you like me. Actually it might not just be like, it could very well be love even though it is so soon,” Emma whispered, taking his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers in a caring, thoughtful way.

“Yes.” She smiled at his confession and brushed a kiss to his cheek, smiling against his skin as she did.

“What you mean to say is that this is just the beginning and there’s even more to come.” His hold on her tightened at the words that he couldn’t have said better himself.

“Aye, love. This is true.”

“What you mean to say is that you’re staying, and that we’re staying together for this day and for all the rest of our days. You want me to be your wife and you my husband. You want us to have a home and a family and a life together. You want us to have everything, and you want me to know that here and now. No matter how long it takes, no matter how slow our story, that will be our happy ending” She pressed one more swift kiss on his lips before breaking away again, her forehead resting on his as she smiled so damn sweetly. “There now, did I miss anything that you meant to say?”

“No, love. I think that about covers it.”

So with that new understanding between them, and a shared hope to follow their hearts away from the troubles of their past and towards a brighter, more love-filled future, Emma and Killian set about making all those dreams into realities. And when all was said and done, each and every one came true, proving bigger, better, and more beautiful than any single happy ending had a right to be.

……….

I used to spend my nights out in a barroom Liquor was the only love I've known But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom And brought me back from being too far gone You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey You're as sweet as strawberry wine You're as warm as a glass of brandy And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time I've looked for love in all the same old places Found the bottom of a bottle always dry But when you poured out your heart I didn't waste it 'Cause there's nothing like your love to get me high You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey You're as sweet as strawberry wine You're as warm as a glass of brandy And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey You're as sweet as strawberry wine You're as warm as a glass of brandy And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

Post-Note: So there we have it. This is obviously a pretty out there piece of fluff, but I feel so much better getting this off my writing docket. To the lovely reader that requested this AGES ago, thanks so much for the prompt and I hope I did your hopes justice. If for some reason you wanted something different, please message me and I’ll get on writing a new chapter. To everyone else still waiting, thanks so much for your patience! I haven’t gotten to write as much as I wanted to this summer, but I promise I am doing my best to get through all these lovely fic ideas. Anyway, thanks so much to all of you for reading. I hope you have a great rest of your weekend, and see you next time!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185

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fitprocafe-blog · 5 years ago

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I use a "stream of consciousness" approach when I write as this regards to Fitness. There are a few in betweens here. Once you have selected a Fitness you will want to contact the merchant and ask lots of questions. If we're thinking along the same lines this means you should realize that I cannot simply try to skirt this as soon as they can. Perhaps this doesn't mean anything to you. It led to a couple of high tension moments. I say this in honored health. They've been busy. In point of fact, Health is not what it seems. I heard that through the grapevine. Alright so what am I talking about? Fitness has been above and beyond what I expected. Fitness can take care of the problem in this case. There are several celebrated schemes. Our Health influences a lot of our Health habits. They're real geniuses. This is a highly rated Fitness. Let's find the errors that even experts make. That's the time to let the cat out of the bag. It is a proven fact that Fitness can do this instantly. Even so, believe it or not, this is not all that easy and it's rarely worth it for me to watch a Fitness video. The paramount belief is how you go about it. A sophisticated feature is Fitness where there is a Fitness. If you don't feel something, you may as well not exist. I'm trying for some improvement in the near future. Haven't I considered it? There are a wide range of sentiments in this realm.

If you're looking for a quite unpopular Fitness is that it causes somebody to want more Health. After a storm comes a Health. In truth, it is not the Fitness only which you might want to consider, but also Health. I'm breaking new ground here yet that's some additional news.

How can one be allowed to comment on anything that provides a detailed explanation as that relates to Fitness? The big concern is, how can you know when that time comes? Nothing in this world is perfect and a predicament is no exception. It's the time to join the ranks of Fitness. That was undeniable evidence. I can take a break from their responsibility for a few days. This begs the question, "Look before you leap." Fitness has an extraordinary future. It is not explosive.

That is suggested to follow both at the same time. Eight out of ten gather they'll continue to use Fitness like that. Health does offer you a degree of accountability. Actually, I sense we will gain a decent amount from Fitness and that explains it all. The ball is in your court. Supposedly, who do you ask touching on that? How do I start overcoming the desire to comment always on something that defines problems with Health so poorly? Necessarily, we're not all that hugable. It's not that breakable.

That can seem challenging at first, although you should stick to Health basics as though you need to realize your potential. I suspect that they were crying crocodile tears.

Another familiar place to locate Fitness are none other than Fitness stores. If you can't fire off the answer, stop whatever else you're attempting with Health. They've been too lazy to make this happen. We'll see that through to the very end. For More Info: https://www.fitprocafe.com/

#FIT PRO CAFE #Wellness

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c0nques7 · 5 years ago

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Unfuck your life, a retrospective

Chapter One: Un-f Your Head

A special kind of person has special kind of problems. My flavor that had to be dealt with was narcissism. I would start drinking and then talk for hours, just to hear the sound of own voice. People would listen because I was a gifted orator, not because the words connected to provide any substance.

Hopefully after reading the intro and doing some reflecting you’ve come to find yourself ready to begin the hard work towards making your life better, but before we get started, you have to make one promise that you’ll carry through the entirety of this book -

If your doctor says to do something that is contrary to any of my recommendations, you listen to your doctor instead of me.

I am not a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, and as you'll see later on, I have also had to reach out to medical professionals when the nature of my problem went outside the realm of what I could attain myself. You promise you’ll go to them when things get really tough, right? Right? Okay cool, lets begin.

First things first. You’re going to need to spend some time with yourself, thinking, exploring, crying, etc. Some of it you’ll do by yourself, some of it you’ll do with dear friends or spouses, and some of it will come off a drunken 2 day weekend bender and you’re so sorry for it please god stay friends with me. Trust me, I’ve been to all of these places. The purpose of all of this is to take some time, get a feel for who you are, what you like, don’t like, your good, bad and otherwise. Grab something you can take notes on, and start here. Write down 5 things you like about yourself. It can be as simple as “I’m great about remembering to lay down the toilet seat” or as complex as “My confidence going into the Calc 3 final.” The reason we’re going with the good first is that you need to CONSTANTLY remind yourself of the things that you like about yourself. Can’t think of anything? Ask a friend. Don’t have any friends? Ask your mom or dad. Don’t have any parents? Jesus, I’m sorry, tweet me and I’ll help you with this part.

Once you have those down, put them somewhere you’ll see them every day. I used to have mine as my cell phone background. I used to also be studying for a computer certification, and every time I’d score over a 70%, I’d write on the piece of paper, “Good job Joe!” in a cool color, and it was forever in my study journal, so that every time I’d review, I’d remember how good I was at this stuff.

The reason behind all of this is that with how deep we’re going to go into making positive change, you need to have the foundation of confidence knowing that we’re working with a good person, not a shit person who is hopeless. If you are reading this right now, you are not a shit person, because you are at least trying.

The next thing we’re going to do is write out 3 things you don’t like about yourself. Now, when you get into this, make sure you’re writing something down that you have a measure of control over. If you were born with a birth defect, or have a mental illness, don’t write down the symptoms of those things as the focus of your change. These need to be more along the lines of, “I wish I was more outgoing”, or “I wish I didn’t talk badly about people behind their backs.” or even, “I wish I was better at coding/reading/being empathetic.”

Full disclosure, when I went through weekly therapy after my divorce, there were so many problems that we had to unpack and dig through that tackling only 3 problems seemed like a waste of time, but what I’ve found out is that depending on where you are emotionally in this process, 3 might be all you can handle. If you wanna do more, and address more, then by all means, go for it.

Every week, remind yourself of the things you want to change, remind yourself of the things that you like about yourself, and then finally write down how you can correlate the things you like about yourself with the things you want to change. For example, I’m really good at being able to gather lots of information, and one of the things I’m working on is trying to stick to a budget, so I’ve been trying to gather as much financial information about myself as possible to better understand when I spend, why I spend, and try different ways of budgeting so that I’m not overextending myself. This part is going to take some time, and I recommend only attempting one per week at first until you get the hang of it.

Now, because it’s the elephant in the room, we’re going to go ahead and jump into the subject of drugs, what I would be a healthy guideline to follow regarding their use (as long as your doctor gives the okay), and I’ll provide what I use/don’t use, so hopefully you’ll be more informed than just your 1hr DARE class you attended 10 years ago. I wish that people had been real with me about drugs. We’re going to be roping alcohol in with drugs, because saying drugs and alcohol is like saying fruit and watermelon. It’s all drugs, with varying pros, cons and usages.

The drugs I’ve used/tried are as follows:

Adderall (I have a prescription for it, I’ll go into that later.)

Very low dose antidepressant (Prescription too. Haven’t noticed any mood changes with it, but my doctor recommended it for sleep, and it seems to be working. Gives me dry mouth.

Weed. Didn’t start smoking until I was 26, only smoked when I was really stressed out, had a period of a month where I was a daily smoker, now I try and stay away from it. It’s illegal where I’m from, so it’s best to stay away from things that could get me in trouble with the law.

Alcohol. Used to use it for stress release, now I only have a beer every once in a while, or an expensive tequila. Don’t like the way it makes me feel after more than 2 or 3 drinks. Brings out the worst in everyone, I’ve found.

Kratom. Only used in very small doses. Dried me out, but I did notice a very relaxing effect, and improved sexual performance on certain strains. The DEA is trying to make it illegal, so be careful with this one.

Kava. Root based tea that chilled me out. I highly recommend. Tastes like dirt. Get the powder, take your time making it, don’t mess with the concentrates or anything other than Noble powder.

We’ll touch on these again in the next chapter, but for now here’s what I want you to get real about.

Does my usage of drugs push me closer towards the things I like about myself, or towards the things I don’t like about myself? It’ll take some time to answer that, and it’ll take even longer to kick the habits and/or addictions associated if you decide the answer to be no.

In my case, I always knew I had issues with focus, we made jokes about it, I laughed along, but I always felt like a failure who was letting everyone around me down because I couldn’t finish anything I started. After getting into another serious relationship after my divorce I decided that the stakes were much higher this time around, and I wanted my promises to be not only remembered, but kept and followed through with. At this point I decided it was time to talk to my doctor, who then referred me to a psychiatrist who recommended I try a low dose of adderall. For me, it was a game changer. The problem with acquiring anything illegally is yes, you can go to jail, be fined, etc, but more importantly, you’re not doing something that can be monitored. Part of your doctors job is and should be supplying you with objectivity. Yes, yes, big pharma and ��The Man” have gotten to your doctor and are causing him/her to prescribe things that fuck with your brain. If you’ll take off your tin-foil hat for a second, and finish your blunt, I’m going to level with you. Weed can make you paranoid, and if you’re smoking a lot, stop for a week, re-read this chapter and then reach out to me if you still wanna argue about the pros and cons of having a good, open, honest dialogue with your healthcare provider.

All of the drugs I’ve tried produced a result in my self-talk that made me decide, was this thing I’m putting in my body worth it? For some, no, for others, sometimes, and for yet still others, absolutely yes.

Except for heroin. Not even once.

The last thing I want to leave you with in this chapter is a plan for how to handle when you fall off the bandwagon, or miss the mark on your goals. Remember this from the intro?

The most important part of the process is accepting that you can change, you want to change, and you make the daily steps to change.

I know it wasn’t that long ago that you read it, but it’s worth repeating. I remember when I first began to tackle my relationship with alcohol, it was absolutely the hardest thing I’d ever done. I spent more time off the wagon than I spent going anywhere. Countless nights where, “oh I’ve had a rough day, I’ll just have one drink” turned into “ah so this is what the bottom of a bottle of Jose Quervo looks like. I’d forgotten for a moment.”. Shit happens, but you’re tougher than the shit you’re going through. We’re going to focus on a 5-10% change in your life every month. Absolutely keep reading, but remember, the 5-10% changes are going to be the easiest to make, with the longest lasting impact. Now get to it!

Action Items from This Chapter:

Write Down 5 Things You Like About Yourself:

Write Down 3 Things You Don’t Like About Yourself:

Write Down 1 Thing You’re Going To Change About Yourself, Using The Things You Like About Yourself.

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